by Mary Daheim
Judith had taken her wallet out of her purse. “Here,” she said, pointing to her driver’s license. “See for yourself.”
Trash gave her a wary look. “You’re a bundle of fun. Watch your mouth, Mrs.”—he glanced at the license—“Flynn. Hey,” he said to Glenn, “there used to be a Flynn in the squad, but I heard he croaked. You remember the guy?”
“Only the name,” Glenn replied. “It was before my time. Wasn’t his wife a drunk? You’re no relation, I assume, Mrs. Flynn?”
“Not to his drunken wife,” Judith snapped. “I’m the second Mrs. Flynn, and I assure you, Joe is alive and well.”
“Oh.” Glenn seemed unfazed. “Where and when did you find the victim?”
“Here.” Judith pointed to the Subaru, where the trunk was now closed. More than two dozen people, including Falstaff employees, were standing beyond the yellow tape. Out on the avenue, vehicles were slowing down to rubberneck. “Kippi, the courtesy clerk, and I found the body when we went to load my groceries.”
“Where’s this Kippi now?” Glenn asked, scanning the bystanders.
Phil spoke up. “She’s resting in the employee lounge. She’s barely sixteen, and she’s had a terrible shock.”
Glenn, as seemed to be his wont, was unmoved. “We still have to talk to her. Trash,” he said over his shoulder, “go into the store and interrogate the Kippi witness.”
“Stairs,” Trash muttered. “Why don’t you interview her?” He didn’t wait for answer. “Right, right, you’re the big shot, direct from L.A. I’ll bet I’m going to have to climb stairs.” With his raincoat flapping behind him, Trash lumbered toward the entrance.
Judith tapped Glenn’s shoulder. “May I get my belongings out of the car now?”
Glenn shook his head. “We can’t permit that. Your car is a crime scene.”
“But there’s fresh chicken and corn and…” Judith took a deep breath. “They’re not in the trunk, for heaven’s sake! They’re inside the car and they were put there after Vern got killed.”
“Vern?” For the first time, Glenn’s expression altered slightly. “You know the victim?”
Judith looked pugnacious. “I’m not telling you another thing until I get my food and those toys. I refuse to disappoint my grandsons!”
“Disappointment’s good for children,” Glenn declared. “It builds character. Your car’s off-limits. You ought to know that, being married to a cop.”
Judith narrowed her dark eyes. She was almost as tall as Glenn and stood on her tiptoes to look at him head-on. “Okay. But may I leave for a few minutes to replace my purchases?”
“No.” Glenn’s lean jaw was set.
Judith squared her wide shoulders. “May I sue you for harassment?”
“If you like. Everybody else does,” he added on a sour note.
“May I use the bathroom?”
Glenn considered. “Yes. But be back here in five minutes.”
Judith returned in fifty-five minutes, huffing and puffing. She had gone into Falstaff’s via the parking lot, acquired a shopping cart, and exited through the street entrance. Feeling like a bag lady, she walked the block and a half to Toys-O’-Joy. Fending off queries from the salespeople, she had bought duplicate presents for the grandchildren, returned to Falstaff’s, and replicated the grocery purchases.
Additional patrol officers had been brought in for crowd control. After being thoroughly checked, customers were being allowed to leave, but no one was permitted to enter. Phil was at the parking-lot entrance, wringing his hands and making profuse apologies. Glenn and Trash were standing by the Subaru with a half-dozen men and women. Judith figured they were the crime-scene unit and perhaps backup from the homicide division. She stood off to one side of the entrance with her cart and fervently hoped Glenn wouldn’t notice her. The store’s overhang sheltered her from the drizzle, but she was growing more anxious by the minute.
Her hopes were in vain. Glenn saw her out of the corner of his eye and immediately marched in Judith’s direction.
“Where have you been, Mrs. Flynn?” he demanded in a chilly tone.
“Here,” Judith replied.
Glenn gestured at the cartful of purchases. “That’s not true. Trash and I looked everywhere for you when you didn’t show up after the first ten minutes.”
“Men can never find anything,” Judith said. “And why do you call your partner ‘Trash’?”
“Because that’s his name,” Glenn replied. “Or rather, the short version. Jonathan Parker Trashman.”
“What’s yours, besides Glenn?” Judith demanded.
“Glenn Morris,” the detective answered, exhibiting a hint of dignity.
Neither of the detectives’ names rang any bells with Judith. There had been so many changes and new hires at headquarters since Joe’s retirement.
“Don’t badger me,” she said, shaking a finger. “I’ve had a terrible shock.”
“You don’t act like it, Mrs. Flynn,” Glenn asserted.
“I tend to keep things bottled up,” Judith retorted. At least my reaction to things that happen to me far too often. “When can I go home? Vern wasn’t killed here, so I don’t see any point in hanging out in Falstaff’s parking lot. Besides, it’s bad for business.”
Glenn Morris didn’t respond. Instead, he walked over to the patrol officers and exchanged words with them. Mostly his words, Judith noticed. Jason and Colleen seemed cowed by the detective’s presence. But all three of them were distracted by the arrival of a beige Toyota Camry, horn honking and driver yelling. Judith didn’t have to look twice to know it was Renie.
“Move it, scumbags!” Renie screamed. “I have to get Bill’s snack!”
“Coz!” Judith cried, trying to hurry to the Camry before Renie drove right through the yellow tape. “Stop! You’ll never guess what’s happened!”
Renie stopped honking. She got out of the car and gaped at Judith. “You wrecked your car again?”
Renie was referring to the demise of Judith’s previous vehicle, a Nissan with bad brakes. No brakes, actually, which had caused the car to crash into the concrete wall in Falstaff’s parking lot.
“No,” Judith replied. “Much worse. You’ll never guess what I found.”
“No!” Renie looked stunned. “Not again!”
Judith nodded. “I’m afraid so. It’s a milkman. He’s in my trunk.”
“He’s dead?” Renie asked in a bleak voice.
“I’m afraid so. It looks as if…Renie! Your car’s still moving!”
Sure enough, the Camry was slowly but surely going forward through the tape and heading straight for the outdoor floral display.
“Yikes!” Renie cried, and jumped back into the car. “I forgot to set the emergency brake!” She stopped the Camry just short of dahlias and delphiniums. “Are you going home?” she asked when disaster had been averted.
“When they let me. Will you give me a lift? I’d rather not ride with the police,” Judith said, then pointed to her cart. “I bought some things. Twice.”
“Sure. I’ll wait. Let’s load your stuff now.”
This time, Renie remembered to set the brake, though some of the yellow tape now decorated the Camry’s hood. “Who’s the stiff?” she whispered, glancing at Glenn. “I mean, the one who’s still alive?”
“Glenn Morris,” Judith murmured. “His partner’s a guy named Trash. Never mind why. They thought Joe was still married to Herself and had died.”
“Joe? Or Herself?” asked Renie.
“Joe. Or maybe both of them,” Judith said, still keeping her voice down as they passed Glenn. “I didn’t tell them that Herself was at her condo in Florida.”
Vivian Flynn had had the gall to move into a house in the cul-de-sac several years earlier. But she also owned a condo on the Gulf, and her efforts to sell it had come to naught. Thus, to Judith’s great relief, she was gone for much of the year. As Vivian put it, she preferred drinking on the beach instead of on the hill because she wouldn’t roll
when she fell in the sand.
Renie gathered up the toys; Judith took care of the groceries. Once again, Glenn was heading their way. This time, however, he advanced on Renie.
“Do you own this beige Camry?” he asked in a voice that barely concealed his fury.
“You bet. We paid cash for it. And no, it’s not for sale. Excuse me, I’m busy.” Renie elbowed Glenn out of the way and headed for the Camry’s trunk.
“Hold it!” Glenn shouted. “Get that car out of here right now before I arrest you for impeding a homicide investigation!”
Renie turned to gaze at the detective. “That’s what I’m doing. Leaving, I mean. I’ll have to get Bill’s snack later. But,” she continued, folding her arms and looking mulish, “I’m not going to budge an inch unless my cousin comes with me.”
Glenn glanced from Renie to Judith. “You’re cousins?”
Renie nodded. “We have been, since we were born. Do we have a deal or not?”
Glenn shot Renie a menacing look. “You’re impertinent,” he snapped.
“I’m also impatient. Hurry up, time’s a-wasting.”
Glenn shifted his gaze to the Subaru. It appeared as if the law officers had concluded their examination.
“Very well,” Glenn conceded in an irked tone. “Move along. Now.” He turned to Judith. “We’ll meet you at your house.”
“Fine.” Judith got into the car while Renie put the toys in the trunk and removed the yellow tape.
“Okay, tell me all,” she said, reversing somewhat recklessly out into the street.
During the short drive to Hillside Manor, Judith was able to sum up what had happened from the time of her arrival on Moonfleet to the discovery of Vern Benson’s body in the trunk of her car.
“Wow!” Renie exclaimed, stopping in the Flynn driveway. “Now I feel terrible. The Moonfleet house was my idea. You didn’t want to get involved, but I insisted. It’s my fault you’re in another mess.”
“No, it’s not,” Judith said with a weary sigh. “Joe’s right. I’m a murder magnet. You know how it is—some people are lucky at cards, some keep making bad choices when it comes to mates, some have endless problems with everyday dealings, even though it’s usually not their fault. A store clerk overcharges them, their mail goes awry, the bank makes a mistake and withdraws money from their account instead of the person who asked for it—it’s like Job. One piece of trouble after another. I just happen to be the kind who finds dead bodies. Why couldn’t it be stashes of diamonds and pearls?”
Renie opened the car door. “Some of it is your own doing. You’re extremely curious, especially about people. That’s bound to lead you into trouble.”
Judith collected her groceries. “I suppose. Not to mention all the varieties of guests who come to the B & B. There’s bound to be a clinker now and then.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Renie said from behind the pile of toys. “Tell me where I’m going. I can’t see.”
Judith led Renie down the driveway and to the back porch. “Joe’s gone,” she said, unlocking the door. “He’s going to have a fit when he finds out what’s happened.”
Renie stumbled slightly as she entered the house. “Don’t tell him.”
“That’s impossible!” Judith cried, setting the grocery bags down on the kitchen floor. “It’ll be in the newspapers and on TV.”
Renie carefully placed the three toy boxes under the counter next to the computer. “They don’t have to identify you.”
“But they will, won’t they?” Judith said, unloading the groceries.
Renie turned as the doorbell rang. “That must be the Grim Reaper and his sidekick, Trash. Let me handle this.”
“Coz…” But Renie was already hurrying to the front door.
“Come in,” Judith heard Renie say. “Take a seat. I’m the one you should be talking to. This is all my fault.”
Despite her uneasiness at letting Renie take over, Judith stayed in the kitchen, finishing her tasks with the groceries.
“Here’s how this all started,” Renie was saying. She launched into her fifty-year obsession with the house on Moonfleet. “I coerced my cousin into going over there to have a look. She didn’t want any part of it, but I insisted. Naturally, she became interested—who wouldn’t? This morning, she had to go to Langford, where our Uncle Al lives. She wanted me to go with her, but I had to do a beaver. So on her way—”
“Excuse me,” Glenn broke in. “What did you have to do with a beaver?”
“Draw him,” Renie retorted. “Never mind. Anyway, she passed by the house just as the milkman was making his delivery. They got to chatting. My cousin is a very social being. Before she could leave, a UPS man arrived. She needed some supplies, which he gave her. After that, she left. End of story until Falstaff’s parking lot.”
Judith was slowly and silently approaching the living room. She’d reached the dining room archway that led to the entrance hall. Judging from the direction in which their voices were coming, Renie and the detectives must be sitting on the matching sofas.
“It seems as if you’re leaving out some important facts,” Glenn said stiffly. “For one thing, you weren’t at the Moonfleet house this morning. Mrs. Flynn was. We still have to talk to her.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Renie said. “She’s not well. She suffers from anthurium sprue.”
Renie didn’t often tell lies, but when she did, it was usually a whopper. “Very sad,” she murmured.
“I’ve never heard of it,” Glenn replied, though given his controlled manner, Judith couldn’t tell if he believed Renie or not.
“It’s quite rare,” Renie replied. “Judith contracted the disease when she was working as a missionary in Honduras. An attack—they’re so severe—is usually caused by emotional distress. Anthurium sprue victims can be easily set off, especially when they’re the center of attention. They tend to live very shy, withdrawn lives.”
“Hey,” Trash broke in, “I thought you told us your cousin was the social kind.”
Glenn glared at his partner. “I’m asking the questions here. You’re supposed to be taking notes.”
Trash glanced down at the notebook in his lap. “I was, until I tried to spell ‘anthurium.’ You’re so smart, you spell it for me, genius.”
“Use shorthand,” Glenn replied loftily. “Nobody can ever read your notes anyway. On our last case, they were covered in pizza sauce.”
“I can spell it,” Renie said, looking smug. “But I won’t.”
“Let’s get back to Mrs. Flynn’s problem,” Glenn said. “Before I could speak, Trash asked how your cousin could possibly be outgoing when her condition is so delicate.”
“That’s part of the problem,” Renie answered. “She has these relapses, when she thinks she’s her former self. That,” she added with a heavy sigh, “is when the trouble begins.”
“Very strange,” Glenn remarked. “Very.”
“So,” Renie continued, “I’d appreciate it if you’d be extremely gentle with her. And of course there must be absolutely no mention of her name in the media. That could easily finish her off.” Renie choked on the last few words. “Excuse me, I must get a handkerchief out of my purse. I’m tearing up at the mere thought of what could happen to my poor cousin.”
Some sniffing ensued, then a loud blowing of Renie’s nose. “In fact,” she finally went on, “it wouldn’t be wise to tell Mr. Flynn what’s happened. He worries about Judith so much. It’s not good for him, especially in his present state of deteriorating health.”
“I heard he was already dead,” Glenn said.
“Not quite,” Renie replied. “But it’s just a matter of time.” She blew her nose again.
A noise from the stairs made Judith jump. She turned quickly, seeing Phyliss Rackley on the landing. The cleaning woman had arrived late, having had one of her many medical appointments in the morning. Judith motioned for silence. Phyliss, who was carrying garbage from the guests’ wastebaskets, looked
puzzled.
Judith moved to the bottom of the stairs. “Police,” she whispered. “They’re talking to Renie.”
“Ha!” Phyliss nodded approval, her gray sausage curls bobbing up and down. “About time, if you ask me!” she said in a low voice. “Have they arrested her?”
Judith shook her head. “Go on,” she urged. “Keep working. But stay out of the living room.”
With a snort, Phyliss went on her way. Judith picked up the conversation in Renie’s midsentence:
“…to be very patient with her. I’ll bring her in here now.”
Renie rounded the corner into the entrance hall and gave a little start when she saw Judith. “Oh, dear coz,” she exclaimed, winking like mad, “did you hear me explain about your pitiful state?”
Judith shot Renie a disparaging look. “Yes. I’m feeling very feeble.”
“Good,” Renie said. “I mean, that’s awful. You do get confused when you’re having a spell. Come along, talk to the nice policemen.”
Judith obeyed, but what she really wanted to do was kick Renie in the rear end. Fibs were fine, especially when no harm would come of them. Outright deception was wrong when Judith could foresee the tangled web into which Renie had plunged them both. On the other hand…
Docilely, Judith sat down on the sofa next to her cousin. “I feel better now,” she said softly.
“You seemed fine in the parking lot,” Glenn noted. “In fact, you acted quite unmoved.”
“That’s her defensive mechanism,” Renie asserted. “She has to respond that way, to ward off the…attack and eventual collapse.”
“I see.” Again, Glenn’s stiff manner made his words impossible to interpret. “So tell us about meeting this milkman.”
“We talked,” Judith said. “I asked if he knew anything about the people who lived in the Spanish-style house. He didn’t, except for their weekly milk order. He left. I was about to drive off, too, when I saw the UPS van.” Judith’s voice had become more normal as she related her story. “I needed supplies.” Only a wee white lie, nothing to match Renie’s monstrous fabrication. “I decided to ask him about the people who lived in the house. He didn’t know anything, either. He made his delivery and left. Then I walked around a bit before I got in my car and came back to Heraldsgate Hill.” Stretching the truth, maybe, that was all.