All the Pretty Hearses

by Mary Daheim

  “Good question,” Judith murmured, realizing that her eyes had grown moist. “Oh, coz, we had such fun! And these miserable people can’t get through a free dinner without practically going down to the mat. Why are they so unhappy?”

  Addison had joined the cousins. “If I may intrude, my pat answer would be the way they were raised. That’s probably part of it, but there’s more to it. I think something serious is going on with the Paines. They strike me as running scared, a lot like the bulls of Pamplona.”

  “Really? Why?” Judith said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue she’d taken out of her slacks pocket.

  Addison sighed. “We’ll sit down and talk about it. But we should clean up the mess they left. It reminds me of wire photos I’ve seen after the bulls are chased to the ring. And often, somebody besides the animals gets gored.”

  Judith shook her head. “Don’t say things like that. You scare me. Let’s go to work.”

  They had barely gotten started when noises from the front hall caught their attention. “Good Lord,” Judith said under her breath. “I forgot they’d gone upstairs to get their luggage. I hope they didn’t hear us talking about them.”

  “Who cares if they did?” Renie said, loaded down with dinner plates. “Want me to give them a real send-off?”

  “No!” Judith winced. “Let them go—quietly.”

  Just as she was about to follow Renie and Addison into the kitchen, Andrew Paine came into the dining room. “Excuse me,” he said in a querulous tone. “I can’t find my special pillow.”

  “Oh.” Judith kept a tight hold on the serving dishes she’d removed from the table. “I put it away . . .” The exact location eluded her. “Let me take care of these dirty dishes first.”

  “Mama will be mad if you lost it,” Andrew said from behind Judith as she entered the kitchen. “They’re very expensive and have to be special-ordered.”

  Renie, who’d piled the dinner plates into the sink, shot Andrew a disparaging look. “My husband uses one. He has a chronic bad neck. Try Brookstone, costs a hunsky.” She retrieved the carving knife she’d wielded earlier. “No reason to lose any . . . sleep over a pillow, is there?” She licked her lips and ran a finger along the blade. “Good-bye, Andrew.”

  He turned tail and rushed from the kitchen. Judith made a face at Renie before going back into the dining room. “Try the linen closet!” she shouted after Andrew. “I just remembered—” The front door banged shut before she could finish.

  During the next few minutes, the sounds of footsteps and the closings of the door that followed seemed to indicate that the rest of the Paines had finally departed. Just before nine, Judith, Renie, and Addison had cleared everything away, the dishwasher had been emptied and reloaded, and the living room was restored to order. Judith poured herself a glass of ice water, Renie got a can of Pepsi from the fridge, and Addison found a Diet Coke in the pantry. The trio retreated to the living room and collapsed on the matching sofas by the fireplace.

  “I should’ve built a fire,” Judith remarked, glancing at the empty grate. “I’m used to Joe doing it.”

  Addison moved as if to get up. “Do you want me to start one?”

  “No,” Judith said as the grandfather clock chimed nine. “It’s too late.” She let out a little gasp. “I forgot Mother’s dinner!”

  Renie, who was sitting next to her cousin, waved a hand. “I didn’t. I took it out to her between rounds three and four of the Paine-filled smackdown. Don’t worry. It wasn’t tofu, it was the nonvegan lasagna with a salad and French bread.”

  Judith leaned back on the sofa. “Thanks, coz. I’m a mess.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Renie gazed across the coffee table to Addison. “Well? Are we going to do a postmortem or what? Make it snappy. I should go home and get some work done. The later it gets, the more creative I seem to be. I might wind up one project before two A.M. So start dishing, Addison. You’re the one in the know.”

  “I need more information on the cast of characters,” Addison replied. “I realize neither of you knows these people, but you do have some family background. Any chance I can get something to write on?”

  Judith started to get up, but Renie nudged her back onto the sofa. “Sit. I know where you keep your notebooks and tablets. Be right back.” She hurried out of the living room.

  “I owe you a huge thanks for all the help you’ve given me tonight,” Judith said to Addison. “I don’t think Renie and I could’ve coped alone.”

  “You probably would’ve been just fine,” he replied, putting his feet up on a small stack of magazines atop the coffee table. “Your cousin might’ve dispatched some of those ghastly people with that carving knife, though. For a little squirt, she’s kind of feisty.”

  “She’s never suffered fools gladly,” Judith responded. “Renie’s especially dangerous when armed.”

  “Hey,” Renie said, returning to the room and tossing a spiral notebook and a ballpoint pen at Addison, “please don’t talk about me when I’m gone. I’m not deaf. Even I heard those gunshots. Scoot over, coz. I need room for my giant purse. If Bill hasn’t called me in the next twenty minutes, I’m calling him. The basketball game should be over by then. Knowing how Bill hates to use the phone, I assume Uncle Al showed up, and there’s no way either of them would leave courtside to make a call.”

  “You’re probably right,” Judith allowed. “I hope so.” She turned to Addison. “Should we notify the SPCA or whichever agency can haul away that poor dead horse?”

  Addison grimaced. “I doubt they’d come out this late. Calling the police might be a better idea. Let them handle it.”

  Judith bit her lip. “I don’t know . . . I’d like to get through this latest guest debacle without the cops showing up. The not infrequent arrival of emergency vehicles isn’t good for Hillside Manor’s reputation.”

  Addison shrugged. “Then wait. The horse isn’t going anywhere.” He flipped open the notebook. “Okay, let’s take it from the top. Norma and Wilbur Paine, parents. Wilbur’s an attorney, right?”

  Judith nodded. “Norma was a legal secretary—that’s how she and Wilbur met—but she hasn’t worked since I’ve known her.”

  Addison made a note. “Eldest son is . . . Andrew?”

  “Also right. Married to Paulina. They strike me as ill-matched.” She watched Addison closely, but he seemed to have no obvious reaction.

  “The twins’ parents?”

  “Yes. I don’t know if it’s a first or second marriage.” She kept her gaze on Addison, but there was still no sign that he already knew Paulina. “Chad and Chase look about twenty,” she continued. “Paulina alluded to Andrew’s business being in town because he has to commute. She also mentioned that he sells food to big companies.” She looked at Renie. “Any idea what business he’s in?”

  Renie shook her head. “I didn’t even know he existed. Both the Paine sons would’ve been several years ahead of our kids at SOTS. We know Andrew and Paulina live in a gated community on the Eastside. Other than that, I flunk.”

  “Okay, one couple down,” Addison murmured. “Let’s move on to Walter and Sonya. Anything you know about them except that they don’t live on a ranch? And is Zoë their only child?”

  The cousins exchanged blank looks. “Never knew about Zoë,” Renie said.

  “I never knew much about Walter,” Judith added. “When the adult Paine children were growing up, I didn’t live on the hill.” She slipped off her shoes and wiggled her toes. “According to Zachary, Zoë is studying to be a vet. First year, on winter break. If Walter mentioned his job, I didn’t hear it. All I can add is that Zoë seemed happy when she arrived. I don’t recall actually speaking to Zoë, but I heard her giggle when she came in. Then she apparently turned glum during the cocktail hour.”

  Renie nodded. “I met them at the door. Zoë was smiling and seemed pleasant. Walter act
ed . . . hearty? I thought maybe things were going to turn out fairly well, but looking back, maybe it was all an act.”

  “Or they wanted to make a good impression?” Addison suggested.

  Renie looked thoughtful. “Possibly. He was praising his mother for buying the auction event. Come to think of it, Sonya didn’t say much, either. Walter did all the talking.”

  “Okay,” Addison said, clicking the ballpoint a few times. “I know something about Zachary. He’s in charge of the commercial and industrial department, reporting directly to the superintendent. That’s the capacity in which I interviewed him, anyway. He struck me as a fairly smart guy, no sense of humor, no imagination, a go-by-the-manual type.”

  “Aargh,” Renie groaned. “In other words, just what I expected.”

  Addison chuckled. “There was one thing, though, that humanized him. Besides having been a pretty good basketball player, that is. He tended to elude certain questions. Not unusual for his type when they know they’re going to be quoted, but somehow it was different with him, as if he thought I was going to spring something on him that he wasn’t expecting. Wary, as if there was something I should ask him, but didn’t.”

  “Interesting,” Judith murmured.

  Renie shot her cousin a droll look. “Interesting that that type is interesting at all. They’re usually soporifically dull.”

  “Not a totally unwarranted comment,” Addison said, turning to Judith. “The other interesting thing is that you said he was very thin. That makes me wonder if he’s seriously ill. It’s been almost a year since I last saw him.”

  Judith stifled a yawn. “Hannah is certainly overbearing. If Zachary is seriously ill, she seems lacking in sympathy. Not that any of the Paines struck me as compassionate.”

  Renie frowned. “You really are worn-out. Your keen insight into human nature is slipping. Octavia started out as a twit, but she made one of the evening’s few charitable contributions in defending her father.”

  “That,” Judith said with a wry expression, “is because Octavia’s not a Paine. Walter’s crack about her not knowing much about the family’s pride made that pretty clear. And Octavia referred to Sarah by name—not as her mother. There’s no resemblance between them either. To clinch my case, Sarah is the youngest of the Paines—she can’t be more than early forties. Octavia is midtwenties, maybe older.”

  “You’re right,” Renie said. “I should’ve caught that. I guess I was concentrating too hard on which Paine I’d stab first.”

  Addison had been taking more notes. “But we don’t know what most of them do for a living. We can check the Internet. Want to do that now or are you two exhausted?”

  “Well . . .” Judith was torn. She was definitely tired and her brain wasn’t up to full speed. For once, exhaustion trumped curiosity.

  Renie was rummaging in her purse. “Tomorrow is another day,” she said. “It’s after nine-thirty. I’m going to call and see if Bill’s home yet. It shouldn’t take him long to get from the pavilion. Uncle Al has a special VIP parking permit.” Finding her cell, she got up and went out into the hall.

  “I should head home,” Addison said. “I’m beginning to feel like a nonpaying guest.”

  “Oh no,” Judith declared. “You’ve more than earned your keep.”

  His expression was ironic. “Only by fetching and carrying.” He sighed. “I owe you an explanation. I was hoping to find out something about the elusive story I’m trying to break. From what I gathered about Joe’s . . . let’s call it willing detention at police headquarters, I assumed some of the answers might be here. Or that you’d know more than you actually do. Your reputation as FASTO has grown over the years.”

  Judith shook her head. “A reputation I never sought. But thanks for not calling me FATSO. I’m not holding anything back. Joe has kept me in the dark about this whole mess.”

  “That was the other thing,” Addison said. “When I realized you didn’t know much about it, I wondered if he thought you were in danger.”

  “You mean from my guests?”

  “Possibly,” Addison hedged. “Even though the Paine bunch has taken off, I still think they’ve got something to hide. It may be only some typical skeletons in the family closet. But I keep thinking back to that last meeting with Zachary Conrad. For all his apparent composure, he was definitely suspicious of my motives during what was a routine interview. Maybe I’m imagining it, but in retrospect, he seemed relieved when I left.”

  “You’re a good judge of character,” Judith said. “That’s a useful trait for a journalist.” She stopped as Renie came back into the living room. “Well? Did you run down Bill?”

  “No,” Renie said, leaning on the back of the sofa where she’d been sitting. “I called four times. Bill has been known to ignore the phone, but I’ve always told him that if I really needed to get hold of him, I’d keep trying until he picked up.”

  Judith checked the grandfather clock. It was about to chime the quarter hour at nine forty-five. “Overtime?”

  Renie shook her head. “I called the Times’ sports hotline. We lost, sixty-four to fifty-one. That doesn’t sound like OT.” She reached down to pick up her purse from the sofa. “I’m going home. For all I know, Bill turned off the ringer. Except,” she added in a woebegone voice, “I don’t think he knows how to do it. Maybe he finally carried out his threat to throw the phone into the street.”

  Addison stood up. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  Renie stiffened. “Why? Do you think I’m in danger, too? I couldn’t help but overhear some of your conversation while I was waiting for Bill to answer the phone.”

  “Well . . .” Addison glanced at Judith and shifted from one foot to the other. “Maybe we should all go.”

  “Oh, for . . .” Renie slung her purse over her shoulder. “Never mind. This is dumb. I’ll call as soon as I get home. Okay?”

  “Coz . . .” Judith began, but Renie was already out of the room. “She’s probably right. Bill simply isn’t answering. He’s worse than my mother when it comes to the telephone.”

  Addison sat back down again. “I’d better stick around, at least until we hear from Renie.”

  “Okay. I’ll empty the dishwasher. I think that last load is done.” She walked more slowly than usual back through the hall, the dining room, and into the kitchen. She’d just opened the dishwasher when Addison joined her.

  “Got any garbage to take out?” he asked.

  “Look under the sink. Didn’t you already take out some bags?”

  “Yes, but there was a lot of stuff—the actual garbage, recycling, glass—”

  “Stop. I get dizzy remembering what goes where. The city keeps changing the rules. Why don’t you write an article about that? We may’ve pioneered recycling around here, but it’s getting out of control.” She touched some silverware and realized it was too hot to handle. After Addison had collected two plastic bins from under the sink and headed outside, she went to the kitchen window to see what the weather was doing. It appeared to have stopped raining, though it was hard to tell. The night was pitch-black dark. Too dark, she realized, noticing that none of the Rankerses’ lights were on. Although they were usually early to bed and early to rise, they generally watched TV upstairs until around ten. Maybe Arlene wasn’t joking about taking Carl to the ER. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that her neighbor had sounded serious. Judith picked up the phone and dialed their number, but got their recorded message. She was wondering what to do next when Addison came back inside.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look worried.”

  Judith stepped aside so he could replace the garbage bins. “I can’t get hold of the Rankerses,” she said, and explained that she thought Carl must be sicker than she’d realized. “Occasionally it’s hard to tell with Arlene. I love her dearly, but every so often she says something that isn’t
quite . . . accurate.”

  Addison looked concerned. “Should I go see if they’re home? What does their car look like?”

  “Cars,” Judith said. “An older Mercedes coupe and a black SUV.”

  “Are they in the garage?” he asked, heading for the back door.

  “No. They use the garage for storage. One of their daughters is in real estate and keeps her staging furniture and decor in there. Go the other way. If they’re home, both vehicles should be in the driveway.”

  “Okay. Be right back.”

  The phone rang just as Judith heard the front door close. She snatched the receiver from the counter. “Coz?” she said, seeing her cousin’s home number on the screen. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes—and no,” Renie replied, not sounding like her usual bristly self. “I’m home, but Bill isn’t. That’s so strange. My husband is the most responsible, predictable person in the world, midwestern to the core. I’m worried sick.”

  “If he’s with Uncle Al, they may’ve gone somewhere with one of his buddies. Bill’s at Uncle Al’s whim, since he drove them to the game.”

  Renie was silent for a moment. “True—except we don’t know if Bill ever found Uncle Al.”

  “Even if he didn’t,” Judith pointed out, “he wouldn’t have stuck around this long. He probably had to call a cab and that could take a while after the game.”

  “You’re talking bilge,” Renie snapped. “I checked—the game was over at nine-twenty. That’s almost forty-five minutes ago. Furthermore, I’ve rarely seen taxis pulling up by the pavilion. It only holds around ten, eleven thousand, and the parking lot is enormous.”

  “How about a bus?”

  “You really are out of it tonight,” Renie snarled. “I’m hanging up and calling the cops.” She disconnected.

  Judith’s shoulders sagged. Her cousin was right. In her own defense, it had been a long day—a long week, too. She simply couldn’t cope with another crisis.