by Mary Daheim
“I agree. Somebody breaks into our house but gets rid of a stolen purse less than fifty yards away?”
Joe shook his head. “Maybe the purse was put in the Dooleys’ garbage before whoever it was came here. But if it was stolen in the Thurlow District—and we don’t know that for sure—why haul it to Heraldsgate Hill? Apparently the alleged thief only wanted the cell phone . . . and the journal. Damn, this is bizarre. Maybe I should go to The Persian Cat tomorrow and see if I can get more out of the staff.”
Judith stared at Joe. “You’re taking on the case?”
He winced. “It’s getting personal, given the intruder.”
Judith was briefly speechless. “I thought you were starting another assignment.”
Joe shook his head. “Turns out the subject—another one of those damned insurance frauds—is in the hospital. He broke his leg in three places skateboarding. That should prove he’s not helplessly crippled, but the SANECO people are hedging their bets until he’s released.”
“So you’ve got some free time,” Judith remarked, gazing across the room and keeping her tone casual.
Joe wasn’t making eye contact either. “I feel duty-bound to follow through with our home being broken into by some weirdo.”
“Yes, of course. It makes perfect sense.”
But Judith wondered about Joe’s real intentions. He might not own up to it, but she knew he’d caught a cold case of homicide.
The rain had let up by Thursday morning. Ruby was the last of the guests to come down for breakfast a little before ten-thirty. She’d used the back stairs and looked more clear-eyed, but claimed she still felt fuzzy-headed.
“I had some really wacko dreams,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “Dancing dudes in turbans, cats in garbage cans, old folks racing wheelchairs, and a trumpet that played like a piano. Or was it a piano that . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind. My head’s still woolly.”
“Does it ache?” Judith asked, having just finished clearing away the other guests’ breakfast dishes.
“Not really. It just feels foggy.”
Judith poured coffee for Ruby. “Nothing’s come back to you yet?”
“Not exactly.” Ruby grimaced. “I hear a man’s voice. He’s saying something like, ‘Hi, there. New in town?’ Weird, huh? I mean, that’s not exactly a twenty-first-century come-on.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t say it.”
Ruby laughed. “I guess not. But it’s dumb.” She gazed around the kitchen. “Where is everybody?”
“Mother’s gone off to play bridge, Joe had some errands to run, and all the guests have checked out. Only the Porcinis are staying over. It looks like I’ll have at least one vacancy tonight, but the weekend’s full.”
Ruby looked alarmed. “Including my room?”
“Yes, but if you want to stay, we have a spare room in the family quarters on the third floor.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t,” Ruby said in a wan voice. “I have to be back Monday anyway.”
Judith leaned on the table. “You’re welcome here. We haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of what happened to your mother.”
“ ‘We’?” Ruby repeated. “I thought you and Mr. Flynn weren’t getting involved.”
“That’s Joe to you. He feels obligated to find out who broke into our house. Besides, he’s got some free time right now.”
Ruby put her hand on Judith’s. “I can’t believe you guys are so nice. I mean, I—”
The sound of a siren interrupted. Both women listened as it came closer to the cul-de-sac. “Now what?” Judith murmured, heading for the entry hall.
Ruby followed her. “Maybe it’s a fire.”
Judith opened the front door, looking out into the overcast morning. A moment later a fire engine pulled into the cul-de-sac and stopped in front of Herself’s rental. More sirens could be heard close by. The EMTs and the police—Judith knew the drill all too well.
“I don’t see any smoke,” Ruby said.
Judith shook her head. “I don’t either. But here comes Arlene. And Naomi Stein, from the house on the other corner. I’m guessing a medical emergency.”
Ruby made a face. “Do you know the people who live there?”
“Only by sight,” Judith said. “The Frosches aren’t very friendly.” She gave a start as a young man met the firefighters on the porch. “I’ve never seen him before. I think they have a son, but he lives . . . I forget.”
“In Idaho,” Arlene called from the middle of the cul-de-sac. “His name is Brick. I saw him once this summer.”
Naomi had joined Arlene. “I didn’t know they had a son,” she said.
Judith and Ruby left the porch to watch with the other women. “Arlene, I thought you told me Mr. and Mrs. Frosch both worked.”
“They do,” Arlene said. “But they can’t work if they’re dying.”
“True,” Judith agreed under her breath.
The police and the EMTs pulled in. Judith glanced at the Porters’ house between the Rankerses’ and the Steins’. Both Gabe and Rochelle Porter worked, too, so they were probably gone for the day, as were the Ericsons, who lived on the other side of the rental.
The firefighters and the young man had gone back inside. Ruby grabbed Judith’s arm. “I recognize . . . no, I must be wrong,” she said, shaking herself and letting her hand fall away.
“What?” Judith asked.
“Never mind,” Ruby replied. “I’m still fuzzy.”
Judith didn’t recognize the two patrol officers. They were male, one black, one Hispanic, and both very young. Rookies, Judith figured. She did know the lead EMT—Kinsella, who had been an all-too-frequent visitor over the years. He glanced at the B&B, but quickly turned away as if reliving a bad dream. Judith felt like making an obscene gesture, but decided that would be a really bad idea.
Naomi had turned to Arlene. “Have you met the new people who live in the corner house next to the rental?”
“Only once,” Arlene replied. “Bhumi Bhatt works for a national investment firm. Bhandra Bhatt tutors children in math, shops exclusively at Nordquist’s, and reads only nonfiction. Two children, nine-year-old boy, Bhupa, and six-year-old girl, Bhopad. They go to Pastoral Day School on the other side of the hill. The family has moved three times in the past seven years, living most recently in Denver. Oh—their cat died last week. He was fourteen, and didn’t want to leave Colorado. His name was Rocky. For the mountains, I suppose.”
Naomi’s expression was blasé, accustomed as she was to Arlene’s knowledge about people she claimed to be utter strangers. “I’ve only seen the Bhatts from across the cul-de-sac. Very good-looking people.” She gestured at the rental. “If that was the Frosches’ son, the sick person must be . . . ?”
“Elma or Herbert,” Arlene said. “He prefers being called Herb.”
“Working for Boring,” Judith suggested. “Herb may be on the night shift. If Elma cooks at the public schools, she’s probably at work.”
Arlene gestured at the vehicles in front of the Frosch house. “Elma’s VW is there and the midsize sedan belongs to Herb. He does work odd hours.” She took a few steps forward, studying the rear of a black Ford Explorer Sport Trac. “Idaho plates,” she said. “The son,” she added ominously.
“Dare I ask,” Judith began, “if you know anything about him—” She broke off as a gurney was rolled out of the rental.
“Nothing to see here,” Medic Kinsella shouted at the four women. “Not one of yours,” he added, looking directly at Judith.
“Fine,” Judith murmured, but was startled to see the young man and an older version of him she vaguely recognized. “It must be Elma.”
“There go the firefighters,” Naomi said. “And police.” She turned to Judith. “Why don’t you ask those officers. You must know them.”
“I don’t,” Judith replied through taut lips. “They’re new.”
The younger and the older Frosches got into the Ford Explorer.
Naomi patted Arlene’s arm. “Don’t fuss. You’ll find out soon enough. Bad news travels fast.”
“Not fast enough.” Arlene took a few steps across the cul-de-sac. “But maybe sooner than I expected. The front door isn’t closed shut.”
“Arlene!” Naomi cried. “You wouldn’t!”
Arlene scowled at Naomi. “We can’t leave their door open.” Her blue-eyed gaze veered to Judith. “Especially with burglars breaking into houses around here. Isn’t that what the block watch and neighbors are for? I’ll make sure everything is secure.” As if marching to a regimental drumbeat, she headed for the rental.
Naomi laughed and shook her head, but followed Arlene. Ruby stared at Judith. “Are you going with them?”
“No.” Resolutely, Judith turned her back on the rental and led the way to the B&B. “They’re harmless. Really,” she said after they got inside. “Naomi might protest, but she’s curious, too. It’s . . . ah . . . natural. The Frosches aren’t neighborly and . . . um . . . well . . . I’ve got a key.”
Ruby was wide-eyed. “You do? How come?”
“My husband’s ex-wife owns that house. She lives in Florida, so we keep a key if any problems come up. Until now, the rental agency has handled everything, but Herself—I mean, Vivian—feels better if Joe and I have access in case . . . just in case.”
“That’s . . . good of you. No hard feelings between you and his ex?”
“Not anymore,” Judith said, heading for the kitchen. “It’s all in the past.” She picked up the pace as the phone rang. To her dismay, it was her cleaning woman, Phyliss Rackley. “Where are you?” Judith asked, trying to hide her irritation. “You were supposed to be here by ten.”
“The good Lord had other plans for me,” Phyliss said in a sulky voice. “My dentist had an emergency he had to take first. Then the bus broke down. I’m standing on a corner waiting for the next one. In fact, I’m outside of a little grocery store and . . . oh, no! The bus went by without stopping! The Lord must have it in for me today. I can’t think why. I haven’t sinned that much except for being annoyed by having to wait so long for the dentist. Evil thoughts—that’ll do it every time.”
“The Lord probably doesn’t have it in for you, Phyliss, but I will if you don’t get over here in half an hour. The morning is almost gone.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I’ll pray on it. It’s starting to rain again. Oh, no! I left my bumbershoot at the dentist’s! Satan’s ruining my life. He’s tempting me to anger.”
Judith ignored the remark. “I keep an extra umbrella here,” she said, also trying to keep her temper. “Stay under the store overhang and don’t miss the next bus.” She hung up before Phyliss could say another exasperating word.
Ruby had taken it upon herself to clean the dining room coffee urn. “Just trying to be useful. You got a Bible-thumper working for you?”
Judith nodded once. “My cleaning woman. She’s very good, but very . . . pious. Or something like that. She also has a lot of health and dental problems. Fortunately, none of them are serious.”
“Want me to start in on some of her chores?” Ruby offered. “She won’t be able to catch up.”
Judith was surprised. “You’re not going to continue your quest?”
Ruby slumped into a kitchen chair. “I feel like a dork. I make one crummy try at it and end up losing my purse and getting amnesia. Maybe it’s not worth it. What can I really do on my own?”
“It’s probably just as well you don’t overtax yourself,” Judith said. “Did you think you recognized someone in the cul-de-sac?”
Ruby shook her head, but didn’t meet Judith’s gaze. “Not really. You know how some people are a type. I mean, they’re the same height, build, coloring, age group.” She shrugged. “They look familiar until you get up close.”
“True,” Judith agreed as Joe entered through the back door.
“I’ve got some news,” he announced, hanging up his jacket in the hallway. “It’s raining.”
Judith made a face at her husband as he came into the kitchen. “Funny Joe. That’s not news around here.”
“No,” he responded, taking a diet soda out of the fridge, “but I stopped to see Woody at the precinct station. He’s going to pull his old files.” Joe sat down next to Judith and looked at Ruby. “He’s intrigued, of course. Being a captain, he may not get to it until tomorrow, but he’ll bring them when he comes to dinner. You’re sticking around, right?”
Ruby looked surprised. “Yeah, well, I guess I better. I was about to give it up. I feel guilty for causing everybody so much trouble.”
Joe shook his head. “Don’t. Look, I’m doing this for my old partner as much as for you. This case has bothered him for years.” He nudged Judith. “So what was that 911 call to Herself’s house about? It came in while I was talking to Woody, but I had to leave before I could find out.”
Judith looked into his curious green eyes. “Believe it or not, I have no idea. We think it was for Mrs. Frosch. Somebody left on a gurney and it wasn’t Mr. Frosch or the young man I assume is their son.”
Joe took a quick swallow of soda. “You mean it could be a mere medical emergency?”
Judith shrugged. “It happens.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Arlene called out from the hallway. “Naomi and I found out why the front door was left open.” She entered the kitchen and sat down by Ruby. “A young woman was in the living room. We hadn’t even started to look at . . . I mean, look around to make sure everything was in order—the stove and faucets not on, the pilot light—”
“Stop!” Judith cried. “Who was it?”
“How do I know?” Arlene shot back. “Apparently she’s either the wife or the girlfriend of their son, Brick. Her name is Elaine, but she prefers Lainie, with an i and e at the end. Of her name, I mean.”
“So,” Judith asked when Arlene had stopped for breath, “what happened to Elma? It was Elma, right?”
“Yes,” Arlene replied. “Elma was suffering from an overdose of antacids. No gallbladder, as you may recall.”
Joe looked bemused. “Arlene, that’s bull. Nobody ODs on antacids. You’d throw up before you could do that.”
Arlene grimaced. “I wanted to throw up hearing about it, but that’s what Lainie told us. You don’t think Naomi and I aren’t suspicious? Are you going to notify Vivian about what happened to her tenant?”
“Ah . . .” Joe glanced at Judith. “I doubt it. Maybe I’ll find out what really happened first. There’s no need to bother my ex about it yet.”
“Right,” Judith muttered. “She might take to drink. More than usual, that is.”
Joe looked askance, but kept his mouth shut.
Arlene, however, wasn’t finished. “Naomi and I think Brick has spent some time in jail.”
“Why is that?” Joe asked calmly.
“Because of Lainie’s tattoos.” Arlene pointed to her forearm. “She had several tattoos with slashes through them like days crossed out inside of hearts. I asked her what they meant. I wasn’t being nosy, I wanted to show her I was a kind neighbor. She said they marked off the time Brick was away. Doesn’t that sound as if he’d been in prison?”
“Maybe,” Judith suggested, “he was in the military.”
Arlene bristled. “Then why didn’t she have an American flag or an anchor or an army patch as a tattoo?”
Ruby finally spoke up. “You could be right. Mom knew a woman at work who marked off the months on the fridge while her guy was in the slammer. Vehicular assault. She wondered what that fridge would look like when he got out, but the woman divorced him before he was sprung.”
Joe put his arm around Judith. “I can’t believe you lived in the Thurlow District all those years. Why didn’t you ask me to liberate you?”
Judith glared at h
im. “You know damned well why I didn’t. I thought you were wildly happy with Herself. How did I know you’d tried to call me after she hijacked you, but Mother kept hanging up after telling you I was dead?”
“But you weren’t,” Arlene pointed out. “That was very naughty of your mother to tell such a lie.”
“Skip it,” Judith snapped, darting dirty looks at Arlene and Joe.
“I know when I’m not wanted,” Joe murmured. “I’m taking my soda and going upstairs. Let me know when lunch is ready.”
Arlene was right behind him. “Check Brick Frosch’s criminal record, Joe. Carl needs to know as the block watch captain.”
“I like her,” Ruby said as soon as Arlene made her exit.
“How can you not?” Judith said, smiling. She paused, hearing an exchange between the Porcinis as they left for the day. “It’s going on noon. I’d better start lunch.”
“I can help,” Ruby volunteered. “I’d like to meet your mother.”
“You would?” Judith grimaced. “I mean, sure, why not? I was thinking of something you might do about your own mother. I don’t suppose you kept any of the newspaper accounts of her murder?”
“No,” Ruby said, getting up from the table. “It was too awful.”
“You might check out the media archives on my computer. Some detail could trigger a memory that might be meaningful in retrospect.”
“I suppose.” Ruby moved aimlessly around the kitchen. “Is Mr. . . . I mean, Joe really taking on my case? What does he charge?”
“If,” Judith said, removing a loaf of light rye from the bread box, “he’s doing this for Woody Price, he won’t charge you anything. Consider your own interest a throw-in.”
“That sounds wrong,” Ruby declared. “If I hadn’t come here, Joe wouldn’t be doing this.”
“Joe and Woody would probably revisit the case eventually. Besides, you’ll get to meet the Prices. They’re wonderful people.”
Ruby looked wistful. “Wonderful people . . . funny, but I didn’t think there were any of those left. Until I met you, I mean.”
Judith didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.