by Mary Daheim
“I told her I’d be out of range in the mountains.”
Judith automatically glanced up, though cloud cover and darkness obscured the nearby peaks. “That might almost be true.”
“It would, in the Himalayas—that’s where I told her we were going.”
“You did not,” Judith said.
“Well . . . not exactly. But I think she believed me. About the mountains and the interference, I mean.”
“Are you going to call Bill?”
Renie shook her head. “You know he hates to talk on the phone. If he even bothered to answer, he’d probably hang up on me.”
The cousins sidestepped some costumed teenagers dancing what looked like a cross between hip-hop and a polka. Judith and Renie could hear music as they drew nearer to the bandstand.
“I wonder if Franz found Klara’s piece,” Judith murmured.
Renie sniffed. “If he didn’t and she wrote it, she can probably fake it. Why not? Everything else around here seems fake.”
“You think so? I like it. It seems authentic.”
“I mean the Wessler murder,” Renie said—and grinned at her cousin. “My God, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about that!”
“No,” Judith replied wearily. “But I’d like to. At least for now.”
Entering Hanover Haus, they found the lobby deserted. “Guess everybody’s at the events,” Renie remarked, starting up the stairs.
“You can’t blame them,” Judith said. “That’s where all the action is. We’re probably the only guests not in attendance.”
Inside their room, Judith collapsed on the bed while Renie headed for the bathroom, saying she was getting ready for bed—if not for sleep.
“I’ll read for a while,” she said, closing the door behind her.
Judith waited a couple minutes to unwind before getting out her cell to call Joe. He answered on the second ring.
“It’s about time,” he said. “I thought you forgot about me.”
“Never that,” Judith assured him. “We’ve been busy. At least I have. How’s everything at home?”
“Fine.”
“Including Mother?”
“She moved out.”
“Joe—”
“How do you think she is? With Carl and Arlene dancing attendance on her, she’s in fine fettle.” He chuckled. “That means I can ignore her—and vice versa. We both like it that way.”
Judith propped herself up on a couple of pillows. “So everything’s going okay with the B&B guests?”
“Uh . . . well, sure. Why wouldn’t it be? The Rankerses are old hands at running this place.”
“I know,” Judith said, “but every so often the unexpected happens.” She paused, waiting for any sign of knowledge from Joe about the murder in Little Bavaria. “I thought there might be some Oktoberfest TV coverage from the local stations, but I haven’t seen any reporters or video cams. Maybe they’re waiting for Saturday’s big doings.”
“Could be,” Joe said. “You want to get interviewed?”
“Heavens, no!” Judith exclaimed. “I want . . . anonymity.”
“Good thinking,” Joe said, “given your track record.”
“Now don’t start in—” She broke off. “I assume Ingrid Heffelman hasn’t asked you out on a date in my absence.”
“Ah . . . no.”
“You sound uncertain,” Judith said, suddenly suspicious.
“Not about a date,” Joe replied, after clearing his throat. “She did stop by yesterday morning.”
“What?” Judith cried. “You mean at the B&B?”
“Where else? Ingrid told me an inspection is a regular thing every couple of years. It’s a city regulation.”
“There is a city regulation,” Judith said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice, “as you well know, but the city sends its own inspectors, not somebody from the state B&B association. What’s wrong with you? You were a city employee for almost forty years!”
“Well . . .” Joe cleared his throat again. “That’s why I believed her. I was spending the morning going over some of those reports from the city hall investigation. Ingrid told me that because this thing has been going on since the first of the year—along with budget cuts—consultants have been hired to do some of the legwork. It made sense. The city’s done that in other areas. She pointed out it was a good time to do it while some innkeepers were out of town. Sort of spring it on them when they’d have no chance to fix things up while she was inspecting other parts of the premises. You can’t blame her for doing her job.”
“Ordinarily it’s not her job,” Judith huffed. “It sounds as if the two of you had quite a chat.”
“The least I could do was offer her a cup of coffee,” Joe said, sounding defensive.
“And the most you could do?”
“Hey!” Joe shouted. “That was it. I left her to do whatever she had to do. Arlene came back inside about then. I went to my office.”
Judith wondered how Arlene had handled Ingrid. With a left hook, she hoped. “Where was Carl?”
“He’d gone to the grocery store,” Joe said, sounding more like himself. “You were low on eggs. Or bread. Maybe it was milk.”
“Never mind. How long did Ingrid stay?”
“I don’t know,” Joe replied. “She was gone when I came down to get some lunch. Ingrid said you’d get her report in a few days.”
“I’ll bet it’ll be a doozy,” Judith muttered. “Okay, sorry I got snappish. You know how Ingrid riles me.”
“Forget it,” Joe said. “She seemed nice, never criticized anything about you, not even your deadly track record.”
“Joe! Don’t!”
“I’m kidding. But I mean it—it was a very pleasant visit.”
“Right.” Judith sighed. “So no other problems?”
“Nothing except a jealous wife. It’s kind of flattering.”
“Men!” But Judith smiled. “I’m broad-minded. It’s just that Ingrid showing up on Hillside Manor’s doorstep is galling.”
“At least she left alive.”
“That’s not funny!” But Judith was still smiling a few minutes later when she hung up just as Renie emerged from the bathroom.
“You look happy. Have you cracked the case?” she asked.
Judith explained about the phone call with Joe. Renie was amused. “You should call Arlene. I’ll bet she didn’t take kindly to an intrusion on her temporary turf, especially the pushy Inbred Heffalump.”
“I will call Arlene,” Judith said, “but not until tomorrow. She and Carl go to bed early. It’s after ten. They probably went home and left Joe to lock up.”
“Everything else okay at the B&B?” Renie asked.
Judith nodded. “I didn’t ask Joe if he’d heard from Mike, but if he had, he would’ve told me. Mike probably hasn’t been notified yet about his new posting.”
“No point in worrying about that,” Renie said, lying down on her own side of the bed. “Our kids are all so far away that Bill and I are lucky to see them two or three times a year. Thank goodness for e-mail and cell phones. Of course Bill never answers their calls when I’m not home. Good thing he doesn’t. They often want money. Mom’s a soft touch. Oh, heck, so’s Bill. How,” she asked, snuggling under the covers, “are Carl and Arlene getting along with the B&B?”
Judith made a face. “Fine, I think.”
“Why are you looking so grim?”
“Oh, it’s stupid, really,” Judith said with some reluctance. “Ingrid Heffelman showed up to inspect Hillside Manor.”
Renie burst out laughing. “She did? Why? Or was she really inspecting Joe?”
“That’s what I wonder. Ingrid’s never done that before. In fact, nobody from the state board has ever conducted an inspection. It’s all done through the city.”
Renie had put on her reading glasses. She peered at Judith with a wry expression. “And her excuse for showing up on your doorstep was?”
Judith waved an impatient hand. “Oh, the city hall investigation and all the departments being shorthanded and budget cuts and—”
Renie interrupted. “How did she know Joe would be home?”
“Maybe she called first and talked to Arlene.”
“Arlene wouldn’t have been aware that Ingrid didn’t do such things as inspect B&Bs,” Renie pointed out. “Makes sense. So where were the Rankerses while Ingrid was trying to seduce Joe?”
“Stop! They only had coffee together.” Judith paused. “It was later in the morning. Arlene and Carl were checking out the guests.”
“While Ingrid was checking out Joe. I suspect that maybe what you suspect could be right. But Ingrid’s attempts at seduction wouldn’t faze Joe. I’ve never seen the woman, but I always assumed my nickname of Inbred Heffalump wasn’t far off the mark.”
Judith considered her cousin’s comment. “To be fair, Ingrid’s not unattractive. She’s a big woman, a little overweight, but tall and imposing. In fact, well, she’s kind of like . . . me.”
Renie sighed. “Oh, dear. Just Joe’s type. Sorry about that.”
“You’re sorry?” Judith retorted. “How do you think I feel?”
“Oh, coz, don’t be stupid! Joe would never cheat on you. He waited too long to finally hook up with you. You know that.”
Judith frowned. “Men are . . . men.”
Renie had opened her book. “Don’t be a jackass. We are, after all, kind of old. There are limits.”
“That’s part of the problem,” Judith said. “If Ingrid is really chasing him, Joe can’t run as fast as he used to.”
Renie ignored the remark. Judith pouted a bit. And then realized she was too old to pout. Instead, she turned off her lamp and went to sleep. In her dreams, an elephant was chasing a lion with a red-gold mane through Hillside Manor’s backyard. The elephant suddenly stopped in front of the toolshed. Sweetums leaped off of the birdbath and growled at the elephant. Gertrude appeared by the statue of Saint Francis, singing, “You can have him, I don’t want him, he’s too dumb for me.” The elephant ran off and disappeared in the Rankerses’ giant hedge, apparently devoured by the mass of glossy laurel leaves. Judith wasn’t surprised that she woke up smiling.
Judith didn’t have to be at the B&B booth until ten. She had awakened shortly before eight, but decided not to call Arlene until after nine-thirty. Her stand-in would still be busy with the guests’ breakfast. Maybe she shouldn’t call at all.
Renie was again sleeping in, which was just as well as far as Judith was concerned. An early-rising Renie was not a pleasant Renie. Judith showered, dressed, combed her hair, and put on her makeup before heading down to breakfast. She arrived just after eight-thirty. The rest of the B&B contingent was already in place, looking, as Gertrude would say, “like the pigs ate their little brother.”
Judith’s polite “good morning” was greeted with a mixture of mumbles and blank stares. She selected a croissant, green melon balls, a couple of very thin ham slices, and pale coffee. Gabe Hunter’s place was vacant, but Judith decided to sit in her previous spot by the Beaulieus.
“The Gypsy,” George murmured, picking at a bran muffin. “What do you see with those eyes this morning?”
“Food,” Judith said pleasantly. “Did you go to the concert?”
“Yes.” George put a muffin crumb on his tongue and rolled it around in his mouth. “Quite enjoyable,” he said, after swallowing the morsel. “Too many marches, though. I don’t care for military music, especially the German variety.” He shuddered slightly. “All I can think of are panzer divisions mowing down everything in sight.”
Connie leaned around her husband. “Pay no attention to George. He’s seen too many war movies.”
George sat up very straight. His handlebar mustache seemed to bristle. “Nonsense! I was there. I lived through the war.”
“You were a baby when it ended,” Connie said. “You never saw a German soldier in that village in the Dordogne. Carmaux wasn’t exactly a strategic spot, darling.”
George glowered at his wife. “The Germans could’ve overrun us at any moment. You never knew what would happen. It was war.”
Connie giggled. “Oh, George, you must have your drama!”
“Nonsense!” George huffed. “Even infants can sense danger.”
Ellie, who was across from the Beaulieus, sneered. “You must’ve outgrown it, George. Why didn’t you sense danger night before last?”
“As I recall,” George said with a haughty look for Ellie, “I was in the men’s lavatory at the time of your grandfather’s demise.”
Connie put a hand on her husband’s arm. “If George had been with me, maybe I wouldn’t have reacted so violently and gotten sick. Besides, Ellie, I still don’t understand why you went to the police to tell them you killed your own grandfather.”
“Because,” Ellie replied with a toss of her head, “I blamed myself for asking him to speak to the cocktail-party attendees. I had to coax, which I should never have done, as he was elderly and yet so accommodating. I believe that’s what caused him to have his heart attack and die. I’m still overcome with guilt.” To make her point she dabbed at her dry eyes with her napkin.
“Heart attack?” Judith said. “He was stabbed.”
Ellie’s jaw jutted. “He happened to fall on a knife someone dropped. So careless. Some people can’t hold their liquor.”
“Or their knife,” Judith shot back. “But that’s not what the police say happened.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Ellie exclaimed. “In a small town like this, you don’t expect to find clever policemen. Chief Duomo told me there’d be an autopsy. I’ll call on them later today to hear the results.”
Delmar Denkel was nodding vigorously. “Little Bavaria is a world unto itself. In great measure, I might add, to Ellie’s grandfather. He resurrected this town from the dead.”
“Too bad he couldn’t have done the same for himself,” Judith said, with a severe look at the Denkels. “I haven’t heard anyone question the fact that your grandfather was murdered. Will there be an inquest?”
Ellie glared at Judith. “The autopsy report will have to be concluded first. Gossip here runs like so many mice in a cheese cave. Naturally, the initial reaction was that poor Grossvater was stabbed to death, but that’s erroneous.”
Judith wasn’t cowed by Ellie’s steely gaze. “What about Gabe Hunter? Where is he, if not being held by the police?”
“I’ve no idea,” Ellie declared. “Maybe he slept in.” She pushed her plate away and stood up. “Come, Delmar, I’m finished here.”
With Delmar trailing her like a small mutt, Ellie departed.
George was still toying with his muffin. “Could we change the subject? Dead people spoil my appetite.”
The Beaulieus had spoiled Judith’s. It was exactly nine o’clock. She wasn’t due at the B&B booth for another hour. Her partner for the two-hour stint was a woman she knew only slightly, Evelyn Choo. The Choos owned Pearl House near the city’s hospital district. Excusing herself, Judith got up and left. She took a deep breath and headed for the police station.
Gray clouds hung over the mountains, but the rain had stopped. Judith didn’t bother putting up her jacket’s hood even though the air was damp. The bright autumnal leaves clinging to the cottonwood and alder trees at the lower elevations seemed to beg for sunshine.
From the outside, headquarters looked quiet. Inside, however, was another matter. Duomo was berating Orville for some alleged mistake while Officer Hernandez was consoling a sobbing woman who was lamenting the loss of something—her purse, her cat—or maybe her mind.
Fat Matt stopped cussing out Orville long enough to acknowledge Judith with a
curt nod. Apparently, his subordinate had mislaid a statement—and the chief’s morning doughnuts. Just when Judith decided she might as well return to Hanover Haus, the woman stopped crying and Duomo finished tongue-lashing Orville.
“You got anything?” the chief asked Judith.
“Questions,” Judith said briskly, gesturing at Duomo’s office.
“Sure, come on,” he said affably, and led the way. Just before reaching the door, he called over his shoulder to the distraught woman. “Don’t worry. Nobody will keep the Red Baron for long. He’s too quick.”
The chief closed the door behind Judith and grunted as he sat down. “Damned nuisance. Why can’t people keep track of stuff?”
Judith sat down in one of the other chairs after removing what looked like a white bakery bag from the chair and setting it on Duomo’s desk. “I assume this is yours,” she said.
“Ah!” he said with a heartfelt sigh. “There’s my morning starter. Why’d Orville put it where I couldn’t see it?”
Judith ignored the rhetorical remark. “The Red Baron is who?”
“It’s not a who, it’s a ferret,” the chief replied, opening the bag. “Want a cruller? Got some chocolate-covered ones.”
“No thanks,” she said. “I won’t take up much of your time, but I’m wondering if you’re taking up mine.” She noted the puzzled look on Duomo’s face as he bit off a large chunk of cruller. “First, what happened with Gabe Hunter last night after you brought him in here?”
“Oh.” The chief chewed hurriedly. “Alibi was fuzzy. Claimed he wasn’t at the cocktail party when Wessler went down. Witnesses saw him just before it happened. Kept insisting he’d arrived just after the fact. The major couldn’t remember seeing Hunter. Maybe he’d dozed off. Got it squared away, so I let him go.” He paused to eat more cruller.
“I spoke with Chef Bruno last night. He accounted for all his knives,” Judith said. “What do you think of that?”
“I think Bruno counted the wrong knives,” Duomo replied, wiping some chocolate off his chin. “Sounds like him. My brother’s an idiot.”