by Mary Daheim
Renie’s eyes had grown wide as she gazed at Judith, McLean, Bates, and, finally, Rafe, who also seemed puzzled. “What now?” Renie inquired, sounding almost as vexed as the deputy.
Judith sighed heavily. “As I said, the mallet’s gone. Do I need to fill out an affidavit?”
“I think you do,” McLean declared. “Or at least make a formal statement. Where was this alleged mallet found?”
“What mallet?” Bates inquired, now looking confused as well as outraged.
“Good question,” McLean muttered, as Judith led her to the place in the shrubbery where the mallet had been lying only an hour ago.
“It was under some of those old rhododendron leaves,” Judith said, then quickly offered her logic to support why she believed the object had been purposely hidden. “It belongs to Cilla Carr,” Judith said in conclusion. “At least Cilla thinks it does.”
Rafe was also studying the ground beneath the bushes. “Cilla has a mallet. I’ve seen it in her toolbox.”
With arms folded across her breast, McLean paced the width of the turnaround area. “This is a real screwup.” She paused just long enough to flash censorious glances at Judith and Renie. “As a matter of fact, you two are the biggest screwups I’ve met in a long time. How the hell did Jeanne Barber get mixed up with the likes of you?”
“That’s not all,” Bates put in. “I feel obliged to report what they did to my wife.”
McLean whirled on Bates. “To Esther? What did they do?”
Bates shot a malevolent look at the cousins before he replied. “They forced hard liquor on her and played disturbing music. She’s lying down right now, trying to recover from the trauma of it all.”
“Oh, good grief!” Renie stamped her foot, and twirled around in an angry circle. “That’s ridiculous! Nobody made Esther drink martinis! She came here complaining of frayed nerves. We were just trying to be hospitable.”
“What about the insidious music?” Bates demanded.
“La Boheme?” Renie’s expression was incredulous. “Come on, Danfield—that’s not exactly a Nazi interrogation tune.”
“Esther was undone,” Bates said stiffly.
“I’m done,” McLean announced. But instead of heading back through the house, she started down the road. “C’mon, Rafe,” she called over her shoulder. “We’re going to see Cilla. Maybe she can tell us something about this so-called mallet.”
Having remained silent during the last few minutes, Judith had given herself the opportunity to regain her composure. “Look,” she said to Bates, “I’m sorry your wife is upset. She really didn’t have that much to drink. And how could we know that Puccini would affect her so deeply?” Judith carefully avoided looking at Renie.
In a truculent gesture, Bates shoved his hands into the pockets of his Norfolk jacket. “You should have been able to tell how sensitive she is just from talking to her,” he responded, though the edge of his anger seemed dulled. “I suppose she talked and talked about…everything.”
“Not exactly everything,” Judith said, sensing that Bates was on a fishing expedition. “Just…certain things.”
“About what?” Bates’s voice was anxious.
“Oh…” Judith appeared to be thinking. “About borrowing books from Jeanne Barber. Doc Wicker. Her parents.”
Bates gaped at Judith. “Her parents? What did she say?”
“Um…Mostly it was their attitude toward girls and going to college and such. They sounded rather old-fashioned.”
“Oh.” Bates’s shoulders slumped in the Norfolk jacket. “I see. And Doc?”
“Esther told a very sad story, about the mother Doc couldn’t save.” Judith offered Bates a piteous smile. “It explained why Doc gave up medical practice. We were curious about that.”
The muscles along Bates’s jaw tightened. “Esther told you about Doc? What did she say? Precisely, that is.”
“Precisely?” Judith wrinkled her nose, then glanced at Renie for help. “That Doc hadn’t been in practice long and he had never dealt with a difficult delivery and it all went wrong. The baby lived, but the mother didn’t.” Judith looked again at Renie.
“That’s right,” Renie chimed in. “Oh, and that the mother had been warned not to go too far from a hospital because it sounded as if her own doctor knew she was going to have problems. But she and her husband came up to Chavez anyway.”
“That’s it?” Bates’s glance darted from cousin to cousin.
“I think so,” Judith replied.
“I see.” Squaring his shoulders, Bates gave a single nod. “Well, I don’t want my wife taken advantage of like that again. You do understand, I trust?”
“We do,” Judith promised. “If anyone should be mad, it’s Doc. I guess he doesn’t like having that story told.”
“Probably not.” Bates’s anger had finally dissipated, along with his concern. “You’re sure Esther didn’t mention anything else that might have caused her distress?”
Judith shook her head. “Not that I recall. She wasn’t here very long.”
“Very well.” Bates managed a thin smile. “I think the world of my wife. It unsettles me greatly when she’s distraught. I’ll be going now. Good day.”
“Okay,” Renie said, after Bates had disappeared down the road, “what was he afraid that Esther told us?”
Judith was already trying to figure that out. “Didn’t I say the story lacked cohesion? First of all, why didn’t they try to get the pregnant woman off the island and over to the hospital in Laurel Harbor? Had the helicopter pad been put in twenty-some years ago? Rafe wasn’t here then, but somebody must have had a boat. The Danfields, probably. Why didn’t they send for emergency assistance? We’re not talking about the Dark Ages.”
“Maybe,” Renie suggested, “it was the weather. Remember, I told you how my dad always said it could be dangerous to travel by sea when summer turns into fall? Didn’t Esther say that the tragedy took place on the first day of autumn?”
“You’re right,” Judith said. “Yes, the weather might have been bad. But you’d think the emergency people could get around, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Renie replied. “There’s always the coast guard.”
“We don’t know the whole story,” Judith declared. “Bates Danfield doesn’t want us to know the whole story. That’s why he was so worried about what Esther told us. But even after drinking a martini out of a soup tureen, she held back. I noticed that at the time. She’d falter, and then sort of cover her tracks.”
Renie nodded. “She was cautious, even in a semialcoholic haze. But it wasn’t a soup tureen, it was a pudding dish.”
“And her parents,” Judith went on, ignoring the correction. “I don’t think Bates wanted Esther to tell us anything about her parents.”
“And she didn’t,” Renie noted, “except to say that they had some arcane ideas.”
The cousins suddenly stared at each other. “What,” Judith asked, “are we talking about? None of this has anything to do with H. Burrell Hodge or Adhab or the present.”
“You’re right,” Renie admitted. “We’re beating ourselves up for nothing.”
“Then why is everybody around here so close-mouthed?” Judith demanded.
“Because that’s the kind of people they are,” Renie replied. “That’s why they’re isolated. They don’t really want to have anything to do with other people. They have their secrets, and whether or not they’re worth keeping doesn’t really matter. They don’t want to share any part of themselves with the rest of the world.”
Judith knew that Renie was right. “I didn’t mean it when I told Esther that Doc was selfish,” said Judith, more to herself than to Renie. “But in a way, it’s true. They’re all selfish. The Danfields are rich, and people with money are always afraid that other people are trying to get it away from them. Rowena Carr has mental problems, and Cilla is trying to keep the world from getting to her mother. Rafe has something buried in his past, I’m sure of it.
He’s hiding out in Hidden Cove, which is certainly fitting. And Elrod Dobler definitely has a proprietary attitude toward the Danfields, and by extension, toward the whole island. These people live here, they die here, they get buried here. It’s a world unto itself.”
“You left out Jeanne Barber,” Renie put in.
“So I did.” Judith smiled wryly. “I wonder why Jeanne and Duane came up here twelve years ago. Their daughter probably wouldn’t have been out of high school. It must have been kind of hard on them.”
The answer to that question seemed to be at hand as June Hennessy strode down the path from the cabins. “I came to see if Mr. St. Jacques could take me over to Laurel Harbor,” Miss Hennessy said. “Have you seen him? He’s not at Hidden Cove, and his cruiser’s gone.”
“He’s tied up in Chavez Cove,” Judith said with a smile. “I’m sure he’ll take you over to the big island when he gets back from the Carrs. Deputy McLean is with him.”
Miss Hennessy gazed at Judith with open curiosity. “Well! Has the deputy discovered who killed Mr. Hodge? I certainly hope so!”
“She’s still working on it,” Judith admitted. “Say, Miss Hennessy, how did Marcia Barber go to school from here? My cousin and I were figuring that Jeanne and Duane must have moved up here while she was still a teenager?”
“I’ve never met Marcia,” Miss Hennessy replied without much interest. “I’m not even certain how old she is. She may have graduated by the time the Barbers bought the Chavez Cove property.”
Renie, who had been idly searching for four-leafed clovers along the edge of the turnaround, looked up. “Who’d they buy this land from? I can see that the cabins are old, but I know they built the house. What was here before that?”
“Nothing,” Miss Hennessy answered. “Or so I understand. Remember, I didn’t start coming to Chavez until five years ago. Though I recall Jeanne mentioning that she and Duane purchased the property from Elrod Dobler.”
Judith gaped at Miss Hennessy. “Elrod Dobler? I thought the Danfields owned most of the island.”
Miss Hennessy uttered a short little laugh. “So they’d like you to think. But it’s not true.” She gave the cousins a knowing smile. “Until the Barbers came, Elrod Dobler owned everything, lock, stock, and sand pebble. I’ll fetch my luggage and drop off the key. Mind if I wait on your deck for Mr. St. Jacques?”
Judith and Renie had been chewing on Miss Hennessy’s tidbit for at least five minutes when McLean and Rafe returned from the Carr house. Perhaps the schoolteacher was misinformed. Surely the crusty old lout with the sawed-off shotgun couldn’t be a wealthy property holder? Perhaps Miss Hennessy had Elrod confused with Simon Dobler. Elrod lived in a guest cottage; the Danfields lived at Stoneyhenge. They dressed like rich people, they talked like rich people, they acted like rich people, they had the patina of rich people.
“Patina,” Judith was muttering as Rafe and McLean appeared on the road. “Maybe that’s the key, as in surface, as in superficial.”
Renie had no opportunity to respond. McLean was looking disgruntled, and Rafe wore an unusually harried air.
“Cilla can’t be exact about how big the head of the mallet is,” McLean groused. “An inch, two inches—somewhere in between. I don’t suppose you two could tell me.”
Judith cleared her throat. “I’d say under two inches. But it’s just a guess. I told you, I didn’t touch it.”
“I think it could be the weapon,” Rafe said, with a deferential glance at McLean. “How many other items on this island fit that description?”
McLean didn’t respond. With her lips clamped together, she signaled for Rafe to follow her. They went up the stairs. Judith and Renie brought up the rear.
“Look,” McLean said before heading out the front door, “I don’t know what to make of you two.” She glowered at Renie. “You actually saw this mallet thing last night, right after Hodge was killed, but you didn’t say anything until this afternoon.” Turning to Judith, she wagged a reproachful finger. “Then, after you’ve both seen the mallet, you don’t stand guard over it until I can get here. Meanwhile, somebody pinches it. Did you see anyone near the house after you called me to say you’d found the mallet?”
Given the parade of visitors to Chavez Cove in the last few hours, Judith had to stop and think about who had arrived when. “Only June Hennessy and Bates Danfield. But of course anyone could come into the turnaround without us seeing them. As you can tell, you have to be actually on the stairs before you have any kind of view between the house and the shrubbery.”
McLean gave a slight nod, indicating that she was unaware of the layout. “Okay,” she said to Rafe in a dejected tone, “let’s go.”
“Wait!” Judith exclaimed. “I forgot! Miss Hennessy wants to go back with you. She’s checking out, too.”
Judith had barely uttered the words when June Hennessy’s voice trumpeted through the house. “Yoo-hoo! Anyone home?”
Hurrying to admit Miss Hennessy, Judith silently berated herself for her faulty memory. McLean pounced as soon as the schoolteacher entered the kitchen. Had Ms. Hennessy seen anyone in the turnaround on her previous visit to the house? Had Ms. Hennessy happened to notice anything unusual? Had Ms. Hennessy sensed anything untoward?
“I’m not Ms. Hennessy,” the schoolteacher replied in a haughty voice. “I’m Miss Hennessy. The designation of Ms. is a pariah. It means nothing. Are women such as you ashamed of your single state? I’m not. Indeed, I’m proud of it.”
Lulu McLean seemed taken aback. “Look, you don’t understand. Ms. is like Mr.—you can’t tell from a man’s title if he’s married or not, right? Why should it be any different for women?”
“Because women are different,” Miss Hennessy retorted. “They’re superior in every way. All this nonsense about equality! I wouldn’t lower myself to become equal!”
“Okay,” McLean said wearily. “I see your point. I think. Now how about seeing anything in the turnaround?”
“You mean at the bottom of the back stairs?” Miss Hennessy’s ire cooled. “No, certainly not. Although…” She frowned. “When I left this house roughly an hour ago, I did hear something. A rustling sound is the best way I can describe it. Naturally, I thought it was an animal of some sort. That’s not unusual around here.” She gave McLean a defiant look.
The deputy was undaunted. “Where was it coming from?”
Miss Hennessy’s frown deepened. “Why, I’m not sure. I really wasn’t paying attention. My mind was focused on my departure.”
McLean nodded. “Okay, I guess that’s the best you can do. Let’s haul ass for Laurel Harbor.”
Miss Hennessy made a disapproving face, but Rafe was already heading for the dock. “A moment,” Miss Hennessy said, beckoning to Judith. “Should you find my cameo brooch, please send it on to Laurel Glen Academy. I must have mislaid it. Very vexing—I’m not usually careless.” With a nod, she followed Rafe to the steps that led into the cove.
Five minutes later, the cousins had rescued their screwdrivers and were sitting on the deck. “I’ll call Jeanne before we start dinner,” Judith said. “I should call Mother, too.”
Renie’s eyes danced. “Why, if we’re leaving tomorrow?”
“I mean,” Judith explained a bit defensively, “if Jeanne insists that we stay, I’ll call Mother. Otherwise, you’re right. We’ll just show up and surprise her.”
“Uh-huh.” Renie was definitely skeptical.
“Okay, okay,” Judith said crossly. “I’ll call Jeanne right now. It’s going on six. She ought to be done for the day with her mud wrap and her kelp balm and her goat hormones.”
This time, Judith reached Jeanne on the second transfer. In a voice throbbing with apology, Judith relayed the coroner’s verdict. “It’s had a dampening effect on the other guests. That’s understandable, of course. People often overreact. In all honesty, I doubt that the others were in any real danger…”
Jeanne jumped on only one word: “‘Were’? What do you mean,
Judith?”
“Ah…as in they were here, but now are gone? The Estacadas checked out earlier this afternoon. Miss Hennessy just left about ten minutes ago.”
“Oh, good heavens!” Jeanne sounded annoyed.
“I know, it’s a big pain,” Judith said hastily. “So I was wondering if you wanted me to stay on. According to your reservation list, no one else is coming until Monday.”
“This is a disaster,” Jeanne declared. “I’m losing hundreds of dollars! Call the state association’s central booking office. Let them know that the cabins are vacant. Maybe something can be salvaged from this mess. No, I don’t want you to leave! Not counting tonight, there are five more days that we might be able to fill. Unless,” she added in an ominous voice, “no one will come to Chavez because of the murder.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Judith said quickly. Too quickly, she realized when she heard Jeanne’s sharp intake of breath. “I mean, people often are intrigued by misfortune. You know, like tours of famous crime scenes.”
“That’s repellent,” Jeanne said. “Please call the state association. I’m surprised you didn’t think of doing that already.”
“I wouldn’t have done it without consulting you first.” Judith managed to sound vaguely indignant. “By the way, Jeanne, who did you buy this property from?”
“What? Why on earth do you want to know that? Look, I’ve checked with the insurance company and my lawyer. Now that we know it was murder, I have no liability. You don’t need to worry about anything except putting people in those empty cabins. Really, Judith, I had no idea you were so nosy! Why don’t you ask me what kind of a sex life Duane and I had? Or if we ever met Marcia’s real parents? Just tend to business—that’s what I’m paying you for. I must go, it’s time for my alfalfa dinner graze.”
“Jeanne!” Judith hadn’t heard much of the other woman’s last few words. “What about Marcia’s real…?”
But Jeanne had hung up.
Judith gave Renie a sheepish look. “Heh-heh. We’re not leaving.”
Renie, who was leaning in the doorway between the kitchen and the deck, inclined her head. “I never thought we were. Shall I make french fries to go with the steak?”