Vi Agra Falls

by Mary Daheim

  This time it was the guests from Virginia, two polite young men in their mid-twenties. One wore a blue tee that read virginia; the other wore a white tee that read cavaliers. It didn’t require Judith’s sleuthing skills to figure out that they were students from the University of Virginia.

  “I see you’re from Charlottesville,” she said, smiling. “Welcome to Hillside Manor.”

  The two young men turned out to be fraternal twins, Jesse and Jason Manning, both seeking graduate degrees in chemical engineering. They seemed pleasant, normal, and straightforward. Judith wondered how they’d react if—and when—they discovered that a murder had occurred two doors away from the B&B.

  After checking in the Manning brothers and showing them to their room, Judith went into the kitchen to prepare the appetizers for the social hour. She had just opened a package of cream cheese for her crab dip when Vivian rushed in through the open back door.

  “Where’s Joe?” she asked, her voice quivering with distress. “Didn’t Adelita tell him to come see me right away?”

  “Joe’s busy,” Judith said calmly. “He’s going away for a few days.”

  “He can’t!” Vivian stamped her foot, showing off the gold sandals under her scarlet, green, and yellow caftan. “I need him!”

  “Sorry,” Judith said, removing the lid from a plastic container of Dungeness crab. “It’s business.”

  “Where is he?” She gazed around the kitchen as if she expected Joe to pop out of the fridge like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

  Judith dumped the crab into a bowl with the cream cheese. “Making arrangements to leave town. I wouldn’t bother him if I were you. He’s not in a good mood.”

  Vivian scowled at Judith. “You think I don’t know how to handle his moods?”

  “If you did, you’d still be Mrs. Flynn,” Judith snapped. “What’s so important that you have to pester him when he’s busy?”

  “Why should I tell you?” Vivian looked indignant. “You haven’t been married to him as long as I was. Are you playing control freak?”

  “I’m not playing anything,” Judith retorted angrily. “I’m simply trying to keep him from being bothered by your latest disaster. He has other things on his mind.”

  To Judith’s amazement, Herself burst into tears. “Oh, everyone’s against me! Nobody knows what I’ve suffered! Nobody understands I have feelings, too!”

  “Oh, dear,” Judith said under her breath as she tried to fight off her natural compassion—and failed. “Vivian, it’s nothing personal.” The hell it isn’t, her voice of conscience asserted. “I’m sorry.” No, you’re not. “I realize how upset you must be about finding a body.” I ought to know—get used to it. “Tell me what’s bothering you, and I’ll pass it on to Joe to see if he can help.”

  Vivian stopped crying. She tried unsuccessfully to wipe away the eyeliner and mascara streaks from her cheeks. “Well…it’s awkward.”

  Judith indicated the nearest chair. “Sit. You’re a little wobbly.”

  Vivian’s glance was sharp. “Nonsense! I’m in excellent shape. I’m just…upset.”

  It was fruitless to argue. Judith sat down on the other side of the table. Vivian hesitated, but finally eased herself into a chair. “That dead man was misidentified,” she began. “The real Charles Brooks lost his wallet at a Vegas casino a few weeks ago. The police found that out when they tried to reach his home in Henderson, Nevada. Mr. Brooks answered the phone. The detectives checked his story with the local authorities. The missing wallet was reported July eighteenth.”

  “Was the wallet reported as lost or stolen?”

  Vivian made a disparaging gesture. “I don’t know. It sounded as if Mr. Brooks wasn’t sure. What difference does it make? Charles Brooks isn’t the man I found in the tree.”

  “So what do you want Joe to do?”

  “I want to hire him as a bodyguard. If some stranger was killed on our property, he was probably mistaken for someone else. Billy, maybe, or one of the guests. I also want Joe to use his clout with the police to get them to close this case as soon as possible. I feel as if we’re living with a death threat over our heads,” Vivian said, sitting up very straight and looking self-righteous.

  Judith grimaced. “He can’t do anything about it until he gets back from Atlanta. Why do you think the police have to be pressured to move the investigation along? They’ll want to close it as quickly as you do.”

  Vivian sighed impatiently. “It’ll take them forever. I know. It’s always a slow process, so much foot-dragging and ongoing cases and playing games with superiors. Have you forgotten that I was married to a cop for eighteen years?”

  Oh, no, Judith thought, I’m not likely to forget how miserable those years were for me. You stole a huge chunk of my life. She shrugged. “It’ll have to wait. Joe’s leaving this evening.”

  “No!” Vivian slammed her hand on the table and stood up so fast that the sheep-shaped cookie jar rattled. “He can’t do this to me!”

  Judith leaned back in the chair, unable to resist enjoying her rival’s distress. “He can, and he will. Talk to the cops. Or hire another P.I.”

  “You—and Joe—haven’t heard the last of this!” Herself shouted, wagging a finger at Judith. “You’ll both be sorry by the time I finish with the two of you!” She yanked her flowing skirt away from the chair and flounced out of the house.

  Twenty minutes later, Joe came downstairs. “I’m all set,” he declared, rubbing his hands together. “What’s the deal with Vivian?”

  “Forget it,” Judith snapped. “She seems to think you’re her errand boy. She came over after Adelita had failed to get you to jump on command. You’re supposed to drop everything and help her.”

  “Help her do what?” Joe asked, puzzled.

  “Be her bodyguard.” Judith’s tone was scathing. “She also wants you to exert your influence with the cops and make the case go away.”

  Joe frowned. “She lacks confidence in the detectives?”

  “I guess so.” Judith cocked an ear as she heard someone enter through the front door. The California foursome, she thought, hearing their voices on their way upstairs to the guest rooms. “By the way, Joe,” she said softly, “I should be able to drive you to the airport. I’m sorry I was so crabby. It was a short night, and it seems like a long day.”

  “I know.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m not crazy about leaving you here with this mess.”

  Judith shrugged. “I promise not to get involved.”

  “Good.” He smiled at his wife.

  She smiled back.

  Neither of them believed Judith could keep her word.

  10

  The rest of the day played out uneventfully. All of the guests, including Marva Lou and Frankie Buss, seemed involved with their own comings and goings. Judith had been able to drive Joe to the airport drop-off. Gertrude seemed to be in fine fettle, though she still refused to say anything more about her unknown visitor. Hillside Manor was quiet that night. So was the rest of the cul-de-sac. Judith couldn’t help but wonder if the peaceful evening was the lull before the storm.

  The next morning she took Gertrude’s breakfast out to the toolshed just after eight o’clock. The old lady was up and dressed, watching the Today show. She ignored her daughter’s presence, eyes fixed firmly on the TV screen.

  “Are you okay?” Judith inquired, setting the tray on the card table.

  Gertrude didn’t even blink.

  “What is it?” Judith demanded. “Don’t you feel well?”

  Gertrude’s eyes flashed in her daughter’s direction. “I feel with my fingers,” she snapped, her customary reply to the question, which was usually followed by a litany of complaints about the state of her health. This time, however, she stopped speaking and held out her left hand.

  Judith stared. “What? Did you hurt yourself?”

  “Keep looking, dummy,” Gertrude ordered. “Where’s my diamond ring?”

  The old lady’s wedding band was in place
, but not her engagement ring. “Did you lose it?” Judith asked.

  Gertrude’s expression was exasperated. “If it wasn’t missing, I’d be wearing it.”

  “When did you take it off?”

  “Night before last,” Gertrude answered, some of the hostility ebbing from her voice. “Sometimes my joints swell in the summer. You know that. I never, ever, take off my wedding band, no matter how tight it gets. But I won’t wear the diamond ring when my fingers are puffy. I put it on the nightstand next to my bed. I didn’t try to put it back on yesterday, but I decided to see how it felt this morning. It’s gone.”

  “I’ll look for it,” Judith said and went into the bedroom.

  The room with its single bed, nightstand, bureau, and closet was so small that Judith could scarcely turn around. Prevented by her artificial hip from kneeling on the floor, she got the tattered broom from the kitchenette and ran it under the bed and the nightstand several times. Judith looked in the closet, opened the drawers, and pulled back the bedclothes. The ring was nowhere to be found—nor was it in the tiny bathroom.

  “I’ll ask Phyliss to look when she arrives later this morning,” Judith said after announcing the futility of her search. “It has to be somewhere. You haven’t worn it outside, have you?”

  Gertrude’s chin jutted. “I wore it to Vi’s party, but I took it off after I got back to my shipping crate of an apartment. It’s insured, you know, but that’s not the point. Your father paid five hundred dollars for that ring back in 1939. I don’t want the money, I want that ring. It means…” Her wrinkled face crumpled.

  “I know, Mother.” Judith put a hand on Gertrude’s shoulder. “We’ll find it. Don’t get upset.” She pointed to the tray. “I made you scrambled eggs with bits of ham the way you like it, and there’s toast and a poached egg. Eat while it’s still warm.”

  Leaving Gertrude mumbling to herself, Judith returned to the house, where the California foursome had arrived in the dining room. The grad students from Virginia came next, followed by Marva Lou and Frankie Buss. By ten o’clock the first round of guests had finished breakfast and gone off for the day. The honeymooners appeared a few minutes later.

  Phyliss hadn’t gotten to Hillside Manor until nine-thirty. “My bunions were killing me this morning. I had to pare ’em down before I could put on my shoes.” She jabbed a finger at her sturdy black orthopedic oxfords. “Even with this deerskin lining, some days I can hardly manage to get to the bus. Today was one of ’em.”

  Trying to look sympathetic, Judith nodded. “That’s a shame, Phyliss. By the way, you didn’t see Mother’s engagement ring in her apartment yesterday, did you?”

  Phyliss frowned. “You mean on her finger?”

  “No,” Judith said, and explained that her mother had removed the ring the night before. “Could you go out and look for it? I can’t get down to see under the bed.”

  Phyliss made a face. “I don’t know about that. Is she in there praying to those skunks again? That gives me the willies.”

  Judith started to reiterate what “The Little Flower” meant to Catholics, but shut up before the first word came out. “Just see if you can find the ring. Mother’s sometimes a little…um…confused, and she may have put it somewhere and forgotten about it.”

  “Mrs. Grover better not accuse me of stealing it,” Phyliss declared. “She always watches me like I’m going to run off with her candy. Twice lately she yanked that glass dish of hers away from me before I could even look at it, let alone take a piece. I never would—with my borderline diabetes and all. But your mother’s the suspicious type. Not that I blame her, with the Prince of Darkness loose everywhere these days. Now body snatchers! What next?”

  Judith, who was checking the computer for new reservation requests, had heard only part of the cleaning woman’s latest rant. “Body snatchers? What do you mean?”

  “On the news this morning before I left to take the bus,” Phyliss replied. “Somebody stole a body out of the morgue.”

  “Really? That’s awful,” Judith responded. “I never have time to listen or watch the morning news. Joe reads the paper with his breakfast, and sometimes I’ll skim through it if I have a spare minute.”

  “Creepy,” Phyliss remarked, heading for the pantry. “Godless, too.”

  Judith went back to the reservation requests—three more, two in late September, one for the Thanksgiving weekend. The would-be November guest asked for two rooms, one for herself and her husband, and the other for her children. “I am aware,” the woman named Anna Lindstrom had written, “that it’s your policy not to allow anyone under eighteen. However, one of my sons is twenty and the other will be eighteen in early December. They are coming with us not only to share Thanksgiving with my sister who lives only half a mile from your B&B, but with their father, who owns a one-bedroom condo across the lake from the city. Neither he nor my sister has room to accommodate them, so I was hoping you could make an exception in this case. My husband and I stayed at Hillside Manor on our honeymoon six years ago, and we really enjoyed your congenial atmosphere as well as the convenient location.”

  Mulling over the request, Judith checked her database of previous guests. Kenneth and Anna Lindstrom of Minneapolis had indeed visited Hillside Manor for three days six years earlier. Now she remembered them quite well. They were close to middle age then, both taking a second chance on love, very much like her own situation. Now they wanted to come back to the B&B with her sons. The husband’s stepsons, of course. Joe had taken on Herself’s two boys by her ex-husbands. The youngsters had faded from his life after his marriage to Judith.

  Recalling the Lindstroms, Judith made her decision. She never liked bending the rules and seldom did, but she’d make an exception. While typing in her response, something suddenly clicked in her brain. After hurrying through the confirmation, she opened the drawer by the computer and took out the guest list that Arlene had found in the hedge. Under the mysterious “HH” heading she stared again at two of the three names: Barry Henckel and Doug Campbell. Barry and Doug. Doug and Barry. Judith wondered if they might be Joe’s stepsons. She cursed herself for not showing him the list.

  An hour later, Phyliss came downstairs with a load of laundry. “You didn’t tell me those farmers from Iowa in Room One checked out.”

  Judith looked up from the cooking magazine she’d been studying for new appetizer ideas. “What?”

  The cleaning woman nodded. “Cleared out, fancy duds and all.”

  Judith realized that the Griggses had never showed up for breakfast. That wasn’t unusual in itself. Sometimes guests wanted to explore recommended restaurants instead of eating at the B&B. Or, more rarely, some visitors didn’t eat a morning meal.

  “They were supposed to stay through tomorrow night,” Judith said. “Did they leave their keys?”

  “Yep.” Phyliss took the keys out of her apron pocket. “Did they gyp you?”

  “No. They used a credit card.” Judith paused for a few moments. “An emergency might’ve come up.”

  “Good riddance, I say.” Phyliss moved on to the basement.

  Judith was looking over the Griggses’ credit card information when the phone rang.

  “I just waved Bill off on his fishing trip,” Renie said. “Is your other half in Atlanta?”

  “As far as I know,” Judith replied, and realized she’d forgotten to tell Joe about Bill’s invitation to go salmon fishing. Not that it would have changed his plans, Judith thought. But it struck her that in the past day or two there had been several things she should have told her husband, all of which she’d kept locked inside her head. “Joe told me he wouldn’t call until this evening because of the time difference. He had a meeting this morning. Have you got time to stop by later on?”

  Renie hesitated. “It’s still morning, and my brain is foggy. I won’t start work until one, so I could come by in a bit. Are you in trouble?”

  “No,” Judith replied, “but I need to bounce some ideas off of you.”


  “Rubber Renie can help, but I’m not as resilient as I used to be.”

  “Who is? See you soon.” Judith hung up.

  Half an hour later, she was making a marinade for London broil when the doorbell rang. A FedEx delivery man stood on the porch. “Overnight for a Franklin Buss,” he said, holding out a letter-sized envelope and a small carton. “Do you want to sign for this?”

  “Sure,” Judith said, and accepted the pen the FedEx man offered.

  She was about to go inside when Arlene called to her from the sidewalk by the Rankerses’ house. “I’m heading to the grocery store,” Arlene said as Judith came down the porch steps. “Unless,” she added, “you’ve got an extra can of tomato paste.”

  “I do,” Judith replied. “Come in. What size?”

  “Small,” Arlene replied. “I’m making my spaghetti recipe.”

  “Sounds delicious,” Judith remarked as they went into the pantry. “Take your pick. I keep half a dozen on hand.”

  Arlene selected the nearest can. “Isn’t it wonderful to have tomato paste in cans that aren’t dented? I used to get so annoyed when our kids used them as croquet balls. Or weapons.”

  Judith nodded. “Mike used soup cans for bowling pins and cantaloupe for a ball. I suppose it showed imagination.”

  Arlene nodded. “Raising five kids was very expensive.”

  “Just one kept us broke,” Judith said as they went back into the kitchen. “It would’ve helped if Dan had worked more often.”

  “Poor you.” Arlene patted Judith’s shoulder. “Thanks. Now I won’t have to go to the store. I’ll pay you back.”

  “You don’t have to,” Judith said, although Arlene always did.

  They reached the entry hall just as Carl came up onto the porch. “Ah! There you are,” he said to his wife. “I wondered where you went. The painters are on the way to give us an estimate on the exterior job.”

  Judith was surprised. “You’re going to paint the house?”