Clam Wake

by Mary Daheim

  Judith laughed. “Oh, yes. He’s convinced they exist. I’ll let you turn the heat down. It still felt drafty in the hall. I’ll wake you at nine. I’m aware that you’re clueless when it comes to setting an alarm clock.”

  “You’re right about that,” Renie conceded. “Sleep well.”

  Judith bade her cousin good night and headed into the master bedroom. As soon as she turned on the light, she gasped—and raced back into the living room.

  “Coz!” she gasped, trying to keep her voice down. “Betsy’s asleep on Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince’s bed!”

  Renie’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding! No,” she went on quickly, “of course you’re not. Are you sure she’s asleep and not . . . ah . . .”

  “She’s breathing,” Judith said. “I turned on the lamp just inside the door so I could see movement. Come look. I wonder how she got in.”

  The cousins tiptoed to the bedroom door. Renie paused before quietly walking past the bed. Judith watched as her cousin approached the curtained window by the dressing table. Renie pushed the curtains aside—and closed the window before rejoining Judith.

  “No wonder you felt a draft,” Renie whispered. “Better check your meds to see if she pinched any of them. Now what do we do?”

  “Call Jacobson. We’ll let him tell the Quimbys. Unless we—”

  “No!” Renie interrupted without raising her voice. “We’re not going out in this fog. Let the law handle it. It does, alas, give you a perfect opening to visit the Quimbys tomorrow.”

  The cousins returned to the kitchen, where Judith had left the deputy’s cell number. “I suppose,” she said, dialing the phone, “he may be home by now. I wouldn’t blame . . . Lieutenant? This is Judith Flynn. Betsy’s sleeping in the Webers’ bed. Where are you?”

  A heavy sigh was heard at the other end. “Halfway home, but I’ll turn around. It’ll only take ten minutes.” He rang off.

  Judith passed the message on to Renie. “Maybe we should keep an eye on Betsy. She obviously can move quietly, like a—”

  “Ghost?” Renie broke in. “You take watch duty. Maybe you can change into your bedclothes without waking her up. I’ll go into the bathroom, but keep the door open, okay?”

  Judith returned to the hall, but hesitated before entering the bedroom. Betsy was still sound asleep. Approaching quietly, Judith noted she had a faint smile on her thin lips and she was clutching the canvas bag to her breast. It appeared to be empty. Judith checked the three bottles of meds on the little side table. They seemed untouched. Turning around, she saw Renie in the doorway, attired in her tiger-striped nighttime ensemble.

  “Good grief,” Judith whispered after going back into the hall, “did you have to put on your . . . animalwear?”

  Renie looked affronted. “You prefer me to show up in my underwear?”

  “Of course not,” Judith retorted, “but couldn’t you have waited?”

  “For what? Tigers don’t change their stripes and Renies don’t bring spare sets of nightclothes on a weekend trip.”

  “You’re lucky if Jacobson doesn’t call the World Wildlife Federation,” Judith said, returning to the kitchen.

  A knock sounded at the door. Renie rushed over to do the unlocking honors. The deputy’s usually impassive face looked startled.

  “What’s wrong?” Renie asked with a scowl. “You got something against cats?”

  “Only the ones who walk on two feet,” he replied stoically. “Which way is the bedroom?”

  To avoid a flippant remark from Renie, Judith answered the question. The deputy kept going. Judith followed Jacobson at a discreet distance. He walked to the bed, stood for a moment with fists on hips, then leaned down to softly call Betsy’s name. She shifted slightly under the comforter, but didn’t react. The deputy returned to the hall.

  “She’s really out of it,” he said. “I’ve only seen her once before, two or three years ago, when she climbed a utility pole and wouldn’t come down. Betsy may not remember me, but I don’t want to scare her.”

  “You’re not in uniform,” Judith pointed out. “If she’s like most people—even normal people—she may not recognize you in regular clothes.”

  “Hey, Lieutenant,” Renie said from the kitchen doorway, “want to put on my peignoir?”

  “No thanks,” he replied quietly, barely glancing at her before heading out of the hall via the door to the living room. “Here’s the thing,” he went on in his normal voice. “If she’s on medication, she probably should be allowed to sleep until she wakes up on her own. Disturbing her now could have some ugly results.”

  Renie had also entered the living room. “Uglier than coz having to sleep on the sofa?”

  Judith made a face at her cousin. “The spare room has a double bed. I can sleep with you. Can you try not to chew gum?”

  “I doubt it,” Renie replied. “That’s what puts me to sleep. Maybe Uncle Vince has some earplugs. He could use them when Auntie Vance gets mad.” She looked at Jacobson. “Do the Quimbys know she’s here? What happens if she wakes up and leaves?”

  The officer nodded. “Quincy—the son—advised against startling Betsy. In fact, he thinks she can be dangerous.”

  “Oh, great!” Renie twirled around in a flurry of stripes. “You’re going to leave us alone with a violent crazy person?”

  “No,” he said in a weary voice. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

  Judith looked at Renie. “I don’t see that we have much choice, coz.” Her gaze shifted to Jacobson. “Do you think I’ll wake her up if I grab my own nightgown and robe?”

  He shook his head. “She seems to be in a fairly deep sleep.”

  “Okay,” Judith said. “I’ll do that now. Help yourself to whatever you need, Lieutenant. One of those pillows on the sofa ought to be okay. I’ll grab a couple of blankets from the hall linen closet. Oh—there’s the afghan, too.” She headed back to the master bedroom.

  Renie gave the deputy a bleak glance, mumbled “good night,” and went off toward the spare room. Judith joined her a few minutes later.

  “At least,” she said as Renie burrowed under the covers, “we have police protection tonight.”

  “You have that every night,” Renie responded. “You’re married to a cop. Where does Joe keep his weapon at night?”

  “Under the mattress,” Judith replied. “Just like your father did despite your mother worrying it’d go off and shoot her in the rear end.”

  “You know how Mom fusses,” Renie said, reaching for a package of Big Red chewing gum. “It’s a wonder she ever slept at night.”

  Judith narrowed her eyes at Renie. “You’re not really going to chew that gum, are you?”

  Renie hesitated. “How about a three-piece limit?”

  “None.”

  “Two?”

  “No.”

  “One?”

  Judith pondered the offer. “Okay. Good night.” She rolled over and turned off the lamp on the nightstand. To her surprise, Renie kept her word. Judith fell asleep almost immediately.

  She wasn’t sure what awakened her in the dead of night. Maybe it was a sound, but as her sleepy eyes focused on the illuminated clock, she saw it was 5:10. Judith wondered if Jacobson and Betsy were still on the premises. And suddenly she remembered that she’d forgotten to take her nighttime pills. She slipped out of bed and tiptoed into the hall. Passing the bathroom, she saw a form just outside the master bedroom. It has to be Betsy, she thought, backpedaling to reach the bathroom light switch.

  The sudden brightness made Judith blink. When she focused her eyes to look straight ahead, she saw Betsy standing four feet away. Her right hand held a very sharp knife.

  Chapter 15

  Judith sucked in her breath. “Betsy,” she said, hoping her voice sounded calmer than she felt, “are you hungry?”

  Betsy’s fingers tightened around the knife’s black handle. She stared at Judith for what seemed like a very long time.

  “Yes,” she finally said. “I wan
t some soup. Please.” Betsy looked at Judith as if she expected something that might have been hope.

  “Okay,” Judith said. “Let me get my robe. You can sit down at the kitchen table. I’ll turn on the light for you.”

  Betsy put the knife inside her jacket. Judith hurried into the spare bedroom, where Renie apparently was still asleep. She grabbed her robe, put it on, and returned to the kitchen. She could hear Jacobson stirring on the sofa.

  “I have a friend sleeping here tonight,” Judith said, going to the cupboard to find some soup. “Maybe he’s hungry, too.”

  “Who is it?” Betsy asked in a guileless voice.

  “His name is Erik. He’s a very kind man.” Judith took out a can of beef vegetable soup, found a small kettle, and turned on the stove. “You may know him. He’s been here before,” she continued as she opened the can and poured its contents into the kettle.

  “Erik.” Betsy mused on the name. “Kind man. Is he married to . . . Suzie?”

  “No,” Judith replied, getting out some soda crackers, a bowl, and a soup spoon. “Suzie is married to Kent.”

  Betsy was silent for a moment. “My brother likes Kent.” She frowned. “Maybe Vince lost the knife when he took a nap. But why?”

  Judith was puzzled, but before she could question Betsy further, Jacobson strolled into the kitchen. He looked less than his usual alert self and his clothes were somewhat rumpled. “Hi, Betsy. How are you?”

  “Hungry,” she replied. “Vance is making me soup.” She frowned. “No, not Vance. But she’s like Vance.”

  “I see,” Jacobson said, sitting down at the table. “Maybe I’ll have some soup, too. Would you mind?”

  Betsy shook her head. “Vance always has enough to go around. She tells me that every time I come here.” She nodded three times.

  Judith placed another bowl and soup spoon on the table. “Why don’t you show Erik your knife, Betsy?”

  She scowled at Judith. “Why should I? Finders, keepers.”

  “Where did you find it?” Judith asked.

  Betsy shut her eyes, apparently in an attempt to remember. “In Vince’s boat. The one that Vance laughed about.”

  “Ah.” Judith could hardly conceal her excitement. “Was that after Mr. Glover . . . died?”

  Betsy looked vague. “Maybe. It was after the fire engine came. And went. There was no fire, no pretty yellow ribbon by the boat. Did Vance want the firemen to burn it up? She told me it’d make good firewood.”

  Judith and Jacobson exchanged quick looks. “Vince bought the knife for Vance to cut up vegetables for her soup,” Judith explained. “If you give it to me, I can give it back to Vance and Vince.”

  Betsy took a long time to think about it. The soup boiled. Judith edged toward the stove, her eyes still on her strange guest. Jacobson, meanwhile, seemed intrigued by a pair of Aunt Ellen’s fruit decoupages that hung on the wall behind the table.

  Finally Betsy reached inside her jacket. “Here,” she said, putting the knife down in front of her bowl. “Tell Vance I took good care of it.”

  “I will,” Judith promised, rescuing the soup before it boiled over.

  Betsy began to hum to herself. Then, as Judith finished pouring the kettle’s contents into the two bowls, Betsy gently slapped herself on the cheek. “No singing at the table!” she growled in a strange, deep voice. “That’s what Papa always says. Papa is always right.” She made an angry face. “He doesn’t like it when I call him Papa. Why is that?” Apparently not expecting an answer, she crushed two crackers between both hands and dumped the crumbs into the bowl.

  Silence fell over the table. Judith turned off the stove and put the kettle in the dishwasher. She decided to take advantage of the moment to retrieve her pills and started for the hall.

  “No!” Betsy shouted—and choked on something in her soup.

  Judith patted her on the back. “Okay, I’ll stay here,” she reassured Betsy, who immediately recovered.

  Jacobson nibbled on a cracker. At last, he spoke to Betsy. “Papa wants you to come home after you’ve eaten. He’s worried about you.”

  “No, he’s not,” Betsy declared in an unconcerned tone. “Papa only worries about Papa. And his buried treasure.” She put the spoon down and looked at the officer. “What good does it do if it’s still buried?”

  Judith leaned on the back of an empty chair. “What kind of treasure is it?”

  Betsy scowled. “Money. It’s deep in the ground, where it’s safe.” She laughed. “Guess what? I tell Papa he’s crazy.” She lapped up the rest of her soup and rose from the chair. “I’ll go now. Thank you for feeding me.”

  Jacobson got to his feet. “I’ll walk you home. It’s very late.”

  “So?” Betsy looked pugnacious. “It’s not midnight, is it?”

  “No,” he said, “but it’s still foggy and dark. I’m going in that direction anyway.”

  “Okay.” Betsy looked at Judith. “Please thank Vance for the soup.”

  “I will,” Judith promised while the deputy put on his jacket. He let Betsy go first before mouthing the words, “Wait for me.”

  Judith nodded and hurried to get her pills. She took them into the kitchen and had just swallowed the two tablets when Renie staggered out of the hallway. “Are they gone?” she asked, shoving strands of chestnut hair out of her eyes.

  “Yes,” Judith replied, “but Jacobson’s coming back. Did you hear any of that?”

  “All of it,” Renie said in disgust. “I’m going back to bed. You can entertain your new best friend. If I have to get up at nine, I need to go back to sleep. Alone.” She disappeared from view.

  Judith cleaned off the table. A glance at the kitchen clock told her it was a quarter to six. She wondered if there was any point in going back to bed, but hoped Jacobson wouldn’t stay long. He’d put in a harder day than she had.

  The deputy knocked on the door at exactly six. He went straight to the table where Judith had left the knife.

  “Is that the weapon?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Have you got a plastic bag I can put this in?”

  “Somewhere,” she said, but had to pull out three drawers before she found the stash of paper, plastic, and aluminum products. “Can your lab get anything useful off that thing?” she inquired.

  “Dubious.” Jacobson put the knife in the recyclable bag. “By the way, nice work getting Betsy to believe this belonged to the Webers.”

  “It was a long shot,” Judith admitted. “My only hope was that Betsy thought enough of Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince to please them by leaving the knife where it supposedly belonged. What happened when you took Betsy home?”

  Jacobson looked beleaguered. “The door was locked. I had to get somebody to hear me over the barking of guard dogs inside, but they roused Quimby’s son. He didn’t seem surprised by Betsy’s return this time of night. Or morning.”

  “Where is the Quimby house?” Judith asked. “I keep forgetting to check it out on the development map.”

  Jacobson gestured up and to his left. “It’s the fairly big gray house at the top of the hill. It must have three stories and a basement. I noticed earlier that it looked like the oldest structure in Obsession Shores.”

  “That makes sense,” Judith said. “Quimby inherited the property from his family, but selling it off lot by lot was his wife’s idea.”

  “Oh?” The deputy looked intrigued. “I don’t know much about the development’s history. That’s interesting. I feel remiss, having grown up here, but it’s a huge island.”

  “It’s also a long and rather narrow chunk of land.” Judith suddenly remembered the mystery boat. “I hate to bring this up, but . . .” She succinctly related the sightings. “Has anyone mentioned this to you?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Jacobson replied, “someone did, but it was a Scratchit Head resident, one of the people who reported a break-in. Of course we’ve no idea why the boat goes out so late in January. With this fog socked in, it’s probably
moored somewhere tonight.”

  “Did it seem to be coming from here or Scratchit Head?”

  “The person couldn’t tell,” the deputy responded, and moved to the door. “He saw it just off the point. In fact, he thought it was stopped. I’d better go before I fall asleep at the wheel. Thanks for the soup. Maybe I can sleep in and skip breakfast.”

  Judith wished him well before turning off the lights and heading to the master bedroom. She soon fell into a dreamless sleep. When she finally awoke, it was bright daylight and the fog was gone.

  A glance at the digital clock told her it was 9:50. Stunned, she struggled out of bed in search of Renie. She found her cousin still asleep. The alarm clock was on the floor. Shaking her head, Judith went into the bathroom. It was too late to go to Mass. By the time they got dressed and drove into Langton, the liturgy would almost be over. Feeling a twinge of guilt, she showered and prepared to face the day. Maybe God would forgive them for their sin of omission. Most people’s excuses for sleeping in on Sundays didn’t include someone else’s sin of commission.

  Renie showed up in the kitchen right after the coffee had begun to perk. “We’re going to hell,” she muttered. “I think I knocked over the alarm clock when I reached for more gum.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t throw it on the floor?” Judith asked.

  “The gum? I always throw it on the floor after I finish chewing it. Are we still going out for breakfast?”

  “No. We’ll eat here. I’ll start cooking while you put yourself together. Those tiger stripes are making me dizzy.”

  Renie wandered into the bathroom. She returned to the kitchen fifteen minutes later just as Judith was removing bacon from a skillet. “What,” she asked “is your revised plan for the day?”

  “Tackling the Quimbys,” Judith said. “Then joining the folks who are already on the beach. Some of them are clam digging. The tide’s already fairly far out. We should give clamming a shot, too.”