by Mary Daheim
“Very lucky.” The gold flecks gleamed again. “Maybe it’s a good thing that despite being old, the beast is so tough and ornery.”
“Sweetums is fairly typical of his species.”
“I wasn’t talking about Sweetums.”
“Oh.” Judith scowled at Joe. “Don’t be mean about Mother.”
Joe’s expression was ingenuous. “I only meant that she and Sweetums have some sort of bond. It’s natural between pets and their humans, I’m told.”
Judith heard footsteps on the front stairs. “Departing guests,” she said as the phone rang. “Can you get that? I have to play innkeeper.”
“Four of them already left,” Joe called after her as he picked up the receiver.
Judith put on her gracious face to send off the couple from Sydney, Australia. They were fairly young, enthusiastic, and ready to head for Canada on their North American tour. “G’day!” they called in unison as they left Hillside Manor.
“G’day,” she called back. “And come again!” In Judith’s opinion, Australians always made good guests.
Unlike the Greenwalts, Judith thought as she closed the door. She was certain she hadn’t heard the end of that sorry episode. In fact, it was back to grim reality—worrying about repercussions from the Greenwalts, agonizing over Mike and Kristin, anxiety building over Joe’s reaction when he learned what had really happened in his absence.
Judith was frowning as she cleared off the last items from the dining room table and returned to the kitchen, where Joe was hanging up the phone.
“A reservation request for the Labor Day weekend,” he explained. “I told them you’d check to see if there was a vacancy and call back.”
“There isn’t,” Judith said, “but I can put them on standby. Oh!” she exclaimed. “What about that other call?”
“Later,” Joe said enigmatically. “You need some downtime.”
Judith said nothing, but felt a seed of suspicion being sowed in her brain. She was distracted when Phyliss appeared, carrying a load of laundry from upstairs.
“Say, Mr. Flynn,” she called from the bottom of the stairs, “how about a hand? I’m having one of my bad days. My back’s gone out.”
“Sure, Mrs. R, my pleasure.” He met Phyliss halfway down the narrow hall. “How’s the Lord these days? You seen Him lately?”
“Not for a couple of weeks,” Phyliss replied. “He was in the produce section at the grocery store, picking out avocados.”
“No kidding,” Joe responded. “I would have thought He’d be at the hardware store, being a carpenter and all…”
Their voices trailed off as they headed down the back stairs. The last of the guests came down the front stairs. A taxi was just pulling into the cul-de-sac. Judith performed her duties, waving them good-bye from the front porch.
Maybe, she thought, Joe wouldn’t come back upstairs right away. There might be time to call Renie and tell her about the morning’s events. She was reaching for the phone when it rang.
“Hi, Mom,” Mike said, sounding cheerful. “I meant to call you yesterday, but I was real busy catching up on work. How are you?”
“Fine,” Judith answered tersely. “More importantly, how are you?”
“Good,” he replied. “The clouds are lifting up here. It’s going to be a beautiful day. What’s it like in town?”
Judith hadn’t really noticed. She glanced out the kitchen window. “The sun’s out. But I don’t want a weather report, I want—”
“Hang on,” Mike interrupted, and apparently turned away from the receiver. “Hey, Kris, see if you can find Joe-Joe’s farm animals. He can’t find them and he’s about to shred one of Mac’s books.”
“Kris?” Judith echoed. “As in Kristin?”
“What?” Mike was speaking into the receiver again. “Oh—right. That’s what I was going to call you about. We made up. She just needed a break. And to make some kind of change in her life.”
“Which is what?” Judith asked, flabbergasted.
“She’s getting her hair highlighted,” Mike replied as a child’s angry screams could be heard in the background. “You know, one of those foil jobs. Hey, got to run. Joe-Joe’s having a tantrum. I think maybe Mac hid the farm animals. By the way, if you want to send Mac some more books, that’d be great. He’s reading up a storm these days. Talk to you soon.”
Feeling limp, Judith held the dead phone in her hand for almost a full minute. Joe reappeared just as she was setting the receiver on the counter.
“You look pale,” Joe said, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Judith said in a hollow voice. “I mean—something’s right for a change.”
Joe put a hand on Judith’s shoulder. “Like what?”
“Mike and Kristin made up.”
“Well, hooray!” Joe embraced Judith and kissed her soundly on the lips. But she still looked shaken. “So what’s the problem?”
Judith shook her head. “Young people these days seem to do the right things for all the wrong reasons. Or do the wrong things for…” Afaintsmile brightened her face. “I don’t know. It’s just that they’re…different. Maybe they like drama. Maybe they’re too self-centered. Maybe they’re…justnotus.”
Releasing Judith, Joe took her hand. “Come on, let’s have another cup of coffee. Frankly, you look beat. Didn’t that sleep-in help?”
“It should have,” Judith allowed as they sat down. “Maybe I…oh, never mind. What about your trip?”
Joe shrugged. “No big deal, just a lot of sitting around and waiting for other people to make up their minds. Insurance companies take their time.”
“Was it fraud?” Judith asked, beginning to gather her composure.
“No,” Joe replied. “It was more complicated than that. The company’s branch office hired me to check out a local bigwig who’d bought a painting a while back. He wanted it insured but was suspicious about where it came from. It was a real Van Dyck that had been missing for years. He didn’t want to go to the cops for fear of getting in trouble and inviting some bad publicity, so he asked the insurance outfit to look into it. I was hired to make sure the bigwig was on the up-and-up, which he was. Anyway, it turned out the painting had been stolen by the Nazis and somehow ended up in this country. A New York art expert was brought in, but the original owners haven’t been traced. No insurance until a search is completed.”
Judith had made an enormous effort to retain an interested, rather than stunned, expression. It was the perfect opening for her confession. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to unload on Joe. Not yet, anyway.
“Fascinating,” she said in a voice that wasn’t quite her own, and promptly changed the subject. “By the way, Mike wants us to get more books for Mac. He’s very advanced in his reading, you know.”
“That’s your field,” Joe said. “You know what books to send him.”
“I’ve been out of the library business for a long time,” Judith noted. “Except for Harry Potter, I don’t know what’s new. Of course, there are the classics. I should make a list.”
Joe didn’t respond right away. He sipped his coffee and rubbed his chin. “I remember one book I really liked when I was a kid. Mac might not be ready for it yet. But jot it down.”
Judith had gotten up to get a pen and a notepad. “Which one?” she inquired, sitting down again.
“It was about a little boy in England who gets involved with smugglers. I’m sure it’s still around. The name of the book is Moonfleet.” Joe’s smile was ironic.
Judith looked her husband right in the magic eyes. “Yes, I remember that. In fact, I could never forget.”
“I didn’t think you could,” said Joe.
The magic eyes danced on.
About the Author
Seattle native MARY RICHARDSON DAHEIM began reading mysteries when she was seven. She started writing them when she was eleven, but her career as a published novelist didn’t begin until much later. After graduating from the Univ
ersity of Washington’s School of Communications, Daheim worked on small-town newspapers and in corporate public relations. Her goal to write fiction remained in place, however, and she began publishing the Bed-and-Breakfast series in 1991, adding the Alpine mysteries a year later. The author is married to David Daheim. The couple, who live in Seattle, will celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary this year. They have three grown daughters—Barbara, Katherine, and Magdalen. Daheim received the Pacific Northwest Writers Association 2000 Achievement Award “for distinguished professional achievement and for enhancing the stature of the Northwest literary community.”
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Praise for USA Today bestselling author
MARY DAHEIM
and her uproarious
BED-AND-BREAKFAST MYSTERIES
“The reigning queen of the cozies.”
Portland Oregonian
“Daheim writes with wit, wisdom, and a big heart…Judith and Renie are sleuths to treasure.”
Carolyn Hart
“Delightful mysteries.”
Kansas City Star
“Like Joan Hess’ Maggody series, Daheim’s bed-and-breakfast mysteries show a funny and often stinging insight into people’s relationships and behavior.”
Houston Chronicle
“Mary Daheim is one of the brightest stars.”
Seattle Times
“She is really good at what she does.”
Statesman Journal (OR)
Bed-and-Breakfast Mysteries by
Mary Daheim
THIS OLD SOUSE
HOCUS CROAKUS
SILVER SCREAM
SUTURE SELF
ASTREETCAR NAMED EXPIRE
CREEPS SUZETTE
LEGS BENEDICT
SNOW PLACE TO DIE
WED AND BURIED
SEPTEMBER MOURN
NUTTY AS A FRUITCAKE
AUNTIE MAYHEM
MURDER, MY SUITE
MAJOR VICES
AFIT OF TEMPERA
BANTAM OF THE OPERA
DUNE TO DEATH
HOLY TERRORS
FOWL PREY
JUST DESSERTS
Available in hardcover
DEAD MAN DOCKING
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THIS OLD SOUSE. Copyright © 1997 by Mary Daheim. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition February 2007 ISBN 9780061753947
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