by Mary Daheim
A second patrol car would be summoned, to take Abu and the cousins into Laurel Harbor. They would also take the dog. Abu had bonded with the fox terrier, vowing to watch over the animal “…as if he were faithful camel.” Judith had said she thought that was nice.
“I wish,” Judith said after taking a sip from her Scotch, “that Lulu McLean had been on duty tonight. I’m not giving those nylon gloves to anybody but her.”
Renie sighed into her bourbon. “I suppose now—after letting me wonder if you’d lost your mind—you’ll tell me how you figured it out.”
Judith offered Renie a lame little smile. “It was you, coz. When you talked about Auntie Vance’s legacy, and then especially about Bill and his teaching. I realized that a motive for murder wasn’t always money or jealousy or revenge. It could be a dream of immortality. That’s what June Hennessy had. It’s ironic—both she and Burrell were basically well intentioned. I honestly think June wanted to help disadvantaged youngsters and that Burrell wanted to cure addicts. But they were both very flawed human beings, more so than most. Ego, I guess, in both cases. I’d considered June as a suspect along the way because I thought that if Burrell was considering buying property adjacent to the academy, she would resent the intrusion.” Judith made a rueful face at her own choice of words. “‘Resent’ is putting it mildly. She’d hate having drug addicts or alcoholics or maybe sex perverts next door to her school. That was the very kind of sordid environment from which she was rescuing her students. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that nobody could support a school like that without a secure tuition base. All her bragging about seeking money from the private sector was sort of like Bates and Esther pretending to be rich.”
Through the window, the soft amber lights of a distant freighter plied the waters. Renie admired the view, then turned back to Judith. “There was a lot of pretending and self-deception going on. Is that what you meant when you said only one person was actually lying?”
“Right,” Judith replied. “June Hennessy told all the lies. That was ironic, because I tended to believe her since she wasn’t a Chavez resident. Doc and Rafe and all the rest hedged and evaded, but they didn’t actually lie. Oh, Bates wasn’t straight with Esther about who Burrell really was or why he’d come to Chavez. But Bates’s intentions were understandable. He knew that Esther would be upset if she realized that the man she’d known as Harry was back. I think the Danfields suffered guilt pangs of their own for not taking the Wickers to the hospital in Laurel Harbor twenty-five years ago. I also think that’s why Rowena and Cilla got the Lowman house so cheap. Elrod felt bad, too. Either Doc told him who the Carrs really were or somehow Elrod figured it out—he’s no dummy. I’ll bet he pays Cilla for her housekeeping duties, too. Elrod Dobler is ornery, but he’s fair.”
Renie didn’t agree wholeheartedly. “Elrod and his wife weren’t fair to Esther. She’s always lived in a cocoon. Her world is very fragile. I suppose that’s another reason Bates dodged the Hodge issue—he didn’t want his wife to find out that Burrell was trying to buy property on Chavez for a rehab center. That kind of intrusion might shatter Esther.”
Judith concurred. “The best thing that could happen is for Jeanne Barber to sell the house and cabins back to the Danfields. It would give them something to do.”
Renie sipped at her bourbon, then waggled a finger at Judith. “You digress. What were the lies?”
“So I do,” Judith said with a faint grimace. “For one thing, Rafe and Burrell never quarreled—June invented that little scene. In fact, she tried to set up Rafe. Consciously or otherwise, his motive was most like hers—to stop Burrell from building another rehab center. She lied about seeing someone on the road to Stoneyhenge Monday night—she was there, giving herself an alibi in case anyone noticed that she’d left her cabin. She said she didn’t hear Elrod fire his gun—that couldn’t have been true. But if he or the Danfields had remembered exactly when Elrod shot at the supposedly unknown figure, then it would have literally put holes in her story. Of course she lied about hearing a noise in the shrubbery. She must have retrieved Cilla’s mallet on her way out after coming to tell us she was leaving the island.”
“I still don’t get the part about the mallets,” Renie put in, buttering a roll to tide her over until their food arrived. “Why was Cilla’s planted by the turnaround?”
“A diversion,” Judith said. “In a couple of ways. When Cilla went to Doe to unplug the toilet, June took the mallet and the nylon gloves. The way I figure it is this—June followed Burrell to Chavez Cove, waiting for her chance. She brought both mallets, and while he was in the house making you crazy, she ditched Cilla’s in the bushes. That mallet was a tool, and more suggestive of a weapon than the innocent croquet mallet. Of course it would reveal no sign of having been used in the crime, so it had to temporarily disappear after it had been found to make it look as if the killer had wiped it clean.”
Renie’s smile was wry. “The croquet mallet might have gone unnoticed if you hadn’t realized it was the wrong color in the wrong place. How could June have made such a mistake?”
“In the simplest possible way—it was dark and she was in a hurry. If,” Judith continued, “she saw her error later, she probably was afraid to move the mallet for fear of leaving prints.”
“Which brings us to the gloves,” Renie remarked.
“Yes. And the murder itself.” Judith paused, her expression very serious. “While Burrell was driving us crazy in the kitchen, June hid next to the steps, wearing the nylon gloves and wielding the croquet mallet. As soon as Burrell got to the bottom of the stairs, she leaped out and slugged him. All she had to do was go back to the cabins, replace the croquet mallet, and flush the gloves down Burrell’s toilet. She’d already found out that the old plumbing couldn’t handle much in the way of refuse.”
“You mean,” Renie said with a small grin, “the original toilet problem was—excuse the expression—a dry run?”
“Exactly. This was a meticulously planned crime. The nylon gloves had to go. June didn’t dare put them down her own toilet, and had to take a chance that the plumbing in Buck worked okay. Remember, the keys to the cabins were interchangeable.”
Enlightenment was dawning on Renie. “The Estacadas’ credit cards—Burrell’s briefcase—June’s cameo brooch! But the brooch was never really lost. June…”
“…Merely hid it, but reported it missing to make it look as if all the guests were victimized. The credit cards were another ruse because it was the briefcase theft that was important. Burrell’s plans were in there…”
“…Along with a copy of the original letter he wrote to Perez Properties about buying Laurel Glen. June was the one who…”
“…Forced the locks to see if Burrell was in fact on a real-estate mission. But she couldn’t take the briefcase then because…”
“…Burrell would have reported it missing and raised the alarm. So June had to wait until he was dead, and even then, it wasn’t easy to dispose of the briefcase, so she simply…”
“…Put it in her own luggage!” The cousins were on a roll, their affinity so great that their brains whirled in sync. They burst out laughing.
“We should have known,” Renie said, finally serious. “June said she only came to Chavez during the off-season. But we found out from Jeanne that the summer rate was in effect until next week. June must have heard through the grapevine that Burrell was coming, and made her plans accordingly. She mentioned that news traveled fast between the islands.”
“Right,” Judith agreed. “I hate to admit it, but that part went right by me. School doesn’t open until the first week in October, so I suspect that June usually comes at the end of September. But maybe the biggest lie she told was the one to Cilla. That could have caused some serious problems.”
“Cilla?” Over her highball glass, Renie regarded Judith quizzically.
“I never got the chance to ask Cilla who told her that Rafe was her father. But she had to hea
r about it sometime Monday. When Cilla came back from fixing June’s toilet late Monday afternoon, she was upset, and it wasn’t just because of her missing tools. Cilla started to explain why she might have mislaid her things, but she stopped herself. Obviously, something traumatic had happened.”
“But why would June say such a thing?” asked Renie. “Was she just trying to make trouble?”
“That’s possible,” Judith allowed. “Though there may have been another reason. June knew that Cilla was infatuated with Rafe. I think she hoped to make Cilla turn against him, so that if he were accused of killing Burrell, he’d have one less defender on Chavez. But Cilla’s outlook on life and love was very different from June Hennessy’s. As with so many other things, Cilla saw the revelation in a romantic light. I trust she’ll accept the truth in the same way.”
“Doc has a lot to offer as a father,” Renie noted. “Let’s hope he can start by putting Rowena on estrogen. That’ll make life easier for everybody, including Cilla. Maybe he can be a real father to her now, and see that her life isn’t wasted cleaning cabins on Chavez Island. Cilla has so much going for her. You know,” Renie went on, buttering a second roll, “she had a crush on Rafe. Maybe they can work something out.”
Judith shook her head. “Doc said Rafe is getting engaged, remember?”
“Oh!” Renie clapped a hand to her forehead. “In all the other excitement, I forgot. You don’t think…?” She let the question trail off.
“No. Judging from what Doc said, Cilla still thinks Rafe is her father. If he’s about to acquire a fiancée, it’s not anybody from Chavez.”
The waitress brought two spinach salads. Renie glowed when she tasted the honey-mustard dressing. Judith, however, was still wrapped up in the murder investigation.
“Real evidence is still sketchy,” she said with a little frown. “The correspondence between Burrell and Perez Properties will help. So will the books at Laurel Glen, which I’m sure will reveal that the academy is in a deep financial hole. But all that’s merely motive. It’s the nylon gloves I’m counting on.”
A dab of honey-mustard dressing remained on Renie’s upper lip. “How so? I assume criminals wear nylon gloves to keep from leaving fingerprints.”
“They do,” Judith said with a droll expression. “Which is their mistake. The perp doesn’t leave fingerprints on whatever he or she has been handling—but they do leave them on the inside of the gloves. I learned that from Joe.”
Renie regarded her cousin with frank admiration. “You’re an apt pupil, coz. Bill should be so lucky with his students. By the way, what about those footprints at Salmon Gap and Eagle Lake?”
Judith was looking rueful. “Innocent, I think. Maybe the Estacadas or Doc or just about anybody. But for a while, I had a nutty idea that Jeanne Barber might have sneaked back to the island and killed Burrell. I just couldn’t figure out why. Jeanne still thinks that his murder was the worst thing that could happen to her bed-and-breakfast. I tried to get her to talk about it, but she wouldn’t. I wanted to tell her that the tragedy wouldn’t decrease the value of the property. I was afraid of the same thing after the fortune-teller got killed at Hillside Manor, and it turned out to be a plus.”
Renie had finally managed to get rid of the salad dressing on her lip. “I told you so at the time. People are ghouls.” Suddenly her gaze veered away from Judith toward the entrance to the bar. “People are…unpredictable,” said Renie in amazement. “Don’t look now, but I’m guessing that here comes the bride-to-be—with Rafe.”
Judith did her best to cast a discreet glance in the direction Renie had indicated. She failed. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open, and she just plain gawked. Rafe, in a dark suit, white shirt, and tie, was sufficiently dashing to make any woman stare. But what really knocked Judith for a loop was the woman at his side. Attired in a short blue silk organza dress that revealed creamy white shoulders, long, shapely legs, and just enough cleavage to ignite a man’s imagination, Lulu McLean was a stunning vision. Her red curls had been cleverly arranged to soften her features, and the subtle use of cosmetics displayed her fine complexion to excellent advantage.
Having been caught gaping, Judith could think of only one thing to say: “Hey—how about those nylon gloves?”
Justifiably bewildered, McLean and Rafe approached the cousins. Up close, Judith spotted the ring on McLean’s left hand. It wasn’t a diamond, but some sort of sparkling azure stone that matched the sea—and Rafe’s eyes.
“Excuse me—would you please explain what you’re talking about?” Even McLean’s voice seemed more feminine.
As she removed the gloves from her shoulder bag, Judith explained. The deputy’s eyes lighted up. McLean turned to Rafe. “Hey, these two aren’t as dumb as they look!”
Rafe gave McLean one of his engaging, enigmatic smiles. “I’ve always said appearances can be deceiving.”
Judith gave McLean a slightly sheepish look. “Amen.”
“What do you mean,” Joe asked in a voice that was half-angry, half-baffled, “that we can’t go to Mazatlán in January?”
It was the question that Judith had dreaded. It was six-fifteen, Friday evening, and she had been home less than two hours. Following dinner at Charlie G.’s, the cousins had been required to go to the sheriff’s office and discuss their findings in detail with Lulu McLean. It turned out that the deputy had not known about June Hennessy’s detainment. Not wanting their romantic evening spoiled, Rafe had surreptitiously turned off his intended’s beeper.
Consequently, McLean had sat behind her desk in the blue silk organza dress and listened to Judith’s theories. In spite of herself, McLean was impressed, especially with the presentation of the nylon gloves. While they weren’t conclusive in and of themselves, the deputy believed they might not only reveal June Hennessy’s fingerprints inside, but that there was a chance the outside might contain minuscule fibers from the croquet mallet. And yes, McLean admitted, the mallet had shown traces of hair which matched the victim’s. Meanwhile, a full-scale investigation was being launched into the financial status of Laurel Glen Academy.
Judith and Renie hadn’t checked into their motel in Laurel Harbor until after midnight. In the morning, they had called on Ella Stovall and Abu Hamid Mansur to thank them for their help. Ella was agog about the arrest of the headmistress. Abu was expecting a job offer from the New York Times. The cousins made the twelve-thirty ferry which actually departed at one-fifteen. Judith was able to rent another Subaru Legacy on the mainland. She’d dropped Renie off around four-thirty after her cousin had called from the car-rental agency on the mainland and learned that the work on the Jones’s kitchen had been completed that afternoon. Bill was back home. Renie couldn’t wait to see what make-over the workmen had wrought.
Fortunately, Arlene Rankers had everything well in hand for the current guests at Hillside Manor. Gertrude hadn’t missed Judith because she insisted her daughter hadn’t gone anywhere except maybe to the grocery store to get some almond clusters. There was a letter from Mike saying that he and Kristin had definitely set a June date for their wedding.
But it was Joe that Judith was reluctant to face. Lulu McLean thought the trial of June Hennessy would be held sometime right after the New Year. The cousins would be expected to testify. Still, that was only one of the reasons why the trip to Mazatlán wasn’t feasible.
“It’s like this,” Judith said, sitting down at the kitchen table. Dinner was in the oven, the guests were enjoying their sherry and hors d’oeuvres in the living room, and Gertrude was fuming in the toolshed because her supper was late. “Renie and I had a little problem up at Chavez. That’s why we came home early. Jeanne Barber flew back from California yesterday.”
Joe scowled at Judith. “What kind of a problem?”
“Well…It wasn’t our fault, even though Renie kind of flew off the handle when one of the…”
The telephone cut Judith short. Joe was sitting closer to the receiver, so he picked it up. “What?…No,
that’s okay…Don’t panic…Fine, I’ll be right there.” Joe rang off, then turned to Judith. “That was Vivian. She hasn’t had a drink since Monday, but she has an awful urge right now. We’ve been to two AA meetings, and she’s getting a sponsor.” He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “Until that happens, I’ve offered to go with her. It’s the least I can do.”
Judith didn’t know whether or not she imagined the hint of apology in Joe’s voice. “Sure,” she said. “Go ahead. I’ll save your dinner for when you get back. It’s crab casserole. What time does the meeting end?”
Joe was in the hallway, putting on his jacket. “Meeting? It’s not a meeting. I said Vivian wants a drink. If I’m with her, she won’t get so drunk. Hey, Jude-girl, Rome wasn’t built in a day!”
After Joe had gone, Judith sat at the table for several minutes, her chin on her fists. She should have known that Herself’s drinking problems wouldn’t be solved so easily. None of life’s problems were easy. Being married, even to the love of your life, wasn’t easy. Having an elderly mother whose memory was slipping wasn’t easy. Thinking about your only child’s upcoming wedding wasn’t easy. Explaining to Joe that she’d gotten mixed up in another murder wasn’t…necessary.
Judith got up and went to the stove, where she ladled out Gertrude’s casserole portion, then added fruit salad and a buttered roll. Maybe when it came down to the actual trial, only depositions would be required. Maybe Jeanne Barber would reimburse Judith for helping out at Chavez Cove. Maybe there was a really good deal somewhere out there on a secondhand Subaru Legacy. Maybe somehow she and Joe could put enough money aside in the next three months to go to Mazatlán after all.