by Mary Daheim
Renie was grimacing. “It sounds like thunder,” she shouted. “But it isn’t.”
The cousins rushed out to the deck. Above the trees, they caught sight of a helicopter. In another moment, it was out of their viewing range. The sound of the rotors faded, and then stopped altogether.
Renie stared at Judith. “The copter pad?” Renie asked.
“I guess.” Judith rubbed her temples. “Drat, we don’t know where it is. Who could be flying in?”
“The pad’s somewhere between Eagle Lake and Hidden Cove,” Renie said. “I remember that from Doc’s map.”
“Let’s go,” Judith said, starting for the back door.
“What about Cilla?” Renie inquired, hurrying after her cousin. “I got the impression she was coming over here.”
“Not right away,” Judith replied, “but I’ll leave her a note.”
Renie’s memory of Doc’s map proved faulty. By the time the cousins had tried several false leads from the area by the cabins, they decided to check the map again. But before they could turn around, a figure emerged from the trail to Eagle Lake.
“Jeanne!” Judith cried in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”
Jeanne Barber was carrying her two suitcases, the garment bag, and a large shopping bag. She set all four items on the ground as soon as she reached the flagstone walk. “I couldn’t stay away another minute,” she declared in a fretful voice.
The whirring noise again filled the afternoon air. Judith and Renie looked up as the helicopter rose over the trees and headed away from the island. The women didn’t speak until the sound of the rotors had faded.
“But everything’s fine,” Judith asserted, picking up one of the suitcases while Renie grabbed the garment bag. “Two of the cabins are booked for tonight, and there are probably more reservations coming in. I called Ingrid at the state association.”
Jeanne nodded abruptly, then reclaimed the other suitcase and the shopping bag. “I know. I talked to Ingrid, too. That’s why I’m here. I simply couldn’t stay away any longer, knowing what a mess things were in.”
“But they’re not,” Judith protested. “We’ve got everything under control.”
Jeanne was moving briskly toward the path to Chavez Cove. “Nonsense. From what Lulu McLean told me on the phone this morning, the killer is still at large. Everybody on this island is a suspect. I feel responsible for putting you in charge. I realize now that it was a big mistake.”
“Now just a minute,” Judith said angrily, as she and Renie hurried to keep up with Jeanne. “It’s not our fault that Mr. Hodge got killed. In fact, we’ve been doing some investigating on our own, and it turns out that he used to live…”
“Spare me,” Jeanne snapped. “All I want to do is get home, unpack, and collect myself. Then I’ll deal with this debacle the best I can.”
The cousins trudged along in silence, though they couldn’t help but exchange dark looks. When they reached the house, they found a note from Cilla.
“What’s that?” Jeanne demanded. “A threatening letter?”
Judith tried to hold her temper. “Of course not. Cilla was supposed to stop by, but she’s going over to Laurel Harbor with Rafe to meet the three-fifty ferry. I guess she had some errands to run.”
Jeanne was standing just inside the back door. Her gaze raked the living room, the kitchen, and the stairs that led to the loft. “It looks all right,” she said, more to herself than to the cousins.
“Why wouldn’t it?” Judith asked in a testy tone. “Say, Jeanne, how come you arrived by copter instead of ferry?”
Jeanne was already taking her bags into the master bedroom. “I just missed the twelve-thirty. I didn’t want to wait around for the three-fifty. I assumed the guests would be on that run, and I wanted to get here first. Luckily, the Santa Lucia Helicopter Service was standing by on the mainland after bringing over some Hollywood type from Sanchez.” She frowned at Judith and Renie, who hadn’t ventured all the way into the bedroom. There was no sign in Jeanne’s cold manner of the gushing, faintly scatterbrained old high-school chum who had greeted the cousins on their arrival Monday morning. “It’s too bad if Rafe’s left for Perez,” Jeanne said, opening one of the suitcases and removing what looked like a laundry bag. “You could have gone with him to catch the three-fifty. Why don’t you call and see if he’s still at Hidden Cove?”
“Now just a minute,” Judith said, taking a bold step into the bedroom. “We’re not ready to leave. We have to pack. We have some loose ends to tie up. Frankly, I’d prefer not leaving until morning.”
Jeanne paused in the act of hanging up a blue silk dress. “Suit yourselves. You can stay tonight in the cabin that’s not occupied.” She swept a hand over Judith’s toiletries, which sat next to the sink. “Get this stuff out of the way. I’ve got to finish unpacking before my guests arrive.”
Feeling not unlike a common garden pest, Judith began gathering up her belongings. Renie, however, wasn’t about to be bullied.
“Listen up,” Renie barked, marching to the top of the four steps that led to the lower part of the bedroom. “My cousin and I’ve gone through hell and back while you sat on your scrawny butt down there in Palm Springs wallowing around in eel wax or whatever it was. The least you can do is be courteous. If I hear one more peep out of you, your husband’s duck decoys won’t be the only thing around here with irregular features.”
Stunned by Renie’s outburst, Jeanne turned away. Renie gave one sharp nod at Judith and stomped out of the bedroom. Judith continued collecting her toiletries. Though she and Jeanne worked in close proximity, they didn’t speak. When Judith had closed the locks on her suitcase, she turned to Jeanne and spoke in a composed, serious voice.
“Renie is inclined to speak her mind. But I’m not blaming her. I don’t think you should either.”
Jeanne uttered a weary sigh. “These past few months have been very difficult. To make matters worse, my doctor in Laurel Harbor took me off my estrogen. Sometimes I don’t seem to know myself.”
“I have an inkling of what else is bothering you,” Judith said, her gaze level with Jeanne’s. “I think it would be better if you talked your way through it. Believe me, I’ve been there. I know more about these things than you could guess.”
Jeanne shook her head. “There’s no point.”
Judith refused to be put off. “I honestly don’t think you knew H. Burrell Hodge before he came to Chavez Island.”
“Of course I didn’t! I already told you that!” Jeanne’s skin darkened under her newly acquired tan.
“But I do think,” Judith continued doggedly, “that you knew why he came. What puzzles me is why you left.”
Jeanne’s shoulders drooped a bit. “Look, Judith,” she said, lowering her voice, “keep out of it. Maybe I sounded harsh just now. My nerves are shot. Staying at the spa didn’t help me relax—all I did was worry about what was happening here. I should never have let Marcia talk me into going. And now that I’m back, I have to deal with things in my own way, on my own. I’m sorry it has to be like this, but I really think it’d be best if you and your cousin got out of the house right now. You can spend the night in one of the cabins or you can catch the next ferry to the mainland. It doesn’t matter to me. Just…go.”
Judith went. It took a few more minutes for Renie to finish packing and for both cousins to make sure they hadn’t left any personal items in other parts of the house. At the last minute, Judith remembered to leave the keys on the kitchen counter. But she kept one for the cabins.
“Why,” Renie demanded as they made their way down the long staircase, “are we spending the night? Even if we miss the three-fifty, we could still get on the six-thirty.”
“I didn’t say we were staying,” Judith answered. “I need time to think. Obviously, Jeanne doesn’t want me to do that inside her house.”
By the time Judith and Renie reached the cabins, the clouds had lifted to reveal patches of blue sky. Since Judith had already a
ssigned Doe and Fawn to the arriving guests, only Buck remained open.
“Burrell wasn’t here long enough to leave an aura,” Judith remarked, placing her suitcase near the hearth.
Renie, however, was looking uneasy. Judith asked if she felt spooked.
“No,” Renie replied, sinking into a corduroy-covered armchair. “But I wonder if McLean will let us leave. Specifically, me. Don’t you figure I have to be a suspect?”
“No,” Judith said with conviction. “The coroner’s report showed that Burrell wasn’t killed with a dinner plate.”
“I could have hit him twice,” Renie pointed out.
“Lulu McLean may not be a lovable sort,” Judith said, sitting down on the plaid sofa, “but she’s smart. She can see that an angry person might blow up and bop somebody over the head. But that’s a safety valve. You wouldn’t get mad all over again, chase Burrell down the stairs, and hit him with a mallet.”
“You’re right,” Renie conceded. “I’d have to be a real nut to pull a stunt like that.”
Judith gave her cousin a twisted little smile. “That’s true, you’re not that nutty.” The smile disappeared. “I’d sure like to hear what the lab found on that croquet mallet.”
“I’d sure like to hear what you’ve figured out so far,” Renie said, now sounding a bit cross. “I thought we were going to talk to Doc and the Danfields.”
“I don’t know that we need to—now,” Judith added cryptically. “But we could use Doc’s phone to call the sheriff’s office and ask about the mallet. Let’s wander over to the Wicker Basket.”
Renie didn’t look pleased, but she knew from experience that Judith needed time to let her logical mind sort through her theories, hypotheses, and guesswork. “I’m going to the bathroom,” Renie announced. “Then we’ll go to the Wicker Basket.”
Judith sat quietly, waiting for Renie. She was almost certain that she knew who had killed H. Burrell Hodge. She was less certain why he’d had to die, but if her guess was right, then the motive was clear. But Judith also realized that there was virtually no proof. Perhaps the croquet mallet would offer some evidence. Judith was still mulling when Renie came out of the bathroom, cursing under her breath.
“The blasted toilet’s backed up,” she complained. “Cilla’s right—there’s no water pressure in these old cabins. Shall we call her from Doc’s?”
“She’s probably over at Laurel Harbor with Rafe,” Judith said. “We could leave a message with Mrs. Carr.”
When the cousins arrived at the Wicker Basket, Doc was standing outside, talking to Bates and Esther Danfield. Doc’s greeting was warm, but the Danfields both regarded the cousins with a marked reserve.
“I tried phoning you,” Doc said to Judith, “but Jeanne answered. I wanted to find out why that copter flew in. Now I know. She’s back.”
Bates was looking very grave. “We thought there’d been another disaster. Naturally, we’re relieved. You’ll be leaving, I take it?” His expression became hopeful.
Judith started to reply, but Renie beat her to the punch. “We’re not sure,” she said. “Judith’s thinking about buying Chavez Cove from Jeanne. It’s up for sale, you know.”
Esther blanched. “No! That is…We heard rumors…But not…you!” She gazed at the cousins with something akin to horror.
Judith decided to go along with Renie’s ruse. “I’ve considered expanding my horizons before,” she said with a little smile. “It all depends on whether we can strike a fair bargain.”
“Chavez Cove should stay in the family,” Bates declared, then hastily amended his statement. “By that I mean someone connected to the island.”
“You might be right,” Judith said lightly, then turned to Doc and asked to use the phone. The cousins went inside while Doc remained with the Danfields.
Lulu McLean refused to reveal the lab findings to Judith. Despite pleading, coaxing, and cajoling, McLean wouldn’t talk. “Tell me this much,” Judith finally said. “Do you have enough proof to make a case?”
“No,” McLean said flatly. “Are you hinting that you know something we don’t, or are you just trying to impede justice?”
“I’m not impeding it, I’m seeking it,” Judith asserted. “What do I have to do to make you believe I’m serious?”
McLean’s laugh sounded more like a snort. “Hand the perp over. Then I’ll believe you.”
“Okay,” said Judith. “I will.” This time, Judith hung up first.
“Damn!” Judith exclaimed as the cousins set foot on the porch of their cabin. “I forgot to call Cilla about the toilet! And now I have to use it before we leave.”
“There’s a plunger,” Renie said in a dubious voice.
Between the seedy rentals and the ninety-year-old house on Heraldsgate Hill, Judith had coped with plenty of plumbing problems. She had no luck with the plunger, however.
“I need a snake,” she said, coming out of the bathroom and casting about the kitchen for anything that might make do.
Renie was in the living room. “How about this?” she called.
Judith saw her cousin unwinding a piece of wire from some logs in the woodbasket by the fireplace. “I’ll try it,” Judith said. “Maybe I can shape it into kind of a fishhook thing.”
“I can do that.” Renie twisted, turned, and tucked the wire until it resembled a U-shape. “Good luck.”
Judith tried to find the least uncomfortable position next to the toilet. The bathroom, with its shower stall and sink, was very cramped. “I should have gloves,” she muttered. “Coz!” Judith yelled. “You got any gloves in your suitcase?”
“I don’t do gloves,” Renie replied, coming to stand in the doorway. “You know that.”
“I thought you might have a pair of Bill’s stashed some place,” Judith said, angling the wire into the toilet bowl. “I found a pair of Joe’s socks in my suitcase.”
“Wear them instead of gloves,” Renie suggested with a grin.
“Like mittens,” Judith grumbled. “Some help.” She felt the wire go deep inside the toilet and strike something soft. “Maybe it’s a wad of toilet paper or tissue or…” Grunting with exertion, Judith finessed the wire until she got a tenuous hold on whatever was plugging the line. “Look out!” she cried, pulling up fast and hard. An off-white object fluttered and flipped onto the floor, like a dying fish.
“Well!” Renie exclaimed. “Now you’ve got one glove. Are you going to try for two?”
Judith gazed in wonder at the off-white nylon glove. “You bet I am.”
“You have to have a pair,” Renie remarked in an amused tone.
Waving the glove’s mate victoriously, Judith stood up. “I sure do. But I don’t intend to make a fashion statement, coz. I have the feeling that the last person who wore these suckers was a killer.”
SEVENTEEN
“SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLARS?” Renie screamed into the phone at Doc Wicker’s. “One-way? Apiece? Forget it! I’ll swim!”
“You can’t swim,” Judith countered as Renie banged down the Wicker Basket’s phone. “You don’t know how.”
“We’re not paying a hundred and fifty bucks to take a helicopter to Laurel Harbor,” Renie asserted in a defiant voice. “We’ll wait until Rafe can ferry us over there.”
Doc, who was standing behind the counter, cleared his throat. “I don’t think Rafe is coming back tonight. He made his last run to Chavez when he brought the guests over to Jeanne’s cabins around four-thirty.”
Judith stared at Doc. “You mean he’s gone again?”
Doc nodded. “He…ah…had a date. He left word that he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.”
“A date?” Renie was incredulous. “With what—a walrus?”
Doc chuckled. “I know, Rafe seems all caught up in his wildlife and environmental causes, but he likes women, too. In fact,” he went on, lowering his voice though there was no one else in the store, “I understand that he’s engaged.”
Judith smiled in delighted surprise. “I t
hink that’s wonderful! Who is she?”
Doc shut one eye in a confidential wink. “It’s a secret. There should be an announcement soon.”
The cousins were bemused. But Rafe’s romantic life wasn’t uppermost in Judith’s mind. “We still have to get off this island,” she said. “It’s not quite five-thirty. We have plenty of time to catch the last ferry if we leave right away. Do you think Bates Danfield would take us in his yacht?”
Doc’s face hardened. “Ask him, if you like.”
Judith realized her gaffe. “Oh, Doc…I’m sorry!” She put out a hand and touched him lightly on the arm. “We know…about Bates and Harry and the storm and…everything.”
Doc hung his head. “I thought you might,” he said quietly.
The wind had come up and was sighing in the trees above the Wicker Basket. “What happened to the child?” Judith asked softly.
Doc licked lips which suddenly looked stiff and dry. “You don’t know?”
“I think I do,” Judith replied. “She’s alive and well and cleaning cabins.”
Though Renie gasped in amazement, Doc merely nodded. “Someday we should tell her. But until she and Rowena moved here last spring, it didn’t seem necessary. I not only couldn’t save her mother, but I rejected Cilla. I’ve been too ashamed to admit that.”
“She’s turned out well,” Judith said. “I think she could handle it.”
Doc shrugged. “Maybe. Of course, I rationalized everything at the time. I was going to sacrifice myself to the Third World, save the needy, play the saint. I couldn’t take an infant with me. But what I was really doing was running away. So I came back here, where Frannie is buried.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “My little boat, you see.”