Frank Killegrew?”
Renie shook her head. “I mean Gene Jarman. His ex-wife,
Sabine Bristow-Jarman, is the attorney for Alien Tel. He’s
out to get her, and damn the expense. Gene’s not really a
trial attorney, but he’s had some experience and intends to
try the case himself.”
“Killegrew must support the suit,” Judith said, taking one
last look around the kitchen.
“Publicly, yes,” Renie replied, following Judith through the
laundry room to the back stairs. “Now I want to know why
Ava wouldn’t talk.”
“Are you referring to motive?” Judith asked over her
shoulder.
“There’s got to be one, right?” Renie said as they ascended
the stairs. “You got any better ideas?”
Judith made a frustrated gesture with her hands. “That’s
where I feel at a loss. I don’t know these people, and I certainly don’t know anything about the business world.”
The cousins stopped talking as they proceeded down the
hall. It seemed to Judith that an unnatural calm had settled
over the lodge. Not only had the wind died down, but there
were no noises coming from any of the guest rooms. Yet Judith had a feeling that behind the closed doors, none of the
guests were sleeping soundly.
“You forgot your snack,” Renie said after they got to their
own room.
“I lost my appetite,” Judith admitted. “Finding a dead body
on the kitchen counter will do that.”
Judith and Renie decided to sleep in the bathrobes
provided by the lodge. They rinsed out their underwear, then
realized that the garments probably wouldn’t dry in the chilly
room. Renie suggested that they take their things down to
the laundry room and put them in the dryer; Judith
told her she wasn’t going back downstairs for a million
bucks.
“There’s no telling what—or who—we’d find this time,”
she said, piling kindling and logs into the fireplace. “Let’s
hang the stuff next to the hearth and hope for the best.”
“I’m game,” said Renie, flopping down on one of the twin
beds and lighting a cigarette. “Gamy, too, if we have to stay
here very long.”
“We can wear the robes and do another load of laundry
tomorrow,” Judith said, wishing Renie hadn’t decided to
smoke just before they retired for the night. “But we only do
it when other people are around.”
“Good thinking.” Renie, who had unearthed a glass ashtray
bearing the imprint of the old Milwaukee Road railway
company, tapped her cigarette. “Bad thinking,” she added.
“About what?” Judith had slipped under the covers and
already had her eyes closed. “I really wish you wouldn’t
