by Mary Daheim
Rob Estacada was listening in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. “Excuse me,” he said as Judith paused to catch her breath. “I’m done. Those were one-eight-hundred numbers, so there’s no charge. It was a toll-free number to the hotel in Port Royal, too. I made a reservation at a place a friend recommended. It’s supposed to be really quiet and out-of-the-way. It’s called the Clovia. Do you know it?”
Judith and Renie exchanged horrified looks. Five years earlier, they had spent a few days at the Clovia, also in search of peace and relaxation. Instead, they had found a body in the elevator. But surely, Judith thought, history couldn’t repeat itself. Not for the Estacadas, at any rate.
“The Clovia,” Judith said, with a lame little laugh. “I thought you said the…Monrovia. Yes, it’s charming, right on the bay, near the park. Very nice. You’ll love it.”
“I hope so,” Rob said uncertainly. “I’d better go have it out with Stacie. Do you think you could ask the guy with the cruiser to take us over to Laurel Harbor in about an hour?”
Judith promised to try. When Rob was gone, the cousins went into the kitchen. Her first call was to Rafe. He still didn’t answer. She dialed Perez Properties next. A woman answered, identifying herself as Ella Stovall.
Judith went through a rather elaborate—but truthful—explanation of who she was and why she was calling. “You have heard about Mr. Hodge’s death, I assume?” she concluded.
Ella, who sounded relentlessly good-natured, said she had. “A real shock. We don’t have murders in the Santa Lucias. Drownings, yes. Murders, almost never. Poor Jeanne Barber! What a rotten summer she’s had!”
Briefly, Judith commiserated over Jeanne’s unhappy fate. Then she changed the subject: “What I didn’t understand is why H. Burrell Hodge was here in the first place. But I’m sure you’ve informed Deputy McLean why Mr. Hodge came to the Santa Lucias.” Judith paused, but there was no response. “Haven’t you?”
“No,” Ella replied. “I haven’t seen Lulu. Not today.” The real-estate agent sounded puzzled. “Oh! You mean the sheriff would want to know Mr. Hodge’s intentions as part of the murder investigation, right? I didn’t think of that. Is it important?”
“It could be,” Judith said. “Naturally, everybody on Chavez wants to know.” Now Judith veered from the truth: “They’ve been driving me crazy with questions.”
Ella burst out laughing. “All seven of them? Hey, Mrs…. Flynn, is it? Don’t let them rib you. The Santa Lucias are a hotbed of gossip. They know why Hodge came to Chavez. I’ll bet they know why he was coming to Perez, too. He owns a big addiction recovery business, with several centers around the western part of the state. He was looking to open at least one more, maybe two. Perez and Chavez would make ideal sites, depending on the specialty. Perez has a regular hospital—the only one in the Santa Lucias—for consultation with medical people. Chavez is sufficiently isolated to provide all the privacy that recovering addicts would want. I had a great site for him over here, real possibilities beyond his initial requirements. Naturally, I hoped to broker the Chavez sale, if it went through. But now,” she said with a heavy sigh, “I suppose everything’s down the drain. It’s a good thing I never count my commission until I close the deal.”
“Then I take it that Mr. Hodge was trying to buy property from the Danfields?” Judith queried.
Ella Stovall laughed in a throaty manner. “Now, Mrs. Flynn, don’t put words in my mouth. I’ve probably already said too much. You wouldn’t want to get me in trouble with Mr. Dobler, would you?”
“Would he be any relation to Elrod?” Judith asked, with a glance at Renie.
“Sure,” Ella answered cheerfully. “Simon is old Elrod’s son.”
“Really.” Judith noted Renie’s quizzical expression and sought to enlighten her cousin. “Elrod’s son, huh? Why am I surprised that Elrod has a son?”
“I’ve no idea,” Ella said in a voice that indicated she really didn’t. “A daughter, too. Hey, got to run. A couple of would-be vacation-home buyers are just coming in the door.”
Judith relayed the details to Renie over glasses of soda. “So I don’t need to call Adhab again,” she said. “At least not for now. We know why Burrell came to the islands. The problem is, we still don’t know why he was killed. Or who did it.”
Renie had gotten up from the counter and gone to the refrigerator to get more ice for her soda. A glance in the direction of the back porch caused her to mouth the single word “Esther.” Judith was still trying to figure out what Renie was saying when a timid knock sounded at the door.
“Hi, Esther,” Renie said in greeting. “Come in. Want some pop?”
“Oh—no, thank you,” Esther replied, entering the kitchen. On this late-summer afternoon, she wore a fawn-colored silk blouse, cocoa brown slacks, and a single strand of pearls. Her short hair was impeccably coiffed and her cosmetics were as discreet as they were perfectly applied. “I felt like getting out for a bit and thought I’d stop by to see how you were managing. We heard the coroner’s verdict. Isn’t it shocking?”
It hardly seemed proper to expect that Esther Danfield would want to sling a leg over one of the tall kitchen stools, so Judith invited their caller to come down into the sunroom. All three women descended the single step and arranged themselves in white wicker chairs.
“We weren’t shocked so much as alarmed,” Judith said, getting up almost immediately to adjust the blinds. “Doc thought all along that it wasn’t an accident.”
Esther, however, found no comfort in Doc’s opinion. “What’s this world coming to? I can’t believe that Chavez is no longer safe. What shall we do?” She sounded almost frantic.
Judith tried to reassure Esther. “Elrod’s got a gun. You have a security system. Of all the people on this island, you and Bates are best protected from danger.”
Esther shuddered. “I don’t know. Isn’t it true that if someone wants to kill you, really wants to, they can? What if the killer is…?” She clamped her lips shut and frowned into the philodendron that grew out of a lamp stand at her side.
“Is what?” Renie asked.
“Oh—I’m not sure what I mean!” Esther uttered a high-pitched laugh. “Really, this is all so unbelievable! My nerves are absolutely shattered. I haven’t been this upset since…in years.”
“Since what?” Renie seemed to have the bit in her slightly buckteeth and was running with it. Judith sat back and watched.
“Since years ago. Never mind.” With a trembling hand, Esther fingered her pearls.
“Say,” Renie said brightly, “how about a drink? Not pop—a serious drink. Maybe it will help your nerves, Esther.”
Esther looked mildly horrified. “Oh, not this early in the day!” She glanced at the diamond-studded watch on her left wrist. “Well…it is going on three o’clock. A gin martini, if you have it. Thank you.”
Renie got up to tend bar. Judith considered mentioning the real-estate issue, but decided to wait until after their guest had consumed a bit of gin. “Jeanne Barber is going to be upset,” Judith finally said. “More upset, I mean. The Estacadas are checking out this afternoon.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Esther stiffened in her chair and stared at Judith. “No! They’re that frightened? You see—that’s what I was talking about! No one is safe!”
“But they’re honeymooners,” Judith pointed out in a reasonable tone. “Besides, I think Mrs. Estacada tends to overreact.”
“Can you blame her?” Esther demanded. “I’d leave, too. In fact, I told Bates this afternoon that we should go away. If we could…”
Renie presented Esther with her martini. “If you could what?” Renie inquired, sitting back down.
Esther gave a shake of her head. “I just meant that…Well, you can’t just pack up and go…That is…” She gave another shake, spilled a bit of the martini on her sleeve, frowned, and took a deep drink. “This is very good,” she announced, with just the hint of a smile.
“Th
ank you.” Renie preened a bit, though Judith sensed it was more for her benefit than Esther’s. The martini glass was big enough to be a pudding dish. Upon closer inspection, Judith realized it was a pudding dish. Esther, however, didn’t seem to mind. She sipped slowly, but deeply, and briefly closed her eyes. “This is rather restorative,” she remarked.
“Good,” said Renie in an unusually amiable tone. “By the way, Doc Wicker told us about the Danfield history today. They certainly go way back. We saw the cemetery this morning, too. It’s a lovely spot.”
Mentioning the cemetery did not have a salubrious effect on Esther Danfield. “Please…that’s so morbid. I’ve never liked it.” She took another deep drink. “Let’s talk about something else.” Esther nodded at the bookshelves that ran under the counter separating the sunroom from the kitchen, beneath two of the windows, and down one narrow strip of wall. “Jeanne has a very nice library. I’ve borrowed several of her books over the years. My hobbies are reading and classical music, especially opera.”
“I love to read, too,” Judith put in, as Renie got up and went out through the kitchen into the living room. “I used to be a librarian. It was enjoyable work. Being surrounded by books was a wonderful feeling.”
Esther agreed wholeheartedly. “There’s nothing like putting on a favorite recording and curling up with a good book,” she said with a pleasurable sigh. “Music in particular takes you to another world.”
Judith nodded. “I’m not very knowledgeable about classical music, though. I love the ballet. My cousin’s the opera buff.”
“If you’re a trained librarian, you must have gone to college,” Esther said wistfully as the strains of Puccini’s La Boheme floated through the speakers that were placed at strategic points around the house. “I wanted to teach, but my parents didn’t think training for a career was necessary for girls. Maybe they were right, but I always felt I could have made a contribution. Educating young people is a noble calling. I once felt very strongly about it. Not that my feelings mattered.” Esther’s fine features sagged. “Of course, that was the late fifties. Women attended college only to find a husband, according to my parents.”
Judith started to point out that she and Renie had both completed degrees. But before she could get the words out of her mouth, Renie returned to the sunroom and Esther began swaying to the music.
“The last act,” she murmured into her martini. “Poor Mimi! She’s finally reunited with Rodolfo, but it’s too late—she’s dying.” A glint of tears shown in Esther’s blue eyes.
“It’s the most moving of operas for me,” Renie said on a tremulous sigh. “So personal, intimate, timeless. If only they could have gotten Mimi to a doctor.” She shot Judith a goading look.
“A doctor?” echoed Judith, as Mimi entered the garret, weak and nigh onto death. “Oh! Yes, that reminds me…Esther, do you know why Doc Wicker gave up his practice? He strikes me as the type who would have made a wonderful family physician.”
While tears still welled up in her eyes, Esther’s face became impassive. “It was a long time ago. Doc doesn’t like to talk about it.”
Renie was on her feet again, one hand moving in tune to the music. Musetta offered her earrings to pay for Mimi’s cordial; Colline sang a farewell to his overcoat before pawning it to buy medicine. “Say, Esther,” Renie said brightly, “how about another martini from Renie?”
Esther’s blue eyes widened. “Oh, no, I couldn’t!” Her gaze dropped to the almost-empty glass. “Well…perhaps just a tiny bit to freshen it.”
As Renie headed back to the kitchen, Judith shook her head. “I still say it’s a shame. I can’t understand why a man like Doc—who seems so conscientious—would throw away a medical career. Such a waste! In fact, it’s selfish.”
“But…” Esther began, then stopped as Mimi told Rodolfo she wasn’t really sleeping, she’d only been pretending until the others had left them alone. “Dear me,” she gulped, removing a lace-edged handkerchief from the pocket of her slacks. “This is so touching!”
Renie returned with a second martini. True to her word, this time the glass was only half-full. Esther, however, lapped up the drink like a cat. “You mustn’t blame Doc,” she sniffled. “It was so sad…” Rodolfo compared Mimi’s beauty to the sunrise; Mimi said he was wrong, it was more like the sunset…“Pitiful, really,” Esther went on. “I was reminded of it yesterday. It was this time of year—actually a week or so later, the first day of autumn…” Her voice grew faint, as she leaned toward the nearest speaker.
“Yes?” Judith said encouragingly, as Rodolfo and Mimi reminisced about their first meeting.
Esther seemed to have fallen under a spell. “A…young couple had come to stay at the cabins. The woman was about to give birth. She’d been warned by her doctor not to venture far from a hospital. But…she scoffed. She was adventuresome. They were down at Hidden Cove. The woman went into labor…” Esther paused to dab again at her eyes. Musetta returned with a muff for Mimi’s chilled hands. “The birth was very difficult. Doc did everything he could. I believe it was the first time he’d faced a complicated delivery, and he had nothing with him but his regular medical kit.” Pausing, Esther bit her lower lip as the tears trickled down her cheeks. While Mimi slept, Rodolfo kept watch, and Musetta prayed to the Virgin. “Miraculously, the baby survived.” Swallowing hard, Esther clutched the pudding dish with both hands. “But despite Doc’s every effort, the mother…died.”
So did Mimi. Rodolfo’s anguished cries rang throughout the house. The orchestra played its final heartrending notes. Esther was sobbing aloud. Judith winced, and Renie looked a trifle sheepish.
“Say, Esther, maybe I should make some coffee,” Renie offered.
The opera’s climax seemed to snap Esther out of her trance. She shuddered, blew her nose, and cast a repugnant glance at the empty pudding dish. Then, from over the crumpled handkerchief, she stared at Renie with red, reproachful eyes. “You’re really quite shameless, you know.”
Renie nodded. “It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it. Nobody on this island will tell us anything. That’s not fair. Not when we get stuck with a dead body.”
Indignant and unsteady, Esther got to her feet. “You tricked me. That’s cruel.”
Judith was at Esther’s side. “Not as cruel as whoever murdered H. Burrell Hodge. If the residents of this island keep everything to themselves, the killer may never be caught.”
Esther glared at Judith. “What’s that got to do with poor Doc? What happened to him is in the past. Doc has atoned for his lack of skill and experience many times over. Oh, he tried to continue practicing medicine, I believe he even considered joining the Peace Corps, but his heart wasn’t in it. Nor was it all his fault. There were…” Esther flinched as if she’d been struck. “There were extenuating circumstances.” Giving a final wipe at her eyes, Esther squared her shoulders. The gesture seemed to help her gain control of her limbs and her emotions. “Now you’ve pried and prodded until you know what happened to Doc. I hope you’re satisfied. Good-bye.” With her head held high, Esther went through the kitchen and out of the house.
Judith eyed Renie. “That was pretty outrageous, coz,” she said in a chiding tone.
“Oh, phooey!” Renie retorted. “It was no more outrageous than one of your long, drawn-out, circumlocuitous attempts to get information out of unwitting suspects. Face it, Esther wouldn’t have told us a damned thing if I hadn’t loosened her tongue with a little gin and lowered her emotional defenses with some tear-jerking music.”
Judith wasn’t convinced that Renie had done the right thing. What was worse, she didn’t think that Esther’s revelations were very helpful. “I don’t see what Doc’s loss of a patient has to do with H. Burrell Hodge. To top it off, now we’ve alienated Esther Danfield. I was more interested in asking her who’s the Francesca buried in the private cemetery.”
“Esther didn’t want to talk about the cemetery,” Renie pointed out, still sounding defensive. “It ga
ve her the creeps.”
“True.” Judith spoke absently, as she paced the length of the sunroom. “There’s something odd about Esther’s story, though. It wasn’t…cohesive.”
“Of course it wasn’t cohesive,” Renie snapped. “She was guzzling gin and listening to Puccini. You’d prefer Abu’s inverted pyramid version?”
Judith started to make a testy reply, then brightened. “The Merchant! If we can get Rafe to take us to Laurel Harbor tomorrow, we could go through the newspaper’s files. Maybe that will tell us something, not just about the twenty-year-old tragedy, but H. Burrell Hodge’s development plans.”
Recognizing that it wouldn’t be prudent to balk while Judith was out of sorts, Renie shrugged. “Okay. But shouldn’t you try to get Rafe so that the Estacadas can get out of here this afternoon?”
Judith looked at her watch. “It’s after three-thirty. That’s too late for us to go today. But the Estacadas have until six-thirty to catch the last ferry. Or does it actually leave at seven-thirty? I forget.”
Renie apparently had also forgotten. She said nothing, but followed Judith into the kitchen. This time, Rafe answered. He would be glad to take the Estacadas to Laurel Harbor. He would also be glad to take the cousins there the following day. What time? Judith suggested eleven o’clock. After assuring Judith that he would go up to the cabins to alert the Estacadas, Rafe hung up.
“Well, that’s that,” Judith said, still seated on the stool at the kitchen counter. “Now we’ve got two empty cabins. I wonder if Burrell’s heirs will want the money back for the rest of his stay. They’re entitled to it.” She flipped open the guest registry which Jeanne kept by the phone. “According to this notation, he paid with a credit card. I think I’ll call Lulu McLean and see if she’s tracked down his next of kin.”