Snow Place to Die : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

want a scandal. OTIOSE can’t afford bad press right now.”

“It’s a murder case,” Margo said. “Two murders. There’ll

be an investigation. You can’t hush that up.”

“You damned well better try,” Killegrew growled. “It’s your

job.” It wasn’t just a reminder; it sounded to Judith more like

a threat.

Andrea’s sobs had finally subsided. She raised a haggard

face and spoke in a surprisingly strong voice. “We’ve got

another, more important job, if you ask me. In case it

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 87

slipped everybody’s mind, I’m vice president-human resources. We’ve lost two of those human resources, in a most

inhumane manner. I want something done about it, and I

want to start now.”

The motherly velvet glove had been thrown down; the

plump iron fist was shaking at Frank Killegrew. He drew

back, looking unsettled.

“Now, now, Andrea, I don’t see what we can do.” Killegrew’s glance of appeal fell on Gene Jarman, who had returned from the kitchen and was cradling a towel that contained the freezer bag with the soapstone carving. “What’s

your considered opinion, counselor?”

“For now, I want somebody to open the safe. I don’t much

like holding on to evidence like this,” Gene replied.

Killegrew went behind the registration desk. The safe was

in a recessed area below the room slots. “Damn,” he

muttered. “It’s locked. We don’t know the combination.”

Judith felt herself wince. In years gone by, she had become

adept at figuring out combination locks. It had begun with

necessity, when Dan McMonigle would hide his occasional

earnings as a bartender and leave Judith holding the bag for

the household bills. Later, the knack had served her well

when on the sleuthing trail. She preferred not revealing how

she’d acquired her skills. Fortunately, no one asked.

The combination proved remarkably simple. Judith wrote

it down on a piece of lodge stationery and passed it around

to the others. There was safety in numbers, she decided.

With a scowl, Gene handed the towel and the carving over

to Killegrew, who put the items inside the safe after only a

brief, awkward juggling act. “There we go,” he said, dusting

off his hands as if he’d accomplished a feat of derring-do.

“Lock it up.”

Judith complied. The group reassembled around the

hearth. Killegrew again turned to Gene Jarman. “That’s that.

Safe as houses. Now let’s hear your words of wisdom on

what we do next.”

88 / Mary Daheim

Gene sat back on the sofa, his brown eyes lifted to the

rafters. “I’ll have to think this over,” he said after a long

pause.

“We don’t have time for that,” Killegrew retorted. “Come

on, Gene, for once, forget about all that due caution and