by Mary Daheim
“Frankly, no,” Judith admitted. “My theory is that most guests want to indulge themselves when they’re away from home.”
“I suppose that’s generally true.”
“However,” Judith explained, noting the slight hint of disapproval in Suzanne’s voice, “I always ask guests to inform me of allergies or other dietary considerations. My first husband developed diabetes, in fact.”
“Did he have a problem keeping his weight down?” Suzanne asked.
Judith felt like saying no and dropping the subject. Dan had no problem because he never tried. He’d just kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger until…
She was rescued by the arrival of the Blisses in the dining room. They were holding hands and looking very content. She hadn’t mentioned Dolph’s passing to the Kasakis or to the Theobalds, so she wouldn’t inform the Blisses, either. None of them had been present during the two emergency runs. Informing the other guests would put a damper on their visits. If nobody asked, Judith wouldn’t tell.
Although the Theobalds had checked out, the Blisses and the Kasakis were staying another night. Judith had one new reservation booked for Thursday, two middle-aged women from Kansas City. The weekend had filled up, which presented a problem if Andrea and Suzanne decided to stay an extra night. Judith had to play a waiting game. It wouldn’t be the first time. Juggling last-minute arrivals and departures was part of her job description.
By the time Judith had taken care of the Blisses, Suzanne had finished her breakfast and announced that she was going for a run. After warning her to be careful in case the pavement was damp, Judith took the cordless phone down the hallway from the kitchen and sat on the back stairs, where she couldn’t be heard. It was early to call Renie—not yet ten—but she figured her cousin would be up and semiconscious if Bill and Joe were working in the kitchen.
A drowsy voice answered, saying something that might have been interpreted as hello.
“Coz?” Judith said.
“Huh?”
“Are you awake?”
There was a long pause. “No,” Renie finally said. “I’m up, but I’m not awake.”
“Did Joe tell you what happened after you left last night?”
“Joe? Is he here?”
“Are you still in bed?”
“No.” Another pause. “I got up about ten minutes ago. All I saw in the kitchen was two butts under the sink. One scrawny, the other rotund. I assumed they were our husbands, but I didn’t think to ask.”
“Where are you now?”
“In the bedroom,” Renie replied, beginning to sound almost normal. “I can’t wash my hair. They’ve turned the water off.”
“Dolph Kluger died last night.”
“No!”
“It was a heart attack, they think.” Judith explained how Dolph had gone for a walk and never come back.
“That’s terrible,” Renie declared. “Poor Dolph. Poor you. But at least he wasn’t…well…you know.”
“Right. But they’re going to do an autopsy anyway,” Judith added.
“That’s probably wise,” Renie remarked. “Oh, drat! There’s somebody on my other line. Let me check my caller ID.” A moment of silence followed. Judith waited. “I’m not answering,” her cousin said. “It’s an area code I don’t recognize, and it’s probably Saks Fifth Avenue or one of my other creditors. Double damn.”
“Did you call Melissa Bargroom?”
“Not yet. Melissa’s so quick-witted that I have to be a hundred percent alert when I talk to her,” Renie explained. “This call is business, not our usual madcap repartee or gaggle of gouging gossip.”
“Gosh,” Judith said, “the madcap part sounds like fun.”
“It is,” Renie replied a bit grimly, “but not now. I’m in a hole. Broke. Queer Street.”
Judith heard a noise in the dining room. “I’m sorry you have to go to debtors’ prison, coz, but I think someone here needs me.”
Andrea Kluger was standing by the breakfront, staring at the various pieces of Grover family china and glass. Her back was turned to Judith, but apparently she’d heard her hostess’s approach. “Just coffee, please. With milk.”
“Right away,” Judith said, retracing her steps through the swinging doors.
As Judith poured the coffee, Phyliss appeared from the back stairs. “So you had another guest go to meet Jesus,” the cleaning woman said.
Judith made a shushing gesture. She hadn’t told Phyliss about Dolph’s demise. “How’d you find out?” Judith whispered, steering Phyliss back into the hallway.
Phyliss looked indignant. “I’m not one to snoop, but I heard that young woman from Room Four on the phone in the hall upstairs. She was calling a funeral parlor.”
“It’s a shame,” Judith said. “The widow’s in the dining room.”
Phyliss’s shrubby gray eyebrows wiggled up and down. “Room Three?”
“Yes. The younger one is the dead man’s stepdaughter.”
“You think they’d like me to recite Scripture to uplift them?”
“I don’t know if they’re religious,” Judith said, still whispering.
“Then I could save them,” Phyliss asserted. “I’ve saved quite a few folks in my time. I just keep at it until they see the light, and the next thing you know, they’re saying, ‘God help me!’ Then off they go, practically at a run, ready for heaven.”
Or a stiff drink, Judith thought. But she simply nodded. “I’m sure you make an impression, Phyliss. I’d better get back to Mrs. Kluger.”
“Let me know if she needs me,” Phyliss called.
Judith apologized for the delay in delivering the coffee. “My cleaning woman had some questions,” she told Andrea.
“Housekeepers can be a treasure—or a problem,” Andrea said, sitting down at the table. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
Ordinarily, Hillside Manor’s guest areas were smoke-free. But Gertrude persisted in lighting up whenever and wherever she damned well felt like it. Judith could hardly refuse, especially under the circumstances. “Let me get you an ashtray,” she said. “There’s one in the minibar by the window.”
“I never smoke in front of Suzanne,” Andrea declared. “She’s so opposed to it. But she won’t finish her run for at least half an hour.”
Judith placed a black Wedgwood ashtray next to Andrea’s coffee mug. “How are you feeling?”
“Numb.” Andrea’s gaze traveled beyond Judith. “Dolph was such a presence. You’ve no idea how much he influenced and inspired some of today’s finest musicians. At least three of them are world-renowned. The memorial service will no doubt be huge. The problem is scheduling. So many artists are scattered—they’re involved in tours or concerts. I’m wondering about holding the service at Carnegie Hall.”
“I had no idea your husband was so prominent,” Judith said, slipping into Grandpa Grover’s captain’s chair.
“He worked behind the scenes,” Andrea said. “Dolph was all about his protégés. Oh, he had an ego. A temper, too. No patience with undisciplined students. But what an ear!” She smiled wistfully. “And such an ability to bring out the best in his protégés.”
“What all did he teach?”
“Violin,” Andrea said proudly. “Cello and piano at one time. In later years, he focused exclusively on the violin. He understood all instruments—and the human beings who played them.”
“So Rudi was one of those lucky pupils,” Judith noted. “Have you spoken with him today?”
“No.” Andrea took a sip of coffee and a puff of her cigarette. “Rudi has rehearsal. There’s a symphony performance tonight. Dolph and I planned to attend. Now…” She shook her head.
“Yes,” Judith said in a sympathetic tone. “That would be difficult…I mean, for you.”
The doorbell rang. Judith excused herself. All she could see through the door’s window was a mound of flowers.
“Yes?” she said, opening the door.
Olive Oglethorpe raised her head abo
ve the lavish bouquet. “Mr. Wittener sent these to Mrs. Kluger. I picked them up at Robin Hood Florists as soon as they opened this morning.”
“How nice,” Judith said. “Won’t you come in? Mrs. Kluger is having coffee in the dining room.”
“I think not,” Olive replied. “I have work to do. Thank you all the same.” She handed the flowers to Judith.
“Wait,” Judith called as Olive turned away. “Please. How is Elsa this morning? Is she out of the hospital?”
Olive barely glanced over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t know.”
“I thought Rudi might have mentioned her condition,” Judith said.
“Why should he?” As she stood looking up from the top porch step, Olive seemed to find the comment puzzling.
“Elsa is his former wife and he’s the father of their son, Fritz,” Judith said. “Divorced or not, they seem to be on good terms.”
Olive turned away, gazing at the porch swing. “I don’t always believe everything I see. Or hear.”
“I don’t either,” Judith declared, wondering if Olive was to be believed.
“Very wise,” Olive said, looking again at Judith. “I must go.”
Judith watched Rudi’s assistant trot off in a brisk manner. Olive’s abrupt attitude was puzzling. But perhaps Olive didn’t know Andrea very well. In any event, life in the musical world seemed to go on, with or without Dolph Kluger.
“Rudi sent these,” Judith said, placing the bouquet on the dining-room table. “Should I put them in your room?”
“Well…” Andrea seemed disconcerted. “No. Why don’t you leave them here? We can’t take the arrangement with us.”
Judith carried the bouquet to the makeshift bar. It was very lavish and very fragrant: pink daylilies, red roses, purple gladioli, yellow spider chrysanthemums, green bells of Ireland, and white iris were set among lush ferns and baby’s breath. There was no card.
Andrea was lighting a second cigarette. “I’ll have more coffee, please,” she said in a lackluster voice.
The phone rang. Judith excused herself again. It was Renie, practically screaming in her ear. “I’m wild!” she yelled. “Bill and Joe went to the plumber’s to get a new pipe, and when Bill tried to charge it to our debit card, he got rejected!”
“You said you were broke,” Judith reminded her cousin.
“Not that broke,” Renie snapped. “We have money in our checking account. Or so I thought. But the bank says we don’t. I already called them. My damned credit cards are gone!”
“What?”
“You heard me,” Renie growled. “Somebody stole all my credit cards. They’re no good, they’re all maxed out—except for the debit card.”
“That’s awful,” Judith said in commiseration. “How could that have happened?”
“What do you mean?” Renie said in an angry voice. “It must have been someone at your house last night who rifled my purse. I haven’t been anywhere else. What kind of crooks are you hosting these days?”
“None,” Judith said firmly. “Not this time anyway.”
But Judith was wrong.
Dead wrong.
FIVE
AT THREE O’CLOCK that afternoon, the medical examiner informed the police that Dolph Kluger had been poisoned. Thirty minutes later, Detective Levi Morgenstern called Hillside Manor and asked to speak to Andrea Kluger.
Judith didn’t recognize Morgenstern’s name, nor did he tell her why he was calling. She knew, of course, that he wasn’t the bearer of good news.
Suzanne Farrow happened to be in the living room, browsing through the bookcases. When Judith said that Andrea was wanted on the phone, Suzanne shook her head emphatically. “Mom’s taking a nap,” she responded. “I’ll handle this.”
The young woman looked stricken as she listened to Detective Morgenstern. “That’s impossible,” she said. “There must be a mistake.”
Judith was standing by the bay window. She caught Suzanne’s eye and knew at once that Dolph Kluger hadn’t died of natural causes.
By the time the call was finished, Suzanne had slumped onto the window seat. “Thank you,” the young woman finally said before hanging up and handing the phone back to Judith.
“I don’t know how to tell Mom,” Suzanne said after she’d relayed Morgenstern’s message. “She’ll…well, I don’t know what she’ll do.”
Judith didn’t know what to do, either. In fact, she started to laugh. And laugh and laugh.
Suzanne was stunned. “Mrs. Flynn! Why are you laughing? This is terrible!”
Exerting every ounce of self-control, Judith managed to stop laughing. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s such a…shock. Tell me again about the poison traces. Did they say what kind?”
Suzanne still eyed her hostess curiously. “They called it ‘preliminary findings,’” she clarified, dry-eyed, but trembling slightly. “I can’t remember exactly. He mentioned potassium and calcium and oxalic acid and…something else. The police are coming.”
“Of course.” Judith sounded resigned. “What did Dolph eat yesterday?” she inquired.
Suzanne stopped pacing. “They served something on the plane. I’m not sure what it was—I wouldn’t dream of touching airline food.”
“Did he eat anything else before he came here?”
“No,” Suzanne said. “We came straight from the airport.”
“But he stopped to see Rudi right after you all arrived,” Judith noted. “And again after the party. Do you know if they fed him?”
Suzanne shook her head. “I doubt it.”
Judith didn’t speak for a few moments. She was dreading the arrival of the police, but even more, facing Joe. He’d come back from Renie and Bill’s house around one o’clock. Since then, he’d been working in the yard doing fall cleanup.
“Excuse me,” Judith finally said. “I have to talk to my husband.”
She left Suzanne sitting on the window seat. Dealing with Andrea was a mother-daughter problem. Judith had her own domestic dilemma.
Outside, Joe was stuffing dead flower stalks and leaves into a plastic bag. Gertrude was sitting on the patio in her wheelchair, telling Joe what he was doing wrong.
“You didn’t cut that fuchsia bush back enough, Dumbbell,” she barked. “Those things have to be pruned to the ground. And leave the hollyhocks alone. They haven’t finished reseeding.”
“Why don’t you recede?” Joe muttered, his ruddy face even redder.
Gertrude spotted her daughter coming down the porch steps. “Hey, goofy, tell Lunkhead here how to clip that camellia by the corner of the house. It’s too leggy.”
“Somebody’s too mouthy,” Joe retorted. He looked up at Judith. “What’s wrong? You look funny.”
“She always looks funny to me,” Gertrude put in.
“Funny?” Judith burst out laughing.
“Crazy, too,” Gertrude said. “What’s so comical, goofy?”
Judith stopped laughing just long enough to blurt out the facts: “Dolph Kluger was poisoned.”
Joe stared at his wife.
“What else is new?” Gertrude muttered, but her gaze was fixed on Sweetums, who was poised to catch a sparrow that had perched in the Rankerses’ huge laurel hedge. “Forget it, Fur Ball,” she called to the cat. “You’re too fat to fly.”
Judith managed to assume a somber expression as she waited for the eruption from Joe. She could hardly blame him.
“That’s rotten luck for Kluger,” Joe said, wiping perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. “When are the cops coming?”
“Soon.” Judith maintained her sobriety while studying her husband’s impassive face. “Aren’t you upset?”
Joe shrugged. “What’s the point? It won’t bring Kluger back.” He turned to the hedge. The sparrow flew off just as Sweetums sprang from his crouch. “Would Carl mind if I trimmed those branches on our side?”
“I doubt it,” Judith replied vaguely. Joe’s reaction was odd. Usually, he pitched a five-star f
it when she got involved in foul play.
Gertrude wheeled herself closer to Judith. “What’s wrong, kiddo? You look like the pigs ate your little brother. If you ever had one.”
Judith sighed. “One of our guests passed away last night.”
“Passed away? Where to?” Gertrude made a face. “Why do people say somebody ‘passed away’? They croak, they go sticks up, they kick the bucket. It’s all the same, isn’t it? Dead’s dead.”
Judith put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Yes, you’re right.”
“Look at Lunkhead now,” Gertrude said in disgust. “He’s going at that hedge with hand clippers. Why doesn’t he use pruning shears?”
“He’s doing his best,” Judith said. “Joe’s not a real gardener.”
“You’re telling me?” Gertrude inched forward in her wheelchair. “If I could get out there, I’d—” She stopped, her wrinkled face crumpling.
Judith patted her mother. “I know. You were always terrific when it came to keeping up the yard. You taught me everything I know.”
Gertrude sadly shook her head. “That was a long time ago.”
“I can’t do what I used to in the garden, either,” Judith said. “Not with this artificial hip.”
“I know,” Gertrude echoed. And, like an echo, her voice was hollow.
Judith called her cousin before the police showed up.
“I’m not really surprised,” Renie admitted. “I didn’t think your luck could hold. But why are you giggling?”
“I can’t help it,” Judith confessed. “It may be a form of hysteria. You know Grandma Grover’s saying—it’s better to laugh than to cry.”
“Yes,” Renie said thoughtfully. “She also added that as far as we’re concerned, it won’t matter to us a hundred years from now. Go ahead, laugh your head off. You’ve got a right to do whatever you feel like doing. It sure beats falling apart. At least you have plumbing.”
“I’m sorry Joe couldn’t help Bill fix the sink,” Judith said.
“The plumber’s supposed to be here by six,” Renie said. “It’s a good thing they bill us instead of demanding money on the spot. I hate to bring this up, but are you certain you’ve no idea who robbed me?”