Vi Agra Falls

by Mary Daheim

  “No,” Judith replied, trying not to sound as aggravated as she felt, “you can drink it for me. I had some Scotch earlier. I never mix grains.”

  “Very wise.” Herself nodded several times. “Shall I bring you a bottle of Johnny Walker?”

  Judith stood up. “No, I really should be—”

  Ray poked his head around the kitchen door. “H-e-e-e-r-e’s Johnny! Wh-e-e-e-r-e’s Johnny?” he shouted hoarsely before coming back into the living room, “Hey, I remember your husband now. He looks like the guy from the old Johnny Carson show, Ed McMahon.”

  Judith stared at Ray. “Joe? No, he doesn’t.”

  Ray’s little eyes squinted at Judith. “He doesn’t? Then who did?”

  “Forget it, Ray,” Vivian said sharply. “Take your shower, okay?”

  Judith had gotten as far as the front door. “Vivian, please let me know what you hear about Frankie and Marva Lou. If Billy talks to someone at the hospital, I’d really like to find out how they’re doing.”

  “Will do.” Vivian put her big sunglasses back on. “Toodles,” she called, lifting her glass once more.

  Judith found Renie in the B&B’s living room, flipping through a volume of Tiffany lamp reproductions. “If we ever get our plumbing fixed,” she said, “we’re going to put some of these pendant lights in the kitchen.”

  “Where the hell did you go?” Judith demanded, ignoring her cousin’s statement.

  “I refuse to be called Beanie. I fled in horror. Why can’t that imbecile remember my name?”

  “She’s lucky she remembers her own,” Judith retorted, sitting down opposite Renie. “Especially her current last name. I never saw Billy, and Herself had no news of the in-laws. Husband Number Two, Ray Campbell, had taken Billy’s place on the sofa.”

  Renie closed the Tiffany volume. “Anywhere else?”

  “Like in bed?” Judith’s tone was derisive. “Who knows? Vivian seemed anxious to get rid of him, though.” She put both hands to her head in a gesture of frustration. “I don’t recall ever dealing with such a bunch of…what should I call them? Superficial?”

  “Hollow,” Renie said. “Nothing inside. Just a shell. No soul.”

  Judith nodded. “After spending ten minutes with that bunch, I get off track and derail all over the place.” She sat up straight. “It’s not just because Herself is Herself. Let’s put aside any personal feelings, and focus on the murder. Which, I must add, wasn’t even alluded to during my brief and gruesome visit. It’s as if it never happened. Is that because Vivian is in a permanent alcoholic haze or…what?”

  “That’s part of it,” Renie agreed. “It’s ego, too, and lack of a moral compass. Vivian—or ‘Vi,’ as she now prefers—is interested only in Vi and whatever pleasure she can get out of life. She’s always on the run, from place to place, from husband to husband. I often marvel at how long she and Joe stayed together. In fact, I’ve always assumed it was because Joe was committed to the marriage and provided a decent income. Not to mention that he had no idea how miserable you were without him.”

  “It wasn’t always horrible with Dan,” Judith pointed out. “It just was never…right.”

  “No,” Renie said. “Neither of your first marriages was ‘right’ because you both entered them under false pretenses. You and Joe didn’t realize what was going on with each other. So you stayed put, two honorable people who made one hell of a sacrifice to keep your vows.”

  “Most people do that,” Judith pointed out, “in one way or another.”

  Renie shook her head. “Not as much as you and Joe did. You both went beyond the call, but I’d never criticize you for it. Your forbearance was noble—if tragic.”

  “Okay,” Judith said, and sighed. “But rehashing our marital woes doesn’t help figure out who killed the guy hanging in the tree.” She paused. “You trust my instincts?”

  “Usually.” Renie looked curious. “Try me.”

  Judith sat back on the sofa, her dark eyes roaming around the long, comfortable living room. A slight breeze coming through the open French doors stirred the lace curtains and jacquard drapes. The fresh air seemed to shift Judith’s brain into high gear.

  “I’m guessing,” she admitted. “I believe in Uncle Al’s hunches, but even he hedged his imaginary bet about Johnny being dead. Call me crazy, but I’m more and more convinced that the murdered man is—was—Johnny Agra.”

  16

  Renie looked skeptical. “Didn’t Vivian tell you he was dead? What did they do, dig him up and put him in her backyard? Wouldn’t it have been easier to make a scarecrow?”

  “I’m serious,” Judith responded. “We only have Herself’s word for it, and she’s not very reliable. Uncle Al had heard Johnny was dead or had moved to L.A. I suggest we run his name through the computer and see if anything comes up.”

  “Okay.” Renie got up from the sofa. “Shall I do the dirty work?”

  “Well…yes.” Judith followed her cousin out to the kitchen. “While you’re looking, I can get tomorrow’s breakfast organized. By the way, where’s Caitlin?”

  “She came back from dinner with her old chums and said she was making an early night of it,” Renie replied. “Jet lag and all that.”

  “Of course. It’s going on ten. It must be seven a.m. Swiss time.”

  “Which is always accurate,” Renie murmured, sitting on the stool in front of the computer. “What makes you think Johnny’s alive—or was, until a couple of days ago?”

  “Vivian’s vague reaction about Johnny, for one thing,” Judith replied, slicing a ham she’d gotten out of the fridge. “She wouldn’t look me in the eye. Then Ray Campbell made an odd remark, imitating Ed McMahon introducing Johnny Carson. Apparently, someone at the party reminded him of McMahon on the old Tonight show.”

  Renie cast Judith a doubtful look. “Isn’t that a bit thin?”

  Judith put the ham slices in a plastic wrap. “You have to trust my instincts, Coz.”

  “Okay.” But Renie sounded unconvinced. “Here we go…” She made several attempts before finding a reference to Johnny Agra. “This information is ancient, going back to the fifties. It’s about his restaurant and bar businesses with nothing later than forty years ago.”

  “That’s about the time Johnny closed the Rumpus Room downtown,” Judith said.

  “But not where Joe met Vivian, right?”

  “No,” Judith said, breaking eggs into a big bowl. “Herself and Johnny split ten years earlier. While they were married, he owned Risky Business Bar & Grill. Its clientele called it The Risqué.” She paused. “Vivian got it as part of the divorce settlement. Ray and Vivian were married soon after she and Johnny broke up. Ray ran the place while Herself warbled and wobbled in the bar. When Joe met her she was a fixture at the Silver Slipper, next door to the porn theater that closed twenty-odd years ago.”

  Renie looked befuddled. “I don’t know how you remember all this restaurant stuff. You weren’t old enough to drink in the fifties.”

  “I know the history because Dan was in the business, too,” Judith explained. “Now that I remember who Ray is, I recall that he wasn’t very successful. Joe thought Ray took on the business for Vivian’s sake so she could have a place in the spotlight and sing for a bunch of drunks.”

  “I need a family tree,” Renie muttered, taking a lined tablet out of the drawer under the counter. “List husbands and kids. I know about Johnny Agra and Terri the Stripper. Which son belongs to Ray?”

  “Doug,” Judith replied. “Barry is Lou Henckel’s boy. I don’t recall much about Lou, but the marriage was brief. Vivian was vague about Lou. I guess she hadn’t asked Barry if he was dead or alive.”

  “Doesn’t know, doesn’t care,” Renie murmured, scribbling notes. “Joe’s next, followed by two Busses. Does Vivian know a guy named Yellow Cab?”

  Judith was getting exasperated. “Coz, can you at least pretend to take this seriously?”

  Renie shook her head. “You know I can’t take serious th
ings seriously. If I did, I’d be so sick at heart that I couldn’t function. I especially can’t handle violent deaths without being flippant. Not,” she added, gazing meaningfully at her cousin, “when you keep encountering corpses. Anybody else would’ve fled your company years ago.”

  Judith pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. “I’m sorry. I understand, because the only way I can deal with these tragedies is by trying to make sense of them. I put the pieces together the way I make a jigsaw puzzle. It’s not only truth and justice I seek, but it’s turning the world’s chaos into some kind of order. If I focus on finding a solution, I can try to detach myself from the horror.”

  “I know.” Renie looked unusually solemn. “The world’s a chaotic place. Human beings are such a combination of good and evil.”

  Judith nodded. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell which is which. A senseless killing, like serial murderers or somebody who goes off the rails and shoots up a shopping mall, is almost impossible for ordinary—dare I say normal?—people like us to understand because the reason is hidden under a camouflage of seemingly acceptable behavior. I don’t try to figure out how or why those things happen. The fatal flaw is beyond me. But all the murders I’ve come across have had a motive, and there aren’t that many reasons for seemingly rational people to kill someone else. I think this one has to do with greed.”

  “I agree,” Renie said. “Despite the sex angle, which Herself’s image always conjures up, money must be the root of this particular evil.”

  “So,” Judith said, leaning forward enough to see the monitor screen, “no obit for Johnny Agra?”

  “Nothing local,” Renie replied.

  “Try L.A.,” Judith suggested.

  “Hoo boy. This could take a while.”

  Half an hour later, Judith realized her cousin wasn’t exaggerating. “No luck,” Renie said, coming into the living room where Judith was reading a book. “L.A. is so spread out and made up of so many entities that even searching the whole county, I flunked. Either Johnny didn’t die there, or I don’t know how to find the right search method.”

  “No mention of him at all?” Judith asked.

  “Nary a one,” Renie replied, flopping down on the opposite sofa. “That’s odd, because if he stayed in the restaurant business, you’d think I’d get some kind of hit, even in a city as huge as L.A.”

  “That is strange,” Judith said. “Restaurants were his métier.”

  “Maybe he never went to California,” Renie said.

  Hearing some of the guests return, Judith glanced at her watch. “It’s one a.m. in Atlanta, too late to call Joe. He knew some of the other partygoers, including a couple of retired cops. I’m trying to remember their names. They hung out at those same bars. I never really knew them.” She pressed her fist against her lips and concentrated.

  Renie sat quietly, waiting for Judith’s memory to spring into action. “Hey,” she finally said, “call Woody. He’d know those guys.”

  “You’re right,” Judith said. “It’s kind of late, though.”

  “Ten’s not so late,” Renie pointed out. “Oh, no!” she shrieked, jumping up and racing to the French doors. “I didn’t put Clarence to bed! He always gets tucked in at eight-thirty! What’s wrong with me?”

  “I’ve wondered that for years,” Judith murmured, going over to get the phone from the cherrywood table. When she dialed the number of Joe’s longtime partner, Woody Price, his wife, Sondra, answered.

  “Judith!” she cried. “I’ve been meaning to call you ever since we found out about the body at Joe’s ex-wife’s house.”

  “Unfortunately,” Judith replied, “that’s why I called. I could use some help from Woody.”

  “So could the police,” Sondra said, lowering her voice. “Woody was asked to handle that case, but he turned it down. Conflict of interest, he told his captain. I understand the two tecs assigned to the investigation aren’t making much headway.”

  “You mean Woody had a conflict because of Vivian?”

  “Yes.” Sondra paused. “He knew her too well from the old days, and felt he’d be prejudiced from the get-go. Do you think she did it?”

  Judith was startled. “I don’t know,” she managed to respond. Vivian’s…difficult, but I’ve never considered her dangerous or violent.”

  Sondra laughed. “Dangerous to herself more than to others. That’s my guess. Oh, I know, a policeman’s wife isn’t supposed to talk about cases—any cases, whether their spouse is involved or not. But this one really hit home. I didn’t realize Vivian was back in town.”

  “She is,” Judith said grimly, “and arrived with a vengeance. She’s rich now, courtesy of her previous husband, and now she’s married to—Hey, we’ve got to get together. It’s been too long. As soon as Labor Day is over, things will slow down at the B&B. We’ll set a dinner date.”

  “That’d be great,” Sondra said. “Do you want to talk to Woody?”

  “If he’s available,” Judith said.

  “He’s half asleep in his recliner.” Sondra’s tone was wry. “It’s getting to the point that I have to wake him up so he can go to bed. Getting older is kind of a pain.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Judith agreed. “Joe and I are several years ahead of you and Woody on that road.” An image of Joe’s former partner appeared in her mind’s eye, not the young, stolid, good-looking black man with a full head of hair and walrus mustache, but the Woody of middle age, receding dark hair dusted with gray, dark skin lined around the eyes and mouth, still fit, though carrying maybe an extra ten pounds—but as stolid as ever. She was smiling to herself when Woody’s deep, soft voice reached her ear.

  “You have questions,” he said to Judith, “but I don’t have answers. I realize you have a special interest because of Vivian, not to mention your—Well, let’s be candid, you have a genuine knack for solving murder cases. Did Sondra tell you I’m giving this case a wide berth?”

  “She did,” Judith said, “and I understand.” After explaining that Joe was out of town, she asked Woody to take a stroll down memory lane. “Joe said two of the guests were retired cops. He worked closely with one of them before your time. They both later transferred out of Homicide. Any ideas?”

  “Retired,” Woody repeated. “Transferred.” He grew silent, obviously thinking. “At the party, so they knew Vivian from years ago,” he said. “Was one of them kind of tall with gray hair?”

  “Yes,” Judith replied, beginning to remember some of the details Joe had related. “White hair, actually, and he talked with his hands.”

  “I haven’t seen him in a long time,” Woody said. “That could be Carney Mitchell. He lives over here on the Eastside. I ran into him once about four years ago at the local Gutbusters flagship store.”

  “That’s one of the names,” Judith said. “The other man is bowlegged and used to have red hair, but he’s balding and going gray.”

  “Andy Truitt,” Woody said. “No, Pruitt. I never really knew him. Both of them hit the bars after work.”

  “Joe didn’t know him very well, either. Maybe I shouldn’t ask, but was either of them…bent?”

  “Bent?” Woody sounded shocked. “Not that I know of. Did Joe suggest they weren’t straight arrows?”

  “No,” Judith assured Woody. “It’s that body-snatching thing. Wouldn’t you have to be with the city or county to pull that off?”

  “Well…” Woody paused. “It’s embarrassing.”

  “But it happened,” Judith said as Renie came back inside through the French doors. “Can you explain how?”

  Woody remained silent for so long that Judith wondered if he’d gone back to sleep. She shot Renie a puzzled look.

  “Say hi for me,” Renie whispered. “Tell him Clarence was hopping mad, but he’s settled down for the night, despite my neglect.”

  Judith made a disparaging face. “Woody?” she finally said.

  “I’m here.” He sounded apologetic. “The media may have screwed up.
It’s not a case of body-snatching, though…. Look, Judith, I’m not sure what it is. Honestly, I’m trying to stay away from this thing. I’ve worked for the city a long time, and I know when we have to close ranks. All I can tell you is that somebody claimed the corpse after the initial autopsy, and it was released. It shouldn’t have been, but it was.”

  “Released to whom?”

  “I don’t know.” He sighed, or maybe, Judith thought, it was more of a groan. “Do you want me to do some checking?”

  “Not if it causes you big problems,” Judith said. “Maybe the media will get it straightened out. Let’s wait and see, okay?”

  “That sounds…like the thing to do. Hey, I feel bad about not being more help. You have to understand that when I started working with Joe, he was still married to Vivian. He didn’t gripe that much, but I knew he was miserable. I’m afraid I developed a very negative attitude toward her. Once they separated, Joe was a changed man. It was like a miracle.” He paused again. “You were the miracle.”

  Judith couldn’t be upset about Woody’s reluctance. Instead, she started to cry. “Thank you, Woody,” she finally managed to say in a tearful voice. “I feel better already.”

  “Now what?” Renie demanded after Judith hung up. “You’re upset because you didn’t tell Woody about Clarence?”

  “Shut up!” Judith snapped, the tender moment broken by Renie’s remark. “It’s something Woody said. He’s kind and good-hearted, unlike some people I know, and will you stop rearranging Oscar’s picture?”

  “The light doesn’t strike it properly after dark,” Renie replied. “You can’t see his ever-engaging smile very well.”

  “Oh, shut up!” Judith dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Sit down, I’ll tell you what Woody said about the so-called body-snatching.”

  “That’s more like it.” Renie smiled sardonically and resumed her place on the sofa. “Let’s hear it.”