Clam Wake

by Mary Daheim

  “Well,” Jack said, sitting down, “you must be the cousin. You have a name?”

  “It’s Pig,” Judith asserted. “She ate all my prawns.”

  Wanda set a plate in front of Jack. “Oh, dear—did I forget to bring your sides?” she asked in an anxious tone.

  “That’s okay,” Jack said. “Any time will do.”

  “Wait!” Judith all but shouted. “Prawnie ate my reens! I mean—”

  Renie waved her fork. “Bring her another entrée. Some people are never satisfied. Oh—we could use more bread, too. Lots more bread.”

  Wanda hurried off. Judith noticed that the Bendareks and the Blomquists were staring at them.

  “Yo, tiger lady!” Zach shouted. “Anybody take a shot at you yet?”

  “No,” Renie called back, “but I’ve seen you take a shot at another lineman and get a fifteen-yard penalty for unnecessary roughness. Didn’t you notice he was on your team?” She turned to Jack. “I’m Renie, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

  “Right,” he murmured. “Good prawns.”

  Zach was guffawing so hard that Judith thought his chair would break. She held her head and wished she were back at the B&B, listening to her mother bitch and watching Sweetums mangle Mr. Olsen’s fez. Jack gobbled up two prawns at once.

  “So,” Renie said to their unexpected guest, “are you here to cover a story or just to hang out with all these fun folks on The Rock?”

  “Both,” he replied between mouthfuls. “Where are you staying?”

  Judith decided that since Renie had stuffed the last of the bread into her mouth, she might as well join the conversation. “We’re house-sitting for our aunt and uncle at Obsession Shores.”

  Jack put his fork down. “No kidding. In that case, I may interview you. But not here.”

  “Why?” Judith asked. “We’re not residents. We don’t know much more about the island’s tourist sights than you could find in a brochure on the ferry.”

  “So?” Jack ate a bite of pommes frites before speaking. “I’m not focusing on the getaway series right now. I’m talking about the murder.”

  He’d lowered his voice, but Judith noticed that the Bendareks and the Blomquists seemed absorbed in their food. “Why would that be of interest to Midwest readers?” she asked.

  “It’s not intended for them,” Jack replied. “Your local media isn’t covering it. That means I get an exclusive and maybe a wire service byline. Assuming there’s enough human interest, of course. Is there?”

  Judith was momentarily distracted by the arrival of her entrée, another basket of French bread, and an abject apology from the server. “Have you begun interviewing anyone yet?” Judith finally inquired after Wanda rushed away.

  Jack shook his head. “I only started this morning with the sheriff’s office, but the deputy heading the investigation is off today. I did nose around Obsession Shores before I came to dinner here. I went down to the beach, but I couldn’t figure out where the murder occurred.”

  Renie apparently noted that Judith’s mouth was full. “How did you know there was a murder in the first place?”

  “Some people were talking about it at that general store down the street,” Jack said, perhaps aware that the Bendarek table had grown quiet. “Let’s back off. I’d prefer not to be overheard. I’ll follow you back to Obsession Shores after dinner. Unless,” he added, his gray eyes mocking, “you two plan to make a wild night of it in Langton.”

  “Fine,” Judith said politely. “It’s not a suitable dinner topic. In any event, there’s nothing we can tell you.”

  Jack shrugged. “There’s always something people can tell me.” He finished buttering a chunk of crusty bread. “It’s what they don’t tell me that makes my job so interesting.”

  I don’t trust that guy,” Judith declared, pulling away from the curb after dinner.

  Renie laughed. “You’re just ticked off because you couldn’t spend the dinner hour speculating about whodunit.”

  Judith braked for the arterial. “Maybe I also got annoyed because somebody ate my prawns.”

  “They looked lonesome,” Renie said.

  Turning onto the highway, Judith checked to make sure Jack was still behind them. “Okay, I’m over it,” she asserted. “But we don’t give Jack one word about the murder case. Got it?”

  “Yeah, fine, sure,” Renie mumbled. “But I don’t understand why you mistrust him. He’s a journalist and maybe a bit of a hustler. The poor guy is working for the dinosaur-like print media. You can’t blame him for trying to make a name for himself so he can put food on the table. Writing blogs that nobody reads isn’t very profitable.”

  Judith frowned. “Have you considered that I don’t want to tell him what we’ve learned about the Obsession Shores residents?”

  “Frankly, we haven’t learned much,” Renie replied, sitting up straight again. “At least nothing that helps finger the killer. I’d like to be there when he comes up against the Quimbys, especially the old duffer.”

  Judith remained silent until they reached the turnoff that led to Obsession Shores. “Journalists have good sources. On second thought, I might humor Jack. He could do some legwork.”

  “Why not? As far as I can tell, he has two good hips.”

  “Maybe,” Judith said sheepishly, “what really bugs me is that he slipped by us and was prowling on the beach while I was on the computer and you were stuffing your face with dark chocolate.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Renie declared. “Be reasonable. You can’t keep track of what everybody’s doing around here. Have you forgotten that we were innocently sitting in Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince’s house while someone whacked Ernie Glover?”

  Judith’s shoulder’s slumped. “No. Damn. It’s all in the timing.”

  “You mean because nobody else saw it happen either?”

  Slowing for the turn into Obsession Shores, Judith glanced at Renie. “I think somebody did see it happen.”

  “Who?” Renie asked, staring at her cousin.

  “I want to be sure before I tell even you,” Judith said, steering the Subaru into the garage. “Even then, it might not matter.”

  Renie threw up her hands before getting out of the car.

  Five minutes later, the cousins were inside, sitting on the sofa—and still waiting for Jack Larrabee.

  “Wasn’t he right behind you?” Renie asked.

  “He was, the last time I looked,” Judith replied. “That was when we turned off to the development road by the sign.”

  “Have you got a cell number for him?”

  “No.” Judith made a face. “I do at home, though. I wonder if Arlene’s still there.”

  Renie checked her watch. “It’s going on eight.”

  Judith sighed and reached into her purse. “I’ll give it a shot. Check to see if his car has pulled up by the mailbox.”

  A breathless Arlene answered. “I was about to take your mother back to her cozy little apartment. She’s had us in stitches over her adventures as a flapper in the Roaring Twenties. She even tried to show us how to dance the Black Bottom.”

  “That’s . . . adorable,” Judith said. “I need a quick favor. Go to the computer and check the heading for last week’s guests. I need a phone—”

  “Judith,” Arlene interrupted, “I’ve told you, I have no idea how to turn on a computer, let alone use it. Carl might, but he went home to let Tulip out. Our poor doggie has been inside since just after Mass. Oh—your mother wants to wish you good night. Don’t you, dear Gertrude?” There was a pause. “Don’t you think that would be nice?” Arlene’s voice was pleading.

  Judith heard her mother mutter something, but a moment later the old lady was talking at the other end. “Yeah, I’m still alive. Quit hoping for otherwise. When are you two noodle heads coming home? Your aunt Deb’s called me about ten times today.”

  “I just wanted to say good night,” Judith fibbed, seeing Renie come back inside, shaking her head.

>   “Don’t hurry on my account,” Gertrude rasped. “I don’t know what you’re up to there on The Rock, but we’re having fun here. And I’ve never figured out what Vance and Vince do up there either. I’m sure glad we never got suckered into buying that empty lot next to the old grump.”

  “The . . .” Judith almost dropped the cell. “You mean next to the man who owned all the property?”

  “Who else? He and his foreign wife gave me a pain in my backside. Had a funny name too, like Quinsy. That’s an old-fashioned disease, you know. I guess it went out of style. Nobody gets sick with it anymore. Hang up now so I can watch my favorite TV show at eight o’clock. If I can remember what it is.” Gertrude rang off before Judith could say good-bye.

  “What now?” Renie asked. “You look as if you’ve been Gert-smacked.”

  “I have,” Judith said in a weak voice. “Mother told me that the vacant lot was the one they were going to buy. No wonder I felt as if it was haunted.”

  “Your father wouldn’t be haunting it,” Renie asserted. “You were the apple of Uncle Donald’s eye.”

  Judith smiled wistfully. “I know. Mother was always the disciplinarian. But that still doesn’t explain why the lot wasn’t sold to another buyer or why it feels so creepy.”

  “Only to you,” Renie said, though she sounded more puzzled than indifferent. “Maybe it’s because the lot represents a dream that your father had, but he died before he could make it come true.”

  “Perhaps,” Judith allowed. “I got the impression just now that Mother wasn’t all that keen on buying it in the first place. Back then, they still had the family cabins on the river. I honestly don’t remember much about the whole thing. I guess I was too caught up with my own life in those days.” She smiled again, still melancholy. “No sign of Jack?”

  “Maybe he got a hot news tip on his cell or somehow missed seeing you turn off here,” Renie suggested. “If he really wants to interview us, he’ll show up eventually.”

  “True. By the way, Arlene couldn’t look up Jack’s number. I forgot about her lack of computer knowledge.”

  “That can’t be helped and if anybody’s desperate to stay at the B&B, they’ll call,” Renie said, sitting down on the sofa. “What now? More online background?”

  Judith looked glum. “It hasn’t gotten us anywhere so far. We could call on Edna Glover again. Katie and Greg may still be at Cabaret.” She stood up and marched over to the peg by the kitchen wall. “If you want to sit there like a lump, fine.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Renie responded, sounding unusually bland, “I’ll do that. I’m tired of walking. I have flat feet, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Fine,” Judith said, putting on her coat. “Use your fallen arches to get up so you can lock the door behind me.”

  After waiting to hear a click from inside, Judith walked carefully down the steps. It occurred to her that she could spare her tired hip by driving to the Glover house. Five minutes later, she was parking the Subaru on the verge in front of the modest cedar-shake dwelling. A light glowed behind the living room window. Judith got out of the car, noting that the wreath was still in place on the front door. She waited only a few seconds before the teenager known to Judith as Em greeted her with a surprised expression.

  “I thought you were Mr. and Mrs. Blomquist,” she said, speaking louder as gleeful childish voices could be heard from the living room.

  “They don’t have a key?” Judith asked, stepping inside.

  Em looked embarrassed. “I wondered if they lost it. I shouldn’t have opened the door. I can’t see who’s on the porch because the wreath covers the peek hole. I’m trying to get the kids to settle down, but they’re in the living room with their sleeping bags. I’ve already turned off the lights in there twice. Come into the kitchen.”

  Judith followed Em down the short hall. “Actually, I came to see Mrs. Glover. Edna, I mean. I gather she’s not home.”

  “That’s right,” Em replied. “She’s gone.”

  “Gone to dinner?” Judith asked.

  Em shook her head. “Gone away. I don’t know when she plans to come back. Would you like to sit down?”

  Struck dumb by Em’s words, Judith could only nod. And sit.

  Three or four minutes passed while Em was laying down the law to the two Glover grandchildren in the living room. By the time the babysitter returned to the kitchen, Judith had regained her aplomb. She complimented Em on her handling of the little boys. “You must’ve have had a lot of practice, Em. Do you have younger siblings?”

  Em nodded as she sat down. “I’ve got two brothers, ten and eight. There aren’t many kids to babysit around here.”

  “I suppose that’s so,” Judith conceded. “Did you mean that Mrs. Glover—the grandmother—wasn’t coming back tonight?”

  “I guess,” Em said. “All I know is her daughter told me her mom was on an important journey.”

  “Do you know how long the Blomquists are staying here?”

  Em shook her head. “I hope it’s for a few days, though. They have some plans, so maybe I’ll get to babysit again.”

  “Plans to . . . maybe stay on for Mr. Glover’s funeral?”

  “I don’t know about that. I just heard the kids’ dad say something about a plan. Or plans. Brad was crying, so I didn’t catch all of it.”

  Puzzled, Judith surrendered, deciding that she shouldn’t badger Em any longer. “I should go. It’s quiet in the living room now. You probably want to watch TV.”

  “There isn’t a TV here.” Em smiled wryly as she and Judith both stood up. “Kind of weird, huh? But I’ve got my homework.”

  “You’re very conscientious,” Judith said. “Do you live close by?”

  “In back of this house,” Em replied. “If my parents weren’t right there, I’d be kind of scared to stay alone with little kids.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Judith paused with her hand on the doorknob. “If anyone else comes to the door, ask who it is before you open it.”

  Em grimaced. “I will. That was really dumb of me not to do that. But their parents told me they’d be home by eight. It’s almost that now.”

  Judith wished Em good night and left. Sure enough, a car was coming along the road in her direction. She hurried to the Subaru, but once inside, she waited to make sure it was the younger Glovers. Up close she saw that the vehicle was some kind of big SUV. It slowed down next to her and stopped. The driver rolled down the window.

  “Hey,” Zach Bendarek shouted in a suspicious voice. “What’s up?”

  Judith pressed the button for the passenger window. “It’s me,” she called back, glimpsing Katie and Greg behind the Bendareks. “I’m just leaving.”

  “Oh,” Zach said. “Take it easy. I think somebody’s trying to break into the Weber house. Have a good one.” He rolled the window back up.

  Chapter 20

  Judith couldn’t see any cause for alarm at her aunt and uncle’s house. She assumed Zach had seen Jack Larrabee trying to get Renie’s attention. But as she turned onto the main road to reach the garage, she saw no sign of Jack’s car. Mild panic set in as she hurried up the stairs and pounded on the door. There was no immediate response. Heedless of what anyone within hearing range might think, she yelled Renie’s name.

  To her relief, she finally heard her cousin’s voice. “What’s the password?” Renie inquired.

  “Pig,” Judith yelled. “Open up!”

  It took Renie several seconds to unlock the door. “Is someone chasing you?” she asked. “You look awful.”

  “Never mind. Zach told me someone was trying to break in here.”

  “Oh. Right.” Renie stretched and yawned. “It was Jack. He’s in the can. His car broke down right before he saw us turn off. He’s been waiting for AAA to rescue him. The Nissan was towed into Langton.”

  “You mean we’ve got another overnight guest?” Judith asked, struggling to get out of her car coat.

  “Probably,” Renie said
grudgingly. “We seem to have inherited Auntie Vance’s knack for hospitality. Or yours.”

  “I get paid for it,” Judith murmured. “Wait,” she said, brightening. “We can drive him over to Scratchit Head and then watch for the phantom ship.”

  “Oh . . .” Renie twirled around the kitchen floor. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten that nutty idea.”

  Jack had emerged from the bathroom and was about to sit down in the recliner. “What nutty idea?” he asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” Renie said, opening the wooden bread box on the kitchen counter. “I forgot about Auntie Vance’s coffee cake.”

  “You can’t be hungry already,” Judith declared.

  “Homemade coffee cake?” Jack inquired. “I haven’t tasted that since my wife left me for the piano tuner.”

  “It has to be warmed up,” Renie said after cutting off a slice. “Vance must’ve made it Wednesday or Thursday.”

  “You got any coffee to go with it?” Jack asked.

  “No coffee this late,” Renie shot back. “Have some booze like everybody else does up here.”

  Jack declined the liquor. “Why do you think my wife left me?” he murmured. “She doesn’t know how to play the piano.” He turned to Judith, who’d sat down on the sofa. “You know anything about Ernie Glover’s murder?”

  “Not really,” Judith replied. “Do you?”

  “Just snatches of information I’ve picked up in Langton and the folks at Scratchit Head,” Jack said, staring at his scuffed black leather boots. “Unreliable for a reporter. I need facts. I figured out approximately where the victim was found because my pal Jerry’s wife had spotted what looked like emergency people congregating on the beach Friday afternoon.” His gaze flicked over the cousins. “I’ve no idea who discovered the body and called the cops. Evelyn—Jerry’s wife—thought she saw a couple of women.” The keen gray eyes finally fixed on Judith.

  “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “So Renie and I found Ernie Glover. That doesn’t mean we have any idea who killed him. We’d just arrived less than an hour before we went down to the beach. And no, we’d never met the victim.”

  Jack’s expression was bland. “Your relatives must’ve known him. How did they react to his murder?”