by Mary Daheim
“No,” Jacobson said. “It’s quite possible. There was enough time for someone who was at the meeting to have gotten here before you did. In fact, whoever left that note might still have been inside the house when you arrived and went out the other door at the end of the house.”
On that chilling note, Judith changed the subject. “Did you ever find the weapon?”
He shook his head. “It may have been thrown into the water or buried in the sand some distance away.”
Judith decided to press her luck. “Have you been able to figure out what kind of weapon was used? That is, from the entry of the stab wounds.”
“Something sharp,” Jacobson replied, looking grim. “Pointed and tapering to a width of at least five inches.”
Before Judith could say anything else, he stood up and announced he was taking his leave. But first he produced two padlocks with keys. “It’s not safe for you to be unable to secure the house. Given our preliminary investigation, you’re free to leave Obsession Shores tomorrow. I don’t need to remind you there’s a murderer on the loose. Of course,” he went on, moving to the door, “I have the impression you’re both aware of the danger this sort of situation can present.”
Judith and Renie nodded. There really was nothing more to say. When it came to murder, “been there and done that” was too glib. The cousins realized they’d been very lucky over the years. But luck had a way of running in streaks. Eventually it always ran out.
Chapter 7
Well,” Renie said after Jacobson was gone, “when do you start grilling suspects? It’s too foggy to go door-to-door.”
“I told you, I won’t do anything until tomorrow.” Judith started for the hall, suitcase in hand. “The first person I want to call on is the grief-stricken widow. I refuse to do that tonight. Her family is probably with her.” She looked up and down the short hall. “Do you want to sleep in the master bedroom or the spare room?”
“Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince have a king-size bed,” Renie said. “Why bother making two beds?”
“Because you chew gum in bed,” Judith replied. “You almost drove me nuts when we had to share a room in Little Bavaria last October.”
“So why didn’t you bring earplugs?”
“Damn,” Judith said under her breath. “I should’ve thought of that. Did you bring gum?”
“Of course. I can’t get to sleep without it.”
“Then you take the spare room.”
Renie shrugged. “Hey, do the Sedgewicks play bridge or pinochle?”
“I don’t know. I think the Webers play poker with them and the Friedmans. You want to call to see if they’re bored?”
“Oh, they’re bored,” Renie responded. “Murder notwithstanding, I’m kind of bored, too. Really—what do people do up here in the evenings, especially this time of year?”
“They watch TV, like normal people. Even Joe and I do that. You watch TV with Bill.”
“I watch what Bill watches,” Renie said. “If I don’t like it, I read or do a crossword or jigsaw puzzle. Besides, it’s hard to focus on any TV program with Mom calling me three times every night. I also missed the part in the wedding vows about a man promising to have and to hold not only his wife, but the TV remote.”
Judith smiled, but a knocking sound startled both cousins.
“I’ll get it,” Renie muttered before going to the door. “Are you armed and homicidal?” she shouted.
A muffled female voice seemed to say no. Renie cautiously opened the door as Judith came across the room to join her. The young woman with red curls peeking out from under her brown hood looked upset.
“Where’s Vance?” she asked in an uncertain voice.
“Out of town,” Renie replied. “You are . . . ?”
“Katie Blomquist, Ernie and Edna Glover’s daughter.”
Renie opened the door all the way. “Come in. Sorry about the query, but you must know we’re all a bit on edge.”
Judith offered her hand as Katie came inside. “We’re the Webers’ nieces. I’m Judith and this is Renie. We’re house-sitting. I’m very sorry about your father. Do sit down.”
“I can’t stay,” Katie said, red-rimmed green eyes darting this way and that. “I wanted to borrow a heating pad. Mom told us Vance and Vince had an extra one. Hers broke and she needs it for her arthritis. It’s . . . well, it’s going to be hard for her to sleep tonight as it is.” Katie sniffed once as if to underscore the comment.
“I’ll look for it,” Renie volunteered, heading for the master bedroom.
“Do sit,” Judith urged, pulling out a kitchen chair. “We didn’t really know your dad. But what happened to him was a terrible thing.”
Hesitating, Katie sat. “I can’t take it in. Who would do such a thing?” She shook her head, causing the hood to slip down to her shoulder-length curls. “We heard two strange women . . .” She stopped. “Was it you and your sister?”
“We’re cousins,” Judith said with a kindly smile. “Our dads were Vance’s older brothers.”
“Oh.” Katie sniffed again. “I didn’t mean you seemed strange. I meant . . .” She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a Kleenex to blow her nose. “You know what I mean. That must’ve been awful for you. It makes me shudder just to think about it.”
“Do you live nearby?” Judith inquired. No comment about finding the corpse was necessary. In fact, it felt redundant.
Katie shook her head. “No, we live just north of the city. My husband, Greg, teaches at the local high school. That’s where I met him. I mean, I taught there, too. Now that we have kids, I do some tutoring.” Her freckled hands clenched into fists. “Why? Why would anyone stab Dad? He was the nicest man in the world. It must be some crazy person. Maybe an escapee from an institution or someone on drugs.”
“That’s possible,” Judith allowed as Renie finally came into the room with the heating pad. “How is your mother holding up?”
Katie sighed. “She’s a fairly strong person. If it had been a heart attack or something like that, it’d be bad enough. But murder?” She shook her head and couldn’t seem to go on.
“Do you have siblings?” Judith asked to change the subject.
“Yes, a brother. Dave lives in Denver. He’s flying in tomorrow.” Katie rubbed at her forehead. “I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to be brave for Mom. Greg’s a big help. He actually likes his in-laws. His own parents died young, before we met.”
Renie had sat down next to Judith. “Are your kids here?”
“Yes. The boys are four and two, but they loved Grandpa. Greg and I figured they’d be a comfort to Mom. I don’t think they understand what’s happened.”
“Probably not,” Judith agreed. “Having young children around helps. It demonstrates the cycle of life. And death,” she added more quietly. “Your father must’ve had a lot of friends in this community.”
“He did,” Katie declared. “Dad got to know so many people here, especially after he retired. We’re not sure if we should have the funeral on the island or in the city. He had lots of friends there on the Bluff.”
Judith knew the neighborhood well, since it was adjacent to Heraldsgate Hill. “That’s a nice area,” she remarked.
Katie nodded in a distracted manner. “They had a nice house there—nothing fancy like some of the mansions.”
“Yes,” Judith said, not daring to look at Renie. Several years had passed since the cousins had helped host a party at one of those mansions. A relative by marriage spoiled the festivities by getting shot to death. “That neighborhood really grew after World War Two,” she continued. “Wonderful views of the Sound.”
Katie struggled to get to her feet. “I must go. Thanks for the heating pad. I hope the pills the doctor prescribed will help Mom sleep.”
“Who is the doctor around here?” Judith asked as she and Renie walked their visitor to the door. “Our aunt and uncle have remained patients of their longtime GP in the city.”
“His name is Dr. Payne,” Ka
tie said, wincing. “With a y. He’s retired, too. Thanks for the heating pad. Good night.”
Renie sighed. “Let’s lock up. I’m not in the mood for more company. Our guests tend to be on the grim side.”
Judith retrieved her suitcase in the hall. “I’ll make sure the back door’s locked. If I’m not back in sixty seconds, call the sheriff.”
Flipping the switch to turn on a couple of lights on the pine-paneled walls, Judith gazed around the spacious bedroom with its adjacent half bath. In all the years they’d visited the Webers, she’d never spent the night. As a kid, Mike, as well as the three Jones offspring, had stayed with Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince for a few days every summer. None of them had minded their great-aunt’s rough tongue, even when she disciplined them. They instinctively knew how much she loved entertaining children. Vince was a sport, too, at least when he managed to stay awake.
To Judith’s relief, she saw no sign of an intruder in the bedroom. That was a comfort. Until she realized that there had been nothing to suggest an intruder in the kitchen—except for the warning note.
“Coz,” she said, coming out of the hall via the door that led into the living area, “did you see any footprints in the kitchen when we got back from the meeting?”
Renie, who had moved to the sofa, set aside the Sunset magazine she’d been reading. “No,” she replied, staring at the wall-to-wall carpeting. “This is all that indoor-outdoor stuff. Auntie Vance got it because everybody spends so much time on the beach. It’s designed to not show scuffs or prints.”
Judith sat down in the overstuffed chair. “You’re right. The whole house is covered in it. Auntie Vance got a deal through somebody Uncle Al knew. You know about Uncle Al and all his deals.”
“A master of the art,” Renie murmured, referring to their well-connected sportsman uncle. “Did you really expect Jacobson to check for hair and fibers?”
“No,” Judith admitted. “I’m so used to people coming in the back door at home who track stuff into the back hall and kitchen. At least the carpet in the entry hall covers most of the floor for the guests.” She grew silent for a moment. “I wonder how many people have an airtight alibi for the time of the murder.”
Renie’s expression was droll. “House-to-house canvassing tomorrow?”
“Of course not. But this is Friday. I’ll bet a lot of people grocery-shop and run errands before the weekend. For one thing, they can get the specials, which I imagine most of the older folks watch for. Have you seen their weekly newspaper anywhere?”
“Oh, jeez,” Renie groaned, “how do ads for pork chops and pickled pig’s feet help figure out who murdered Ernie?”
“They don’t,” Judith asserted. “But the local paper would list a calendar of events. I’m trying to get a feel for this place.”
“You’re not writing a novel, you need to work on not getting us killed. Give it a rest until tomorrow.” She made one of her usual futile efforts to snap her fingers. “I know! Let’s watch TV!”
“Fine.” Judith reached into the magazine rack next to the chair. “I’ll see what’s on. Oh—here’s the Whoopee Weekly Word.”
“Great,” Renie remarked in a bored voice. “Read me the funnies.”
“They don’t have funnies,” Judith said, scanning the front page. “Lots of planning news on other parts of the island. Storm-watch report . . . argument over beach rights . . . obit for ninety-six-year-old Ignatz—”
“Stop!” Renie yelled. “Just get to the calendar, for heaven’s sake!”
Judith flipped through the pages. “Here it is. Nothing for Obsession Shores.” She checked the publication date. “The paper comes out Wednesdays. The locals may not have had time to get the special meeting in before the deadline. It’s not stop-the-presses kind of news.”
Renie yawned. “It sure isn’t. Can we watch TV now?”
“Go ahead, turn . . . wait. Here’s an article about Brose Bennett finding what he claims is an English gold coin dated 1798. It was washed up on the beach earlier this month.”
“Could be. Captain Vancouver plied these waters at the end of the eighteenth century. The coin wouldn’t be hard to authenticate, though I doubt it’s worth much.”
Judith summed up the six-inch article. “He found it after a high tide last weekend. It’s a guinea with George the Third on it. Here,” she said, tossing the newspaper to Renie. “There’s a picture of the coin and one of Brose.”
Renie skimmed the article. “Brose looks full of himself. Did you spot him and Fou-fou at the meeting?”
“I couldn’t see who was up front,” Judith said, finding a copy of TV Guide in the magazine rack. “Drat. Not much on tonight. Bloopers, Trading Spouses, Killer Instinct—”
“Stop!” Renie cried. “No college basketball on Friday nights either. This is when Bill and I get out a DVD to watch Brideshead Revisited for the umpteenth time.”
“Oh?” Judith barely heard what her cousin had said. “I wonder if other rare coins have been found around here.”
Renie sighed. “You’re going all numismatic on me? Forget it. Not in January weather.”
“No,” Judith responded with a glare. “I’m talking about motive.”
Renie shook her head. “We’d have heard about that hobby. Serious treasure seekers use a metal detector. I gather that’s not mentioned in the article. In fact, Uncle Vince might stay awake for more than fifteen minutes at a time because he’s interested in history. You know how he tells stories about being in the army during World War Two.”
Judith smiled. “I always liked the one where the ship he was on for the D-Day invasion got lost in the fog. They ended up landing back in England and scaring the wits out of an entire English village.”
“I always wondered if he was navigating,” Renie said, laughing. “He might’ve dozed off.”
“That was before he became a milkman,” Judith remarked. “Turn on the TV. Maybe you can find an old movie we haven’t seen lately.”
Renie picked up the remote and stared at it. “How do you use these things? I don’t think they’ve got cable up here. Don’t they all have a dish? Or maybe one great big one?”
Before Judith could answer, yet another knock sounded outside. “Now what?” she murmured. “I thought retired people went to bed early.”
“I’ll get it,” Renie said, tossing the remote in Judith’s lap. She leaned against the door and called out, “Password, please!”
“Hell, Vance,” a male voice shouted, “stop clowning around! It’s cold out here.”
“That’s not it,” Renie yelled back.
Judith stood up, reaching around the chair to peek through the blinds that covered the window. “I can’t see who it is from here.”
“Fine,” Renie said, heading back to the sofa.
Whoever it was didn’t give up easily. Their visitor pounded even harder on the door, now shouting both Vance and Vince’s names. “This isn’t funny! There’s a killer out here!”
Judith turned to stare at Renie. “Do you think he means literally?”
Renie shed her shoes and put her feet up on the sofa. “If a killer’s out there, he’s not in here. Ignore the knock.”
“Oh, for . . .” Judith started for the door. “It sounds like Hank Hilderschmidt. If he acts menacing, hit him with the remote. Hold on!” A muffled grumble responded. She finally got the door open. “Hi. The Webers are out of town. I’m Judith, their niece. Come in, Hank.”
Hank gave a start. “You know me?”
“My cousin,” she said, nodding at the sofa, “and I were at the meeting tonight. You probably didn’t see us. We were at the back.”
“Oh.” Hank stamped his feet on the floor. “That’s one thick fog out there. Third night in a row.” He looked at Renie, who hadn’t budged and was staring straight ahead. “Is she okay?”
“Uh . . . yes, she’s fine. Did you want something? I mean, can I help you? I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Awww . . .” Hank paused, scratchin
g at one of his long sideburns. “No, I guess not. I just wanted to talk to Vance and Vince about the cops coming around to question all of us after Ernie . . . you know. Bought the big one.”
“Have a seat,” Judith said, indicating a kitchen chair. She didn’t dare suggest the living area. Renie seemed to be in one of her socially zoned-out moods. “You’re good friends of the Webers?” she asked, sitting down at the end of the table.
“Good enough to ask if they have a drink,” Hank said. “My wife didn’t make it to the liquor store today.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.” Judith was about to let the comment pass, but caught the pitiful look in Hank’s dark eyes. “Would you like a short shot of Scotch?”
“Yeah, that’d hit the spot. Nasty night out there.”
Judith got up to fetch the liquor. She decided she might as well join Hank. “I didn’t realize the police had interrogated everyone.”
“Oh, they sure did. You’d think I’d done in poor ol’ Ernie. Hell, nobody around here would do a thing like that. Must’ve been a nut case walking the beach. It happens.”
“What happens?” Judith asked, putting ice into the glasses with their inch of liquor.
“Nuts. Not so much this time of year, but in the summer. Yeah, right, it’s a public beach, but still . . . they make trouble and leave a mess. That’s not right. Wish we had a retired cop living here. He’d know how to handle ’em.”
“Were you and Ernie good friends?” Judith inquired after she’d set down the drinks and resumed her place at the table.
“Oh—we got along fine, but Ern was still settling in after he retired. I keep working. Took my pension with the state ferry folks two years ago, after thirty years in the boiler room, but I do part-time stuff helping out at the dock on weekends and holidays. Just did a turn for the Martin Luther King three-day deal. Here’s to ol’ Ern.” He lifted his glass.