Here Comes the Bribe

by Mary Daheim

  Judith figured Norma would take advantage of just about anything and anybody, including cripples and small children. “Sure, I’ll let them know. We’ll miss you when you’re gone,” she fibbed.

  “It’ll be an adjustment for us as well,” Norma admitted. “But retirement communities always have plenty of activities. As you know, I like to get involved.”

  “Yes—yes, you do, Norma,” Judith agreed, glad that the other woman couldn’t see her grimace. “In fact,” she went on as Charlie Crump came into the entry hall via the front door, “I’ll tell Mr. Crump right now.”

  “Crump?” Norma echoed. “That’s an odd name. Oh, well. Thank you, Judith. I’ll wait to hear from him.”

  Judith called to Charlie before he could start up the stairs. “What now?” he asked, plodding into the living room and looking put upon.

  Judith explained the situation with the Paines. “I thought you might want to pass the news on to Reverend Kindred.”

  Charlie rubbed at his neck. Apparently he hadn’t yet recovered from the kink. “We all dabble a bit in real estate now and then. It isn’t easy for Georgie boy to get by passing the hat at church services. Have you got an address and phone number for these folks?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Judith replied, setting the phone down on the little table and taking the directory out of the drawer. She jotted down the required information on a pad.

  Charlie scanned the slip of paper Judith had handed to him. He frowned. “Where is this from where we are now?”

  “About six blocks west and closer to the top of the hill,” she informed him.

  He shook his head and handed the paper back to her. “No use to us. Too far away.” He rearranged his comb-over before trudging out of the living room.

  Just as Judith returned to the kitchen, Joe entered through the back door. He saw his wife’s inquiring look and shook his head. “Don’t ask about the cost of the repair job. It’s worse than I thought and Ron’s MG guru won’t be in until Tuesday. It looks as if I’m without wheels for most of next week.”

  “That’s okay,” Judith said. “I don’t have any big plans for the Subaru. Are you sure the MG is worth spending a lot of money to get it fixed? It’s really old.”

  Joe’s round face looked horrified. “Are you kidding? Do you know what that car is worth? It’s a classic! I bought it new in 1962. I’ve kept it up. I could probably sell it for at least fifty grand.”

  Judith resisted asking why he didn’t do that. But his comment about the car being a classic made her think. She explained about the phone call from Norma Paine and Charlie Crump’s reaction.

  “It sounds to me,” she went on, “as if the Schmuck gang wants only this specific bunch of properties. My question is why?”

  Joe paused in the act of opening the fridge. “They think we have buried treasure around here? I’ll admit, I’ve thought of burying your mother out there, but I suppose I should wait until she croaks. If she ever croaks.” He removed a beer and flipped the tab.

  “That’s mean,” Judith declared. “And your suggestion about buried treasure isn’t worthy of you. Consider not just this small patch of the hill, but what’s around it.”

  Joe took a sip of beer and leaned against the counter. “Lots of other houses. Apartment buildings. Condos. A fairly big park just up the hill from us. So?”

  Judith nodded. “Exactly. No commercial properties once you get off of Heraldsgate Avenue. It’s all residential, but condos are springing up in several parts of the hill, especially on top and over on the north side where Renie and Bill live. I think building a big condominium complex is the Schmucks’ plan. But why they’ve put on this charade with who and what they are puzzles me. If anything, instead of claiming to be from L.A., they should admit they’re more local. You know how most people here—especially natives like us—disdain California developers.”

  “Woody’s checking their credentials,” Joe said. “I gather they aren’t listed in the local phone books. But a lot of people don’t list anymore because of all the cell phones. I don’t get that, unless it’s because they keep changing cell companies and have to get different numbers.”

  “Some people never have a published number,” Judith pointed out. “Bill and Renie have always been unlisted because they don’t want calls at home from his goofy clients.”

  Joe drank more beer and then ambled over to the kitchen window. “Nobody in this cul-de-sac is willing to sell out,” he finally said. “If anybody was, the Schmuck gang would lowball them. I wonder if they’d be out of here if Millie hadn’t ended up dead.”

  “If they’re local, why come here at all?” Judith asked.

  Joe grinned at his wife. “To ingratiate himself as your son? You’ve got to admit that caught your attention.”

  “It was dumb,” Judith asserted. “I still think he chose the wrong Judith Grover.”

  “Maybe.” Joe sounded noncommittal.

  Judith changed the subject. “Has the crime-scene processing finished outside?”

  “Yes,” Joe replied. “They were done over an hour ago.” The green eyes twinkled. “They found a lot of fingerprints. It turned out they were your mother’s. I wonder if I could talk Woody into busting her.”

  Judith refrained from gnashing her teeth. “Stop. I really get irked about how both of you constantly trash each other. Did the ’tecs find anything of interest?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Joe replied. “Did you?”

  “It’s what I didn’t find that’s intriguing. Millie’s purse. I don’t suppose the cops turned it up?”

  Joe’s high forehead furrowed. “No mention of it. That is odd. Do you know what it looked like?”

  “It was red patent leather,” Judith replied, “which is hard to miss.”

  “Maybe,” Joe mused, “one of the other guests swiped it. Millie might’ve had a lot of cash on her.”

  “That’s dubious,” Judith said. “Even if it were so, the purse still has to be someplace. Unless whoever took it stashed it during one of their neighborhood strolls. I wonder . . .” She stopped, staring at the phone. “Maybe I should call Tyler Dooley.”

  Joe looked bemused. “The Dooley grandson’s a purse snatcher?”

  “Hardly. But I’m going to call Corinne anyway to see if they were asked about selling their house. Granted, it’s not in the cul-de-sac, but it’s close enough to be included in what I should call this parcel of land. Tyler likes to play detective. Maybe his dog could sniff out the purse.”

  “Go for it.” Joe polished off his beer. “I’m going to cut back some of the Rankerses’ hedge on this side out back. It’s shading some of those flowers you’ve got coming up across from your mother’s witches’ coven.”

  “Good idea,” Judith murmured. But her mind wasn’t on the garden. She picked up the phone and called Corinne Dooley. After a brief exchange of neighborly inquiries, the mother of the large Dooley brood asked if there’d been some trouble at Hillside Manor. Judith was candid; Corinne was matter-of-fact.

  “My, that can be unsettling,” she said. “Everything here has been fairly calm. Mary Lou fell off her unicycle and sprained her wrist this morning. Zach had his car dented rather badly up by Holliday’s Drug Store this noon. Monica has hiccups that won’t stop. Maybe I can get one of the other kids to scare her. It’s too bad she didn’t see the body in your yard. That might’ve done it.”

  Judith never ceased to marvel at Corinne’s ability to cope so calmly with her huge family’s misadventures. “What I was calling about,” she explained, “is to find out if someone came by to ask if you wanted to sell your house.”

  Corinne laughed. “I don’t think so. Tom and Johnny ripped out the front porch today. I doubt anyone would come around to the back. It’s like a land mine with all the toys out there. If we had a body in our yard, nobody would be able to find it.”

  Judith didn’t doubt it. “Is Tyler around, by any chance?”

  “Let me think.” Corinne paused. Judith could hea
r the shrieking of small children in the background. “He’s probably riding his bike up at the SOTS playground,” she said, using the acronym that stood for Our Lady, Star of the Sea. Do you want him to come by when he gets back?”

  “Yes,” Judith said. “I may have a . . . an assignment for him.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful! He does love to play detective. He wishes he could train Farley to be like a real police dog, but a mutt usually doesn’t have those skills.”

  “True. But Tyler makes a good sleuth. He notices things.”

  “I’ll admit he’s observant, especially for a teenager. Both our sons were like that when you enlisted them to help with . . .” A crash could be heard in the background. “Oh, darn,” Corinne said softly. “I think the bookcase in the hall fell over. I’d better make sure nobody’s under it. Bye, Judith. Nice to talk to you.”

  The Dooley doyenne might have nerves of steel, but chatting with her could unsettle Judith. She gave a start when her name was called from the back hallway. Belle was languidly approaching the kitchen.

  “I’m stressed,” she announced. “Everybody keeps telling me that Mom’s in a better place, but the morgue doesn’t sound like that to me. Do you know where I can buy some weed? Clark and I are running out.”

  “They’re talking about legalizing it here,” Judith replied, “but it hasn’t happened yet. Try hanging out by the high school or the junior high.” For all Judith knew, the playground by the church and school might also be a good bet.

  “Okay.” Belle’s gaze wandered to the high kitchen ceiling. “I don’t suppose you could lend me a Big Ben? Or two.”

  “A what?” Judith asked, wondering if she was going deaf. Why not? Gertrude had claimed to be deaf for the past fifty years. Or so it seemed to her daughter.

  Belle’s eyes floated back down to gaze at her hostess. “You know—a couple of hundred dollars. For the pot. I thought Mom would have that much in her purse, but I can’t find it. Do you know where it might be?”

  “No,” Judith replied. “As for a loan, I don’t keep cash on hand.”

  “Bummer.” Belle fixed her gaze on Judith’s black purse that lay near the computer. “How about a check? Are there any banks open on Saturday around here?”

  “I’m not writing you a check,” Judith said firmly. “Key Largo Bank is only open Saturdays until four. It’s ten after now. You’re out of luck.”

  “I’m out of weed,” Belle mumbled. “Maybe Clark can find an ATM. Is the bank around here somewhere?”

  “It’s up at the top of the hill and one block north. Are you smoking pot in your guest room?”

  “Sure, where else? We like to kick back. But we keep the window open in Room Two. It’s kind of small, but cozy. Except we didn’t smoke while the cops were here.” Belle shrugged. “Maybe I’ll ask Dad. He’s finally able to go back to his own room, but he’s taking another nap in ours. I asked that older guy about Dad using his own pad and he said it was okay.”

  “What older guy?” Judith inquired.

  “The one who was helping you make breakfast. I saw him in the hall when I went to the can.”

  “That’s my husband,” Judith said. “He’s a retired police detective.”

  “Oh, darn!” Belle looked stricken. “Will he bust us for smoking weed while we stay here?”

  “Probably not. He’s got more important things to do right now,” Judith added, though she wondered exactly what Joe was doing up on the third floor. Maybe he was checking backgrounds on the guests or talking to Woody on the phone. At least she hoped he was doing something to advance the murder investigation. Before she could say anything more to Belle, the nonbride wandered back down the hall.

  Twenty minutes later, Tyler Dooley—and his dog, Farley—showed up on the front porch. Tyler’s eager, round face lit up when he saw Judith. “Granny tells me you want me on the case. I heard you had another murder. That’s amazing!”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly,” Judith said, though Tyler’s enthusiasm heartened her. After all, it was best not to dwell on the grimmer aspects of the tragedy. “Come in so I can tell you what happened.”

  Tyler hesitated. “Is it okay if Farley comes, too?”

  “Sure,” Judith said. “He’s well behaved.” She led the way back to the kitchen. It took her at least five minutes to recount the events, describe the people involved, and tell him what had transpired since the murder.

  “Wow!” Tyler said softly when she finished. “This is all kind of confusing. But the scam idea to buy up the houses around here is the bottom line, right?”

  “That appears to be so,” Judith agreed. “I don’t see what else could be their reason for this whole charade.”

  Tyler looked thoughtful. “This could be my last case,” he said wistfully. “I’m starting college in the fall over at State U. That should be a real adventure, too.” He glanced down at Farley and scratched the dog’s head. “I’ll miss this guy, though. So what’s my first job? Surveillance?”

  “You can do that anytime,” Judith replied. “For now, I want you to look for Mrs. Schmuck’s missing purse.”

  Tyler rubbed his chin. “Hmm. Any chance I could get a scent off of something that belonged to her? That’d help Farley.”

  “I’m not sure if Mr. Schmuck—Rodney—is back in his room. Let me check, okay?”

  “Sure. I’ll go out in the yard and study the crime scene.” Tyler stood up. “Come on, Farley, let’s go.”

  Upstairs, Judith noticed the yellow warning tape was gone from outside of Room One. There was no response when she knocked on the door. Cautiously, she stepped inside. Rodney apparently was still snoozing in Room Two, the smallest of the accommodations. Maybe Belle and Clark could put up with being so crowded only by smoking pot. Judith almost didn’t blame them.

  The crimson kimono was hanging in the closet. Judith slipped it off the hanger and went back downstairs just as Tyler and Farley came back inside. “This should do the trick,” she said.

  Farley sniffed tentatively at the shiny fabric. Tyler waited until he was sure the dog had taken in the scent. “Okay,” he said. “We might as well start the search. It’s clouding over so it might rain. Anyway, dinner’s going to be late tonight. I think the stove broke. Again.”

  Judith didn’t doubt it. If ever a stove was overworked, it’d belong to the Dooleys. If ever a mother and grandmother was overworked, it’d be Corinne. But she seemed to thrive on meeting her family’s needs. Judith wished her own much smaller family was closer. But at least she had other diversions.

  Once again, there was murder on her mind.

  Chapter 8

  Joe wasn’t pleased to learn that Tyler was on the case. “The Dooley grandson’s just a kid,” he said, pouring drinks for Judith and himself. “It’s bad enough that you keep putting yourself in harm’s way, but I like it even less when you get a teenager mixed up in your crazy sleuthing.”

  Judith felt defensive. “You have to admit I’ve helped bring a few killers to justice.”

  “And damned near gotten yourself killed in the process,” Joe reminded her. “Hey—don’t you want us to be together into our dotage? What about that train trip back east we mentioned the other day?”

  “I could forget about sleuthing, mind my own business, and get hit by a bus,” Judith declared.

  Joe smirked. “It’d probably be driven by the killer who was using it to get away from you.”

  “I don’t want to argue anymore.” Judith opened the oven. “It upsets me. I already grilled Mother’s salmon first in case the guests actually show up for the cocktail hour. If she had to wait past six, she’d really be cranky. I’ll take her meal out to her while you watch the rest of the food. And make sure the guests don’t steal the silver. You are, after all, a private eye.”

  She hadn’t bothered to put on a sweater before she left the house. Grimacing at the spot by the birdbath where Millie’s body had been found, Judith felt the first drops of rain. She kept going, being a
typical native and undaunted by the drizzle.

  Gertrude was watching a baseball game. “No score,” she announced. “Our starting pitcher is still scratching himself in places I won’t mention. They’re saying it might rain. So what? They always say that.” She looked at the plate Judith had set down on the crowded card table. “Is this some unnatural species Dopey caught in Australia?”

  “It’s salmon from Alaska,” Judith replied. “Could you shift some of your items so that there’s room for the silverware?”

  “I might be able to do that,” the old lady replied. “I’m kind of crippled, you know.” As if to prove it, she fumbled with the newspapers on the card table and sent them sailing onto the floor. “Now see what you made me do! I don’t suppose you can bend over with your phony hip to pick them up.”

  Judith didn’t answer. She was too stunned by the sight of what looked like a red patent leather strap peeking out from under the clutter. Hurriedly, she picked up a jumble puzzle book and the TV Guide. “That’s Millie’s purse!” she cried. “Where did you find it?”

  “I didn’t,” Gertrude replied indignantly. “Sweetums was mauling it under the hydrangea by the garage this morning. Who’s Millie?”

  “The woman who was killed.” Judith hesitated before touching the strap. But she realized that any fingerprints probably would be smudged by now. “I’ve got to give this to the police. They wondered why it wasn’t found along with her other belongings.”

  Gertrude seemed disgusted. “There’s not much in it. She only had about thirty dollars in her coin purse. I guess robbery wasn’t the motive. She didn’t even carry around a deck of cards like I always do. Are you sure she didn’t die of boredom?”

  “Some people aren’t as keen on playing cards as you are, Mother,” Judith said. “Enjoy your dinner.”