Clam Wake

by Mary Daheim

  Frank shook his head. “I don’t want them to think I’m meddling. Cops don’t like amateurs.”

  “Ah . . . right,” Judith agreed. “I’m sure they know what they’re doing. Thanks for stopping by.”

  “Why,” Renie asked, “don’t we just sit and wait for everybody to come to us? It’d save on our general wear and tear, not to mention walking a lot.”

  Judith remained by the door. “I think Auntie Vance keeps busy with all these people dropping in on her. She must be the source of common sense as well as a sounding board for Obsession Shores.”

  Renie looked ingenuous. “So why not just stay put?”

  “For one thing, we have to leave for dinner,” Judith said, shrugging into her car coat. “It’s going on five. Cocktails await us.”

  “Of course,” Renie said wearily. “Let’s hurry so we can get liquored up. I’m starting to go through Pepsi caffeine withdrawal. I may get all calm and you won’t recognize me.”

  “Like that’ll ever happen,” Judith murmured.

  The rain was coming down so hard on their faces that they had to squint to see where they were going. “Tell me when we start having fun,” Renie muttered, her boots squelching in the muddy road.

  Judith didn’t answer, saving her breath to climb the stairs to the Sedgewick house. Dick apparently had seen them coming. He opened the door before Judith could sound the brass knocker.

  “Come in, come in,” he urged them. “Kind of nasty outside, eh?”

  “It’s wet,” Judith agreed.

  “I’ll bet you two would like a drink,” Dick said, leading the way. “Come on into the living room. Jane’s making the hot toddy mix in a vat.”

  The furnishings were an eclectic mix of old and new: some probably brought from their former home in the city; a few pieces of well-worn antiques perhaps found at a garage sale; a mundane brown tweed sofa purchased from a January clearance. But, Judith discovered, it felt very comfortable when she sat down on it.

  “We saw you out and about today,” Dick said, settling into a big green-and-beige-striped recliner with so many controls that it looked as if it could launch him into outer space. “In fact, Jane saw you leaving the Friedmans’ a while ago. Maybe we should’ve asked them to dinner, too.”

  Jane entered the room. “I’m glad you didn’t. The pot roast shrank.” She placed a tray with four steaming mugs on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Go for it, girls,” she said to Judith and Renie, waiting for them to pick up the mugs before handing one to Dick. She sat in an armchair that matched the sofa. Jane hoisted her mug. “Cheers. Got any good gossip? That’s our other hobby.”

  Judith hesitated about mentioning the scene at the tavern. “Well . . . we’ve met some of the other—”

  “Hold it,” Renie broke in. “Tell them about the brawl at the bar and the Bennetts’ divorce news.”

  “You,” Judith declared, glaring at her cousin, “are so damned lippy. I might’ve gotten to that in a more tactful way.”

  “Tactful?” Jane echoed. “Vance left tact in her baby crib. What’s wrong with you? You’re her niece. Where did the blunt gene go?”

  After heaving a big sigh, Judith unloaded. When she’d finished the account of what had gone on between Brose, Fou-fou, and Kent Logan, Dick and Jane looked at each other.

  “Didn’t I tell you they were in trouble?” Jane asked her husband. “Suzie Logan already hinted as much. I figured Fou-fou would try to finagle some free legal advice out of Kent. Their split-up is all about money, which Fou-fou thinks Brose should share.”

  “Right,” Dick murmured. “The poor wife’s always the victim.”

  “Did I say,” Jane shot back, “that I was on Fou-fou’s side? She’s an idiot. If she wasn’t she’d have never married Brose in the first place.”

  Dick shrugged. “No argument there. They’re both idiots. Except when it comes to making money; Brose had a knack for that. He sold his bun company at the right time before the economy started to go south.”

  “That was luck,” Jane declared. She turned back to Judith and Renie. “Now I suppose Brose has got a scam going with finding priceless coins along the beach. It’s always something with him.”

  Before anyone else could speak, they heard the knocker bang on the door. “I’ll get it,” Dick said, heaving himself out of the chair.

  “What else is new?” Jane asked.

  “We met Betsy,” Judith replied. “She stopped at the Friedmans’. I’d already seen her earlier, but I don’t recall Auntie Vance mentioning her.”

  “Ohhh . . .” Jane shook her head. “Vance has such a soft heart along with that mouth. I suspect she didn’t like thinking about the poor creature. Not that Betsy would care or know. I guess she’s always been like that. Very sad.” Jane looked up as Dick came back into the living room. “What was that all about?” she asked.

  “Frank Leonetti,” Dick replied, sitting down again. “He’s put together some flyers asking people to come forward with any information about Ernie’s murder. Not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

  “He stopped earlier to give us the flyers,” Judith said. “I gather he feels that some people are holding back. Do you think that’s true?”

  “Probably,” Jane replied. “They don’t want to get involved with anything that’s as sordid as murder. It makes Obsession Shores look bad. Most of the people who live here don’t like that. They prefer their Eden to remain without sin.”

  Judith decided to change the subject. “Has Mel or Sarah mentioned the boat they’ve seen go out from here after midnight?”

  Dick nodded. “Mel did say something a week or so ago. We’ve never seen it. We’re usually asleep by then.”

  “What,” Renie asked, “do you think it could be? It’s a bit odd.”

  He shrugged. “Some night owl testing his boat, maybe over at Scratchit Head. Or making sure the running lights work.” He chuckled. “You think it’s the killer and he was planning his escape route?”

  Judith was mildly surprised. “I never thought of that.”

  “Just kidding,” Dick said, before standing up. “How about a warm-up on the drinks?”

  Neither Judith nor Renie had finished more than half of their hot toddies. “Well . . .” Judith began. “Okay.”

  Dick went off to the kitchen.

  “The pot roast should be done in about fifteen minutes,” Jane said. “I’ve got carrots with it along with the potatoes. Oh—I made some biscuits, too.” She leaned forward, calling out to Dick. “Hey, lover boy, put those biscuits in the oven. I already turned it on.”

  “I’m the bad-weather cook,” Jane informed the cousins after Dick made a brief, muffled response. “During the good weather, he barbecues a lot. So do about half the people up here. The whole place reeks of barbecue when the sun’s out. Some people even barbecue in the rain.”

  The conversation drifted onto other topics. After eating chocolate sundaes for dessert and sipping small snifters of Galliano, the cousins took their leave around seven thirty. It was still raining, though not as hard as earlier. The lights of Scratchit Head glowed below the big bluff. There was little wind and the only sound besides the patter of rain was an unseen owl hooting in the nearby forest.

  “Who’ll drop in next?” Renie asked when they got inside the house.

  Judith stood by the window, watching the lights of a large ship hove into view. “I wonder if this would be a good time to visit the Quimbys. Maybe Mr. Q. goes to bed early.”

  “Maybe you’re insane,” Renie declared. “That’s one of your worst ideas yet. They probably wouldn’t let us in.”

  “We can’t just sit here. Do you really think more people are going to call on us?”

  She’d barely gotten the words out when someone knocked.

  “Yes, I do,” Renie said, going to the door. For once, she opened it without asking their caller’s identity. “Hi, come in, sit down, let me fix you a drink.” She turned to Judith. “How’s that for being neighborl
y?”

  Katie Glover Blomquist’s green eyes looked startled. “I don’t want to be a bother, really. I wanted to let you—that is, the Webers—know when and where my father’s funeral will be.”

  Judith decided to intervene to keep Renie from making any more mouthy comments. “Sit,” she said, pulling out a kitchen chair. “The Webers probably will still be out of town for the next few days.”

  Katie waited to respond until she and Judith were both seated. Renie was by the sink, devouring chocolate-coated honeycomb chunks.

  “Maybe your relatives will get back in time,” Katie said. “Mom decided to hold the funeral at their former church in the city, but the pastor is out of town until next weekend.”

  “Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince might be home by then,” Judith responded. “Renie and I will probably head home Monday morning. We both have to earn our livings.”

  “What,” Katie inquired, glancing at Renie, who was chewing lustily on her candy, “does she do?”

  “Besides eat?” Judith retorted. “She’s a graphic designer. She uses food instead of paints for her artwork. You’d love her crinkly-french-fry design for the state potato growers association.”

  “Shuddub!” Renie burbled to her cousin.

  Judith ignored her. “How is your mother?” she asked Katie.

  “Okay. But I worry about her. She’s not used to being alone.” Katie fretted at the gold-and-diamond wedding band on her left hand. “I’m taking the boys home tomorrow night because I have to teach at the preschool Monday. My brother, Dave, is stuck in Denver. They’re snowed in.”

  Judith offered an encouraging smile. “Your mother seems strong. Besides, I’m sure the neighbors will come calling on her.”

  Katie flinched. “I don’t know. Mom has never been one to have a lot of company. She likes a quiet life.”

  “They won’t expect her to entertain them. They’ll only want to show they care. I imagine some of them have already stopped by.”

  “Not yet,” Katie murmured.

  Judith hid her surprise. “Maybe they feel awkward. And they probably know you’re there with the boys.”

  Katie got to her feet. “True. It’s that Mom . . . is sort of standoffish.”

  Judith also rose. “She was welcoming to Renie and me.”

  “That’s because you found Dad,” Katie said, moving to the door. “She wanted to hear what you had to say.”

  “I see,” Judith murmured.

  Except that she didn’t.

  How could you still be hungry?” Judith demanded of Renie after Katie left. “You just had dinner.”

  “So?” Renie flopped onto the sofa. “I always have room for dark chocolate. What do you make of the antisocial Edna? Do her neighbors know about her plethora of pills and stay away?”

  Judith took her place in the overstuffed chair. “That’s possible. But it also puts a different light on Ernie, doesn’t it?”

  Kicking off her shoes, Renie turned thoughtful. “That his social life was dull and thus he had to seek companionship elsewhere?”

  “That’s one possibility,” Judith agreed, “but then there’s all the drugs Edna was allegedly taking. Yes, she has some arthritis, but so did Grandma Grover, who sewed, made quilts, and did needlepoint.”

  “Edna may be a bit of a hypochondriac. That doesn’t make her antisocial. Maybe it’s just her nature.”

  “Also possible.” Judith fingered her chin. “There’s got to be a motive for Ernie’s murder. Unlike most of the locals, I doubt it was a random nut.” She stood up. “Let’s call on the Bendareks. We need to get more background. I’ll figure out where they live.”

  “Check for the house with the busted front door,” Renie said, putting on her shoes. “Didn’t Zach say he broke it?”

  “Yes, but he might’ve exaggerated. Where’s the map of the development? I saw it around here somewhere.”

  “Look under the island phone book,” Renie advised.

  Judith found the map and realized she’d noticed it after putting the phone away the previous evening. “The streets don’t have signs, but we can figure them out easily enough. The Bendareks are on Salmon Road, one down from here—which, as you know, is Mussel Road. They live three doors south on . . .” She paused, recalling the Webers’ address. “This house number is even, so the Bendareks’ must be odd.”

  “He is kind of odd,” Renie remarked. “Maybe she is, too.”

  “We’ll find out,” Judith said, getting her jacket. “Let’s go.”

  The rain had dwindled to a drizzle, though the road was muddy, which made for slow walking, especially for Judith. It took them five minutes to reach their destination.

  “The door’s fine,” Renie noted. “Only a dent or two. Maybe Zach tried opening it with his head and forgot he wasn’t wearing a helmet.”

  Judith pressed the bell. The cousins smiled when they heard a chime playing the University’s fight song. After almost a minute, the door was opened by a tall, lanky teenage boy.

  “What’s up?” he asked with a vaguely curious expression. Or maybe, Judith thought, he was vague by nature. She introduced herself and Renie before asking if the boy’s parents were home. “Parents?” he repeated. “You mean Pop and Mop?”

  “I . . . guess I do,” Judith said.

  The teenager loped out of sight.

  “Mop?” Renie murmured. “Mrs. Bendarek is a cleaning device?”

  “Aren’t we all?” Judith responded under her breath.

  A beautiful, petite woman with a startling mass of auburn curls came to the door. Maybe, Judith thought, the hair was the reason the boy called her Mop. “Hello,” she said in a musical voice. “I’m Becca. Chad told me you’re related to some of the neighbors. Come in.”

  The cousins followed her into a darkened room where Zach and Chad sat on a big sofa watching a pro football game on a big-screen TV.

  “Mute it,” Becca ordered. “We’ve got company.”

  The sound was turned off. Father and son kept their eyes glued to the game. “Have a seat,” their hostess offered.

  “Where?” Renie asked, obviously unable to see anything except some of the wall behind the television set.

  Becca looked flummoxed. “Oh, come into the kitchen. We don’t want to interrupt the replay of a pro football game.” She darted a sharp glance at Zach and Chad, but they didn’t notice. Their eyes were still glued to the screen despite the fact that it was a commercial break for a digestive aid. Or maybe, Judith wondered, because they needed it. The kitchen reeked of garlic and onion.

  After sitting at a table covered with a purple-and-gold paisley linen cloth, Becca asked if they’d care for some wine. The cousins declined.

  “Zach called on us,” Judith said. “It’s interesting to meet people our relatives have talked about. Have you lived here very long?”

  “Three years,” Becca replied. “We bought this place ten years ago, but waited to move until our daughter was starting high school. Cece’s a freshman at the University now, and Chad’s a sophomore at Whoopee High.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Did you really find Ernie Glover’s corpse? Wasn’t that exciting?”

  Judith was mildly nonplussed. “Not exactly. I’d describe it as . . . memorable.” Given her experience with corpses, it was the best word she could come up with. “Did you know Ernie well?”

  “Ernie Well?” Becca looked puzzled. “Oh! You mean did I . . . sort of. He used to come by when his wife was entertaining her boyfriend. He didn’t like getting in their way.”

  “Gee,” Renie said, “couldn’t he have gone into another room?”

  “I suppose,” Becca replied, “but he wasn’t used to having company. Edna doesn’t like people. Except for her lover, of course.”

  “Dare I ask,” Judith inquired, “who the lover was? I mean, is.”

  “Of course you dare,” Becca asserted. “The problem is that I don’t know his name. Ernie never told us. I didn’t feel like prying. It didn’t really matter
as long as it wasn’t Zach.” She glanced in the direction of the living room. “At least I don’t think it could be Zach. Maybe I should ask him after the game is over.”

  Judith felt as if her head was spinning, but she tried to refocus. “Did Ernie ever mention anyone he’d quarreled with?”

  Becca propped her chin on her hands and looked thoughtful. “Yes,” she said after a long pause. “Frank Leonetti, for one. They got into it over Gina.”

  Judith was surprised. “Frank’s wife? Why?”

  Becca looked at Judith as if her guest must be simpleminded. “Because Ernie was rumored to be having an affair with Gina. He couldn’t keep dropping in on us and the other neighbors all the time. He had to find other interests. Besides, Frank still keeps his hand in.”

  “In what?” Renie asked.

  Becca scowled. “In his food. That is, his business with food. He still owns Leonetti and Sons, so he has to go into the city three or four times a month. Frank’s the only son left. The two older brothers died in a house fire a few years ago.” She grimaced. “I wouldn’t want to have found their bodies after they were all crispy. It’s a good thing I missed that. I’ll bet I’d have thrown up.”

  “Speaking of that,” Renie said, sniffing the air, “what did you make for dinner?”

  Becca shrugged. “One of those goulashy things Zach likes. His parents came from the old country.” She frowned. “Why are they called that? Aren’t all those countries in Europe old?”

  “Pretty much,” Renie murmured, twitching a bit in the chair.

  Judith smiled at Becca. “It’s because they’ve been established so much longer than our country,” she explained—and saw her hostess shrug. It was time to take their leave before Renie said or did something she might not regret, but Judith would. “We’ll be on our way now,” she said, standing up. “Thanks for inviting us in. We enjoy meeting the Webers’ neighbors.”

  Becca remained seated. “The Webers? Oh—you mean Vance and the guy who always falls asleep? Yes, she’s very funny. You’d think he’d stay awake just to listen to her. Vance always makes me laugh.” Her lovely face turned glum. “I don’t get to do that around here very much.”