by Mary Daheim
“I don’t,” Judith said. “Are you sure it couldn’t have happened somewhere else?”
“I’ve retraced my steps. The only places I went yesterday before I came to your house were Venezia Gardens and Holliday’s Drug Store.”
“You had your credit cards then?”
“Well…yes,” Renie replied slowly. “I ended up not buying anything because I was too poor. But I didn’t leave my purse unattended.”
Judith had to give Renie the benefit of a doubt. Through the parlor window, she could see an unmarked police car entering the cul-de-sac. As she rang off, a tall, lean man in his forties and a short, sturdy auburn-haired woman got out of the vehicle. They might be wearing civilian clothes, but they had “police” written all over them.
Judith went onto the porch to greet them just as Joe was coming down the walkway between Hillside Manor and the Rankerses’ hedge. He reached the officers first. Apparently he didn’t know them, either. He put out a hand and introduced himself.
“And this,” he said, gesturing at the porch, “is my wife, Judith.”
A squad car was coming into the cul-de-sac. Joe stayed on the sidewalk while Morgenstern and his partner climbed the front steps.
“Levi Morgenstern,” the male detective said in a solemn voice. “This is Rosemary O’Grady.”
Judith shook hands. “Please come into the front parlor,” she said. “It’s more private.” It was also more discreet, since guests could be arriving at any moment.
“We’d like to see where the body was found,” Morgenstern said. “The EMTs told us that the victim collapsed on a nearby sidewalk.”
“Follow me.” Judith started down the steps. Joe was talking to the uniforms. “Darnell! Mercedes!” Judith cried, recognizing the man and the woman. “You’re back on Heraldsgate Hill.”
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Flynn,” Darnell replied with a tip of his cap. “We couldn’t stay away. We asked for a transfer from across the ship canal. It’s usually so quiet up here. Except for…uh…”
Judith waved a hand. “Never mind.”
Joe beckoned to Judith. “Show everybody the way, my love.”
My love? Joe never used that sort of endearment. In fact, he wasn’t much for any kind of nicknames these days. It had taken her years to break him of the habit of calling her the much-despised “Jude-girl.” But she nodded and started across the cul-de-sac.
Once again, Miko Swanson had come onto her front porch. Perhaps she’d seen the police cars and had anticipated a visit. Judith waved at the old lady.
“She’s the one who first spotted Mr. Kluger,” Judith explained.
“I’ll talk to her,” Rosemary volunteered, smiling brightly at Judith.
“She’s elderly, but very sharp,” Judith said, pointing to the approximate spot where Dolph Kluger had collapsed. “Is this right, Mrs. Swanson?” she called out.
Miko nodded. “Possibly a few inches closer to the parking strip. It was quite dark, of course.”
Darnell and Mercedes went about their business, combing the area for evidence. Rosemary went up to the Swanson porch, taking notes. Levi Morgenstern fingered his long chin and looked thoughtful.
“Which direction was the victim facing?” he finally asked Judith.
“East,” she replied. “As if he were returning to the B&B.”
“From where?” the detective inquired.
“He was going for a walk,” Judith said. “I suggested he go to the park. It appears that he didn’t. It’s steep, of course. And he stopped along the way to call at the house next door.” She pointed to the Wittener residence. “That’s why Mr. Kluger and his family came to town—to visit old friends who are renting that house.”
Mercedes Berger looked up from the base of the maple tree. “Isn’t that the house where…another incident occurred several years ago?”
Judith nodded. “Yes. But it was sold very soon after that. It’s a rental now.”
“We’ll talk to them,” Morgenstern said, and started to sneeze. “Excuse me.” He got out a packet of tissues and blew his nose several times. “Allergies. Sorry.”
Judith nodded. “I understand. I have them, too, especially in the spring.”
“Mold,” Morgenstern said. “And cats. I can’t get near cats, especially the long-haired kind.”
“Oh.” Judith looked away.
Rosemary had finished her brief interview with Miko Swanson. “Is the widow ready for us?” Morgenstern asked, wiping his nose.
“I’m not sure,” Judith admitted, waving farewell to Mrs. Swanson. “Mrs. Kluger was asleep when you phoned. Her daughter, Suzanne, is available.”
“First things first,” Morgenstern muttered, striding toward the B&B. “Hillside Manor,” he said under his breath as he saw the small sign on the lawn. “Where have I heard that before?”
Rosemary had fallen into step with Judith. “You’re FATSO, aren’t you? I’m a huge fan.”
Judith stared at the young woman. “You mean—that Web site for so-called amateur detectives?”
Rosemary nodded emphatically. “Oh, yes. You inspired me to become a detective.”
“You’re kidding,” Judith said in disbelief.
“I’m not,” Rosemary insisted in her chipper voice. “I found your site four years ago, after you solved that murder in the Alhambra Arms Apartments at the bottom of the hill. I was on patrol at the time and I decided if you could be a detective, anybody could be. And look at me now! This is my first homicide. I know you’ll be able to help me solve it.”
Judith was flabbergasted. The Internet site had been started by some admirers who’d learned of her skills in solving murder mysteries. Occasionally, she’d receive e-mail from a fan, but rarely did she look at the site itself. It was too embarrassing. Her official cyber name was FASTO for Female Amateur Sleuth Tracking Offenders, but had been corrupted into FATSO. Having counted calories all her life, it was not an appellation—or a reputation—that pleased her, despite her five-foot-nine height.
“Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet,” Judith whispered to Rosemary as they went inside. “I’ve just been lucky.”
“You’re awesome,” Rosemary said. “Please call me Rosie. Don’t worry, I won’t call you FATSO.”
“Thanks,” Judith said in a faint voice before informing the detectives she’d go in search of Mrs. Kluger and Ms. Farrow.
Joe was still outside with Mercedes and Darnell. They were engaged in deep conversation. Judith couldn’t tell what they were talking about, except that Joe apparently had said something funny. The uniforms were both laughing. It had better not be at her expense, Judith thought as she went upstairs.
Suzanne, looking concerned, was coming from her mother’s room. “Mom needs something for her nerves,” the young woman stated.
“Does she have a prescription that can be refilled through a local pharmacy?” Judith asked.
Suzanne frowned. “She did.”
“But not anymore?”
“No.” Suzanne wouldn’t look at Judith.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Judith said. “All I have are pain pills for my hip.”
Suzanne’s eyes slowly moved to Judith’s face. “What kind?”
“Percocet,” Judith answered.
Suzanne flexed her fingers. “Could she have two or three?”
Judith shook her head. “My doctor is very strict. I barely get enough to get me through a month, and I never take more than a half at one time. She’s not in pain, is she?”
“Not physical pain,” Suzanne replied. “Percocet might make her sleepy, though. That would help.”
“She should talk to the police first,” Judith insisted. “They can come up here.”
But Suzanne rejected the idea. “Mom’s not up to that. Tomorrow, maybe.”
Judith was normally compassionate to a fault. But this was literally a matter of life and death. Even the Andrea Klugers of this world shouldn’t thwart the law. “Fine,” she said quietly. “No in
terview, no Percocet. In that case, the detectives want to talk to you—now.”
Suzanne paled. “I can’t leave Mom alone. She’s already lost one husband. Mom feels cursed.” She took a sharp breath. “I can’t be…I can’t,” she finished lamely, and clamped her mouth shut.
“Then they’ll come upstairs and talk to you in your mother’s room. Don’t you want to know what happened to your stepfather?”
Suzanne sighed. “Of course I do. But poison…do you understand what that might imply?”
“I certainly do,” Judith retorted, trying to stifle another laughing fit. Abruptly, she turned her back and clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Mrs. Flynn?” Suzanne sounded alarmed. “Are you crying?”
Controlling herself, she slowly turned back to Suzanne. “I’m overcome with emotion,” she said. “Of course I understand. Whatever it implies may have happened while Mr. Kluger was a guest at my B&B. Come, Ms. Farrow. We’re wasting time.”
Suzanne paced back and forth in the open area of the hallway. “I’ll be down in five minutes, okay? I have to call someone first. Where’s the local phone book?”
“Right there next to the wicker settee,” Judith replied. “There’s the guest phone, too.”
Suzanne paused before going across the hall to the settee. Judith went back downstairs.
Joe was settled in the parlor with the two detectives. Darnell and Mercedes had gone off to deliver the bad news to Rudi Wittener and Taryn Moss. Morgenstern had stopped sneezing, but started wheezing. He held an inhaler in one hand and tissues in the other.
“I’ve been giving them the background,” Joe said, looking out the window next to the small stone fireplace. “Or what little I know about it. By the way, I think some guests are arriving. Shall I do the honors?”
“Would you?” Judith gave Joe a grateful look. “Thanks.”
Morgenstern took several gasping breaths from the inhaler and regarded Judith with watery red eyes. “You really don’t have a cat?”
“Is that what my husband told you?”
Morgenstern nodded. “He said he didn’t own a cat.”
Judith shrugged. “That’s true.”
“Then you must have a serious mold problem here,” the detective remarked in a snide tone.
“It’s an old house,” Judith said, “but it’s been renovated recently. There’s mold everywhere this time of year, especially on the leaves.”
“That maple tree,” Morgenstern said, more to himself than to the others. “That must be it.”
“Rhododendrons, too,” Judith noted. “We have several. I’m sorry you’re miserable.”
Rosemary offered her partner a sympathetic glance before turning to Judith. “Detective Morgenstern moved here from Phoenix three years ago. He didn’t suffer nearly as much down there, but his wife is from this area. He made quite a sacrifice for her.”
With his lean body and sunken cheeks, Morgenstern definitely had the air of a martyr. “It was the least I could do. My wife hated the heat in Arizona. We’d been there almost twenty years. The dry air helped my sinuses. My lungs, too.” He sneezed again.
Judith wondered when they’d get down to business. “Perhaps you’d like to hear about the Klugers,” she said.
“Oh, yes!” Rosemary leaned forward on the window seat by the small bay window. “Please tell us all about them.”
As concisely as possible, Judith summed up the events prior to Dolph’s death, starting with the phone call from Andrea. Morgenstern coughed, sneezed, and wheezed the entire time; Rosemary hung on Judith’s every word, taking rapid-fire notes. Spongelike, she seemed to soak up Judith’s words as if they’d been coined by Shakespeare.
“Amazing recall!” Rosemary exclaimed when Judith had finished. “Awesome recap!”
Morgenstern looked less impressed. “You say the cocktail party was lifeless, Mrs. Flynn. You weren’t actually in attendance, correct?”
“That’s true,” Judith responded, “except for the part where I mentioned that I looked in on them. And, of course, my cousin and I could have heard any high spirits or hilarity from the kitchen.”
“Do you know,” Morgenstern inquired, “the cause of Mrs. Wittener’s faint?”
“I haven’t heard anything official,” Judith replied as a knock sounded on the parlor door, “but she was taken to Bayview’s emergency room. Excuse me. That’s probably Mr. Kluger’s stepdaughter.”
Suzanne, looking pugnacious, entered the room. “My mother is distraught,” she declared, refusing the offer of a chair. “I’ve been trying to contact our doctor in New York City, but it’s after-hours back there.”
Judith hadn’t sat down again. “Should I leave?” she asked the detectives.
Morgenstern started to speak, but ended up coughing instead. Rosemary vehemently shook her head. “No, that’s not necessary.” She winked. “This is informal, isn’t it, Levi?”
Morgenstern attempted to nod while stifling a cough. “I understand,” he finally said to Suzanne between sniffles, “that your stepfather was visiting a neighbor here, Rudolf Wittener. Mrs. Flynn informs us that”—he paused to blow his nose, a honking sound that would have made a goose preen—“that they’ve known each other for many years and were—as far as she could tell—very close.”
“That’s true,” Suzanne replied stiffly. “My stepfather remained close to most of his former students and protégés. That is, as close as possible, given their careers in other countries, particularly in Europe.”
Morgenstern nodded. “Was there a special reason for this trip?”
“It was the first of four visits along the West Coast,” Suzanne answered, moving to the old tiles in front of the hearth. “We were going from here to California. One of Dolph’s protégés is making his concert debut with the Berkeley Symphony, another is performing with the San Diego Orchestra, and a well-known violinist has a concert in Los Angeles. My stepfather usually made at least two trips a year to hear his people perform.”
“Then this was a goodwill visit,” Morgenstern said.
Suzanne glared at the detective. “Dolph didn’t need to create goodwill. It already exists. Do you suggest otherwise?”
“Certainly not,” Morgenstern said, taking a cough-drop container out of his jacket pocket. “I meant it only in a positive way.” He slipped a lozenge into his mouth.
Judith heard the doorbell sound. “Excuse me,” she said. “It may be some of my guests.”
Mercedes and Darnell were at the door. Behind them were two other people Judith didn’t recognize.
“Forensics,” Darnell said with an apologetic expression. “We have to treat your house as a crime scene.”
“But,” Judith protested, “do we know if there’s been a crime?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Darnell replied. “I mean, it’s a suspicious death. You understand.”
Judith did. All too well. While she might have encountered a few dead bodies elsewhere over the years, it had been some time since Hillside Manor had been involved in a homicide.
Mercedes gestured at the two young men whose uniforms identified them as law enforcement personnel. “This is Tommy Wang and Mitch Muggins,” Mercedes said. “They’re really nice guys.”
Tommy was stocky, square-faced, and of Asian descent. Mitch was a skinny six-footer, some of whose ancestors had been African. They both looked too boyishly naive for their often grisly jobs.
Morgenstern emerged from the parlor, sucking on a cough drop.
“Hi,” Judith said to the newcomers. “Welcome to the House of Horrors.” She couldn’t help herself. She began to laugh.
Morgenstern was so startled that he choked, coughed, and spewed out the cough drop. It flew across the entry hall—and struck Sweetums right between the eyes. The cat howled, growled, and raced off toward the dining room.
Morgenstern stared at the fleeing animal in horror. Judith couldn’t control her hilarity. She wondered if she’d die laughing.
SIX
“CAT!” MORGENSTERN CRIED.
“C-cat?” Judith stammered between fits of laughter.
“Mr. Flynn told me,” Morgenstern said angrily, “you didn’t own a—” He broke off, honking like a giddy goose.
“It isn’t my husband’s cat,” Judith declared, finally pulling herself together. “It belongs to my mother. She doesn’t actually live with us. Furthermore, people don’t own cats. Cats own humans.”
Morgenstern was beginning to recover from the latest attack, but his face was blotchy and there were hives on his hands. “Keep that animal away from me,” he ordered, his voice hoarse. “Now let’s take care of business.” He turned to the forensics team. “Let’s start with garbage.”
Judith sighed. “This way,” she said, leading the two young men into the kitchen. “There’s some under the sink and the rest is outside. It hasn’t been collected yet. Oh—by the way, the liquor bottles are still here, too. Someone was supposed to carry them over to the Wittener house, but that hasn’t happened yet.”
“Lucky for us,” Mitch murmured. “We’ll need the serving items, too, whether they’ve been washed or not.”
Morgenstern hadn’t joined them in the kitchen, but Rosemary appeared just as Tommy was removing one of the plastic bins from under the sink. The policewoman grimaced at Judith. “Is this going to upset your B&B plans? I mean, you’ll have to get everybody out of here except for the guests who knew the vic.”
Judith frowned slightly. “We don’t know if Mr. Kluger was a victim, do we?”
Rosemary moved closer to Judith and lowered her voice. “That’s the problem. Until we hear differently, we have to treat this as a suspicious death. Suicide can’t be ruled out, but it sounds unlikely. Is it a big hassle to relocate the other guests?”
“Yes,” Judith replied. “All but one of the other rooms is taken. That means finding vacancies for three other parties.”
Rosemary seemed genuinely concerned. “Are they already here?”
Judith said she’d have to check the registration book. Rosemary followed her out into the entry hall. Sure enough, Joe had checked in the two women from Kansas City. “There’s one more couple coming,” she told Rosemary. “They’re flying in from Philadelphia and won’t arrive until around eight. If I can find another B&B for them, they can be paged at the airport. But that still leaves the two holdovers and the women who got here just a few minutes ago.”