by Mary Daheim
Judith didn’t answer right away. “I thought maybe I’d spotted the mystery guy who might’ve drugged Ruby or could’ve been from a dream about someone in her past.”
Renie stared at Judith as she handed over her cousin’s car coat. “That’s a lot of maybe, might, and could-have stuff. How many drinks did you have in the VIP lounge?”
“Not even a full glass of champagne,” Judith replied, putting on her car coat. “But I had it with Duke Swisher.”
“You broke up with What’s-his-name already?”
“I lost him along the way,” Judith said as they headed for the elevators. “Duke turned out to be very different from what I expected.”
“How? Is he really a woman?”
“No. Wait until we get out of here and in the car before I unload.”
“Okay.” Renie finished the popcorn and tossed the empty box into a nearby receptacle. “I lost two bucks on that last race. I should never bet on a horse with a jockey named Tubby.”
“Was he?” Judith asked as they reached the elevators.
Renie pressed the down button. “I don’t know. I didn’t see the start of the race and he fell off the horse in the backstretch. Or maybe the horse fell down under Tubby’s weight. I was still eating popcorn. Hey,” she said, pointing to a half-dozen framed pictures of Greenacres’ leading trainers. “There’s Jorge Gonzales.”
Judith peered at the photo. “That’s the guy I just saw.”
“You want to go look for him in the men’s room? Maybe you could con him into buying me a popcorn refill.”
The elevator doors opened. “I’d better not. I really have to get home. Damn! I missed my big chance.”
“That’s what everybody who goes to the track says,” Renie noted.
One of the three men who’d also gotten into the elevator laughed. “You’re right about that, ladies. Four of my nags came in dead last.”
Judith felt the comment was fitting in more ways than one.
Gray clouds had settled in overhead and it was starting to get dark. After the valet brought her Subaru, Judith had to wait for a low-slung silver sports car to move out of the way before she could head for the exit. Once they were in the flow of northbound traffic, she recounted her conversation with Duke Swisher.
“I don’t know what to make of him,” she admitted in conclusion. “He didn’t want to discuss Opal’s murder or ask if the case was solved.”
“Understandable,” Renie said. “He was hit hard by her loss. He’s put his past behind him.”
“I wonder,” Judith murmured as they headed for the freeway on-ramp. “I think he lied about never coming back to the Thurlow District.”
“How so?”
“He mentioned that he’d told Mr. Alipur about the Lockjaw Tavern going out of business. Unless I’m confused, I thought that happened only ten years ago. How could Duke know that if he hasn’t been here for at least fifteen years?”
“Good point,” Renie murmured. “Unless he heard it secondhand.”
“Maybe.” Judith turned on the windshield wipers as the first splatters of rain fell. “That’s not how it sounded.” She frowned. “Okay, let’s face it—this trip was a bust. Sure, I met Duke and talked to Mrs. Feldstein and Annie O’Reilly, but there wasn’t time to track down Lee Watkins or anyone else who could add to the case file. All I got were impressions. I should’ve stayed retired. I’ve lost my knack.”
“The trail’s over fifteen years old,” Renie said. “The only way you could learn something helpful would be if Ruby got her memory back. Isn’t there such a thing as ‘triggers’? You know, like if we took Ruby to The Persian Cat, she might start to recall something. It’s too bad she didn’t want to tag along today.”
“No, she didn’t. I found that a bit odd. Of course,” Judith went on, maneuvering through freeway traffic that was getting bogged down by the increasingly heavy rain, “this whole visit has been hard on her. It’s not as if she’s been on vacation. Ruby didn’t get away from it all—she walked right into her worst nightmare.”
“I wonder if she dreamed what happened,” Renie said after a long pause. “That is, she went to The Persian Cat, maybe passed out after a few glasses of wine, and whoever dropped her off was just a Good Samaritan. He—or even she—could’ve found the purse after Ruby got out of the car and dumped it in the nearest receptacle that just happened to belong to the Dooleys.”
As the blurred lights of downtown shimmered before them, Judith considered the possibility. “If this person came from the Thurlow District, then why go up the side street by the Dooley house? It’s easy to turn around in the cul-de-sac and head back to the Avenue.”
“I see what you mean,” Renie agreed, “but when people aren’t in their own part of town, they sometimes do dumb things. A stranger wouldn’t know that the north–south street doesn’t go all the way through. Unless, of course, this mysterious person lives around here.”
Judith shuddered. “Don’t even think that! Haven’t we had enough local loonies in the past few years?”
“It’s all this growth,” Renie said glumly. “Too many people have moved to the hill, despite the high cost of property. We’re just getting a more educated class of loonies.”
“Sad but true,” Judith concurred as she moved into the exit lane. “It’s a good thing I’ve got some frozen hors d’oeuvres. It’s going on six now. By the time I drop you off, I’ll only have about fifteen minutes to get ready for the guests’ social hour.”
“You want me to walk from your house?”
“No. I’d have to listen to you bitch for a week.”
“It is over a mile. Of course Bill walks at least that far every day.”
“Very sensible,” Judith remarked. “I wish I could do that.”
“I can’t. Mostly because I don’t want to. I didn’t walk at all until I was fifteen months old. I knew I wouldn’t like doing it.”
“You were born ornery,” Judith said, heading for a side street that led to the north part of Heraldsgate Hill.
“Being that way has been good to me,” Renie responded in a self-satisfied tone. “You, on the other hand, are too softhearted. Which, now that I think about it, makes me wonder why I let you talk me into this wild-goose chase.”
“Because you’re more softhearted than you admit.”
“Soft-headed, maybe,” Renie said as they climbed the steep side hill that led to the Jones residence. “I hope Bill and Oscar had a good time while I was gone. Lots of football on TV today. Bill always has to explain the penalties to Oscar. He doesn’t understand phrases such as ‘intentional grounding’ or—”
“Stop!” Judith cried. “I truly don’t want to hear about Oscar. He’s a stuffed animal.”
“Well . . . he’s a bit overweight, I’ll admit, but—”
“Coz . . .” Judith said in a warning voice. “I mean it. You almost made me miss the turn onto your street.”
Renie kept quiet until Judith pulled up in front of the house. “Thanks for the buggy ride, as Grandma Grover used to say.”
“You’re welcome,” Judith murmured. “And thank you,” she added more loudly.
Five minutes later, she was home. Joe was in the kitchen. “I thought you’d been kidnapped,” he said as Judith shook raindrops off of her car coat before hanging it on a peg in the hall. “I just put a couple of those frozen appetizer trays in the oven.”
“Oh, thank you!” Judith exclaimed, kissing his cheek. “Frankly, the trip to my old neighborhood wasn’t very helpful.”
“How come?” Joe inquired, opening the cupboard where the liquor was stored. “Did you go by your old house and get depressed?”
“I don’t know if it’s still there. It might’ve fallen down by now. The area has improved since I last saw it.” Judith noticed that Joe had gotten out only two glasses. “Where’s Ruby? Or did she already get a drink?”
“She took off this afternoon while I was raking leaves, before the rain started,” Joe replied, pouring out
the Scotch. “She left a note on the credenza in the hall saying she didn’t know what time she’d get back.”
Judith took a quick sip of Scotch and headed for the entry hall. A page torn out of a ruled notebook was held in place by a vase containing chrysanthemums from the garden. Off on an errand, read the hand-printed message.
Picking up the note, Judith returned to the kitchen. “I wonder how long she’s been gone. What time were you outside?”
“Oh—around four or so,” Joe replied, leaning against the fridge. “I was back inside around four-thirty. It was starting to look like rain.” He frowned. “Are you worried about her?”
“Well . . . a little, given her history of going places on her own.” Judith took another sip from her drink and shrugged. “I’m going upstairs to change before I greet the guests during the social hour. Don’t forget to put the hors d’oeuvres out. They must be almost done.”
“I am handy around the kitchen,” Joe said drily.
“And other places,” Judith murmured, kissing his cheek as she went past him to the back stairs.
It didn’t take long for Judith to change, though she also paused to comb her hair and reapply some lipstick. Before heading back downstairs, she glanced into the spare bedroom where Ruby had spent the night.
None of her belongings were in sight. Judith went into the small, cozy room to check the other side of the bed and the closet. It looked as if Ruby had cleared out. Or someone had done it for her.
Trying not to hurry down the two flights of stairs to the main floor, Judith felt a surge of panic. Had Ruby really written the message on the credenza? What did her handwriting look like? But unlike the list of witnesses, the note had been printed. Judith’s fears rose with every step before arriving breathlessly in the kitchen.
“Joe!” she called out softly, hearing voices in the living room. “Ruby’s things are gone.”
He looked up from putting some items in the dishwasher. “What?”
“None of her belongings are in the spare bedroom. Did she move back into Room Two?”
Joe shook his head. “It’s taken, right?”
“Yes. I thought maybe someone had canceled. What should we do? I’m not sure Ruby wrote that note.”
“Damn.” Joe was silent for a moment or two. “Do you have her cell number?”
“She doesn’t have her cell. Whoever searched her purse stole it along with her journal.”
Joe moved toward the phone. “I wonder if I should call Woody. But maybe we’re overreacting. Ruby’s only been gone for a couple of hours—maybe less than that. I don’t know exactly when she left.”
Judith sighed. “You’re right. But why would she take her luggage if she was only going out for a short time?”
“Beats me. She only had one suitcase, right?”
“Yes. According to Phyliss, she lived out of it. That is, when she got laundry back, Ruby put it in the suitcase. She never hung anything in the closet or used the bureau drawers.”
Again, Joe was briefly silent. “I can’t call Woody yet. It’s too alarmist. I could ask the Rankerses if they saw anybody come and go.”
“Wait,” Judith said. “They’re probably eating dinner. I’d better greet my guests. Oh—did you feed Mother yet?”
Joe glowered at his wife. “I’m not a glutton for punishment. I had to put up with her telling me what I could do with all the leaves when I was out in the yard. You can guess where she told me to put them. Besides, what is dinner? Where is dinner?”
“Ooooh . . . I forgot to thaw anything. Forage, okay? I’ll take care of Mother after I make nice with the guests.”
By the time Judith entered the living room, all of the visitors except the latecomers were engaged in amiable conversation. Having spent so many years welcoming people to Hillside Manor, she could almost do it in her sleep. Which, she realized while smiling and shaking hands, was just about how she was operating on this damp, cool autumn night.
“So glad you could join us . . . Yes, typical for this time of year . . . That’s not the ocean you see through the bay window . . . Sorry, I haven’t played that piano in years . . . No, you can’t take a tour bus from here to the Yukon . . . I’m afraid Arlington National Cemetery isn’t within walking distance . . . I can’t say I ever really thought about Walla Walla being redundant . . .”
After almost ten minutes of chitchat, Judith headed back to the kitchen, where Joe was standing by the microwave. “I found some of Aunt Deb’s chicken-and-spaghetti-casserole recipe you’d frozen,” he said. “Open a can of string beans and we’ll call it dinner. Okay?”
“Sure.” Judith picked up her drink and took a big sip before fetching a can of julienne string beans from the pantry. Before she could head back to the kitchen, Gertrude sailed through the back door in her motorized wheelchair without so much as a glance at her daughter.
“Starving me to death won’t work, Lunkhead,” she called to Joe. “I’ve still got two boxes of Granny Goodness Chocolates stashed where the sun don’t shine.”
“If it isn’t my favorite nightmare,” Joe said in his mellow voice. “Reminds me of that old song from my youth—‘Ain’t That a Shame.’ How’d it go?” He began to croon in his fairly decent tenor. “ ‘You made me crow when you said hello . . . You broke my head with a loaf of bread . . . Ain’t that a . . .’ ”
“Pat Boone,” Gertrude growled. “But you sound more like his brother, Bab.”
“Fats Domino recorded it, too,” Judith said, coming up from behind her mother. “Dinner is almost ready. I was running a little behind.”
“Nothing little about your behind, Toots,” Gertrude rasped.
Judith ignored the comment. “You can eat with us, if you’d like.”
“I wouldn’t like,” the old lady retorted. “I’ve got my TV programs to watch. Why don’t you have a TV in the kitchen like Serena does? That was one of the few smart things she’s ever done.”
“I gave her that TV for Christmas several years ago,” Judith said, opening the can of beans. “She and Bill don’t watch it during dinner. They eat in the dinette or the dining room.”
Gertrude had pulled up next to the counter. “She watches it while she cooks? No wonder her stuff tastes like swill.”
“Renie’s a fairly good cook,” Judith declared, “as long as she sticks to basics.”
Gertrude grunted. “Like bread and water?”
Judith decided to take a shortcut and microwave the beans along with her mother’s portion of the chicken and spaghetti. Still preoccupied with Ruby’s apparent defection, she wasn’t in the mood to listen to Gertrude’s harangues.
“Just put it in my lap,” the old lady said when the meal came out of the microwave. “I can see myself out. It stopped raining, by the way.”
“It did?” Judith said in surprise, realizing that her mother’s baggy cardigan wasn’t wet. “When did that happen?”
“When your ornery cat wanted to be let out a few minutes ago,” Gertrude replied, releasing the wheelchair’s brake. “He wanted to find his own dinner. I hope he doesn’t want to eat crow tonight. See you in the funny papers.” She zipped down the hall and out of the house.
“Ahhh,” Joe uttered in relief, and sat down. “The rain may’ve stopped, but I would never call your mother a ray of sunshine.”
“It’s her defense mechanism against the world because my father died so young,” Judith explained for the umpteenth time, putting the rest of the beans on the stove. She paused to check the oven to see if the chicken dish was heated all the way through. “Mother’s always had a sharp tongue and been opinionated, but when my dad was still alive, she was much more cheerful. After that—”
Judith was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. “Maybe that’s Ruby,” she said, snatching up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Dooley here,” Tyler said in a conspiratorial voice. “At four-fourteen this afternoon, Ruby Tooms left your house and got into a dark-colored sedan that turned toward the Avenue after l
eaving the cul-de-sac. She was carrying two items—probably her purse and some sort of luggage. I would’ve called sooner, but I had to find my sister’s hamster before we ate dinner. One of my brother’s hamsters was dinner a few years ago.”
“Excellent job on your part,” Judith said. “The surveillance, I mean. Did you recognize the car’s make?”
“Not really,” he said with regret. “It was a fairly new-model midsize sedan. If I had to guess, I’d figure it was some kind of Japanese make. I tried to see the license plate through the telescope, but the angle was wrong and it’d just started to rain.”
“Could you tell if Ruby seemed reluctant to get in the car?”
“No,” Tyler replied. “She hurried down the steps and across the walk. One other thing—I decided to do some homework, but kept my eye on your place. At five-forty, I saw a really flashy sports car pull up and a man got out. I think it was silver. Anyway, he went inside. I didn’t see him come out, so I figured he was a friend or a guest. But when I looked a few minutes later, the car was gone. I think,” he continued, “it was a Maserati custom job. I checked images on the computer. That was as close as I could come. But you must know this guy, right?”
“Hold on,” Judith said, turning to Joe, who had dished up their dinner and started eating. “Did some guy in a sports car stop here shortly before I got home?”
Joe frowned. “Not that I know of. I was up in the family quarters.”
“Do you know if the front door was locked?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t check. Maybe Ruby didn’t make sure it was locked when she left. Hey, you’re the one who doesn’t always lock up during the day because too many guests forget their keys.”
“Right,” Judith agreed under her breath before speaking again to Tyler. “We don’t know who the sports car guy is. It could’ve been somebody checking out the B&B for a potential guest. It happens.”
“Then it wouldn’t be a mystery,” Tyler said, sounding disappointed.
“As a matter of fact,” Judith countered, recalling the sleek sports car in the racetrack parking lot, “it might be part of the mystery.”