by Mary Daheim
Rudi and Fritz were moving Elsa back onto the sofa. Her breathing seemed almost normal and her eyelids fluttered. Judith saw Renie hang up the phone.
“Still alive, huh?” Renie whispered as Judith joined her. “That’s a nice change.”
“It sure is,” Judith said in relief. “Nerves, maybe. She couldn’t have had that much to drink in such a short time.”
“Not unless she had a head start,” Renie remarked.
The cousins exchanged glances as they heard the approaching sirens. The fire station was only about a quarter of a mile away. Judith knew the drill all too well—the firefighters, the medics, maybe an aid car or ambulance. But at least this time, the summons had been put in for a person who was still alive. On other occasions, there had been no need for medical assistance.
Judith refused to dwell on those morbid memories. Elsa was coming to, looking dazed, but apparently in satisfactory condition.
“Rudi…what happened?” she asked in a befuddled voice.
“You passed out,” her ex-husband replied, his expression grim. “I warned you not to come.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elsa retorted, sounding less confused. “I can handle the situation after all these years.”
“Ma,” Fritz put in, “don’t try to be so freaking brave.”
The sirens had grown very loud. “I’d better go to the door,” Judith murmured to Renie.
Passing the buffet, Judith noticed that the liquor bottles provided by the guests all bore expensive labels: Booker’s Noe bourbon, Précis vodka, Oban scotch. Andrea was pouring brandy from a bottle Judith didn’t recognize. The quick glimpse at the words on the bottle looked like it was a Spanish product. During her first marriage, Judith had learned most of the regular name brands from her second job tending bar at the Meat & Mingle. The clientele there would have been just as happy drinking Old Swamp Scum out of a cardboard box.
The firefighters had pulled up first; the medic van was right behind them. Judith stepped outside. “This way,” she said in a weary voice as the emergency personnel began to enter the house. “A guest passed out. She’s in the living room.”
Renie went out onto the porch, too. “Drat. The fire engine’s blocking my car. I can’t leave now.”
“They shouldn’t be here too long.” Judith looked out into the dusk of the cul-de-sac. “Here comes another one. Oh!” She grimaced. “It’s Joe! What will he think?”
“What he always thinks,” Renie replied. “You’ve got another body.”
“Maybe I can waylay him,” Judith said as Joe’s red MG circled the cul-de-sac, seeking a parking place. “I’ll tell him they’re here for Mother.”
“That’ll cheer him up,” Renie said.
“Don’t be mean.” Anxiously, Judith watched Joe back into the Rankerses’ driveway next door. By chance, none of the Rankers offspring were visiting, thus allowing room for the MG. Joe erupted from the driver’s seat of his classic sports car and hurried toward the porch.
“What the hell’s going on now?” he demanded in a voice unlike his customary mellow manner.
“Nothing,” Judith assured him. “Just a fainting spell. Rudi’s ex passed out. She’s fine. Honest.”
Joe looked unconvinced. “So why aren’t you inside, tending to your guest?”
“Because she’s not an official guest,” Judith said. “You know—I just rented the space. Besides, it’s nothing serious. Maybe it’s a virus. These days, they have all kinds of odd symptoms. She already came to.” Aware that she was babbling, she shut up.
Joe scowled at his wife and gestured behind him. “How long do I have to leave the car parked over there?”
“Oh…” Judith shrugged. “Not long. Here’s Carl and Arlene now.”
The Rankers were fairly galloping along the sidewalk. “Yoo-hoo!” Arlene cried. “Is someone dead? Do I know whoever it is?”
Arlene was famous for keeping track of everybody who lived—or died—on Heraldsgate Hill. Her command post at the kitchen window—or the dining room or the bedrooms or the bathroom—was legendary. Before Judith could respond, some of the other neighbors had come outside, too. She saw the Steins and the Porters approaching.
“Nothing to see here!” Joe shouted in his best policeman’s voice.
“Nonsense!” Arlene shot back. “I can see plenty. A fire engine, a medic van, flashing lights, and an open front door. Has there been another murder?” she asked in a hopeful voice.
Everyone had gathered on the sidewalk just below the porch steps. Judith scanned their familiar faces, illuminated at intervals by the emergency vehicles’ flashing lights. She’d certainly put her neighbors through some perilous moments in the past few years. They were all such decent people. She owed them an explanation.
“It’s nothing, really,” she insisted as Ted and Jeanne Ericson came out of their house that sat between the Flynns’ and Rudi’s rental. “A fainting spell. Taryn Moss asked to use Hillside Manor for a small party. One of the guests passed out.”
“Rudi?” Gabe Porter said, looking as if he wished it might be so.
“His former wife, actually,” Judith clarified. “Elsa Wittener.”
“Damn!” Gabe punched his right fist into his left hand. “I was hoping he’d fallen on top of his violin and smashed it!”
“Oh, I wish!” cried Naomi Stein. “We should be so lucky!”
“Aaargh!” Jeanne Ericson groaned. “You don’t have to live next door to him. Sometimes he practices until two in the morning.”
“Drums,” Gabe murmured. “I’ve got my old drums stored someplace. I’ve wanted to get them and pound away under Rudi’s window.”
“I gave your drums to the Salvation Army years ago,” Rochelle Porter said. “Gabe honey, for a black man, you got no rhythm.”
Gabe shot his wife a look of displeasure. “I did, in my day.”
“Then I missed that day,” Rochelle retorted.
“Former wife?” It was Arlene who spoke, sniffing at the evening air as if she could smell scandal. “I didn’t know Rudi had one around here.” She turned to Carl. “Did you know and not tell me?” she demanded in an accusing tone.
“Of course not,” Carl replied with a beleaguered expression on his craggy face. “Why would I deliberately annoy you? I can do that without trying. Sweetheart,” he added with a mischievous grin.
“Is Wittener Jewish?” Naomi asked. “I thought he might be. I was afraid he’d join our temple, and then I’d have to stop complaining.”
“Can’t you tell?” Arlene inquired of Naomi.
“By looking?” Naomi frowned. “Not really. It was his name, more than his looks.”
“Honestly!” Arlene exclaimed. “Doesn’t anybody know anything?”
The firefighters were trooping out of the house. Judith didn’t recognize any of them. “You’re the owner?” the senior member of the company asked Judith, who saw that his ID tag read Conley.
“Yes. That’s my husband.” She pointed to Joe, who was talking to Carl and Hamish Stein.
The firefighter nodded. “Okay. Ms. Wittener seems all right, but her husband and her son insisted she see a doctor.”
“Ex-husband,” Judith corrected.
The firefighter shrugged. “Whichever. This is a B&B, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ve heard about this place,” he interrupted with a smirk that was only partially hidden by a bristling rust-colored mustache. “I’m new to this company. See you around.”
I hope not, Judith thought. But she smiled.
“Well?” Arlene was on the porch, next to Judith.
“Rudi and Fritz are taking Elsa to the hospital as a precaution.”
“Fritz? Who’s Fritz?”
“Rudi and Elsa’s son.”
“How old?”
“Twenty, twenty-one?”
“What does he do?”
“I don’t know, Arlene,” Judith said, growing impatient. “I only met him tonight. Elsa Wittener works a
t the bookstore.”
“Ah!” Arlene seemed pleased with that nugget of knowledge. “What can I do to help?”
The offer was sincere. Arlene was as good-hearted as she was inquisitive. “Nothing, really,” Judith said as the fire engine pulled out. Joe walked over to the MG. Renie waved good-bye and headed for the Camry. “I’m hoping they’ll all leave now. The party ought to be over.”
“I’ll help you clean up,” Arlene insisted. “Serena has deserted you.”
“She has to move her car so Joe can park somewhere other than in your driveway,” Judith explained.
“So let me help.”
“Fine.” Judith knew that although the gesture was real, Arlene also wanted a close-up look at the partygoers. The two women went inside just as the medics came out of the living room.
“Mrs. Flynn?” one of them said.
“Yes?” Judith saw that his name tag identified him as H.R. Santos. He looked vaguely familiar.
“Mr. Wittener is going to drive Ms. Wittener to Bayview Hospital,” Santos said. “She seems fine, but it’ll reassure everybody. We don’t need an ambulance.”
“That’s good,” Judith said. “What about Mr. Kluger?”
Santos made a face. “There’s nothing wrong with him. He claims to have heart trouble, but his wife told us he’s never had an actual attack. I told him to go for a nice walk. He can use the exercise.”
“Good idea,” Judith remarked. “He’s on the hefty side.”
Entering the living room, Judith saw Rudi and Fritz helping Elsa get to her feet. She looked pale, but none the worse for her fainting spell. Dolph and Andrea Kluger apparently had gone to their room. Suzanne Farrow was nowhere in sight, either. Perhaps she had also retired upstairs. Obviously, any dinner plans had been canceled.
Taryn was standing by the buffet, nervously tapping one of the liquor bottles with her short fingernails. “I feel worthless,” she declared.
“We all do,” Judith said. “Anyway, the crisis is over.”
Taryn darted Judith a sharp glance. “Is it?”
Judith didn’t have a chance to respond. Olive the Assistant was coming toward her.
“I’m getting the wraps,” she said in a husky voice, and introduced herself to Judith and Arlene. “I’m Olive Oglethorpe,” she said with a tight little smile. Olive held out a soft, plump hand. “How do you do?”
“We do whatever we can,” Arlene responded, looking closely at the other woman. “Don’t you live around here? I’ve seen you somewhere.”
Olive nodded. “I live nearby, in the Empress Apartments.”
“Aha!” Arlene exclaimed as Renie burst through the front door. “I’ve seen you at Falstaff’s and Holliday’s Drug Store and Moonbeam’s. Only recently, though.” The last words were a virtual question.
“I moved here when Rudi did,” Olive replied, clearly anxious to continue on her mission. “Excuse me, if you will.”
Renie had hurried past Arlene, Olive, and Judith. “Forgot my purse!” she called over her shoulder. “See you later.”
Judith and Arlene stood by as the Witteners prepared to leave. Elsa, however, was protesting.
“This is a waste of time,” she declared. “I feel fine, except for an upset stomach. It must have been the caviar that Taryn bought. It wasn’t Russian, it was American.”
“Please, Elsa,” Rudi said, “let us put our minds at ease. You know how distractions upset me.”
“I certainly do,” Elsa snapped. “At least any distractions I’ve ever caused. Some,” she went on with a sharp glance at Taryn, “seem to have a far more pleasant effect.”
“Elsa, please…” Rudi’s dark, angular face seemed genuinely distressed. “Becalm yourself. You know I still care about you.”
Fritz shook his head. “Jeez.”
Olive helped them with their jackets and sweaters. Judith heard Renie bang the back door behind her.
“Good luck,” Judith said as the others started out the door.
“Interesting,” Arlene murmured. “So much hate. So much love.”
Judith was used to Arlene’s contradictions. In this case, however, her neighbor might not be off the mark. “A complicated situation, maybe,” she remarked.
And immediately felt embarrassed. Taryn was standing just a few feet away, still at the buffet. “What should I do with all this liquor?” she asked in a bewildered voice.
“Who paid for it?” Judith asked.
“Elsa, I think,” Taryn replied.
Judith suggested that they cap the open bottles and put them in the box that Fritz had brought. “We’ll tidy up and bring everything over later,” she went on. “You look worn out, Taryn. Why don’t you go home and rest?”
Taryn ran an unsteady finger over her left eyebrow. “Maybe I will. I’ve got an awful headache. Elsa…well, I shouldn’t say it, but Elsa always gets me flustered.”
“I understand,” Judith said with a kindly smile. “Go home, rest.”
Taryn did as she was told. Judith and Arlene began the clean-up process. It took them less than fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, Judith heard Joe coming in and out, going back and forth to the basement. Predictably, he’d bought great quantities of items at Gutbusters.
“As long as I’m here,” Arlene said when she and Judith had finished, “I should go see your dear mother. We haven’t had a visit in almost a week.”
“Oh, would you?” Judith gave her neighbor a hug. “You’re such a comfort. And Mother thinks the world of you and Carl. You can tell her what happened here this evening. That is, if she noticed. Sometimes she has the TV on so loud that she can’t hear it thunder.”
Arlene always enjoyed being the first with the local news. Indeed, Judith called her neighbor’s grapevine ABS—for Arlene’s Broadcasting System. “I’d be delighted,” Arlene said, heading for the back door.
A moment later, Judith heard someone in the entry hall. She went out to see who was there. Dolph Kluger was putting on his tan raincoat.
“I’m taking the medical people’s advice,” he announced. “I’m going for a walk. It’s a very pleasant evening. You must have marvelous views from this part of the hill.”
“We do,” Judith agreed. “Just one block up, there’s a park with a panoramic view of downtown, the bay, and—when it’s light out—the mountains over on the peninsula.”
“Very well.” He left the coat unfastened. “I shall see for myself.”
Judith retreated to the kitchen. Suddenly she was very tired. Joe still hadn’t reappeared. She sat down at the table and considered making a cup of tea. It seemed like too much effort. So she simply sat there, nursing her aching hip and listening to the schoolhouse clock.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Ticking your life away, she thought suddenly, and shivered. The sound of doom.
She was being fanciful. Shaking herself, she got up. There was no corpse, no mystery, nothing to fear.
So why was she still anxious?
FOUR
JUDITH’S ANXIETY TEMPORARILY turned into outrage. She took one look at the Gutbusters bill Joe had handed her and blew a gasket. “Four hundred and eighty-seven dollars? For what?”
“Your mother’s cereal,” Joe replied reasonably. “I had to buy a carton. Two cartons, actually, since it’ll save a trip later.”
“Even Mother can’t live that long,” Judith replied. “What else?” She scrutinized the items on the invoice. “Ninety-six rolls of toilet paper. That’s okay—we’ll use that. Forty-eight rolls of paper towels. That’s a bit much—Phyliss and I use rags for minor cleanups. But thirty pounds of butter? Twenty-four fryer chickens? Eighteen slabs of bacon?”
“I put it all in the freezer,” Joe said, taking a microbrew out of the fridge. “You’ll use it all eventually.”
“We don’t have room in the freezer,” Judith declared.
“We do now,” Joe said. “I took out that haunch of venison. You’re never going to cook it.”
The venison had been the gi
ft of a guest who had spent the night after a hunting trip the previous November. “You’re right,” Judith admitted. “Where’d you put it?”
“In the garbage, where else?”
Judith grimaced. “The garbage won’t be collected for almost a week. That venison is going to smell awful by next Tuesday.”
Joe frowned. “Maybe we’ll have a cold snap. It’ll refreeze.”
“It was sixty-two degrees today,” Judith said. “You know we almost never have frost until at least the end of October.”
“Hmm.” Joe sipped the microbrew out of the bottle. “I’ll figure something out. So the party was a dud, huh?”
“I’m afraid so,” Judith replied. “I didn’t even manage to mend fences with Rudi. Now that I think about it, I never even talked to him. Of course I didn’t want to be intrusive.”
“Not your fault,” Joe said, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost nine. I’m going to go upstairs and watch TV. Want to come?”
“I might as well,” Judith said. “I’m beat.”
Joe went out of the kitchen to the backstairs. Judith stayed behind to prepare the morning coffee. She’d just set the timer when Andrea Kluger entered the kitchen.
“Dolph’s not back yet,” she said. “I’m getting worried. Is this neighborhood safe?”
“Yes,” Judith replied. She’d lost track of time. “How long has he been gone?”
“Half an hour at least,” Andrea said, her face now devoid of makeup and looking rather pale. “He’s not much for walking. I thought he’d only be out for fifteen minutes or so.”
“Well…it’s a nice evening, and I told him he might go up to the park, where he could get a lovely view of the city,” Judith said. “In fact, it’s a popular spot any time of day or night. You can see all the downtown lights and buildings and the ferryboats coming and going. They have benches there. He may be sitting and enjoying the sights.”
“A park?” Andrea looked even more concerned. “Parks can be dangerous. That is, in New York, the wrong sort of people sometimes show up at parks. It’s better than it used to be, but still…”
“I understand,” Judith said, nodding. “We have our own drug dealers and vagrants and homeless persons. Frankly, the main problem with Heraldsgate Hill parks is teenage parties. Now that summer’s over and school’s back in session, they usually occur on weekends. We have police patrols, of course.” She didn’t add that the hill had only one car assigned to the area on a regular basis.