September Mourn

by Mary Daheim

  Judith was on hold for over five minutes, waiting for the deputy to come to the phone. “There are no next of kin,” McLean declared after Judith had phrased her request. “Hodge was married years ago, but it didn’t last. No kids. No siblings that we can find, no other relatives. He was a loner, in terms of his personal life. If you want to reimburse somebody, try Adhab.”

  “Adhab,” Judith repeated innocently. “Is that the recovery center?”

  “You got it,” McLean replied. “They don’t have much of a central-office staff, just an office manager, a receptionist, and an accountant. Everything is pretty much handled through the individual centers.”

  “Thanks,” Judith said, hoping she sounded appropriately grateful. “How’s the investigation going?”

  “Slow,” McLean answered. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mrs. Flynn? I’m pretty busy here.”

  “I was just wondering how long you’ve been in the islands,” Judith said. “That is, it occurred to me that if you’ve only recently arrived, it must be hard to get to know your territory. It’s so spread out.”

  “I’ve been here six years,” McLean responded. “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I hope so,” Judith remarked after ringing off. She saw Renie’s puzzled expression and related the other half of the conversation.

  “So relax,” Renie said. “Maybe McLean’s made more progress than she let on.”

  “No,” Judith countered. “I believe her when she says it’s slow going.” Slipping off the stool, Judith started for the front door. “Come on, let’s sit outside and let the fresh air stir our brain cells.”

  Renie, however, needed sustenance. After getting a soda refill and a box of pretzels, she joined Judith on the deck. “Well?” Renie inquired, making herself comfortable on one of the benches by the rail. “Have you any ideas?”

  “I do, as a matter of fact,” Judith replied. “I’ve been thinking about motive. If you lived on Chavez Island, how would you like to have a rehab center in your midst?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Renie answered swiftly. “The island is too small for that kind of thing. It would change the whole tenor of the place.”

  Judith nodded. “Exactly. So let’s assume that Doc wouldn’t be pleased; neither would Cilla and Mrs. Carr, or, for that matter, Jeanne Barber.”

  Renie popped two small pretzels in her mouth. “Except Jeanne wasn’t here.”

  Judith continued as if she hadn’t heard her cousin. “And Rafe would really hate the idea, because not only does he seem to treasure his privacy, but he’s an ardent environ-mentalist. No wonder he and Burrell were arguing over ferns.”

  “What did I tell you?” Renie proffered the pretzel box to Judith.

  “The only ones who might be for the project are the Danfields, and by association, Elrod Dobler,” Judith went on, taking a handful of pretzels and putting them in her lap. “Burrell went to see Bates Danfield, which suggests he is the seller. His evasiveness about Burrell indicates that he hadn’t told Esther what was going on. I have a feeling she still doesn’t know, but I could be wrong about that. I wonder what she meant about not being able to leave the island.”

  Renie took the pretzel box back from Judith. “Esther seemed scared. Really scared, almost as if she thought somebody was out to get her. What would that have to do with Burrell and Adhab?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Judith admitted. “She’s the nervous type, though. Too thin.” Over Renie’s shoulder, Judith could see a cruiser skimming across the water away from the island. “I think that’s Rafe’s boat,” Judith said. “He must have loaded up the Estacadas.”

  Renie turned to look, and in the process, knocked the pretzels off the bench. The box fell into the bushes. “Drat,” Renie grumbled, getting down on her knees and stretching an arm to retrieve the fallen snack. “I’ll bet the birds around here would enjoy some of these…” Clutching the pretzels, Renie turned a stricken face to Judith. “My God! I completely forgot! It must have been the booze!”

  Judith regarded her cousin with curiosity. “Forgot what?”

  Scrambling to her feet, Renie hovered over Judith. “Last night, while you and Doc were examining Burrell’s body, and I was feeling like a guilt-ridden criminal, I was moping around in the shrubbery across from the back stairs. I saw something odd. Come on, coz, let’s go see if it’s still there.”

  Judith hurriedly followed Renie through the house, though they both slowed down when they reached the treacherous back staircase. “What was it?” Judith asked, hanging on to the banister.

  “I’m not sure,” Renie answered. “I was so upset thinking I’d killed Burrell that it didn’t register. It was wood, like a handle. I suppose I thought it had come out of that storage shed between the house and the garage.”

  Judith remembered that Renie had been staring at the wild rhododendrons. Racing across the turnaround area, she began searching the ground. Renie joined her, rubbing her temple in confusion.

  “I don’t recall the blackberry vines…Looking at them, I mean…Do you see anything?”

  Judith did. Renie was right: The object that lay half-concealed by some brown fallen leaves from the rhododendrons had a wooden handle. Gingerly, Judith brushed the leaves aside.

  “It’s a mallet,” she said in wonder. “With an iron head.”

  Next to Judith, Renie peered down through the shrubs. “So it is. What do you think?”

  “I think the head isn’t two inches wide. Almost, though. The coroner may have been quoted in general terms.” Straightening up, Judith looked skyward, as if for inspiration. “Lulu may have concentrated on looking in the shrubbery on each side of the staircase, not over here across the turnaround. But if she did search this section, she must have missed seeing the mallet in the dark. My guess is that it was deliberately hidden, not dropped.”

  “How do you know?” Renie asked in a skeptical voice.

  “Because those rhododendron leaves are old, from last year. The ones that dropped late this summer wouldn’t be so desiccated. And the iron head shows no sign of rust. If it had been there as long as the leaves on top of it, there would be rust.” Judith contemplated her next move. “I wonder if we should call the sheriff.”

  “Why,” Renie asked, “would the killer dump that mallet—assuming it’s the alleged blunt instrument—so close to the scene of the crime? Why not take it into the woods or throw it in Eagle Lake?”

  Judith admitted she couldn’t guess. “If it hadn’t been placed so carefully under those leaves, I’d say somebody dropped it. Somebody innocent, maybe. But it’s almost as if it were meant to be found.”

  “Maybe the killer didn’t expect us to come running out last night,” Renie suggested. “Maybe he—or she—figured Burrell would drop dead without a sound.”

  “That’s possible,” Judith said. “Come on, we’d better call McLean. We might catch her before Rafe heads back to Chavez. He can give her a ride over here.”

  The deputy was out, but Judith left a message. Throwing caution to the wind, she decided to risk making a fool of herself and tell the person at the other end that the murder weapon might have been found.

  The cousins had just returned to the deck when they heard someone at the back door. This time it was June Hennessy. She looked worried.

  “The Estacadas have left,” she said. “The young woman was a flighty sort, but her husband seemed reasonable. Yet they’ve fled. I must confess, it gives me pause. I shall return to Perez Island as soon as it’s convenient. I probably should have gone with the Estacadas, but I didn’t realize they were leaving so quickly.”

  Judith’s shoulders slumped. “You must do as you like,” she said a bit stiffly. “You’ll want a refund, I suppose?”

  But Miss Hennessy surprised Judith. “No. Jeanne Barber can apply it to our faculty retreat in the spring. We take all three cabins, and get in before the rates go up. It’s still expensive, especially on a teacher’s salary. That’s why I always come
in the off-season.”

  “Okay,” Judith agreed, somewhat appeased. “I’ll try to get hold of Rafe St. Jacques as soon as he gets back from Laurel Harbor. If you don’t mind staying overnight, my cousin and I plan on going to Perez around eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  Miss Hennessy frowned. “Well…I could stay. I’m not highly strung, like some. No spunk—that’s what’s wrong with the young women around here. Tears, hysteria, complete lack of self-control. At Laurel Glen, we instill self-discipline. It’s the cornerstone of a successful life.” With pursed lips, Miss Hennessy paused in apparent reflection on the soundness of her personal philosophy. “However, now that I’ve made up my mind to go, I have plans for class preparation. A jump start, as it were. If it’s not too great an inconvenience for Mr. St. Jacques, I’d prefer to leave today.”

  Judith said she’d do her best to arrange transportation. After Miss Hennessy left, Judith dialed the Carrs’ number. Luckily, Cilla answered instead of her mother.

  “Cilla, do you own a mallet?” Judith asked.

  “I sure do,” Cilla answered, sounding a bit cross. “Did you find it?”

  Making a thumbs-up sign, Judith glanced at Renie. “I think so. Does it have a wooden handle and an iron head?”

  “Yes.” An exasperated sigh floated over the scratchy phone line. “Honestly, I’m sick of having my tools disappear! Usually, I’m not so careless. I guess my mind’s more messed up than I thought.”

  “When did you last see your mallet?” Judith asked, still keeping eye contact with Renie.

  “Yesterday afternoon,” Cilla replied promptly. “I put up the badminton net for the Estacadas. I used the mallet to drive the metal poles into the ground. Where did you find it?”

  Judith hesitated. “Out by the garage,” she finally said, deciding that it might not be wise to state the specific spot.

  “I’ll get it in the morning when I clean house,” Cilla said. “Thanks.” Her voice dropped. “Thanks for being so kind to my mother. She told me about calling on you.”

  “Uh…” Judith wondered if she should mention the fact that Rowena Carr didn’t recall seeing the cousins until introducing herself at the Barber house. “Does your mother have memory problems?”

  “She has a lot of problems,” Cilla replied. “Don’t blame yourselves for any of them. Bye now.”

  The phone rang while Judith still had her hand on the receiver. It was Lulu McLean. “What’s this about finding a possible murder weapon?” she demanded.

  Judith explained. McLean’s attitude became less belligerent. “A mallet, huh? Could be. You didn’t touch it, did you?”

  “Of course not.” Judith considered telling the deputy that Mr. Flynn was a policeman. But before she could say anything further, McLean was speaking again.

  “Okay, I just saw Rafe at the county extension office. I’ll try to grab him before he takes off. Meanwhile, go keep an eye on that mallet. I wouldn’t want it to wander away.”

  Judith replaced the phone. “She’s coming over. That’s fine. Then Rafe can take June Hennessy and Deputy McLean back to Laurel Harbor.”

  Renie was opening the liquor cabinet. “Last night I didn’t think I’d ever feel like drinking again. But I could manage a small screwdriver. How about you?”

  The goose wings showed that it was a quarter after four. “Why not? We can take our drinks down to the turnaround.”

  Renie was uncapping a bottle of Russian vodka. “What for? Why can’t we sit on the deck, like normal people?”

  “Because McLean wants us to keep an eye on the mallet,” Judith replied with a droll expression. “I know, it sounds silly. But at least she’s taking us seriously, so we should humor her.”

  “That’s dumb,” Renie declared, getting a pitcher of orange juice out of the refrigerator. “McLean won’t be here for at least half an hour. We can run down just before five and make it look as if we’d been guarding the goods the whole time.”

  Judith started to quibble, thought about sitting on the hard stairs or the uneven ground, and shrugged. “Okay. The mallet’s been there since yesterday, if it really does belong to Cilla. She said she used it to put up the badminton net for the Estacadas.”

  Renie mixed their drinks. “If all the guests are going away, why are we staying?”

  The idea hadn’t yet occurred to Judith. “Good point. Why would Jeanne want to pay me for what amounts to house-sitting? Nobody else has reservations until Monday. Maybe Cilla could take over until Jeanne gets back Wednesday. I’ll call later and see what she thinks.”

  Glasses in hand, Judith and Renie retreated to the deck. A few more clouds had gathered in the sky, and the air felt much cooler. Overhead, the noisy bluejays were arguing again. Judith put her feet up and tried to relax.

  “Where were we with our hypotheses when you suddenly remembered you’d seen a blunt instrument?” Judith asked.

  “What difference does it make if we’re going to be out of here tomorrow?” Renie was sitting in the lawn swing, moving lazily back and forth.

  “Well…” Judith plucked at her lower lip. “I guess it doesn’t. Still, I sort of hate to let go.”

  Renie turned slightly, giving Judith an amused look. “Why do I think you won’t really leave?”

  “I can use the money,” Judith said in a self-righteous tone, “especially if we’re going to buy another car.” She wagged a finger at Renie. “Just to prove my good intentions, I’m going to call the car-rental company on the mainland. If we go back tomorrow, maybe I can rent that Subaru Legacy for the return trip. There can’t be that many people renting cars this time of year.”

  Renie waited on the deck while Judith called the rental office on the mainland. The woman who answered said that the Legacy Judith had dropped off Monday morning had gone out that night. Perhaps Mrs. Flynn would like to try a different model?

  Judith said that would be fine, but it would have to be a four-door sedan. That was no problem, the woman replied. They had a nice maroon Impreza that had just come in. The detail man would have it ready in an hour or so. The agency insisted on doing a thorough job of cleaning and maintenance before releasing its cars. The Impreza would be gassed up and ready to go by morning. To expedite matters, Judith gave the necessary information, including her temporary address.

  “I’m staying at Chavez Cove,” she explained.

  The woman laughed in surprise. “Really? What a coincidence. That Legacy you dropped off yesterday was rented by a woman from the same address.”

  Judith also laughed. “That is a coincidence. Was it a Mrs. Barber?”

  The woman thought so. Whoever it was planned to drop it off at the airport before taking a flight to California. Judith finished relaying the information and hung up.

  “You see?” Judith said to Renie. “I plan on going. Assuming that it’s okay with Jeanne.”

  Renie looked at Judith. Her round face merely hinted at her disbelief. After depositing their unfinished drinks in the refrigerator, the cousins went out the back door to wait for Deputy McLean.

  “One of us should have stayed on the deck,” Renie said. “McLean will come up from the dock. She’ll have to use the front door. Shall I go back inside?”

  Judith made a face. “I suppose.” She glanced up at the steep planes and angles of the Barber house. There was no way that the cousins could see anyone arriving from their position in the turnaround. While the water side was almost entirely made of glass, the opposite facade was solid wall, except for the back door. All that was visible was the covered staircase and the overhang from the roof.

  Renie trudged back up the stairs. Glancing at her watch, Judith noted that it was almost five. She wandered over to the wild rhododendrons, noting how much rangier they were than the dense, compact hybrid variety by the stairs. Poking her head into the shrubbery, she gazed down at the spot where she’d seen the mallet.

  It was gone.

  ELEVEN

  JUDITH FELT HER spine tingle. Someone had crept
into the turnaround while the cousins sat on the deck, enjoying their drinks and talking. It was very likely that that someone had been a killer. The thought of having a murderer move stealthily within thirty yards of their comfortable circumstances was very unsettling, but Judith couldn’t allow fear to distract her. She saw no signs of footprints, but neither the grassy strip next to the shrubbery nor the dry dirt and gravel in the turnaround would take much of an impression. She was still muttering to herself in dismay and disbelief when Bates Danfield came up the road.

  “Mrs. Flynn,” he said in a serious voice. “May I have a word with you?”

  “What?” Judith was so absorbed in the loss of the mallet that she hardly heard Bates. “Okay, what is it?” The irritation in her voice was impossible to conceal, though it wasn’t intended for Bates Danfield.

  He, however, seemed to feel otherwise. “I’m the one who should be annoyed,” Bates began, his patrician features showing displeasure. “It seems that you’ve upset my wife. Indeed, your actions were disgraceful. What, pray tell, was the point of such an ignominious charade?”

  Judith tried to put the missing mallet out of her mind. She failed, for she could hear voices emanating from the vicinity of the back porch. They came from Renie, Deputy McLean, and Rafe St. Jacques.

  “Where is it?” McLean demanded, pounding down the stairs with reckless abandon. “Oh, hullo, Bates. What are you doing here?”

  Judith swallowed hard. “It’s gone. Someone must have taken it.”

  McLean reddened with anger. “What? I told you to keep an eye on it! Or is this some kind of joke?”

  “It seems,” Bates said in a supercilious tone, “that Mrs. Flynn and Mrs. Jones are fond of jokes. It’s a pity that no one else finds them amusing.”