Vi Agra Falls

by Mary Daheim

  “Yes.” Judith smiled. “Are you here about the vacancy?”

  “Vacancy?” He turned to look out into the cul-de-sac. “Oh! Of course.” He gestured with a well-manicured hand. “May I come in?”

  “Well…yes,” Judith said, stepping aside. “I’d like to help you if I can. Did you talk to someone at the state association?”

  Entering the house, the man chuckled richly, if quietly. “No, but I will if that’s necessary. My name’s Mandrake Stokes.”

  Judith paused in the entry hall to shake her visitor’s hand. “The parlor would be best,” she said. “Here, this door. You must tell me how you found our place.”

  “Of course.” Mr. Stokes gazed around the cozy parlor. “A delightful setting,” he remarked, with a touch of the South in his melodious voice.

  Judith indicated one of the two matching chairs. “You’ll have to forgive me,” she said, puzzled. “I didn’t realize you were coming.”

  Mr. Stokes frowned. “You didn’t? The letter was sent last week.”

  “We had a substitute postman,” Judith said, sitting in the other chair. “I’m afraid some of our mail went astray.”

  “Ah! I see.” He smiled warmly. “I have the entire presentation in my car. When would you like to study it?”

  “Presentation?” Judith frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  Renie stood in the parlor doorway. “It’s Joe,” she said, holding the receiver. “Can you talk to him?”

  Judith stood up. “Excuse me, Mr. Stokes. I must take this call.” Hurrying out of the parlor, she shoved Renie into the dining room. “If this guy’s a salesman,” she said in a low voice, “get rid of him. If he’s involved in Vivian’s condo project, stall him.” She spoke to Joe as she moved into the kitchen. “Caitlin is here because Vivian wanted her help,” she said. “Where are you?”

  “I was having dinner in the bar,” he replied, sounding cross. “I’m back in my room. Where did you think I was, out on Peachtree Street looking for hookers?”

  “Of course not,” Judith asserted. “Anyway, Caitlin will probably call you later. She’s staying here tonight. I had an early departure. The Griggses from Iowa simply walked out.”

  “It happens,” Joe remarked. “Where’s Caitlin now?”

  “Collecting her luggage from Vivian’s,” Judith replied. “You’ll never guess who showed up to see her.”

  “No guessing games,” Joe grumbled. “It’s been a long day after a short night.”

  “Her half-brothers, Doug and Barry,” Judith informed him.

  “Right, I told you they were waiters at the party. She got on with them okay. Got to go. The light on my phone just went on. It’s probably a call-back from one of the bank guys I met today. Talk to you later.” Joe hung up.

  The abrupt conclusion rankled, but Judith shrugged it off. She hurried back to the parlor, anxious to find out why her unexpected visitor had come to Hillside Manor.

  Renie was by the hearth, chatting with Mr. Stokes. “Hey, Coz,” she said, “Manny here wants to know what you intend to do with your cows.”

  “My—” Judith stopped in her tracks. “Sorry. Did you say cows?”

  Renie nodded. “You two sort that out while I finish the appetizers.”

  Staring at her cousin as she left the parlor, Judith felt as if she was having a bad dream. “Excuse me,” she said to Mr. Stokes, “but I don’t own any cows.”

  Mandrake Stokes looked equally mystified. “Surely you haven’t sold them off?”

  “No,” Judith replied, leaning on the back of the empty chair. “Where would I keep cows around here?”

  Mr. Stokes stroked his short silver beard. “There must be some confusion. I understood that following your move here, you intended to sell the Double UB Ranch in order to build condominiums. I was informed by the university that the livestock would be included.”

  Enlightenment dawned. “Ah! I’m not Vivian Flynn. I’m Judith Flynn. Mrs. Flynn—that is, Vivian—is now Mrs. Buss. She lives a couple of doors away.”

  “Well!” Mr. Stokes seemed embarrassed. “I must beg forgiveness for my error,” he said, standing up. “Not to mention wasting your valuable time. I assume Mrs. Flynn—that is, Mrs. Buss?—used her maiden name instead of her husband’s.”

  The concept of Vivian as any sort of “maiden” in the true sense almost triggered a derisive outburst from Judith, but she managed to maintain a relatively sober expression. “That’s possible. She married two Busses.” The straight face became more difficult to keep. “The first Buss crashed—I mean, died. The other one—” Judith couldn’t help it. She started to laugh, leaning on the chair for support.

  “Yes, well…” Mr. Stokes backed away toward the door. “If you could point me in the proper direction, I’ll call on her now.”

  But Judith couldn’t stop laughing. “Or perhaps not,” Mr. Stokes murmured. “I’ll check my notes for the correct address.” He all but ran into the entry hall and out the door.

  Renie strolled into the parlor. “What did you do with all those cows?” she asked with a puckish expression. “It must have been pretty damned funny. Or are you hysterical?”

  Judith tried to stop laughing. Gasping for breath, she began to sputter. “I…can’t…help…it.”

  “I was eavesdropping by the other parlor door off of the living room,” Renie explained. “I gather that Herself inherited a cattle ranch from Potsy. That must be worth a lot of moo-lah.”

  “Don’t!” Judith cried, and finally caught her breath. “Yes.” She paused, a hand to her breast. “This murder case is so crazy. Or is it because Vivian’s involved? Is she what’s sending me over the edge?”

  “She usually does,” Renie replied, turning to glance out into the hall. “Here come some of the guests for the social hour. Do you want me to pretend Frankie is a stuffed animal decorating your sofa, or shall I feign ignorance?”

  Judith narrowed her eyes at Renie. “Stuffed like Oscar?”

  “Of course not!” Renie shook her head in disbelief. “Oscar is real!”

  Shaking her head in disbelief, Judith went through the parlor door that led into the living room. The two older couples from Bakersfield had gathered by the buffet, where Renie had set out the appetizers, a pitcher of pink lemonade, and a bottle of sherry. As Judith entered, they stared at her with unconcealed curiosity.

  “Excuse me,” the taller of the two men said, “but is that fellow on the couch asleep?”

  “He’s not well,” Judith replied. “He…fell down. I told him to rest until he felt like walking up the stairs to his room. Poor man,” she added, trying to look sympathetic.

  “Oh, my!” the tall man’s wife exclaimed, and poked her husband’s arm. “Maybe you should have a look at him, Bob.” She turned to Judith. “My husband was an army medic during the Korean War.”

  Bob tweaked his wife’s cheek and chuckled. “You don’t think I’ve lost my touch? Sure, why not? I always did okay by our kids when they were young and took a tumble.”

  Judith had qualms. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m responsible for what happens in my B&B. Mr. Buss wasn’t badly hurt.”

  The other man pointed a pudgy finger at the brandy snifter. “Maybe he passed out. Looks to me as if he’s been drinking, Bob.”

  “Aha!” Bob chuckled again. “Guess you’re right,” he said to Judith. “Let sleeping dogs lie, and all that.”

  The pudgy man’s wife disagreed. “He doesn’t seem to be breathing. What if he’s…dead?”

  Bob considered the question. “I suppose I could take his pulse.” He looked at Judith. “That okay?”

  Anxiety rising, Judith had to make a decision. “I can take his pulse,” she said. “I’ve had medical experience, too.” If, she thought unhappily, that includes determining if a putative corpse is really dead.

  “Sure,” Bob agreed. “Go ahead. It’s your B&B.”

  Judith was walking over to the sofa when the honeymooners came into the liv
ing room. Renie was right behind them.

  “Guess what?” she said. “The groom here is a doctor.”

  Judith stared at the young man. “You are?”

  “A resident,” he replied, “at Alaska Regional Hospital in Anchorage. I’m a cardiologist.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Judith said, and backpedaled away from the sofa to stand by Renie under the archway. “How’d you know?” she whispered.

  “How do you think?” Renie shot back. “I overheard you in here and when the lovebirds came downstairs I took a wild shot and asked if either of them had any medical expertise. You got lucky.”

  “Maybe,” Judith allowed.

  “His pulse is faint,” the groom announced. “He should be hospitalized. Call nine-one-one.”

  Judith jabbed Renie in the ribs. “You call,” she whispered. “Use your cell. I refuse to get into it with one of those snotty operators.”

  “I’ll give the Rankerses’ address,” Renie murmured. “Then I’ll divert them here.” She hurried into the kitchen to make the call.

  “Hallo!” called a voice from the entry hall. Judith swerved around to see who was there.

  “Adelita,” she said, keeping her composure. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes,” the young woman replied. “Mrs. Buss would like very much to borrow your blender. Hers is broken.”

  Judith had a feeling that if she loaned her blender to Vivian, it would never be returned. “Oh, darn!” she exclaimed, standing directly in front of Adelita to prevent her from seeing what was going on in the living room. “Mine broke, too. It must be contagious.”

  Adelita’s expression was skeptical. “Pardon?”

  Judith lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “My blender’s motor must’ve gone out. It doesn’t work. I’m so sorry.”

  “Do you have a mixer?” Adelita inquired.

  “You mean an electric one?” Judith saw Adelita nod. “Oddly enough, that went out on me, too. Both the hand mixer and the big freestanding one. Maybe it’s a fuse.”

  Adelita was inching her way forward. “An eggbeater, perhaps?”

  Renie had come into the entry hall. Judith turned to her cousin and winked. “Did you ever bring back my eggbeater?”

  “Your eggbeater?” For a brief moment, Renie looked blank. “Oh! That eggbeater! No, I forgot. Sorry.”

  Adelita had managed to worm her way almost to the living room’s arched entrance. “Isn’t there more than one eggbeater?”

  Behind Adelita, a medic van was arriving. Mercifully, the EMTs hadn’t turned on their siren or flashing lights.

  “Yes,” Judith said, taking Adelita by the arm. “Let’s see if we can find it.” She hustled her visitor into the kitchen while Renie went outside to direct the emergency personnel. “Let me see,” Judith murmured, tapping her cheek and gazing every which way. Voices could be heard from the entry hall. The only one she recognized belonged to Renie.

  “The pantry, maybe. Let’s look.” Judith led Adelita down the hall. “Now, where would I have put that older one?”

  Adelita’s attention seemed distracted by the sounds coming from the front part of the house. “What is happening? Is there trouble here?”

  “Trouble?” Judith purposefully turned around so fast that she knocked several cans off of the shelf. “Oh, drat! Could you help me pick up these cans? I have an artificial hip and can’t bend over.”

  Adelita’s dark eyes flashed. “I am not a maid! I am an assistant!” She whirled around and ran off down the hall.

  Frustrated, Judith gently nudged the cans with her foot to keep them from rolling toward the basement stairs. A century of earthquakes had taken their toll on the old house. Floors sloped, doorways were uneven, and windows were crooked. At the moment, Judith felt she, too, was damaged by time and circumstances.

  When she reached the entry hall, Renie was shoving Adelita out through the front door. “Nothing to see here!” Renie shouted, with one last push, and slammed the door behind Adelita before turning to Judith. “What was that all about?”

  “I’m not sure,” Judith replied. “Adelita wasn’t really interested in blenders or eggbeaters. What’s going on with Frankie?”

  “I don’t know,” Renie replied. “They’re working on him. As usual, the emergency folks seemed to be parked close by.”

  Judith sighed. “I guess that’s to be expected. Would you mind going upstairs to Room Five and telling Marva Lou about her husband?”

  “Sure.” Renie hurried up the stairs. Judith went into the living room, where the brothers from Virginia had joined the rest of the guests—and the EMTs. For once, Judith didn’t recognize any of the medical personnel. Somehow, that was a relief. She didn’t need any more snide comments about her propensity for disasters.

  A woman with short blond hair seemed to be in charge. Judith noted that her name tag identified her as Roxanne Sundberg. She was talking to the groom as his bride sidled up to Judith.

  “It may be an allergic reaction,” she said. “They’re taking him to the hospital. I wonder if Jake should go with them.”

  “That’s up to the EMTs,” Judith said, watching as Frankie was placed on a gurney. “I’m sure that Mr. Buss will receive excellent care. If anybody should go along, it ought to be his wife.”

  “Where is she?” Ashley inquired.

  “My cousin is getting her now,” Judith said. “Mrs. Buss has been…resting in their room.”

  “Oh.” Ashley nodded. “Yes, you’re right. That’d be best.”

  Judith and Ashley moved out of the way as two male EMTs pushed the gurney through the living room and into the entry hall. Roxanne Sundberg followed, but stopped when she reached Judith. “Dr. Kerr just told me you own this B&B. Mrs. Flynn, I believe?”

  “Yes. You think it’s allergies?”

  “We can’t be sure,” Roxanne replied, “but it’s possible. I understand his wife is here. Does she know what’s happened?”

  “My cousin is bringing her downstairs right now,” Judith replied. “In fact, here she comes.”

  Roxanne turned toward the staircase. “Mrs. Buss?”

  “No,” Renie replied. “I can’t wake up Frankie’s wife. Have you got a gurney for two?”

  14

  What?” Judith cried.

  “You heard me,” Renie said, reaching the entry hall. “Marva Lou’s passed out, just like Frankie. It’s a good thing she didn’t lock the door.”

  Roxanne was already on her cell, summoning more help. “I’ve got an ambulance on the way,” she announced, clicking off the phone. “They should be here in less than five minutes. I’ll take a quick look while Mr. Buss is being put into the van. Show me the way.”

  Renie started back up the stairs. “Stay put,” she called to Judith. “You look worn out.”

  “I am,” Judith muttered, “but I have to see what’s going on.” She followed Roxanne, but didn’t force herself to hurry. Her brain was full of questions, none of them pleasant. Allergies? Food poisoning? Some weird strain of virus? Or…Judith didn’t want to consider another possibility. Not yet, anyway.

  Marva Lou Buss was lying motionless on the bed. The liquor bottle she’d taken from the washstand in the dining room was almost half empty. Judith and Renie both remained in the doorway to Room Five while Roxanne checked Marva Lou’s vital signs.

  “You’re right,” she said grimly. “Her condition seems similar to her husband’s. Do you know what they ate or drank in the last few hours?”

  “He had brandy, and Mrs. Buss had bourbon,” Judith replied, pointing to the bottle on the nightstand. “The bourbon hadn’t yet been opened. The brandy bottle was over half full. I have no idea what or where they ate after they had breakfast.”

  Roxanne’s expression was somber. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Judith insisted. “Mr. and Mrs. Buss were gone most of the day. They have relatives two doors down on the west side of the cul-de-sac, a Mr. and Mrs. Billy Buss. I know they were there at some time
today because Mrs. Buss mentioned it.”

  “All right.” Roxanne started toward the stairs. “Stay here until the ambulance arrives. I’ll alert Dr. Kerr before I leave with Mr. Buss. Both of the victims will be taken to Bayview Hospital.”

  “I know the drill,” Judith murmured. “Roxanne’s new around here,” she said to Renie. “She avoided calling me a herald of doom.”

  “True,” Renie conceded, “but she’s smart. I get the impression that Roxanne figures this isn’t an ordinary emergency. She’s suspicious.”

  “Not of me, I hope,” Judith said, glancing at her watch. “Good grief! I forgot to feed Mother! Can you wait here while I fix something before she pitches a five-star fit?”

  “Sure,” Renie said, motioning for Judith to go.

  Taking the back stairs, Judith went into the kitchen, took a frozen TV dinner out of the fridge, and popped it in the microwave. Fortunately, Gertrude liked some of the ready-made entrees, often insisting they tasted better than her daughter’s home cooking.

  While Judith waited for the food to cook, she went out to the entry hall. There was no sign of the ambulance yet, but the medic van was pulling away. From the living room, she heard the sounds of animated chatter from her guests.

  “Excuse me,” she said loudly, standing under the arch. “Mr. and Mrs. Buss are suffering from an illness with similar symptoms, possibly an allergic reaction or even food poisoning. Did any of you speak to them today about their plans? It might be helpful if we knew where they’d spent their time after leaving here this morning.”

  The twins looked blank. The honeymooners shook their heads. The Californians exchanged glances.

  “Just saw them briefly this morning,” Bob, the former Army medic, said. “Asked if they were enjoying their visit. They acted grumpy.”

  “Not a very friendly couple,” his wife put in. “I thought she mentioned something about this not being a vacation so much as work.”