All the Pretty Hearses

by Mary Daheim

  “Ahem,” she said in a loud voice.

  The guests, who had been engaged in what sounded like contentious conversation, turned in her direction. The only exception was Zoë Paine, who was sitting alone on the window seat and appeared to be brooding. Whatever had made her giggle upon her arrival apparently was no longer amusing.

  “Dinner will be ready in less than five minutes,” Judith announced. “Everything will be on the sideboard or the table. I’ve marked all the dishes to indicate the ones that are nonallergenic, vegetarian, lactose- or gluten-tolerant. Or intolerant.” She grimaced. “You know what I mean. I hope.”

  Her announcement was met with less than enthusiasm. Apparently liquor hadn’t improved the Paines’ dispositions. Judith hadn’t seen so many surly drinkers since the Meat & Mingle’s Wednesday Whopper Whiskey Nights.

  “Screw it,” she muttered under her breath as she went down the hall. And immediately felt a twinge of guilt. It was followed by a voice in her head saying, Hey—you have a right to be upset with these jerks. Your husband is AWOL, someone apparently has broken into his safe, you got stiffed by the Beard-Smythes, you’ve worked your butt off preparing for this event, there’s a dead horse in your garage, and it’s possible that one of your current guests may be involved in something shady. Give yourself a break.

  Renie, holding a big wooden salad bowl, was blocking Judith’s way into the kitchen. “You look like bird crap,” Renie said. “Why do I have the feeling you’re mentally beating yourself up?”

  “How do you know?” Judith snapped. “You’re supposed to be drunk.”

  “I’m never so drunk that I can’t tell when you’re beating up on yourself,” Renie replied, moving out of her cousin’s way. “What now?”

  “I should be relieved,” Judith said, entering the kitchen, but holding the half doors open for Renie. “Hannah took Zachary home.”

  “I’m relieved,” Renie said. “Now I won’t have to avoid him.”

  Addison was dishing up the rice pilaf. “Zachary Conrad . . .” he murmured. “Lighting department, right?”

  Judith nodded. “Renie’s doing a project for them. She didn’t want Zachary to see her slaving in the kitchen. It’d ruin her professional image.”

  “Conrad’s a bit of a stuffed shirt,” Addison remarked. “I’ve interviewed him two, three times over the years about power outages and rate increases. He was a pretty fair basketball player back in the day, and was a third-round draft pick, but only spent a couple of years in the pros. He went to fat. Good shot, but slow as mold.”

  “Fat?” Judith said in surprise. “The guy’s a beanpole.”

  Addison’s expression was puzzled. “The guy was six three, one-eighty—two-twenty before he was cut. He’d gained another fifteen the last time I saw him almost a year ago.”

  Judith was shocked. “Then he’s got more than the flu wrong with him. I doubt Zachary weighs more than one-fifty. He’s as thin as a rail.”

  “My God.” Addison shook his head. “That’s terrible. I should ask around City Hall to see what’s wrong with him.”

  Renie had returned from setting out the salad bowl. “What’s wrong with who?”

  “Zachary Conrad,” Judith said.

  Renie shrugged. “He’s an executive. Let me count the ways . . .”

  “Never mind.” Judith put a big serving spoon in the bowl of rice. “Did you say you’ve never met him?”

  “That’s right,” Renie responded, “and I’d like to keep it that way. Why? Is he even worse than I expected?”

  “He’s very ill,” Judith said. “I don’t think it’s mere flu.”

  Renie looked affronted. “You think I poisoned him?”

  Judith sighed. “Of course not. I’m just stating a fact.”

  “Stick to feeding the herd that’s here,” Renie said. “Some of the Paines are gathering around the trough.”

  Judith peered over the half doors. Andy and Paulina Paine were picking up their plates. “You’re right. And here come the three Blairs. Let’s get the rest of the food out there pronto.”

  In less than five minutes, Judith, Renie, and Addison had finished setting out all of the dishes except for the desserts. The guests spent a long time reading the posted signs on each item before picking and choosing what suited their various dietary requirements. Judith, who had remained on the kitchen side of the half doors, motioned to Paulina and asked if the twins were still planning on coming to dinner.

  “Who knows?” Paulina said with a careless shrug. “Kids!” She moved on along the sideboard.

  Renie poked Judith. “Ask her if she likes horse meat.”

  “Keep it down,” Judith warned between clenched teeth. “We’re short four settings at the table. Hannah, Zachary, the twins . . . no, five.” She moved farther into the kitchen to avoid being overheard. “Where’s Zoë? She was moping on the window seat the last time I saw her.”

  “Which eating disorder does she have?” Renie inquired. “Starvation?”

  Judith shook her head. “She’s the vegan. And future vet.”

  Addison had started down the hall to the back door. “I’ll check to see if I can spot her through the French doors.”

  “Good,” Judith said. She polished off her Scotch and sighed. “I can’t tell—are they enjoying themselves at all?”

  “Maybe,” Renie said slowly, “they have a different way of enjoying themselves. It could be genetics. Did you ever see Norma and Wilbur actually having a good time?”

  “No, now that you mention it,” Judith admitted. “It’s so different from our own family. We always had such a wonderful time at that dining room table. Lots of laughter, heated but never hurtful arguments, uncles and aunts playing tricks on each other . . . it was the way we grew up. Lots of love, plenty of good times, and amazing memories to cherish. This bunch is . . . painful to behold.”

  Renie gave a start. “I hear a phone. It sounds like mine.” She hurried over to the counter, where she’d left her purse.

  Judith began loading the dirty cookware into the dishwasher. The drone of desultory conversation, interrupted only by an occasional caustic remark, made her feel as if all her hard work had gone for naught. She wondered if Norma Paine had forced her family to accept the auction item. It wouldn’t surprise Judith. Norma’s sheer willpower wasn’t easy to fend off. Judith almost felt sorry for her cheerless guests.

  A shriek from Renie broke into her gloomy thoughts. “Are you sure?” her cousin was saying into the phone. “He can’t just disappear into thin air! He’s too tall to miss.” She paused, listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Keep looking, or go back to your seat and wait for him to show up.” Another pause followed as Judith kept her eye on Renie, who was now shaking her head. “Okay, okay. Just call me back and let me . . . yes, I know you hate using the phone . . . fine, g’bye.” Clicking off the cell, she leaned against the counter. “Bill’s lost Uncle Al.”

  Before Judith could respond, Addison returned to the kitchen. “No sign of Zoë. Maybe she’s in the bathroom.”

  “Maybe,” Renie snapped, “she’s run off with Uncle Al.”

  Addison looked puzzled. “Uncle Al? Who’s—”

  “Skip it,” Judith interrupted. “What happened?” she asked Renie.

  “Bill and Uncle Al got their hot dogs and ate them on the concourse.” Renie moved away from the counter and started pacing around the kitchen. “Uncle Al ran into one of his many sports-loving chums. The game was about to start, so Bill told Uncle Al he was going to their seats, which, as you might guess, are practically on the floor at midcourt. Uncle Al told Bill he’d be right there. But by the middle half of the first quarter, Uncle Al never showed up. Bill went out to look for him and couldn’t find him anywhere, including the men’s room. He didn’t see any sign of whoever Uncle Al was talking to either.”

  “D
id Bill know who it was?” Judith asked.

  “No. Bill didn’t wait to be introduced. He always likes to see the very start of a game, even the warm-ups. Bill thought the guy looked familiar. He has a good eye for faces, but couldn’t come up with a name. Tall, more Bill’s age or younger. Bill thought the guy had prematurely gray hair. And before you ask, it seemed like a friendly conversation.”

  Judith thought for a moment. “Uncle Al probably knows at least half the nonstudent section. Maybe he went with this old pal to meet and greet some other mutual friends.”

  Renie made a face. “It’s not impossible, but Bill would’ve seen him. Uncle Al’s six four. He stands out even in a basketball crowd, especially if whoever he’s talking to is already seated.”

  “True,” Judith conceded. “But if anything happened to Uncle Al—like suddenly getting ill—someone would’ve noticed. I assume Bill asked the ushers or some other people working at the game.”

  “He did,” Renie said. “Nothing to report.”

  “Damn.” Judith had an urge to bite her fingernails, a lifelong habit. “I don’t know what to say.” She turned to Addison. “I should ask Walter and Sonya what happened to Zoë.”

  Addison’s expression suddenly grew taut. “No. Let’s wait.”

  “For what?” Judith demanded. “The entire guest list and the rest of my family members to evaporate into thin air? If you don’t ask them, I will.” She turned around and headed into the dining room.

  The group at the dining room table seemed to be arguing over whether or not their particular dishes met their dietary needs, or if some of the offerings had been mislabeled.

  “This can’t be real tofu,” Dennis squeaked. “It tastes like soap.”

  “I hate asparagus,” Sonya declared. “Since Hannah isn’t here, why couldn’t we have something else for a vegetable?”

  Octavia laughed harshly. “You are a vegetable, Sonya.”

  “Watch your mouth!” Walter roared. “You and your father are slow learners. Our family doesn’t put up with insults from ill-bred people. We take great pride in being Paines.”

  Octavia tossed a radish at Walter. “I can’t think why. Stick it, Wally. Don’t ever criticize my dad.”

  “I will when he deserves it,” Walter retorted, picking the radish off of his tie. “And don’t call me Wally!”

  Dennis Blair bridled. “Leave my little girl alone. Can’t you tell when she’s teasing?”

  “She’s not teasing,” Sonya insisted, lips pursing.

  Judith had heard enough. “Excuse me,” she said, trying to sound pleasant. “Is there anything you need?” Like a group kick in the butt?

  Most of the eyes that turned toward their hostess looked hostile or angry. The eldest Paine, Andrew, answered first. “We’re managing. Did Mama send over my special pillow?”

  “Oh!” Judith exclaimed, having forgotten about the delivery Norma had made the previous day. “Yes. I wasn’t here, but it’s upstairs.” I think. For all I care it could be in Rankerses’ hedge. “I understand,” she went on, glancing at Walter, “that one of you lives on a ranch.”

  The Paine brothers frowned at Judith. “A ranch?” Andrew said. “No. Paulina and I live over on the Eastside. Gated community. Very nice.”

  Paulina rolled her eyes. “The gates keep the rest of the population safe from the residents. They can only be unlocked from the outside.”

  Andrew stared angrily at his wife. “I bought that house for you! It’s five thousand square feet of utter comfort.”

  “You bought it to show off,” Paulina snarled. “I never wanted to live in a monstrous place like that. I was perfectly satisfied with our nice house in town. You’re the one who complains about the commute to your damned food factory.”

  Andrew turned glum. “I thought it’d make you happy. I guess I was wrong. Again.”

  Walter reached around Sonya to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t bicker like this. Mama wouldn’t approve. She paid for us to have a nice time together.”

  “Together!” Sarah Blair cried. “I hate together!” She jumped out of her chair, knocked the salad bowl’s wooden spoon onto the floor, shoved her way past Judith, and fled from the dining room.

  “Touchy,” Walter muttered. “Baby sister’s always been the weak link. Hannah’s made of sterner stuff.”

  Paulina sniffed. “Are you referring to the loose nuts and bolts inside Hannah’s head?”

  “Now, Paulina . . .” Andrew began, but caught his wife’s warning glance and shut up.

  Judith noted that there were now six empty chairs at the table. The auction event was a fiasco. Norma Paine had wasted Wilbur’s hard-earned money. But it’s not my fault, she thought. And yet she felt guilty. Not every guest at Hillside Manor had been happy. Some of them had ended up dead. Not my fault, either, she told herself. They had brought their victim status with them.

  But Judith couldn’t let the sense of guilt subside. It was in her nature to make people feel good. That was the reason she’d become an innkeeper. Failure clung to her like a damp shirt.

  “I’m sorry you’re not enjoying yourselves,” she blurted. “Some of your family members seem to have left. The twins never actually arrived.” She turned to Sonya. “Do you know where Zoë went?”

  Sonya looked away; Walter fidgeted with his linen napkin. The silence in the dining room seemed filled with foreboding. Judith felt a shiver creep up her spine.

  It was Sonya who finally spoke. “For all we know, she’s dead!” She burst into tears and collapsed against Walter’s shoulder.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Judith was momentarily speechless. Sonya’s body shook as the tears flowed and she made little mewing noises. Walter awkwardly patted her back. “Now, now, sweetheart, you know Zoë’s fine. Moody, that’s our girl. I guess she wasn’t feeling festive tonight.”

  Paulina looked pale, Dennis hung his head, and Octavia seemed perturbed. Judith moved closer to the table. “Can I help in any way?”

  Walter waved a hand. “Just nerves. Postholiday blues.”

  “Has Zoë actually left?” Judith inquired.

  “Uh . . .” Walter stopped patting his wife and rubbed his balding head. “Well . . . she’s not here, is she?”

  Andrew, who was seated in front of Judith, turned in his chair. “Didn’t you poison a guest a few years ago?”

  Judith was aghast. “Of course not! A guest poisoned a fortune-teller. I didn’t even know those people. Did Norma—I mean, your mother—tell you that?”

  Sonya sniffled before looking up at Judith. “It was in the newspapers and on TV.” She sniffled again. “A couple of years later a gangster was shot by your mother.”

  “What about that movie big shot?” Walter demanded, all but shoving his wife away from him. “Didn’t he drown in your kitchen sink?”

  “Hey!” Renie, wielding a carving knife, had come up behind Judith, startling not only her cousin but everyone at the table. “Knock it off! Don’t any of you idiots remember that your father—or father-in-law or whatever that wimp Wilbur is to you—was a prime suspect in a stabbing death at church?”

  Andrew had grown red in the face. “Papa wasn’t a killer! He was the Easter Bunny!”

  Paulina had stood up. “May I say something before the kitchen help goes samurai with that knife?”

  Andrew put a hand on his wife’s arm. “Don’t, darling, please. You’ll only make things worse.”

  “Get stuffed!” Paulina snapped, shaking off Andrew’s hand. “In the interest of common decency, I say we end this farce right now. It isn’t fair to Mrs. Flynn. It isn’t fair to any of us, really. Be honest—we don’t like or trust each other much. Not without reason, but I won’t go into—”

  “Stop!” Walter bellowed. “Don’t you dare hang our dirty laundry out to dry here!”

  Pau
lina narrowed her eyes at her brother-in-law. “I didn’t intend to. That’s why I think we should adjourn.” She pushed her chair back, moved around behind Andrew, and offered her hand to Judith. “Thank you. It’s not your fault these Paines are such . . . pains.”

  Sonya was still sniffling, but her tears had dried. “She’s right. Let’s go.”

  Andrew seemed reluctant. “Mama paid for . . .”

  Sonya shook her head, but said nothing more. She, too, got to her feet and left the table. Octavia tugged at Dennis’s sleeve. “Come on, Dad. You never should’ve let Sarah con you into this . . . whatever it was supposed to be.”

  Dennis gave his daughter a bleak look. “Sarah insisted that her mama thought it would be an opportunity for us to iron things out as a family. I guess she was wrong.” He scowled and scrunched up his napkin. “Where is Sarah? Did she leave without us?”

  The question was answered by Sarah herself, who stood in the doorway between the dining room and hall. “Mama was wrong,” she said, her voice quivering. “Even she can’t fix our problems. Get our luggage. I can’t wait to leave town.”

  Dennis reluctantly stood up. Octavia took his arm as they joined Sarah and disappeared into the hall. Paulina had already shaken hands with Judith and made her exit. The Paine brothers had little choice but to follow their wives. As the room emptied, Judith’s guilt subsided, but was replaced with melancholy.

  As often happened, Renie could read her cousin’s mind. She put a hand on Judith’s shoulder. “Where’s Grandpa doing the after-dinner jig? Where’s my dad asking what kind of apple pie Grandma made? Where’s Auntie Vance pouring ice water down Uncle Corky’s neck? Where’s Cousin Sue wondering what happened to their portable bar?” She had spoken softly, but suddenly raised her voice. “And where the hell is Uncle Al? He should be doing card tricks for the kids and making football bets with Uncle Win!”