by Mary Daheim
“How about calling Olive?”
“She won’t tell me,” Judith said. “Unless…hand me the directory.”
“I’ve got her number.” Renie reached around to grab her big handbag off of the counter. “Remember, I’m her retirement-home rep.”
“Good,” Judith said. “Then you can call her.”
Renie scowled at Judith but agreed. “Why not? One more lie won’t add much weight to the handcart in which I’m riding to hell.”
Judith tidied up the dinner things while Renie placed the call.
“Hello, Ms. Oglethorpe, this is Serena Jones from D’Otage C’est Bon Retirement Châteaux. I need just a little more information to finish the paperwork on your form.”
Judith looked up at the kitchen’s high ceiling. Could Olive possibly be that gullible? Or did Judith just know Renie too well?
“Elementary school,” Renie was saying. “Yes, I have it. And high school…yes, as well as the business courses. Parents’ names…Charles and Martha. What were their middle names?…It’s not vital, but…oh, fine…yes…Henry and Rose, very nice…Siblings’ names? I don’t have anyone listed…Yes, you did say she’d died, but of course your parents are deceased, too…” Renie looked at Judith and gave her a thumbs-up sign. “Laurel…Laurel what?…” Renie frowned. “She never used it? Why?…Oh, I see. But most women don’t drop their middle name when they marry. What was her married name, by the way?…Okay, got it.” Another thumbs-up for Judith. “That’s very sad…I’m afraid the good die young…Now, about nieces or nephews—is Gregory your nephew?…I see.” Renie made a face. “Very kind of you. Do you have his address and phone number so we can list him as an emergency contact?…Okay, when you find out, let me know. Thank you, Ms. Oglethorpe. Oh—by the way, I’m a history buff. By any chance, are you descended from the Georgia Oglethorpes?…How interesting! I find genealogy fascinating, too…Yes, in fact, Attila the Hun on my father’s side. Thanks. Good-bye.”
“Well?” Judith said, leaning against the fridge. “Success?”
“About four for five,” Renie answered, “which means my batting average is pretty high. Olive’s sister was Laurel Oglethorpe Chandler.” She gave Judith a smug look. “Laurel didn’t use her first name when she was young because she never liked it. As far as I can tell, Laurel died not long after her husband went to prison. Not dramatically by hanging herself from a Venetian chandelier, but a mundane car accident on the Jersey Turnpike. From then on, Olive took Gregory under her wing.”
Judith was thoughtful. “Gregory would’ve been born long before Laurel went on the foxhunt with Blake and Andrea Farrow. If Gregory really is Dolph’s son, maybe he was born before Laurel married the crooked Mr. Chandler. So where does Frederica come in?”
Renie finished the dregs of her drink, which had melted to mostly whiskey and 7-Up-flavored water. “I figure that was Laurel’s middle name. Olive’s is Georgia. And yes, Olive and Laurel descended from the Oglethorpe who founded the colony. Thus, I cleverly deduce that if Olive was given the name of the colony, Laurel ended up with the name of the fort—Frederica. Ta-da!”
Judith nodded. “Excellent logic, my good coz.”
“As for Gregory’s residence, Olive became vague,” Renie said. “She told me he’s moving.”
“More likely being moved from one institution to another,” Judith remarked. “If Dolph was a musical genius—in terms of his so-called ear and ability to nurture talent—he may have been mentally unstable. Genius often borders on madness. At the very least, his idea of propagating the world with music talent makes him an egomaniac.”
“Or a sex fiend,” Renie said, grinning. “Men! Excuses, excuses.”
Judith finished loading the dishwasher. “I must check on Estelle.”
Renie lifted the sheep’s head from the cookie jar. “Empty. Drat.”
“I haven’t had time to bake,” Judith replied. “Are you coming?”
“I might as well,” Renie said. “No cookies.”
To Judith’s relief, Estelle opened Room One’s door after the first knock. “I just finished my dinner,” she said, looking haggard but composed. “It was rather good. Thank you. I was about to put the tray out in the hall.”
“How long have you been awake?” Judith inquired, taking the tray from the maid.
Estelle looked at her watch. “Half an hour or so. A noise in the hall woke me. I must have been more tired than I realized. How is Suzanne?”
“She’s gone,” Judith said.
“Gone?” The maid blanched. “Gone where?”
“To New York,” Judith said, “but I don’t think she’ll get that far.”
Estelle grew more agitated, her fingers frantically clutching at the open door. “No! How could she go without me?”
Judith explained that Suzanne had booked a ten-thirty flight. “The police may prevent her from going,” Judith said. “She asked Fritz Wittener to go with her.”
“Impossible!” Estelle retreated into her room and began flinging items into her suitcase. “I’m going to the airport! Call me a taxi!”
Renie couldn’t resist. “You’re a—”
“Shut up, coz,” Judith said sharply, pinching Renie’s arm.
“Ouch!” Renie gave Judith a dirty look. “Couldn’t we use some comic relief?”
“No,” Judith snapped. “Really, Ms. Pearson, I think it’d be better if you stayed…”
The maid whirled around and glared at Judith. “You don’t understand! Suzanne is totally irresponsible! I must stop her! Please! Call a cab for me!”
Reasoning that if Rosemary decided to force Suzanne to remain in the city, Estelle wouldn’t be going anywhere either, Judith surrendered. “Okay, I’ll use the phone in the hall.”
After she’d ordered the taxi, Judith asked Renie to fetch Suzanne’s tray from Room Four. “I don’t think she touched it,” Judith added. “When I looked in there earlier, it seemed just the way I’d seen it earlier.”
Five minutes later, the cousins were in the entry hall, waiting with Estelle for her ride. The maid had calmed down a little, but still showed signs of anxiety.
Judith smiled kindly at her. “Isn’t it time you leveled with us?”
Estelle looked puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“I know you were in the city before your supposed arrival,” Judith said, trying not to make the words sound like an accusation. “Why?”
Estelle gazed up at the small Tiffany-style chandelier that hung in the entry hall. “Madam asked me to come. I had planned on visiting relatives in the southwestern part of the state, but she begged me to change my itinerary. She was terribly worried about Suzanne and Fritz. I daresay she sensed what might happen when they saw each other again. Mr. Wittener made it possible for me to stay with Olive Oglethorpe. Madam wanted me close by. She became alarmed after Mr. Kluger died, so she summoned me to your B&B. It seems her worst fears were realized.”
“Does Fritz reciprocate Suzanne’s feelings?” Judith asked.
“I don’t know.” Estelle shook her head sadly. “Fritz Wittener has no purpose in life, as far as I can tell. He drifts. Elsa Wittener has made him utterly dependent on her. It’s so unwise.”
“But Suzanne was equally dependent on her mother,” Judith pointed out.
“Yes.” Estelle gave a start as a horn honked outside. “That must be the cab. Good-bye. And thank you.”
“Pathetic,” Renie remarked as the cousins watched Estelle get into the taxi. “Will she—and Suzanne—be back?”
Judith shrugged. “Who knows?” Closing the front door, she sighed. “Saturday night—and an empty B&B.”
“I’m here,” Renie said.
Judith smiled at her cousin. “Thank goodness. I haven’t been alone in this house…ever. Before I married Joe, before I started the B&B, while Mike was away at school, Mother was always here. Then it was guests and then Joe, and now…” She made a helpless gesture with her hands. “I hope I can start accepting reservations this comin
g week. I could use a big dose of normal life about now.”
“Me, too,” Renie agreed as the cousins went into the living room. “We both need our work. I’m not ready to retire, and you obviously aren’t, either.”
“No,” Judith agreed. “Frankly, even with Joe working part-time, we’d have trouble making ends meet on his pension and Social Security. I can’t take mine and get the full benefits for over another year.”
“I know,” Renie said. “We’re in the same boat, and it’s leaking like a sieve right now. Speaking of retiring, I’m going to take my bath upstairs and change into my nightgown and robe. That’s my schedule at home. Then we can watch TV. But please—no chefs. I love food, but I don’t want to know where it’s been.”
“Okay,” Judith said. “Let’s watch it down here. The picture’s bigger and better than the one in the family quarters. Besides,” she added, “the so-called guests may return. They didn’t take their keys, and I locked the front door after we came inside.”
While Renie was upstairs Judith finished cleaning up the kitchen, emptied the dishwasher, and turned out all the lights except for a table lamp in the living room. She was checking the TV listings when she heard a noise from somewhere in the house. Renie, she guessed.
But Renie would have gone to the family quarters on the third floor, where her clothes were stashed in the spare bedroom. It was impossible to hear anything that far away in the solidly built house that was nearing the century mark. Maybe the sound had come from outside. The driveway, perhaps.
Judith got up from the sofa and went to the bay window that overlooked the drive. Heaven help her if kids were tampering with the Joneses’ Camry—or “Cammy,” as Renie and Bill affectionately called their car. Worse yet, she wouldn’t want anything to happen to Joe’s precious MG, though it was parked in the garage.
There was no moon in the ebony sky; there was no wind in the trees or shrubs next to the house. The rain was straight and steady, though only a trickle of water crept down the edge of the slightly sloping driveway. Judith couldn’t see anyone outside. Kneeling on the window seat, she glanced at the grandfather clock, which had just chimed the quarter hour past nine. Looking outside again, she could see a light on in the upstairs window of the Ericsons’ angular house. From her vantage point, that was the only other house she could see except for the roof of the Dooleys’ Colonial behind the garage.
Judith went back to the sofa. She knew that Renie liked to soak in the tub. That was a luxury Judith had given up after hip surgery. Getting in and out was hazardous. She took showers in the morning, which helped her become fully alert and ready to face the day.
Another noise. Judith frowned, trying to figure out where it had come from. The basement, she thought. Maybe Sweetums was on the prowl. She realized that the cat hadn’t been sleeping on the kitchen floor when she’d been tidying up.
Still, Judith worried about him. Like Estelle, he wasn’t used to drinking liquor, and the aftereffects might harm him. Judith decided to go down to the basement and see if he was all right. Maybe he was lonesome for Gertrude. The two shared a bond, both being predictable only in that they could be more ornery than most of their respective species. She didn’t bother turning on the main lights in the kitchen, but flipped the switch on the small overhead above the sink. It was sufficient to guide her through the familiar hallway.
But at the top of the stairs, Judith turned on the basement lights. She hadn’t taken a step before she heard another noise. Pausing, she listened and heard the faintest of sounds.
“Sweetums?” she called. “Here, kitty. I’ll get you some tuna.”
She waited at the head of the stairs, then realized that the tuna cans were still in the carton Joe had bought at Gutbusters and stored in the basement. Wearily, she traipsed down the steps. “Here, Sweetums. I’m too tired to play hide-and-seek.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Judith’s gaze searched for the cat. Sometimes he napped in the basement, especially during the summer when it was the coolest place in the house. Usually, he curled up on top of the clothes dryer. But not this time.
Judith gave a start. The window above the washer and dryer was ajar. She’d closed it firmly after inspecting it with Rosemary O’Grady.
The cat couldn’t open the window. He came and went through his small flap in the back door. Judith stood rooted to the spot. She should get out of the basement immediately. But she felt immobilized. Her ears were primed for any sound—including a human breath.
The only places a person could hide in the basement were behind the furnace or in the narrow space that allowed for the outside vent between the dryer and the wall.
She heard a faint noise. Not someone breathing, but a soft little sound, like weight shifting. Judith forced herself to move. And to speak.
“Okay, Sweetums, stay down here,” she said loudly, hoping to sound normal. “No tuna for you.”
With legs that felt like lead, she lurched toward the stairs. Gripping the handrail to steady herself, she started making the ascent. One, two, three, four…
At last, she reached the top. Judith felt as if she’d climbed Mount Everest. Closing her eyes and sucking in air, she turned the corner into the narrow hallway—and collided with something all too human.
Judith screamed.
So did Renie.
“What the hell are you doing?” Renie demanded, clutching at her bathrobe. “Are you in a daze?”
Judith leaned against the wall, pale and shaken. “Yes. No.” She licked her dry lips. “The basement,” she whispered. “Somebody there. Call 911.”
Renie’s eyes grew enormous. Her lips formed the word “Who?”
Judith shook her head, gesturing for her cousin to move.
“I can’t see,” Renie hissed. “Why aren’t the lights on?” But she managed to find the phone in its cradle on the counter. “I’d like to report a prowler at…Hey, never mind the wiseass cracks! Just send some cops!” Ringing off, Renie turned on Judith, who had crept into the kitchen. “What’s with this 911 operator? She started to give me guff.”
Judith motioned frantically for Renie to be quiet. “It’s okay. She’ll send help. We need it. Come on, let’s go outside.”
“In my bathrobe?” Renie shook her head. “It’s raining.”
“You’re a native,” Judith said, still keeping her voice down. “I’m going. She started toward the back door, but detoured into the pantry to grab a heavy flashlight.
“Okay, okay,” Renie whispered, right behind Judith as they quietly went out the back way. “You’re lucky I’m wearing sturdy slippers.”
“You’re lucky,” Judith retorted. “I’m not the one who’s ready for bed.”
Judith hadn’t yet turned on the flashlight, but a faint glow from the toolshed’s window enabled the cousins to see.
“Who’s in the basement?” Renie asked as they ducked down behind the garbage cans and recycling bins at the corner of the house.
“Don’t know,” Judith replied, peeking over the top of a green recycling bin to watch the basement window. “Still open,” she whispered. “Has he—or she—fled?”
“Let’s hope so,” Judith said. “You keep an eye on the back door. Our perp may try to leave that way.”
“What about the front?” Renie asked.
“I doubt it. The back door’s much closer to the basement.”
The cousins waited in the cool, damp night. Judith was grateful that the house’s eaves protected them from the rain, but she wished she’d paused to grab a jacket from the hallway.
Five minutes passed before the cousins saw the lights of the patrol car in the cul-de-sac. “Thank goodness,” Judith said with relief.
Darnell and Mercedes got out, cautiously approaching the driveway. Judith turned on the flashlight, but didn’t say a word. The uniforms quickened their step.
“Mrs. Flynn!” Darnell said softly as he and Mercedes reached the cousins. “What’s going on?”
Judith explained about
someone hiding in the basement, adding that it could be the same person who might—or might not—have entered via the window earlier in the week.
“You think he’s still there?” Mercedes asked.
“It’s likely,” Judith said. “I think we’d have heard some kind of noise if whoever it is tried to leave. It may even be a she.”
“Right,” Darnell said. “We’re going in. You want to wait on the porch or inside?”
“Inside,” Judith said. “That way we can watch the front door—just in case. And we can keep an eye on the other side of the house, although the windows there are sealed fairly tight.”
“Okay. Go.” Darnell waved a hand.
The cousins scooted back to the porch and into the house. They entered carefully, though, tiptoeing down the hallway.
“I’ll take the door,” Judith said to Renie. “You watch from the kitchen window.”
“Aye, aye, Commander,” Renie said, saluting Judith.
“Are you okay?” Judith asked suddenly.
“I am now,” Renie answered. “But I’ll be even better when Darnell and Mercedes find your mystery guest.”
Judith’s smile was a little awry. “Agreed. We got lucky this time. No face-off with somebody who might be a killer and probably is a thief.”
“Lucky,” Renie repeated. “Yes.” But she didn’t sound convinced.
Suddenly Judith wasn’t, either.
TWENTY-THREE
STANDING BY THE front door, Judith couldn’t hear any noise coming from the basement. After the first couple of minutes, she began to fret. Had the prowler already left? It was possible. Her ruse in pretending to talk to Sweetums might not have been convincing. Certainly the cousins’ screams could have scared away whoever was hiding in the basement. The open window wasn’t necessarily a sign that he or she hadn’t made a hasty exit. Judith couldn’t expect a person in flight to cover tracks.
Almost ten minutes passed before she heard the uniforms coming into the kitchen. Renie was asking what they’d found.
“Nothing,” Mercedes said as Judith came through the dining room and pushed open the swinging half doors. “No sign of anybody.” She saw Judith. “Are you certain someone was down there?”