Vi Agra Falls

by Mary Daheim

  Arlene nodded her head. Standing behind her, Carl mouthed the word “No.” Obviously, the Rankerses were at odds about the project.

  “It’s been twenty years,” Arlene said.

  “Eight,” Carl corrected.

  “He’s confused,” Arlene said.

  “She can’t count,” Carl asserted.

  Judith didn’t want to get into one of Arlene and Carl’s complicated arguments. “Say, Carl, did Joe tell you anything about the people he talked to at Vivian’s party?”

  Carl hesitated, looking thoughtful. “He mentioned a couple of old pals from way back. One was a fishing partner. The other…” Ruefully, he shook his head. “I don’t remember. It was getting pretty loud on the other side of the cul-de-sac.”

  “Were they cops or just drinking buddies?”

  Carl grimaced. “Did you recognize somebody he worked with?”

  “No,” Judith said. “During the years we were…apart, I didn’t know his colleagues. When we got married, his partner was Woody Price. I know Woody wouldn’t come to Vivian’s party. He has too much good sense. I’ve met some others along the way, but only one older man seemed familiar.”

  “Maybe,” Arlene suggested, “he’s someone Joe arrested.”

  “That,” Judith said dryly as Renie pulled into the cul-de-sac, “is entirely possible.”

  Saying good-bye to Carl and Arlene, Judith walked over to the driveway, where Renie was parking the Camry. She watched her cousin with growing curiosity as she opened the trunk, hauled out a suitcase, a laptop computer, a small carton—and a wire cage containing Clarence, the Holland dwarf lop-eared bunny.

  “The toilet blew up,” Renie announced. “I’m moving in.”

  Judith gaped at her cousin. “You have two bathrooms.”

  “It’s the pipes,” Renie said. “That damned willow tree on the corner apparently has sent its roots way up into the main line. It affects the whole house. I can’t get a plumber out until Friday. Six of the houses around the intersection are affected. We have to take a number to get an appointment. Do I get to sleep with you or your mother?”

  “We’ve got the guest room on the third floor, as you well know,” Judith said, carrying the carton in through the back door while Renie brought along the rest of her belongings. “I’ve cleaned and changed everything since the last time Mike and his family stayed over.” She gestured at Clarence’s cage. “How are you going to keep him away from Sweetums? Doesn’t Clarence roam free in your basement?”

  “During the day,” Renie said. “Every night at eight-thirty he goes into his cage and waits for us to tuck him in.”

  “Gack.”

  Renie glared at her cousin. “You know it’s true.”

  “Yes. That’s why I said ‘gack,’” Judith retorted. “You and Bill are idiots.”

  “You just don’t get it,” Renie muttered, setting the cage on the kitchen counter and putting a finger between the wires to touch the bunny’s soft gray fur. “I figured we could let Clarence roam in your garage during the day. Joe’s MG is locked up in there, isn’t it?”

  Judith sighed. “Okay, that might work. I’ll admit, Sweetums never goes in there unless the garage door is open.” She placed the envelope and box she’d been carrying on the kitchen table. “I’ll give you the key so you can take him out there now.”

  “Good.” Renie glanced at the table. “Is that yours?”

  “No,” Judith said, taking the garage key off of her chain. “It’s for Frankie Buss. He’s not here at the moment.” She handed the key to Renie before studying the return address. “This is from somebody named Loren Ellsworth in Tushka, Oklahoma. Ever heard of the place?”

  Renie had picked up the cage. “Nope. But then I’ve never been to Oklahoma. I’ve only flown over it. I think it was Oklahoma. Maybe it was Okinawa. I was kind of bleary from drinking a pint of Wild Turkey.”

  “Of course you were,” Judith murmured, well aware of her cousin’s need to get blotto before boarding an airplane. Shaking her head at Renie’s folly—or follies, including Clarence’s pampered existence—Judith went into the entry hall to put the FedEx deliveries in the old-fashioned bronze mailbox reserved for guests.

  Ten minutes later, Renie returned to the kitchen. “Clarence is settled, and I took everything else except for my purse upstairs.”

  “Good.” Judith shot her cousin a caustic glance. “Does your bunny like the garage?”

  “He’s exploring,” Renie replied, getting a can of Pepsi out of the fridge. “Or will be when he makes up his mind if it’s safe to come out of the cage.”

  “At least you didn’t bring Oscar,” Judith said.

  “I couldn’t,” Renie responded. “He went fishing with Bill. It’s a bad idea. Oscar gets seasick. The last time—Oh, shoot! I almost forgot!” Renie grabbed her huge purse from the counter and rushed out of the kitchen.

  Judith called after her. “What are you doing?” Not getting an answer, she followed her cousin into the living room. Renie was putting a framed photograph of Bill—and Oscar—on the mantel.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Judith cried. “Take that down!”

  Renie gazed innocently at her cousin. “Why? I’ve always thought you were fond of family treasures.”

  “I am,” Judith snapped, “but I’m not fond of you being an idiot! I have guests using this room. They’ll think I’m unhinged.”

  “No, they won’t,” Renie said calmly. “They’ll be intrigued.”

  “How? By trying to figure who is who in that damned picture?”

  “Bill’s the one wearing the suit and tie,” Renie replied.

  “Oh, good grief!” Judith shook herself and leaned a hand on the back of the nearest sofa. “If you must, put it in the guest bedroom, where nobody else can see it.”

  “Don’t be so sensitive.” Renie was beginning to sound testy. “This is a studio portrait.”

  Judith glowered at Renie. “What studio? Metro-Goldwyn-Moron?”

  Sadly, Renie shook her head. “You seem to have lost your sense of whimsy.”

  “You seem to have lost your mind.” Judith studied Renie’s mulish expression. It was a bad sign, as well as a bad start to her cousin’s visit. “Okay, leave it there for now. Come on, I want to show you something.”

  Back in the kitchen, Judith explained how Arlene had found the sheet of paper in the hedge. “What do you think ‘HH’ at the bottom stands for?” she asked after handing the guest list to Renie.

  “Hubert Humphrey?”

  “Get serious. Please.”

  “Okay.” Renie pointed to the top of the page. “I take it these are the guests?”

  Judith nodded. “You’ll notice, though, that the neighbors in the cul-de-sac aren’t listed. I suspect we were an afterthought.”

  “Not necessarily,” Renie said. “If this paper was floating around at the party, it may have been used to indicate who was or wasn’t attending. All the neighbors would be here—if not actually at the party—because this is where you live. Herself sent you the invitations because she wanted to be darned sure you all heard her big announcement about the condo project.”

  “You may be right,” Judith allowed. “Back to ‘HH.’”

  “There are only three names,” Renie murmured. “Maybe there was another page.”

  “Yes, I wondered about that, too. It may’ve been tossed in all the mayhem and confusion. Do the first two names sound familiar?”

  Renie shook her head. “No. Neither does the third one, the woman. What kind of a name is…this is hard to read. The bottom of the page is wrinkled. Flora Something-or-other.”

  “Bando or Bundy, maybe?”

  “I can’t tell.” Renie propped her chin on her hand and looked thoughtful. “Where’s your famous logic? This is for a party, with guests listed first. Who are these other people? Potential party crashers?”

  “Maybe,” Judith conceded. “I think the two men might be Herself’s sons. Joe lost track of them after the divorce
. He’s always said they were headed for trouble. They’d be in their forties by now.”

  Renie shook her head. “I don’t recall anything about them. Wasn’t there a stepdaughter, too?”

  “Yes. She spent most of her time with her father, Vivian’s first husband. I can’t remember her name.” Judith grimaced. “I should’ve shown this list to Joe.”

  “You can ask him when he calls,” Renie pointed out.

  “The problem is,” Judith said slowly, “I don’t want him to think I’m getting embroiled in this murder.”

  “Oh, Coz,” Renie said, leaning back in the chair, “you already are, and he knows it. You can’t help yourself. You’re an addict. There’s no rehab to cure your urge to solve a crime. Unfortunately, your addiction can be just as dangerous as mainlining heroin.”

  “It’s not as if I don’t have faith in the police,” Judith asserted, on the defensive. “I do. Why wouldn’t I? Joe was—still is—an excellent detective, so’s Woody Price, and several other cops I got to know over the years. They’re professionals. I’m only an amateur. They get paid for what they do. I don’t. But I still have to—” She stopped. “‘HH,’” she said softly. “Could it stand for Hired Help?”

  Renie grinned. “Ah. Your logic just kicked in. I’ll bet you’re right.”

  Judith ticked off the possibilities on her fingers. “The band, the waiters, the caterer, a trio of skimpily clad waitresses. Who else?”

  “Mercifully,” Renie said, “I wouldn’t know because I wasn’t there. The florist? The bouncer?”

  Judith shook her head. “There weren’t any flowers. That’s why finding the rose petals by Vivian’s gate seemed odd. If there was a bouncer, I didn’t see him. I figure that job was left to Billy because he looks as if he works out.”

  “On the sofa watching car crashes?”

  “Downtime?” Judith said sarcastically. “Billy does have muscles, if no brains.” She paused. “There was supposed to be a stripper. Luckily, I missed her. Maybe she’s Flora Dora or whatever.”

  Renie gestured at the list. “If you’re right, the stepsons—Barry and Doug?—could have been waiters.”

  Judith nodded. “Yes. I saw Joe talking to them. I guess they’re not in jail after all.” She got up to consult the phone directory. “Let’s see if they’re listed.”

  Renie snickered. “Listed by the phone company or wanted by the police?”

  “Both maybe,” Judith murmured. “Hunh. No Henckel inside the city.” She flipped back to the C listings. “A bunch of Camp-bells with names that start with D, including two Douglases.”

  “What was the stepdaughter’s name?” Renie asked. “Was that old chum of Uncle Al’s her father?”

  “I think so, but I vaguely recall that she moved away or got married,” Judith said, closing the directory. “Joe lost track of her years ago. I wonder if Johnny is still around.”

  “Ask Uncle Al,” Renie suggested. “He keeps up with a lot of his old cronies from his restaurant days.”

  “You know that restaurant was only a front for an illegal gambling operation,” Judith said. “The real action was in the back room.”

  “Right,” Renie responded. “We were too young to go back there. Instead, we got free malts at the counter. I fell off the stool twice.”

  The doorbell rang. Judith stood up. “Now what?” She headed out of the kitchen, followed by a curious Renie.

  To Judith’s chagrin, Mavis Lean-Brodie stood on the front porch. The rest of her crew was getting out of a KINE-TV van parked at the curb.

  “You’re at it again,” Mavis said, faintly amused. “Whodunit?”

  “Mavis—” Judith stopped. “You can come in if you don’t bring your creatures with you.”

  “Thanks.” Mavis, impeccably coiffed and attired as always, turned to her cohorts. “Go over to the second house from the corner and see if you can get any good shots. Try for the tree where the stiff was found.”

  Judith led the way into the parlor. “How come you weren’t here yesterday?” she asked as Mavis sat down in one of the two matching high-backed chairs in front of the stone fireplace.

  “I was on vacation,” Mavis replied in her usual brittle manner. “I’d just come back from hiking up to Machu Picchu in Peru when I got a call from KINE telling me to get my butt back here. I didn’t get in until nine o’clock this morning.”

  “How was Machu Picchu?” Renie asked from the narrow window seat that looked out onto the driveway.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Mavis replied. “Too damned much cloud cover. For all I know, it’s made out of Legos.”

  Judith had sat down in the other high-backed chair. “Let me warn you, Mavis,” she said sternly, “I don’t want to get involved in this one. Forget about the FATSO site, forget about some of the other murders I’ve gotten roped into, forget that I exist.”

  Mavis burst out laughing. “Yeah, right, sure. Don’t con me, Judith. This one’s a natural. Somebody told me the woman who owns the house where the body was found used to be married to your husband. How can I resist?”

  “If I can, you can,” Judith declared with a straight face.

  Mavis smirked. “That’s crap. If you want to play ‘Let’s Pretend,’ I’ve got a game of my own—‘To Tell the Truth.’ Let’s hear about the party.”

  Judith sighed. “I wasn’t there. We had our own Block Watch party that night. I was in and out of our house.”

  Mavis winced and leaned her head against the back of the chair. Remarkably, every hair of her perfect blond pageboy stayed in place. “I can’t stand it! You’d know more about what was going on at the Buss party even if you were ten miles away.”

  Judith remained silent.

  “Want a Pepsi?” Renie asked Mavis, holding out the can she’d brought with her into the parlor.

  Mavis shot Renie a sharp glance. “Only if you put truth serum in it and I could make your obstinate cousin drink it down.” She leaned forward in the chair. “Come on,” she coaxed Judith, “give me the good stuff that I can’t find in the official police report.”

  Judith stared straight ahead at the fireplace. “No.”

  “Okay.” Mavis straightened up. “How’s this? I’ll tell you something you don’t know.”

  Judith’s eyelids flickered in Mavis’s direction. “No deal.”

  Mavis shrugged. “Fine. I’ll tell your cousin.” She smiled thinly at Renie. “Have you heard the one about the body stolen from the morgue?”

  Renie looked blank. “Whatever happened to the one about the priest, the rabbi, and the minister going into the bar?”

  “This one’s better,” Mavis said, looking smug. “The body stolen out of the morgue last night was your cousin’s latest murder victim.”

  11

  It’s not my body!” Judith cried. “Damnit, I’m not on the case!”

  “Maybe you should be,” Mavis said calmly. “If it’s occurred to me, it’s also occurred to the police that stealing a body out of the city morgue could only be accomplished with help from a city employee. Like…oh, let’s say…a retired police detective with a vested interest in a corpse found on his ex-wife’s premises?”

  “That’s outrageous!” Judith got to her feet. “Joe’s not even here. He left town last night.”

  Mavis eyed Judith with a complacent expression. “Left town, huh? That’s convenient. The body was snatched sometime between eight and ten. What time did Joe leave?”

  Judith’s strong features expressed righteous indignation. “We left for the airport at seven-thirty, a couple of hours before his scheduled flight around nine-thirty.”

  Mavis’s etched mauve lips curled upward. “Flight? How fitting!”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Judith exclaimed. “You know Joe wouldn’t get mixed up in this!”

  “I may know it,” Mavis said, “but those newbie cops don’t. This is their first homicide. Not smart of the higher-ups to put a couple of rookies on the case.” She reached out a hand in appeal. “Come o
n, Judith, stop being a pain in the butt. Was I or was I not a guest at your B&B when you got mixed up in your very first murder? Not to mention the music guy who got killed last year. We cooperated pretty damned well on that one. We make a good team. Why not go for the sequel?”

  Judith sighed heavily and sat down. “The problem is, I promised Joe not to get involved. I promised myself not to get involved.”

  Renie threw her hands up in the air. “Stop! How many times have I heard that one? Just do what you always do and find the wretched killer. You know perfectly well you’ve already started your sleuthing thing. These lengthy preludes to your adventures drive me nuts.”

  “Serena’s right,” Mavis said. “Now, let’s start with the neighbors’ reaction to this big project Vivian Buss announced at her party.”

  Judith wished she didn’t feel she had to defend herself as well as Joe. “We hated the idea,” she admitted, and stopped right there.

  Mavis looked reproachful. “There was more to it than that. Didn’t the party break up because it turned violent?”

  “The party ended somewhat later,” Judith said, grateful for the chance to omit Arlene’s wooden spoon attack. “The Busses’ guests got drunk and unruly. Yes, I understand there was some brawling, but I honestly wasn’t there.”

  “Too bad,” Mavis murmured. “Was Joe on hand for the fisticuffs?”

  “He took no part in them,” Judith asserted, “and as far as I know, none of the neighbors did, either. In fact, the next day Mrs. Rankers and Mrs. Porter and I went over to offer our condolences for the tragedy.”

  “Hey,” Renie yelped, “I went, too.”

  Mavis turned in her direction. “You aren’t a neighbor. Keep it down, Jonesy.”

  “Don’t call me Jonesy,” Renie warned, looking pugnacious, “or I’ll call you Leansy.”

  Mavis ignored the threat and turned back to Judith. “According to the nine-one-one records, you made the call about the dead guy. How come?”

  Judith explained about Herself’s frantic arrival in the middle of the night at Hillside Manor. Upon conclusion, she pointed a finger at Mavis. “I’ve given you everything you want. Now tell me more about this body-snatching.”