This Old Souse

by Mary Daheim

  Having no idea of what Alexis Pettibone looked like, Judith figured Bert was her last hope. He was still with his presumed wife, niece, nephew, and Andrea. It would be gauche to breach the family circle.

  But a moment later, Bert left the others and headed for the exit. Judith moved swiftly, catching her prey just before he left the hall.

  “Bert,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “Do you remember me? I was Judith Grover in grade school.”

  Bert peered through his glasses, studying Judith’s face. “I’m sorry, I don’t, offhand.”

  “We lived on Hyde Park Place, that triangle block,” Judith said as she heard loud noises coming from the kitchen area.

  Bert peered some more. “Oh—yes, you look quite different. You used to be…”

  “Fat,” Judith put in, ignoring a couple of shouts that also emanated from the kitchen. “And my hair was jet-black, not silver. It started to turn gray when I was in my early twenties, just like my mother’s did.”

  “You’re looking well,” Bert said in his studious manner. If no longer shy, he had retained a certain diffidence. “Did you know my brother?”

  “No,” Judith said, then explained about the connection between Renie and Lyssa. “I have a question for you,” she continued. “It won’t take a minute. My cat, Sweetums, was at your clinic the other night. He wasn’t hurt, but he’d done some damage to one of my guests. I left him with my uncle in Langford until the guests checked out, but now the cat’s run off. He doesn’t know the neighborhood. What’s the best way to find him?”

  A hostile glint appeared in Bert’s brown eyes. “Sweetums, did you say?”

  Judith grimaced. “Yes.”

  “I heard about Sweetums,” Bert replied, his forehead wrinkling. “From what I was told, it might be best not to find him.”

  If Judith had dared, she would’ve stamped her foot. But possible hip dislocation was always at the back of her mind. “Sweetums is our beloved family pet. We’ve had him for years. Of course he can be contrary, even ornery. He’s a cat, for heaven’s sake!”

  “Unlike any other,” Bert murmured. But he gave Judith a half smile. “Advertise. Put signs on utility poles near your uncle’s house. A photo would help. If someone finds your cat, they won’t want to keep him. That is,” he amended, “they’d want to return him to his human.”

  “Thanks,” Judith said, sounding sarcastic, but quickly remembering her hidden agenda. “Assuming Sweetums is found, I’d like to bring him in for a checkup. It’s been a while. There may be a medical reason why he sometimes behaves so…aggressively.”

  Bert’s expression was dubious, but his response was polite. “Call the clinic this afternoon. We can make the appointment for later in the week. If your pet doesn’t show up by then, it’s probably hopeless.”

  “Don’t say that,” Judith retorted. “I mean, he has to show up. Is it possible I could see you this afternoon? For grief counseling? I assume you provide such a service for bereaved pet owners.”

  Bert looked askance. “We don’t. We give referrals, however. In any event, I won’t be in the office today. I have some personal grief to deal with.”

  Judith was embarrassed. “Oh, please—I’m really sorry! It’s just that I’m so upset. Not just about Sweetums, but the funeral service brought back so many sad memories. You see, I lost my husband when he was still in his forties. It was terrible.” She managed to force tears into her eyes, not so much for Dan’s loss, but for the waste of his life.

  “I didn’t realize that,” Bert said, sounding genuinely touched. “Was it sudden?”

  Judith shook her head, trying to ignore the ongoing commotion in the kitchen. “No. He’d been ill for some time.” Drinking and eating for even longer. “But it was still a shock.” Especially for the two slim undertakers who had practically had to bring in a crane to move Dan’s four hundred pounds out of the house. “As I told your sister-in-law, I realize it’s even worse when death comes so unexpectedly. That is, I assume Fred didn’t have a long illness.”

  “No. He did not.” Bert’s thin lips clamped shut in a grim line. “His health was excellent.”

  “An accident?” Judith asked in her most compassionate tone.

  “If you want to call it that.” Bert remained grim.

  “That’s so sad. I hope it didn’t involve a vehicle. That usually means a drunken driver or a reckless teen.”

  Bert made no comment.

  “It’s good that he worked for the government,” Judith continued quickly, lest Bert start to move on. “They have excellent benefits, I understand. I suppose, though, that it depends on what branch your brother worked for.”

  “I suppose it does,” Bert said. “Excuse me, I have to find out when the funeral director will be ready to go to the cemetery. Nice to see you again after all these years.”

  Nice, Judith thought, but not very helpful. Her brooding was interrupted by the sight of Renie, holding a chicken leg, and being propelled out of the kitchen by two stout women.

  “And stay out!” one of them ordered, letting go of Renie and swiping one hand against the other. “This food is for the poor!”

  “Do I look rich to you?” Renie demanded, despite the fact that she was wearing a black bouclé summer suit from Neiman Marcus.

  The women didn’t bother to answer, but disappeared into the kitchen.

  Taking a savage bite out of the chicken leg, Renie approached her cousin. “Sowadidufnow?” she asked with her mouth full.

  Judith translated quickly. “Not much. Dr. Bert was very vague about how Fred died or what he did for a living.”

  “But we know how he died,” Renie said after she’d swallowed her food.

  It was pointless to chastise Renie for invading the kitchen. Judith surveyed the hall. “Yes.” Only a couple of dozen people were left, and most of them seemed to be family members. “Let’s go.”

  “How about some real lunch?” Renie said as they climbed the stairs to the main floor.

  “I can’t,” Judith replied. “I’ve got to try to sort out this latest development.”

  “We can do it over menus,” Renie suggested. “I can help.”

  “Let’s do it at your house,” Judith said. “You have to get your car back for Bill, right?”

  Renie looked at her watch. “I’ve got almost an hour. He won’t need it until after two when he finishes his leisurely lunch.”

  “Okay, then we can stop at Carlo’s on the canal,” Judith said as they walked out to the sidewalk. “I’ll meet you there in five minutes. Unless the bridge is up.”

  Since it was after one o’clock, the restaurant customers were beginning to leave. The cousins had no trouble getting a window table where they could look out at the various craft that plied the city’s only east-west waterway. Because of time constraints, they ordered their food along with their drinks. Judith and Renie requested the same items: screwdrivers, clam chowder, and small Caesar salads with smoked prawns.

  “Working for the government can be a euphemism for other things,” Judith pointed out.

  Renie was buttering a large chunk of warm bread. “Such as serving five to ten in a federal penitentiary?”

  “That’s one thing,” Judith agreed. “Sometimes spies use that expression, especially those employed by the CIA. It can also be a nice way of saying that someone is on the dole, maybe a disability pension or some other form of welfare.”

  “Did Fred looked disabled to you?” Renie asked as their drinks were served.

  “He looked dead,” Judith said, raising her glass. “To Fred, whoever he may have been.” She took a sip, then shook her head. “No, the Fred I met appeared hale and hearty. But that can be deceptive. Some handicaps are hard to detect. I’m convinced the answer to all this is in the UPS parcel.”

  “How do you plan to find out what it contained?” Renie inquired.

  Judith sighed and gazed at the eight-woman crew rowing a sleek shell under the bridge. “Heaven knows I’ve already tried.
If only we could get inside the house and talk to the elder Blands. We’ve blown our cover, so that’s out. I’ve run out of ideas.”

  “How about sending someone else?” Renie suggested. “Like…” She paused. “Like Bill?”

  Judith made a face. “What does Bill do? Disguise himself as a termite inspector?”

  “Squirrel man,” Renie responded promptly. “With the problems we’ve had, he knows all about squirrels. The Blands have them, right? Bill could say that one of the neighbors—like Elsie Bruce across the street—complained.”

  “It’s a wonder she hasn’t,” Judith murmured. “So what does Bill do when he gets inside? Psychoanalyze the Blands?”

  “He’s tried psychoanalyzing the squirrels, but it hasn’t done much good,” Renie replied, tugging at her short chestnut hair. “I don’t know. But he’d do something. At least he’d meet the Blands and see more than the entry hall or the kitchen.”

  “Maybe,” Judith allowed. “That place is harder to get into than a bank vault.” She paused to smile at the waiter, who was placing steaming bowls of chowder in front of the cousins. “It’s worth a shot. Will Bill do it?”

  “I can but beg,” Renie said. “I have to admit, he’s never been very curious about the house, even though I’ve babbled about it for years.”

  “Does he know anything about what’s been going on?” Judith asked as the salads arrived.

  Renie speared a smoked prawn. “Well…kind of. I mean, I’ve told him some of it, but he doesn’t always listen.”

  “A peculiar quality in husbands,” Judith murmured. “Joe’s the same way. What does Bill know?”

  “I think the part about finding the body in your trunk registered,” Renie said after devouring the huge prawn in one mouthful. “But you’ve found bodies before, so he didn’t react very much. I backtracked then and told him how we’d been scouting the Moonfleet house, which is how you happened to be there when Frank—Fred—was killed. I don’t think he heard all of that. But he realizes the situation has caused you concern.”

  Concentrating on the problem, Judith didn’t speak until she’d consumed most of her chowder. “So you’ll ask him? When?”

  “When I get home,” Renie said. “Of course, knowing Bill, he’ll have to think it through. You know how he approaches dilemmas—from east, west, north, south, and several compass points in between. Anyway, I’ll phone you as soon as I get an answer.”

  Judith didn’t respond. She was watching a tugboat tow a barge out toward the sound. THE LADY JANE was painted on the tug’s stern with smaller letters underneath reading French’s Fleet.

  “Doesn’t Phil French have his headquarters a mile or so from here on the canal?” she asked Renie.

  Renie also looked at the tug. “Yes. Turn right from the restaurant, and go about ten blocks. Which you will do, I assume.”

  “I shouldn’t take the time,” Judith said.

  Renie smirked. “But you will.”

  Philip French was in his office, an airy space that overlooked the canal that connected the sound to the large lake that separated the city from the eastside suburbs. Several tugs were tied up along the bank, all named for women. Judith could make out The Lady Anna and The Lady Charlotte.

  Phil tried to look pleased at seeing Judith. “What brings you this way?” he asked, inviting her to sit in a captain’s chair on the other side of his teak desk.

  Briefly, Judith admired the oil paintings of various French’s Fleet tugs as well as the framed maps of regional waters. There were a couple of other handsome ship prints as well, including a Vermeer and a Monet that she recognized from art catalogs. A perfectly scaled model of a vintage tugboat sat on Phil’s desk.

  “What a wonderful view,” Judith remarked, gazing across the canal at the tall poplars that lined the north bank. “I wouldn’t mind coming to work in a setting like this.”

  “I enjoy myself,” Phil replied, tapping a finger on the edge of his desk. “Don’t tell me you want to lease a tug, Mrs. Flynn.”

  “No,” Judith said with a little laugh. “I was wonder ing how Anna is getting along after her scare the other night. Is she still leaving for Milan this week?”

  “Yes, Wednesday,” Phil said, still tapping. “She’s feeling fine now. In fact, she thinks it was all a trick of her imagination. You know how everyone is these days—edgy, wary, not trusting anybody who looks…strange.”

  “Yet she’s not nervous about traveling to Europe?” Judith asked.

  “Not to Italy,” Phil replied, abruptly stopping himself from tapping. “That is, she knows Milan fairly well. Rome, too. But she is cutting her trip short. She’ll be back Sunday instead of next Tuesday.”

  “Instead of going on to Rome?” Judith asked in an innocent voice.

  “Ah…no, she’dplanned to do a little sightseeing,” Phil replied, starting to tap his fingers again. “The Italian hill country or Lake Como or somewhere around there.” He cleared his throat, stopped tapping, and turned to look at the pictures on the wall.

  “Do give her my bon voyage wishes,” Judith said. “I haven’t been to Italy for years.”

  “I will.” Phil stood up. “I’ve got to see a man about a boat. If you’ll excuse me—or is there something else you wanted to discuss? A nice little cabin cruiser, perhaps?”

  “Ah…no, I’m afraid not.” Judith was stymied. But she did have one last question for Phil. “Are the tugs named for women in your family?”

  “Yes,” Phil said, coming around from behind his desk. “Maybe you saw the Anna tied up outside. That’s for my wife, of course.”

  “And Lady Charlotte would be who?”

  “One of my aunts,” Phil replied, walking Judith out of his office and down the hall to the reception area. “By the way,” he said. “I sold the Moonfleet.”

  It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. “Oh—the yacht,” Judith said. “That’s wonderful. I’m glad to hear that the downturn in the economy hasn’t affected everybody.”

  Phil shrugged. “There are still people who have money and want to spend it. Anyway, I’m glad to have the yacht off my hands.”

  “But you’re getting another, bigger one, aren’t you?” Judith inquired as they reached the company’s entrance.

  “What?” Phil seemed taken aback. “Oh, yes, when I find exactly what I want. That takes time.” He gave Judith one of his urbane smiles. “Thanks for stopping by. I’ll send along your good wishes to Anna.”

  Walking back to her Subaru, Judith had a foreboding that Anna would need them.

  An hour after Judith got home, Renie called. “Bill agreed to play Squirrel Man,” Renie announced, “if he has a semilegal document to show the Blands.”

  “Oh, dear,” Judith replied, making way for Phyliss, who was wielding a dust mop around the kitchen ceiling. “How do we do that?”

  “We already did it. We used Uncle Al,” Renie replied. “Good grief, he’s got an in with half the city.”

  It was true. Al Grover had been an outstanding athlete in his day, a well-known sportsman around town, and was a former saloon owner to the Influential, especially labor leaders and city officials. While many of his cronies had passed on to that great arena in the sky, there were still a lot of people who remembered, liked, and admired Al Grover, including at least three county sheriffs.

  “I don’t know,” Judith hemmed and hawed. “It wouldn’t be exactly ethical, would it?”

  “Oh, put a sock in it,” Renie retorted. “Uncle Al has had Bill designated ‘Squirrel Man for a Day.’”

  “Bill doesn’t mind?”

  “Bill will do anything to avenge himself on those squirrels,” Renie said. “He might even catch one. He’s bringing traps.”

  “He’s going today?” Judith asked in surprise.

  “Right after his nap. He’s taking it early. Right now he’s on his way downtown to pick up the license. The trip fits in with his other errands.”

  “I can’t believe you talked him into it,” Judith
declared. “And so quickly.”

  “Bill has his routine,” Renie said, “but he knows that it’s wise to break out of it now and then. Besides, he hates squirrels and he loves nuts. As in the Blands, who must be. Nuts, that is. Reclusive behavior intrigues him. Frankly, it’s a type of neurosis he’s never dealt with much over the years.”

  “Are you going with him?” Judith asked in an envious tone.

  “Of course not. Like you, I’ve blown my cover. Besides, this is a job for Squirrel Man. He doesn’t need a sidekick.”

  “I can’t wait to hear what he has to say,” Judith said. “Why don’t you two come for dinner? I’ll barbecue some ribs,” she added, knowing Bill’s fondness for babybacks. “I’ve got some in the freezer.”

  “I’ll let you know,” Renie said, and rang off.

  Judith was antsy for the rest of the afternoon. By five-twenty, she still hadn’t heard back from Renie. The grill was heating out on the patio; the ribs had been defrosted. Finally, at five-forty, she phoned her cousin.

  “Oh!” Renie sounded dismayed. “I’m sorry, I forgot. That is, I got on the phone with Anne and we talked for over half an hour. Then I decided to call Tom and Tony. It’s really hard to figure out when to get hold of Tony because Guam is like a day ahead of us.”

  Judith didn’t chastise her cousin. All three of the Jones children and their spouses had moved far away after their marriages. Renie—and even Bill, who otherwise wasn’t fond of using the telephone—racked up big long-distance bills every month.

  “Are they all okay?” Judith inquired.

  “Yes, they’re fine, but they’re homesick. One of these days…” Renie’s voice trailed off for a moment. “Yes, we’re coming for dinner. Bill’s at the Moonfleet house right now. He’s been gone almost an hour. I’m really sorry I didn’t let you know. I imagine we’ll get there around six-thirty. Is that okay?”

  “It’s fine,” Judith said. “I’ll feed Mother earlier or she’ll have a fit. And the guests should be heading out by then after the social hour. We may actually be able to eat and talk in peace.”