by Mary Daheim
“Experience,” Judith said. “God knows I’ve had plenty of that.” She leaned back in the chair. “Good grief! Here comes the odd couple—Suzanne and Fritz. Don’t look.”
Renie stiffened like a sculpture. “Okay,” she said, without moving her lips. “Are they coming in here?”
“Yes. No. They’re stopping to pet the dog.” Judith paused. “Rats! I think Suzanne saw us through the window. They’ve turned around. They’re going back down the street.”
“What’s that all about?” Renie murmured.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” said Judith.
Friday morning got off to a rough start. Judith knew she should have called Ingrid at the B&B office sooner, but she’d put it off, hoping that she could avoid relocating the weekend guests. But at precisely 8 A.M., she called her nemesis, Ingrid Heffelman.
“Crime scene, huh?” Ingrid said, relishing the words. “Of course. What about bubonic plague or weapons of mass destruction? You want your guests moved? Try H-bombs! Ha ha!”
“Ingrid…”
“Okay, okay. I’m fed up with your corpses and crises. Your guests would be better off staying at The Bates Motel.”
“Just find them substitute inns,” Judith said, weary of Ingrid’s barbs. “Let me give you their names and cell-phone numbers, if they have them.”
An hour later Morgenstern and O’Grady showed up on Hillside Manor’s doorstep. Judith had made sure that Sweetums was hidden away in the toolshed with Gertrude. Neither Suzanne nor Andrea had yet made an appearance, however. Indeed, Judith hadn’t seen Suzanne after spotting her with Fritz outside of Little Havana.
“Cops again,” Phyliss announced after going to the front door. “No uniforms. Can’t the city afford costumes for these people?”
“You know my husband never wore a uniform when he was on the force,” Judith reminded the cleaning woman.
“Too cheap for him, too, huh?”
Judith merely shook her head and went into the entry hall, where the detectives were waiting.
“Where’s Mrs. Kluger?” Morgenstern demanded without preamble.
Judith explained that the widow hadn’t yet come downstairs.
“Then,” the detective said, beckoning to Rosemary, “we’ll have to go to her.”
The duo climbed the stairs. Judith offered no protest. The detectives were simply performing their duty.
Moving up to the first landing, she couldn’t see what was happening on the second floor, but she should be able to hear some of the conversation. Indeed, the sound of knocking reverberated down the staircase. Morgenstern was calling out to Andrea Kluger.
Suzanne responded. “She’s still asleep,” Judith heard the young woman say. “Please leave her alone.”
“Ms. Farrow,” Morgenstern said in a reasonable tone, “if your stepfather was poisoned intentionally, aren’t you and your mother anxious to discover who did it?”
Suzanne’s reply was inaudible.
“Then,” Morgenstern went on, “we must proceed with our investigation.”
The phone rang. Reluctantly, Judith descended the three steps from the landing to the credenza, where she’d left the receiver. Phyliss came into the entry hall just before Judith clicked on the phone.
“Keyhole?” the cleaning woman inquired, cupping a hand behind her ear and gesturing up toward the second floor.
Judith realized what Phyliss meant. “Do what you have to,” she said before answering the call.
“Coz!” Renie’s voice came through loud and clear, especially since it was not yet nine-thirty in the morning. “The fraud cops traced the debit charge! They just left.”
“You were up to greet them?” Judith asked as Phyliss went through the dining room to do her snooping via the backstairs.
“No, but Bill was, and he woke me because I had to verify that it wasn’t my signature on the charge slip.”
“Only one charge?” Judith asked. “Where?”
“Barnaby’s at the bottom of the hill,” Renie replied, referring to a large drugstore. “They’re open twenty-four hours a day, and this charge was made yesterday morning at seven-fifteen.”
“For what?”
“Vitamins, over-the-counter sleep medications, toiletries, and pain patches,” Renie recounted, “totaling two hundred and twenty-four dollars and eighty cents. We had about two-fifty in checking, so that wiped us out as far as plumbing parts were concerned.”
“Did they catch whoever used the card on their security camera?”
“They only have them in the pharmacy area,” Renie said. “The clerk who waited on the perp was at the end of her shift and dead tired. She didn’t ask for ID. She vaguely recalls that it was a woman. They were fairly busy with customers on their way to work.”
“Is it a clerk you know?”
“One who works the night shift?” Renie said, aghast. “Are you kidding? The only employees I know are there from eleven until two. That’s when I run errands.”
“I know,” Judith agreed, aware of her cousin’s routine. “Surely this clerk must remember if the woman was old or young, black or white, tall or short.”
“You’d think so,” Renie said, sounding irritated. “But you know how it is—most people don’t pay attention. Heck, let’s face it—I don’t always study the clerks who wait on me at places where I shop. We’re all too wrapped up in ourselves.”
Judith knew this was true, though she herself was an exception, always taking a personal interest even in the most casual exchange. “If we narrow the possibilities to the women who were here night before last,” she said, “that leaves Taryn, Andrea, Suzanne, and possibly even Elsa, depending on when she was released from the hospital’s emergency room. Oh—and Olive Oglethorpe. I really should talk to her. She lives up the hill a block or so.”
Renie paused before speaking. “Can you limit the actual theft to a woman?”
Judith was on the landing again, trying to hear what was going on upstairs. All was silent. “What do you mean?” she asked her cousin.
“The purchaser may not have been the thief,” Renie pointed out. “One of the men could have taken my credit cards. Some of the accounts are in Bill’s name, too. Of course everything but the debit card was maxed out, and therefore useless.”
“You’re saying that Fritz could have handed the card over to Elsa or Rudi did the same with Taryn or even Dolph, since he was still alive and drinking when the emergency people came for Elsa.”
“I’d say Elsa’s out of it as the thief,” Renie said. “I didn’t leave my purse unattended while she was still going in and out of the kitchen. It was only after she passed out that there would’ve been an opportunity for her to pinch my stuff.”
“But why?” Judith mused. “Why would anyone in this bunch steal your cards in the first place? They don’t seem the type.”
“Crazy, maybe,” Renie said, “like kleptomaniacs. They steal things they don’t need or want.”
“But this one actually used your debit card,” Judith pointed out as she saw Phyliss coming back through the entry hall shaking her head. “Hey, coz, I have to go. I’ll call you back later.”
Phyliss looked aggrieved. “Nobody in the hall. Couldn’t make out a word listening at the keyholes. Just mumbles, coughs, sneezes, and a wheeze or two.”
“Hunh. Quiet as a church,” Judith remarked.
“Not our church,” Phyliss declared. “We make a joyful noise unto the Lord. You wouldn’t believe all the hallelujahs, amens, and praises. They’d knock your socks off.”
“I imagine that’s so,” Judith murmured. “Well, at least Mrs. Kluger isn’t hysterical. You could have heard that.”
“I’m usually not one to pry, you know,” Phyliss asserted with a self-righteous look. “But this is different. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of that Kluger woman in two days. She might as well be dead, too.”
Judith gaped at Phyllis. The remark might be glib, but given Hillside Manor’s history, it could also be true
.
NINE
“DON’T SAY WE could have another dead body!” Judith cried. “That’s not the least bit funny!”
“Funny?” Phyliss sniffed in disdain. “I wasn’t being funny. Around here, you never know. All sorts of queer, ungodly doings. Take that crazy fiddler, for instance.”
“At least we haven’t had to listen to him practice the last few days,” Judith pointed out.
“I don’t mean that,” Phyliss said darkly. “I mean yesterday morning right after I got here.”
“Yesterday?” Judith stared at the cleaning woman. “What are you talking about?”
“Finding him in the living room,” Phyliss said. “You were out with your heathen mother in the toolshed. That fiddler was in the living room, he walked right in just because the front door was unlocked. Talk about nerve!”
“What was Rudi doing?”
Phyliss smirked. “He said he was looking for a bracelet. I suppose his tart of a girlfriend lost it. Living in sin! She’s lost more than a bracelet, if you ask me.”
“Exactly where was he?”
“By the buffet,” Phyliss said. “He must have just come in. He jumped about two feet when he saw me.”
“What did he do then?”
Phyliss shrugged. “He snooped around on the floor and under the furniture. I watched him like a hawk.” Phyliss looked very pleased with herself. “Finally, he left. No bracelet. Served him right. It probably fell off outside in the bushes when his strumpet was doing Jezebel’s Dance of the Seven Veils.”
“I thought that was Salome,” Judith remarked.
Phyliss clapped a hand to her cheek. “You’re right! It was Salome! I thought you Catholics never read the Bible.”
“We don’t,” Judith said with a straight face, “but years ago I saw the movie with Rita Hayworth.” She frowned at the cleaning woman. “You should’ve told me about Rudi sooner.”
“I got busy,” Phyliss declared. “What else am I around here except busy? Since when did you complain about me not working?”
“Never,” Judith admitted. “You’re a hard worker. I’m always pleased with what you do for us. But there’s a murder investigation going on here. The police might regard Rudi Wittener’s behavior as suspicious.” As do I, she thought.
“I didn’t know that then,” Phyliss said with a sulky expression. “I’d just got here. I hadn’t seen you yet.”
Judith smiled wanly. “That’s okay, Phyliss. I realize that you’re used to all sorts of people coming and going around this house.”
But, Judith wondered, was Andrea Kluger alive? Phyliss armed herself with the vacuum cleaner and headed for the living room. Judith went upstairs, where Rosemary was coming out of Room Three.
“Mrs. Kluger is difficult,” the rookie detective announced.
Judith sighed in relief. “Then she’s…okay?”
“Define okay,” Rosemary said, going over to sit on the love seat next to the stair rail, where she consulted her thick notebook. “She acts groggy, but I suppose that’s because we woke her up.”
Judith straightened the magazines in the rack next to the love seat. “Does she have any idea who might have poisoned her husband?”
Rosemary brushed at her tan flannel slacks. “No.” She brushed some more. “Is this cat hair?” she asked, examining bits of yellow fur.
“Well…as I explained, Mother’s cat wanders in when the doors are open during the summer.”
Rosemary dimpled. “Not too often, I hope. Detective Morgenstern will have a fit. Not to mention another allergy attack.”
“Will Mrs. Kluger and her daughter be allowed to return to New York with the body?” Judith asked.
Rosemary shrugged. “Not my call. What do you think?”
Judith leaned her hand on the love seat’s wicker back. “I have no idea. I’m not really a detective.”
Rosemary laughed. “Hey—you’re the greatest! Oh, I know that in the media the police are often credited with solving cases you’ve gotten involved with, but word gets out. Certain people know.”
“Which certain people?” Judith inquired.
“Oh…” Rosemary feigned innocence. “Let’s say veterans who’ve known you for years. Maybe not in so many words, of course. Longtime cops tend to keep their own counsel.” She winked at Judith.
Woody, Judith thought. Woodrow Wilson Price had been Joe’s partner for years. He was the soul of discretion, but also a man of integrity. If pressed, he might hint at Judith’s role in some of the homicide cases. She decided to drop the subject.
“I assume,” Judith said, getting back to the point, “that as long as Andrea and her daughter aren’t suspects, they’d be allowed to leave.”
“True,” Rosemary allowed. “But Morgenstern’s a stickler, and so’s our new chief. This is a high-profile case. Have you seen the news?”
“I haven’t had time,” Judith admitted. “I would imagine the reports from headquarters are very limited.”
Rosemary nodded. “You got it. ‘Music Bigwig Dies of Apparent Heart Failure; Police Investigating’—or something like that.”
“Yes,” Judith said thoughtfully, “that’s the way I figured it’d be handled at the outset. Did they…ah…mention where Mr. Kluger died?”
“It was very vague,” Rosemary replied. “I think they said he’d been out for a walk while visiting friends on Heraldsgate Hill.”
“That’s vague enough.” Judith turned as Morgenstern exited Room Three.
“I’ve advised Mrs. Kluger to remain in the city for another day or two,” the detective announced. “Frankly, she’s in no shape to travel.”
Judith frowned. “I understood she’d been making arrangements for her husband’s memorial service.”
Morgenstern shrugged. “She may have been, but not this morning. I gather she’s been taking sedatives.”
“Yes,” Judith said. “Her daughter picked up a prescription last night at the local pharmacy on top of the hill. Would Mrs. Kluger be more comfortable staying at a hotel?”
“Ask Ms. Farrow,” Morgenstern said, wiping his nose.
“I will,” Judith said, wishing she could free up the B&B for more paying guests. It was the weekend, after all. “By the way—I should mention that Rudi Wittener sneaked into the house yesterday morning.”
“What?” Morgenstern stared at Judith over the top of his handkerchief. “Did you say he sneaked in? Just like that cat?”
“Yes, just like…the cat. The front door was unlocked. It usually is during the day,” Judith explained. “I assume you were able to interview Rudi last night after the symphony concert.”
Morgenstern nodded and put the handkerchief back in his pocket. “He seemed quite upset, not particularly helpful.”
Judith nodded once. “He was able to perform, I gather.”
“Yes,” Morgenstern said. “Wittener claimed that his mentor had inspired him from above. Or some such nonsense.” The detective snapped his fingers at Rosemary. “Come, we should check to see what the robbery unit has found out about that damnable bow.”
“Bow?” Judith echoed. “What kind of bow?”
“Violin bow,” Morgenstern replied as Rosemary got to her feet. “It belonged to Wittener. He says it’s some sort of musical treasure. We’ll be in touch.” He started down the stairs.
“Wait!” Judith called, following Rosemary, who was behind Morgenstern. “When did this happen?”
“Yesterday,” Morgenstern said, without turning around. “Or so Wittener thinks. It might have been the previous night.” He had reached the bottom of the stairs. “The man is very imprecise about time. It seems unimportant to him. Musical temperament, I suppose.”
Rosemary lingered as her partner went out the front door. “Do you think,” she whispered to Judith, “that this missing violin bow could have something to do with the murder?”
“I’ve no idea,” Judith admitted. “It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“I could use some help,�
� Rosemary murmured, hurrying to catch up with Morgenstern. “Please.”
Judith watched the unmarked car drive away. It was a damp autumn morning, with dew heavy on the grass and rain clouds hovering over the hill. In the doorway, she took a deep breath, savoring the fresh, earthy air. The cul-de-sac looked so serene, so quiet. It was hard to believe that a man had died a violent death on the very edge of Judith’s little world.
But that was reality. As Renie would put it, Judith had a tendency to stick her head in the sand about certain matters. Not, however, when it came to somebody getting away with murder.
Her reverie was interrupted by Suzanne Farrow. “Mrs. Flynn?” the young woman called. “Who sent that bouquet in the dining room?”
“Olive delivered it for Rudi to give to your mother,” Judith said, closing the door and looking up at Suzanne on the staircase.
“Oh.” Suzanne seemed disappointed. “Has anyone called for me?”
“No,” Judith replied as Suzanne slowly reached the lower landing. “Were you expecting someone?”
Suzanne shook her head. “Not exactly.”
“I thought,” Judith said, “you might be looking for Fritz.”
Suzanne carefully stepped down into the entry hall. “Never mind,” she said, avoiding Judith’s gaze. “I have a request. I’d like to send for Mom’s maid. She’s also a nurse.” The young woman looked again at Judith. “Since Mom and Dolph were going to be traveling, Estelle was given two weeks’ vacation. She’s visiting relatives in Oregon, so she could be up here in a matter of hours.”
A paying guest, Judith thought. “Of course. She can stay in Room One, catty-corner from your mother.”
Suzanne nodded. “I’ll call her right away.” The young woman started back up the stairs.
She’d reached the halfway point when the doorbell rang, barely audible over the sound of the vacuum cleaner in the adjoining room. Suzanne turned. “Not the police again, I hope.”
The bell rang again before Judith could respond. “I don’t know,” she called back to Suzanne.