by Mary Daheim
Renie held up her hands. “I confess! I didn’t give your kids Valium.” She paused. “It was Xanax.”
Judith shot her cousin a dirty look. “Mrs. Jones didn’t give them anything. She likes to make inappropriate jokes now and then.”
The tall man with the shaved head frowned at Renie as he picked up the now-whimpering Brad. “Some joke. I was about to pay you a call. I don’t take well to anybody messing with my children.”
“The Wobble-Dobble made me do it,” Renie declared, wide-eyed. “I plead temporary insanity.”
A glint of humor showed up in Greg’s brown eyes. “You might make that work in court. Or you could sue the toy maker.”
Judith felt it was time to change the subject. “Have you been digging for buried treasure?” she asked with a smile.
Katie smiled back. “Oh, yes! Very special.” She tapped Josh’s head. “Show the nice ladies what you and Brad found in the big hole.”
Josh hesitated, but moved closer. “See?” he said, opening a grubby hand. “It’s old money from an old ship. From pirates, maybe.”
Judith leaned down cautiously to study three grimy coins. “Canadian pennies with Queen Elizabeth. That’s fantastic, Josh!”
Katie patted her older son’s head. “There’s been a lot of talk about coins being found around here lately. Someone mentioned a stash of old French coins. Greg doesn’t think that’s likely. He teaches American history and knows the subject really well.”
Her husband shrugged. “French explorers didn’t have a big presence in this part of the country.”
“True,” Judith agreed, turning to Katie. “Is your brother here yet?”
Kate shook her head. “Denver’s still snowed in. Maybe tomorrow. Mom told him not to miss work, so he might wait until the funeral. She doesn’t see any point in him making two trips in such a short time.”
“We’d better go,” Greg said, still holding Brad, who was rubbing his eyes. “It’s an early nap after all this fresh air.” He nodded at the cousins. “Nice to meet you. Next time, Mrs. Jones, give the boys a shot of Scotch.”
The Blomquists continued heading for the staircase.
“At least,” Renie remarked, after the family was out of hearing range, “Greg’s got a sense of humor. It’s good to meet a normal person.”
“Greg and Katie don’t live here,” Judith said. “Have you noticed that except for a mention of the Crowleys—who were gone when the murder occurred—none of the other people we’ve met have talked about the younger residents except in a vague, general way?”
Renie looked pained. “Does this mean you can’t be a suspect if you’re under fifty? What about the Bendareks?”
“Borderline,” Judith said. “Zach would bash in somebody’s head, not resort to weaponry. Becca might use a knife, but I can’t think why she’d kill Ernie. In fact, that’s the biggest problem. I don’t see a motive for anyone. I keep going back to the remark about Quimby being the person who should’ve been killed. This whole case is backward.”
Renie was silent as they continued along the damp sand. “What about Edna Glover? A spouse is always the first suspect.”
Judith shook her head. “If she wanted to kill her husband, she could’ve poisoned him with all the meds she takes. Poison is more of a woman’s weapon and it’s harder to detect.” She frowned. “I didn’t ask Jacobson if a full autopsy was being done. Maybe I should call him.”
“Would that be automatic in a homicide investigation?”
“I think that depends on the jurisdiction and the immediate survivors,” Judith replied. “Let’s check out the boathouse. It looks as if all the fishermen have come off the bay. I’ll call Jacobson later. I kind of hate to, since he’s off duty. That sort of thing always annoyed Joe when he was on the police force.”
The tide was out so far that the cousins gave the murder site a wide berth. “They can’t store very big boats in that building,” Judith remarked, nodding to a couple they didn’t recognize who were clamming nearby. “You’d think Obsession Shores would have its own marina.”
Renie shrugged. “It’s not too far to drive to Scratchit Head.”
“That’s so,” Judith agreed. “I’ve never noticed if you can get from here to there at low tide.”
“You can’t,” Renie said. “I mean, Bill tried to do it once when we were up here. Just beyond the boathouse, the bluff rises so sharply that there’s no way to get around it, even when the tide’s out.” She waved a hand in the direction of the forested land beyond the development. “You’d have to climb up that hill and it’s really steep. As for driving to Scratchit Head, you go back to the main highway and turn due west instead of going south to get here.”
Judith nodded as they approached the boathouse’s wooden steps. “Come to think of it, I’ve seen the sign for Scratchit Head. Let’s hope this place isn’t locked.”
Renie went first and turned the knob. “It’s not,” she said—and gasped as the door opened, almost knocking her into Judith.
“Sorry!” Zach Bendarek cried. “You okay, tiger lady?”
“I guess,” Renie replied, catching her breath. “You’re dangerous when it comes to doors, big fella.”
Zach looked sheepish. “Wish I’d been more dangerous on the field. You got a boat in here?”
“No,” Judith said. “We’re just visiting, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Zach pounded a fist into his palm. “Darn! You already told me. Your uncle’s got that old beat-up boat on the beach, right? How come he doesn’t use it for firewood? That thing’s a wreck.”
“Uncle Vince keeps hoping it’ll heal itself,” Judith murmured.
Zach frowned. “It won’t. The only thing it’s good for is when Betsy Quimby sits in it and pretends she’s a pirate. The poor lady doesn’t know it’d sink if she ever put it in the water.”
“Betsy’s in her own little world,” Judith said kindly.
“Good place to be,” Zach murmured, edging around the cousins to get down the steps. “I wouldn’t want to live anywhere near . . .” He stopped speaking as soon as reached the sand. “Never mind. See you around. If you’re still here.”
“You know what?” Renie said as they went inside. “I’d like to listen to Zach and Betsy hold a debating contest.”
“You’re mean,” Judith declared, closing the door behind her. “As we thought—they’re pretty basic and lightweight with room for no more than six people. Most seem to be made of aluminum and have some kind of canopy, unlike Uncle Vince’s. I wonder what he did with the motor.”
“He had a motor?” Renie asked. “I could’ve sworn he used oars when I was out in it.”
“Maybe he did,” Judith said. “He always had trouble starting it. The boats in here are probably used mainly for fishing and crabbing. I wouldn’t want to go out farther than the bay in any of them.”
“Right,” Renie drawled. She gazed at the thirty or more craft lining the walls. “It might get choppy out in the Sound. I see a couple of kayaks, too. They all look seaworthy to me, though. I can’t see any visible holes.”
“I hope not. You’re the one who had a seagoing father.” Judith studied a printed list near the door. “This shows who stores boats in here along with the time they go out and come back. I don’t recognize most of the names except for Bennett, Hilderschmidt, Leonetti, and Logan.”
“What about Bendarek?” Renie asked.
Judith scanned the list a second time. “No. He’s not listed.” She was puzzled. “So why was Zach here?”
“Because he forgot he doesn’t own a boat?”
Judith didn’t answer right away. “I wonder if he was in a boat with somebody else and lingered after they came in. It took us a couple of minutes to walk over here. I didn’t see anybody go inside, only a couple of people coming out. The ramp’s not wide enough to accommodate anything but small craft. It goes off at an angle, maybe the better to catch the tide.”
“You think Zach was looking for another body?�
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Judith sighed. “No. It just seems odd. But Zach is a little odd. Heck, maybe he’s thinking of buying a boat and was checking the ones here. Let’s go. We haven’t learned a blasted thing. Do you really want to dig clams?”
Renie didn’t answer until they were outside again. “Well, why not? The tide’s still going out. You stay here. I’ll get a bucket and a couple of shovels. Or do the Webers have a clam gun?”
“I don’t think they’ve ever bothered to get one,” Judith replied. “Auntie Vance likes the exercise. I’ve never seen Uncle Vince dig clams. He might doze off and end up facedown in the sand.” She winced. “That reminds me of Ernie. I think I’ll stay away from that log.”
Renie gave her cousin a thumbs-up sign and trotted off to the staircase. Judith strolled on, noting there were only four clam diggers still on the beach. Closer to the bank, several teenagers were clambering over driftwood on the far side of the staircase. One of them looked like Chad Bendarek. To her surprise, he jumped off a weather-beaten stump, gestured to a young girl, and hurried to join Judith.
“Hi,” he called out, coming closer. “Mop told me you found Mr. Glover’s body. Is that for real?”
“I’m afraid so,” Judith admitted. “My cousin was with me.”
“Awesome,” Chad murmured, putting a hand on the girl’s arm. “This is Em. She thinks she knows who whacked Mr. G.”
Em gave Chad a disgusted look. “I never said that. I only thought they looked like they were arguing when I saw Mr. Glover talking to Mr. Hilderschmidt that afternoon.” She turned to Judith. “I had to stay home from school that day because I had a bad cold. I don’t want to get Mr. Hilderschmidt in trouble, even if he is a total doof.”
Judith kept her tone neutral. “No blows exchanged?”
“No,” Em replied. “Mr. Hilderschmidt waved his arms, though.”
Judith glanced up the hill. “Do you live close to the beach?”
Em nodded, her frizzy golden curls highlighted by the noonday sun. “Halfway up on the right—from here, I mean. I was using binoculars so I could bird-watch. We’re doing a science project on sea life.”
Judith nodded. “How did Mr. Glover look?”
“He was sort of turned away,” Em responded. “But he looked . . . like maybe he was sort of like . . . trying to back off?”
“An argument, perhaps?” Judith suggested.
Em shrugged. “I stopped watching. I thought I saw a crane, but it turned out to be a weird-looking seagull.”
“What time was that?”
Em’s round face scrunched up. “Um . . . just before two? I was watching a soap. While I studied, I mean. It was the last commercial break before the Friday cliffhanger. I hate those. I zonked out after that. The decongestant I take makes me sleepy. I didn’t get to see the excitement after you found Mr. Glover.”
“It wasn’t exactly exciting,” Judith said. “In fact, my cousin and I left almost as soon as the emergency people arrived.” She saw Renie coming down the steps with a bucket and two shovels. “Here’s Mrs. Jones now. Did the police talk to you?”
Em’s plain face looked blank. “No. Somebody came to our house, but he only asked Mom a couple of questions.” She looked at Chad. “Hey, let’s go. I don’t want to talk to some guy in a uniform. That is so not cool.” She didn’t wait for Chad, but headed back to join the other teens.
“Sorry ’bout that,” he murmured, and sauntered off after Em.
Renie kept walking right past Judith. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder. “We’ll have better luck closer to the water. Nobody’s dug there yet. Skip the horse clams and geoducks. They taste like tires.”
“Right,” Judith shouted, following her cousin.
Renie stopped some ten feet from the outgoing tide. “So now you’re interrogating the younger set?”
“Chad volunteered Em,” Judith replied. “I don’t know her last name, but she saw Ernie and Hank having what appeared to be an argument not long before the murder occurred.”
Renie was looking around for clam holes. “Over here,” she said, motioning for Judith to join her. “Do you believe the kid or do you think she likes attention?”
“I don’t know. After she unloaded on me, I found out that whichever deputy went to their house spoke to her mother, but not to her.” Judith paused to take a shovel from Renie. “Em stayed home from school because she had a cold. She was using binoculars, so she couldn’t have misidentified the two men.”
“Drama queen?” Renie asked, starting to dig by some tiny holes in the sand that indicated clams were spitting in the vicinity.
“No.” Judith plunged her shovel into the wet sand a few feet away from Renie. “Very ordinary sort of fourteen-, fifteen-year-old girl. It’s plausible, though it’s not exactly evidence.”
Renie laughed. “Since when has a lack of that quantity stopped you? You tend to go by your gut, coz.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” Judith said, finding the digging fairly easy. “What would Ernie and Hank be arguing about? A woman? Ernie playing around with Hilda doesn’t sound right. Edna’s a beauty queen by comparison. Not that looks count for everything. It’d work better the other way around with Hank and Edna getting it on.”
“Gack,” Renie muttered. “Hank’s about as appealing as a geoduck. If I . . . whoa!” She got down on her haunches, one hand gripping the shovel for support, the other reaching into the hole she’d dug. “I think I’ve found some buried treasure,” she said, standing up and coming to show Judith what was in her hand. “See for yourself.”
“I can’t see much,” Judith retorted, “except that it’s a black coin with markings.”
“Look closer,” Renie urged. “Can you make out what looks like a flower—a rose, to be precise—on the right of the inner circle?”
Judith squinted at the blackened coin. “It could be a flower of some kind, but why not a camellia or a gardenia or a—”
“Hold it.” Renie scraped the coin with her long thumbnail. “This doesn’t help much, but see if it’s a little better defined.”
Judith refocused. “Okay, if you say it’s a rose, I’ll go with that. Do I see a profile? Whoever it is seems to be wearing a houseplant on his or her head.”
Renie let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, okay. It’s a Tudor rose and that’s Queen Elizabeth the First. She’s wearing a crown, not a ficus. I can see the word ‘regina’ and part of her name in the outer circle.”
“Your eyes are better than mine,” Judith said, “though now I can tell it’s a profile. But is it authentic?”
Renie picked up the coin and stared at it again before responding. “Heck, I don’t know. It has to be from the latter half of the sixteenth century. Elizabeth didn’t become queen until 1556. No English ships ever came this way back then. Mr. Moffitt’s the local numismatic expert.”
“As I recall, he’s closed Sundays, at least in winter. Do you think there could be more of those . . . can you tell the denomination?”
Renie put the coin in her parka’s pocket. “No. I can’t make out the rest of the letters after E-L-I-Z. I’ll dig farther down to see if there are any more. I might even find a clam.”
Judith found one before Renie did. Two, in fact. “Littlenecks,” she exulted. “Yum!”
“Don’t gloat,” Renie warned her. “This hole’s a dud. Except for the coin. I’m moving farther down toward the tide.”
The cousins dug in silence for the next quarter hour. Renie had uncovered enough clams that she had to carry them on the shovel, treading cautiously to make sure she didn’t lose any along the way.
“We’ve got enough for more chowder,” Judith said. “Or should we steam them tonight?”
Renie considered the half-full bucket. “I say we dig for more. I can eat piles of steamed clams.”
“So you can,” Judith said drily, scanning the beach. “I see some other people have come onto the beach. Is that the Logans just below the clubhouse?”
Renie shield
ed her eyes with her hand. The sun was starting to move to the west. “I think so. They’re coming this way. Haven’t you already grilled them?”
Judith shook her head. “Only Kent. I haven’t met Suzie.”
“Here’s your big chance,” Renie said, moving off to seek fresh sand.
Judith kept digging, but didn’t lose sight of the Logans, who were definitely headed toward her. From some thirty yards away, Kent waved. Judith waved back, leaning on the shovel.
“We’re seeking our supper,” she said as the couple came closer. “Are you the rare locals who don’t like clams?”
Kent laughed. “We do, but only once a week. This is my wife, Suzie. I told her about you and your cousin.”
Judith grimaced. “I won’t shake hands. I’m kind of grimy.”
Suzie smiled, showing perfect white teeth. Indeed, everything about Mrs. Logan seemed flawless, from her glowing rosy skin to her sleek silver ponytail. “I saw you at the meeting Friday. What a farce! We didn’t get a chance to introduce ourselves before the stampede started.”
Renie had wandered over with another dozen or more clams. “Hi,” she said. “I’m the other niece.”
Suzie nodded. “It’s nice to have normal people around here like your aunt and uncle. Sometimes I wonder if we made a mistake retiring here. There are some odd ducks at Obsession Shores.”
Kent looked apologetic. “The problem is that it’s a very small community. Scratchit Head’s probably the same way. People’s eccentricities tend to be more glaring.”
Suzie shrugged. “Maybe someday I’ll buy that argument.” Her attractive features turned gloomy. “I can’t imagine how horrible it was to find Ernie’s body. That must’ve happened not long after you arrived.”
“True,” Judith replied, hoping to look suitably distressed. “We thought we’d take a walk before the rain started.”
Kent put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’d planned to do that but I got held up on a long call to a client. By the time I got off the line, the weather had turned bad.”