by Mary Daheim
Judith decided to humor Renie. “Okay, I’ve got ‘Manliness,’ ‘Monkshood,’ and ‘Motor Sports.’ You choose.”
“I doubt Clayton knows much about manliness, and motor sports bore me. Go with monkshood.”
“Okay,” Judith said. “The monkshood blog is dated May fourth of this year. I’ll print it out. It’s a plant, you know.”
“Right.” Renie’s boredom seemed to be glazing her eyes.
“It’s only one page, single-spaced. Shall I read it to you?” Judith asked as the single sheet began to make its appearance in the printer tray.
“We can both read it at the same time. Jeez, you’re making a project out of this. Now I’m getting hungry.”
Judith had already glanced at the lead sentence. “Oh, no!” she cried. “Monkshood is poisonous. It’s official name is aconitum.”
Renie’s interest was mildly piqued. “Is Clayton confessing all?”
“No,” Judith responded, sitting down at the table. “He’s using it as an example of toxic plants that grow in gardens and can cause serious problems for family pets. I guess Clayton’s not worried about children, since he doesn’t appear to have any.”
“He’s not the kid-friendly type,” Renie said. “You don’t have any monkshood in your yard, do you?”
Judith shook her head. “Not that I know of. See the picture? It’s kind of a pretty blue flower, though.”
“It’s vaguely familiar,” Renie said. “I suppose I’ve seen it around. A lot of ordinary garden plants are toxic. I wonder why he chose monkshood as an example?”
“Coincidence?” Judith mused. “Did it give someone an idea?”
Renie grinned. “You’re assuming Clayton’s pals read his blogs?”
“They might. Being his wife, Sophie probably does. Of course she’s a doctor and might know about monkshood. You have to admit it’s an odd coincidence that Clayton wrote about it only a short time ago.”
“When did the Schmucks make their reservation to come here?”
Judith thought for a moment. “The last week of April. I remember because Easter came late this year and I spent the next week worrying because May wasn’t filling up very fast except for the Memorial Day weekend. Then along came the Schmucks with their full-house request. It seemed like the answer to a prayer.”
“A lesson in being careful what you pray for,” Renie said.
Judith rolled her eyes.
After getting into a religious argument with Phyliss about where Noah could find penguins for his ark, Renie left shortly after two. Joe returned home a few minutes later. The repairs on the classic MG wouldn’t be finished until Wednesday. Ron the Mechanic had to send away for parts.
“I’ve got a call in to that inspector,” Joe told Judith as she was thawing spareribs for the barbecue. “I don’t expect to hear back from him until close to five if he’s on his rounds.”
“Do you think he was bribed?”
“It’s possible, I suppose.” Joe grimaced at the spareribs. “It could rain. Maybe we should bake them.”
“It doesn’t look like rain to me,” Judith said. “You just don’t want to bother starting the barbecue.”
“It takes so long for them to cook over the coals. The first time around is always iffy. I have to regain my knack.” His round face turned puckish. “I can’t remember if I filed it under K or N.”
“Work it out,” Judith said. But she smiled.
Mavis called around four. “Rich people give me a pain,” she declared. “I think I’ll do a series on why they’re so standoffish with the media. Of course, it might dry up some of my sources.”
“Don’t tell me you of all people had trouble getting them to open up? You’re more famous around here than most of them are.”
“They don’t want to be famous,” Mavis responded. “They just want to be rich. But I’m relentless. I finally got a Mrs. Burnside-Smythe to talk after I made a fool of myself over her stinking little Pekingese, Horatio Alger. She told me she hadn’t met the Schmucks, but her bridge partner, Mrs. Worthman, had spoken with Millie Schmuck a couple of times at the mailboxes. The quasi-modern house is mostly furnished except for the saloon—her word, not mine. It’s in the basement.”
“Did Mrs. Burnside-Smythe have anything interesting to say about Millie?”
“Not really,” Mavis replied grudgingly. “But her tone indicated that the Schmucks were not One of Them, if you take her meaning.”
“I do and she’s probably right,” Judith said. “In fact, I’m not sure the Schmucks and the rest of their crew are one of us. Anything else to report?”
“I hate to say it, but no. It really was a waste of my time,” Mavis complained in a sour tone. “I should have been investigating corruption in city government.”
“There is some?”
“There always is,” Mavis replied wearily. “Got to dash and get ready for the evening news.”
As soon as Judith put the phone down, she heard the front door open and a burst of angry voices. Hurrying into the hall, she found Cynthia Wicks berating Reverend Kindred.
“I don’t give a rat’s rear end about your stupid church, Georgie boy!” she shouted. “Keep religion out of this! We’re on a mission, and don’t you forget it!”
Stuart nudged his wife. “Mrs. Flynn,” he said under his breath.
Cynthia turned to look at Judith. “A bit of dissension in the ranks,” she muttered. “We’re all still upset about Millie, of course. It makes us nervy. I’m sure you understand.”
“Certainly,” Judith said as Belle, Clark, and the Crumps started up the stairs. “How was the zoo?”
“Fine,” Stuart replied. “There were a lot of animals.” He took his wife’s arm and followed the Crumps.
The others were right behind them. Except for one missing person. “Hey,” Judith called after Dr. Sophie and Clayton, “where’s Mr. Schmuck?”
Sophie glanced at Judith. “Asleep in the car. He’s tired. He’ll be fine.” She kept going.
Judith returned to the kitchen to find Joe searching the cupboards. “Where’s the lighter fluid for the barbecue?” he asked.
“In the pantry, top shelf,” she informed him. “Do you know what kind of cars the guests rented?”
“No. I don’t think they parked in the cul-de-sac. Why do you ask?”
“Because they left Rodney asleep in one of them,” Judith said. “I want to check on him.”
Joe sighed. “I’ll go with you.” He grabbed his wife’s arm and started out of the kitchen. “Damn, but these people are a pain in the butt. Can’t you evict them? They haven’t paid for tonight, have they?”
“No, but I have Rodney’s credit card on file and I’ll charge their extended stay to that,” Judith said as they went out the front door. “Is Woody insisting they stick around for a while?”
“He can’t really do that without any evidence,” Joe replied, gesturing across the street at a silver midsize Nissan sedan. “I think that’s one of the rental cars.”
The late afternoon had grown quite warm. As Judith and Joe waited to let a plumbing truck go by, she noticed that all the windows were rolled up in the Nissan. No one appeared to be inside, though.
“Maybe,” she said to Joe as they recrossed the street, “Rodney’s in that blue Honda parked just beyond the entrance to the cul-de-sac. I don’t recognize it.”
Joe led the way to the Honda. “Rodney’s asleep in the backseat. There’s an empty bottle of Scotch on the floor.”
“How callous!” Judith cried softly as she peered into the car. “How could they leave him out here with the windows closed?”
“Damn those morons!” Joe pounded on the window. “What’s wrong with them? Are they trying to kill off Schmuck now that his wife’s dead?”
Rodney didn’t stir, despite Joe’s vigorous efforts. “He’s breathing,” Judith said. “He almost looks as if he’s smiling.”
“You’d be smiling, too, if you drank a quart of Old Grisly,” Joe snapp
ed. “I’ll go get one of those jackasses to give me the car key. You stay put in case Rodney comes to.”
Joe had barely reached the cul-de-sac when Arlene practically flew from the other side of the giant hedge and across the street. “Judith! Have you found another dead person? Who is it? Not the mailman, I hope. He’s extremely late today.”
“It’s one of my guests,” Judith said, stepping aside so Arlene could look through the window. “Have you met any of them except Reverend Kindred when he went door-to-door?”
“Not exactly,” Arlene replied. “I did have to shoo that young couple off of our lawn Saturday. They looked as if they were going to take a nap. Was that the bride and groom who didn’t get married?”
“Probably,” Judith said, wincing as Arlene pounded on the Honda’s window. She shouted Rodney’s name, but to no avail.
“I give up,” she said. “Those young people told me they were enjoying our grass. Or was it their grass?”
“Both, maybe.” Judith made an impatient gesture with her hand. “What’s taking Joe so long?”
“Maybe he’s looking for Casper,” Arlene said.
“Casper?”
“The new mailman,” Arlene replied. “He tends to get lost, even in the cul-de-sac. I think he naps in our hedge. That’s why he’s often late.”
Joe finally came into view. “Hi, Arlene. I had to find out which of the weirdos had the key to this Honda. It was Sophie. She was one of the drivers. I figure her for a real control freak.”
“They’re all freaks,” Judith declared as she and Arlene stepped aside. “I wonder if you can wake up Rodney. He’s probably in a drunken stupor.”
“Great.” Joe opened the rear door. He called Rodney’s name several times, then shook him gently. There was no response except for a snuffling sort of snore. Joe shook him harder. “Damn! He’s really out.”
“I can get Carl to bring our hose over,” Arlene offered. “We bought a much longer one this spring. I’m sure Mr. Schmuck would wake up if you sprayed him really hard.”
“And I’m sure the rental agency would charge me for the damage to the car,” Joe asserted. “Maybe Carl could help me haul Rodney into the house. Is he busy?”
“No, of course not!” Arlene exclaimed. “He’s enjoying retirement so much. I love to see him relaxing and taking his ease.” She tapped a finger against her cheek. “Now, let me think where I last saw him . . . Oh! Behind the washer and dryer. He’s installing new outlets in another part of our downstairs. I hope he didn’t get stuck against the wall. Look in the basement, Joe. I’ll stay here with Judith in case Mr. Schmuck wakes up.”
“We should get out of the street,” Judith said to Arlene after Joe took off. “We’re lucky nobody has hit us.”
“It’s not luck,” Arlene asserted. “It’s St. Christopher. Do you know some scholars say he never existed? What do scholars know? They only read books. Very dull books, I suspect. They have no imagination.”
“I still have a St. Christopher’s medal for travelers in my car,” Judith said as they went back across the street.
“So do I.” Arlene looked down at the gutter. “Somebody dropped something. Maybe Casper. He does tend to be careless.” She bent down to retrieve what looked like some kind of pamphlet. “Hmm. It’s for our state mental hospitals. Now, who do we know who’s crazy? Let’s start with some of our fellow SOTS parishioners. How about Francis Xavier Kloppenbluger? He wears a hairshirt, you know, and—”
“Let me see that,” Judith interrupted. “It may belong to one of my guests. They may have dropped it coming back to the B&B.”
“Which one of them is insane?” Arlene asked.
“All of them,” Judith replied, seeing Joe and Carl appear from around the hedge. “Come on, Arlene, let’s go open the front door. Our guys will have to cart Rodney up to Room One.”
“Oh, dear,” Arlene murmured, accompanying Judith through the cul-de-sac, “I hope it doesn’t affect Carl’s hernia.”
“I didn’t know he had one,” Judith admitted.
“He doesn’t, but he’s always talking about getting one like his father did. I told him I don’t think they’re necessarily hereditary. Or are they?” She paused at the bottom of the porch steps. “My Uncle Woofy in Blue Earth, Minnesota, had one. He got it carrying his wife, Plethora, across the threshold when they got married. She was rather large. Unfortunately, he dropped her. It’s a good thing she didn’t fall on top of him or he’d have been crushed. Poor Uncle Woofy. He was always rather frail. Bowlegged, too, after that episode.”
“I doubt that carrying his bride . . .” Judith saw Joe get into the Honda’s backseat. Carl blocked her view, so she couldn’t see how Joe was coping with Rodney. “It’s a good thing Mr. Schmuck isn’t as big as your Aunt Plethora,” she remarked. “I’d better open the door.”
Both women went up to the porch. And waited. At least two or three minutes passed before they saw Carl turn around, bend down, and grab on to Rodney’s legs. A few more seconds went by before Judith saw Joe emerge from the car carrying the rest of Rodney and kicking the Honda’s door shut.
“At least they got him out of there,” Judith said. “He still seems to be out cold.”
“Maybe he’s dead,” Arlene said. “Have you ever had two married people die at the B&B before? I can’t actually recall.”
“Ah . . . no. It’d be a first.” And for Judith, not a very pleasant thought. Nor was she pleased to see that Joe was quite red in the face and Carl was panting as they came up the porch steps.
“Gangway,” Joe gasped as they carried the still-unconscious Rodney inside. “Sofa,” he croaked to Carl after they entered the hall.
“Oh, drat!” Judith exclaimed. “I don’t want Rodney in the living room. He might be sick after he comes to.” She hurried inside with Arlene right behind her.
But Judith held her tongue when she saw Joe wiping perspiration off his forehead and Carl leaning against the mantelpiece. “Maybe,” she said meekly, “a couple of the guests can take him upstairs.”
Joe nodded curtly. “Fine. Come on, Carl, let’s grab a beer and sit outside, where I don’t have to look at any more of these crazy people.” The two men headed for the kitchen.
Arlene stared at Judith. “Did Joe mean us?”
“Who knows?” Judith picked up an afghan from the back of the vacant sofa and tossed it over Rodney. “Would you like a glass of wine? I need a drink.”
“No, thank you,” Arlene replied. “I should go home and figure out what I’m going to make for dinner. Do take care, Judith. You look a trifle . . . frazzled.”
“No kidding.” But Judith hugged Arlene. “You and Carl are wonderful neighbors—and friends.”
“Well, what are friends for?” Arlene asked. “Besides, you and your corpses do perk up the cul-de-sac. Most people tend to be rather dull.”
Judith smiled at the statement. But she thought to herself that “dull” might be kind of nice for a change.
She’d never admit, of course, that dull didn’t become her.
Chapter 16
Keeping to her word, Judith opted for simple appetizers: crackers, cheese, and smoked oysters. The guests could like it or send out for more exotic tidbits. Just as she was about to take the tray into the living room, Elsie Kindred tapped gently on the half door.
“May I trouble you?” she asked. “George got bit by a squirrel.”
“That’s too bad,” Judith said. “Is he okay?”
Elsie timorously entered the kitchen. “No. He insists it’s infected. It is quite red. Are the squirrels around her rabid?”
“I doubt it. Did it happen at the zoo?”
“The zoo?” Elsie’s thick brown eyebrows shot upward, almost colliding with her scraggly auburn bangs. “No. It was quite a ways from here, by a lake. There were lots of ducks there, too. They’re very noisy, but otherwise, a very serene, peaceful . . . place. I can’t find my antiseptic. I was sure I put it in my kit before we left home.”
&nb
sp; “Actually, there should be some antiseptic in the medicine chest of the bathroom between your room and the Crumps’.”
“I checked there first.” Elsie looked apologetic. “There wasn’t any.”
“I’ll have to get some from the supply cupboard upstairs. Or you could get it instead,” Judith amended. “Just pour some into a glass.”
“Oh, yes, of course. There are glasses in our room. Thank you. I’ll do that now. I hope George has finished his prayers. He’s trying to pray away the pain. Bless his heart.” She scurried off through the half doors.
Joe came through the back door. “I called Ethan Ethanson on my cell after Carl left. He was conned.”
Judith’s curiosity was piqued. “Conned? How do you mean?”
“As in duped.” Joe opened the fridge. “I need another beer. Do you want me to make you a drink?”
“Yes, please. I was going to do that, but Elsie Kindred interrupted me. As a minister’s wife, I wasn’t sure she’d approve of her innkeeper hitting the sauce. How was Ethan conned?”
Joe removed the cap from a Molson’s Ale. “He was contacted last Friday by a guy who said a Jim Johnson had told him Ethan’s boss was his relative and he’d gotten his okay to play a practical joke on a builder friend. All he needed was to borrow a city inspector’s badge over the weekend. Ethan didn’t see any harm, so he obliged. He was too excited about his fishing trip to give it another thought.”
“It sounds plausible,” Judith said. “The reason, that is. But Jim Johnson? How many of those are in the phone book?”
Joe’s expression was wry as he handed Judith her Scotch. “Enough to make the one who suckered Ethan hard to trace.”
Judith sipped some of her drink before asking what the impostor looked like.
“A little over average height; brownish hair; pleasant face; no distinguishing marks. What are you thinking?”
“About the so-called Ethan Ethanson who came here,” Judith replied. “He fits that description. Not someone who would stand out in a crowd, but he could also be the guy I saw sitting in the car as if on surveillance.”