by Mary Daheim
“She was almost up on Cammy’s grille,” Renie declared, annoyed.
“It wouldn’t be the first time you put somebody up there,” Judith shot back. “Remember the forest ranger by Snosalamie Falls?”
“I thought he was a mailman,” Renie said, pulling over to stop. “Or was that up by the family cabins?”
“Never mind.” Judith opened the car door. “Your adventures behind the wheel are a cross between watching NASCAR and COPS on TV. Here comes Belle.”
“Here goes Renie,” her cousin murmured. “I wish.”
Judith ignored the comment and got out of the car. “Hi, Belle. Do you need a lift?”
The young woman halted in midstep and peered at Judith. “Mrs. Flynn? How come you’re here?”
“I wanted to check in on your father,” Judith replied. “But he was resting when we stopped at Heaven’s Gate. How is he coping?”
Belle shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Worn out. Who wouldn’t be?”
Judith noted that Belle’s eyes seemed normal, though she looked faintly haggard. “Of course. Will your mother’s funeral services be held here or in L.A.?”
“I don’t know,” Belle replied in a heavy voice. “Reverend Kindred insists we have a memorial for Mom at his church down there, but . . . well, she wasn’t all that religious and I hate funerals. I mean, who likes them, really? They’re always so sad.”
“They’re supposed to bring closure,” Judith said.
Belle’s eyes sparked. “Isn’t being dead enough closure for anybody?”
“It’s not for the person who died, but for the loved ones they leave behind.” Judith felt faintly hypocritical. Her mind flashed back to Dan McMonigle’s service. He’d died at forty-nine, all four hundred and five pounds of him, virtually bedridden for the last few months. Judith had felt only relief—not just for Dan to be out of his misery, but for her husband of nineteen years to be out of her life. She forced a slight smile. “You know your mother is . . . on her cloud.”
Belle made a face. “I guess. I wrote a poem about it.” Her expression changed to quizzical. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” Renie replied, staring straight ahead.
“Can I have a lift to that shopping area south of the golf course?” Belle asked. “It’s kind of a long walk from here.”
“Sure,” Judith said before Renie could say no. “Hop in the backseat. Where do you want to be dropped off?”
Belle didn’t respond until she was inside the car. “Actually, the place I want to go is about a half block off the main drag on the left. You don’t have to turn off. I can walk that far.”
Judith didn’t make a further offer, lest her cousin pitch a fit. “Do you mind walking back?” she asked as Renie hit the gas and once again broke the speed limit to get out of Sunset Cliffs.
“No,” Belle answered. “It’s what? Less than a mile. I guess I should have taken one of the rental cars, but I felt like walking.”
Renie pulled over by the cross street. “Watch out for traffic. Some people drive too fast around here.” She ignored Judith’s glare.
“Thanks,” Belle said, opening the rear door. “I’ll be fine.”
“Will she?” Renie asked as Belle headed for the crosswalk.
Judith sighed. “I can’t worry about everybody.”
“Yet you do,” Renie said with a smile as they drove on. “I wonder where she’s going. There aren’t any businesses on that street.”
“No commercial enterprises,” Judith agreed. “But you recall the two-story building that looks like a business, but has no sign?”
“Vaguely,” Renie responded. “Why?”
“It’s a rehab center,” Judith responded. “I wonder if she’s checking it out for her father.”
Right after Renie drove off from Hillside Manor, Tyler Dooley pedaled his way up to the B&B. Farley was running behind him. “Hey, Mrs. Flynn,” he shouted before she could reach the front steps, “what happened with your guests? Their rentals were gone this morning when I left for school. Did they check out? My cousin Petey got up before I did and he told me he’d seen some of them outside. Two of the men were carrying another guy over to the Nissan.”
“What time was that?” Judith asked.
“I’m not sure,” Tyler replied. “Petey just turned five and he can’t tell time yet. But it was light enough that he could see outside when he got up to go to the bathroom. I checked the computer and the sun rises this time of year around four thirty.”
“It would’ve been earlier than when Joe and I wake up at six,” Judith said. “We never heard them leave. The Schmuck party must’ve sneaked out while most people in the neighborhood were still sleeping.”
“Except Petey,” Tyler pointed out.
Judith smiled. “Yes. Good for Petey. When he gets a little older, maybe you can recruit him as a junior sleuth.”
“He’s a curious little guy,” Tyler said. “Do you mean the Schmucks skipped on your bill?”
Judith shook her head. “I’ve already charged them on Mr. Schmuck’s credit card for the nights they stayed here. I’m good on that.”
Tyler looked disappointed. “So they won’t be back?”
“I don’t think so,” Judith replied. “They all went to the house in Sunset Cliffs that Mr. and Mrs. Schmuck bought earlier this year. I’m afraid this sleuthing episode is over. I’m sorry, Tyler.”
“That’s okay,” he said, after a pause. “Maybe next time.”
“I’d just as soon there wouldn’t be a next time,” Judith confessed.
Tyler shrugged. “But there usually is, right?”
Judith grimaced. “If there ever is, let’s hope the body isn’t found on my property.”
“Right.” Tyler grinned. “Did you say Sunset Cliffs?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“My dad’s boss at the construction company lives there,” he replied. “Mr. Quincy. Well, he’s not the boss on the jobs, but he owns QQQ Construction. In fact he calls his house Quincy’s Quaint Quarters. I guess it’s kind of like one of those big mansions in England. My parents have gone to a couple of big parties there.”
“Interesting,” Judith murmured.
Tyler’s face brightened. “You think Mr. Quincy knows something about the Schmucks?”
“He probably hasn’t even met them,” Judith said. “The homes out there are spaced quite far apart.”
But she mentally filed away Quincy’s name. Just in case she was still on the case.
The first thing Judith did when she got inside Hillside Manor was check her phone calls. Ingrid Heffelman of the B&B association had left a brusque message: “I have two reservations for you tonight. Irwins, retired couple from Topeka; two widows from Boston, Schuster and Brewster. No, I am not kidding. What happened to your full house? Did your crazy housekeeper scare them away?”
Judith was grateful that Ingrid obviously didn’t know one of the recent guests had died while staying at the B&B. After pouring herself a glass of ice water, she sat down at the counter to see if she had received any reservations via e-mail. There were none, but there was a message from Key Largo Bank. Judith read through it with a sinking sensation.
We regret to inform you that the credit card in the name of Mrs. Rodney Schmuck was canceled as of midnight Sunday, May 21. The charge of payment to Hillside Manor cannot be honored.
Judith grabbed the phone and dialed Renie’s number. The phone rang four times before her cousin answered in a gasping voice.
“What’s wrong?” Judith asked.
“I had to stop off at Falstaff’s to pick up some sockeye salmon for dinner tonight,” Renie replied, still out of breath. “I just came in the door. Bill must have gone on his walk. Why are you calling me? I just saw you ten minutes ago.”
“Fifteen,” Judith said. “But skip that. The Schmucks stiffed me on the B&B charges. I got an e-mail from the bank. The credit card was in Millie’s name, not Rodney’s, and they must have canceled it right after she di
ed. I never saw the actual card. I only had the number and the other information I always need.”
“That’s weird,” Renie responded. “Why would anyone rush on a weekend to cancel a deceased’s credit card? Especially if the spouse had it in his possession. Or did he?”
“I told you, I never saw the damned thing. I took it over the phone when Rodney called to confirm the reservation. That was a couple of weeks before—wait. It wasn’t over the phone. It was via e-mail.”
“But don’t you usually ask for an imprint of the card when the guests show up?”
“Yes,” Judith replied, “but between Rodney insisting I was his mother and all the craziness that followed, I never got around to doing that. Then the next morning Millie was dead. I guess I got distracted.”
“You always were kind of ADD,” Renie remarked drily. “Too bad I wasn’t there that morning to bail you out. But as you well know, I don’t do mornings.”
“Right,” Judith agreed glumly. “If you’d stumbled over Millie’s body in the backyard before eleven o’clock, you’d probably have kept going and crashed into the birdbath.”
“So? Aunt Gert would’ve come out to rescue me,” Renie shot back. “She has a good heart under that crusty facade.”
“If you can cut through the crust to get to it,” Judith grumbled. “What really bothers me is that the Schmucks seem to be loaded with money and yet they cheated me. Wouldn’t that make you mad?”
“I never work for people, only big corporations,” Renie replied, sounding serious. “If any of them tried to gyp me I’d call Bill’s brother, Bub, and sic his firm’s underlings on them. I am not without resources when it come to business.”
“Maybe I should call Bub,” Judith huffed. “I do know him fairly well after all these years.”
“Go ahead,” Renie said. “Don’t forget he was the first one to get the zoning laws changed on the hill so his high-flying builder client could put up those big condos above your property.”
“I had forgotten that,” Judith muttered. “Oh, well, it was bound to happen with the city growing so fast. Speaking of high-fliers, how well do you know Trevor Boyd from the bank?”
“I told you, I’ve met him a couple of times,” Renie said. “He may not remember me. I was just another peon doing a job for him.”
“You’re not the forgettable type,” Judith declared. “There are times when I’d like to forget you, but I can’t. Besides, I assume you were on your best behavior when you were with him.”
“I was—except for the deep-fried prawns incident. I dropped one in his bespoke pants cuff. Luckily, he didn’t notice it at the time. He was too engrossed with my cleavage.”
“That’s kind of what I meant,” Judith said.
“But he probably wouldn’t recognize my face,” Renie pointed out.
“Then ditch the crummy sweatshirt and wear something with a V-neck,” Judith urged.
“Hey!” Renie yipped. “You’ve got some loony idea about getting inside the Schmuck house! Why don’t we just pitch a damned tent in the woods around there and pretend we’re Indian scouts? That wouldn’t be any goofier than me playing the role of a bodacious boob. Or should I say, ‘showing off my—’”
“Okay, okay,” Judith interrupted. “Maybe it wasn’t one of my smarter plans. I keep forgetting we’re kind of old.”
“So’s Trevor Boyd,” Renie retorted, “but that doesn’t mean I’d do it. You’d be better off having Bub get your money back and forgetting about the Schmucks.”
Judith sighed. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Yes, I do.” Renie’s sigh was audible over the phone line. “We need a more inventive plan. Hey, who do we know who could play gardener?”
Judith considered the idea. “How about Tyler Dooley?”
“You want to put your neighbor kid in harm’s way?”
“Well . . . no, I suppose that’s wrong.” Judith paused. “Arlene and Carl? You know how fussy they are about their yard. They could actually do some work while they’re spying.”
“Would they go for it?” Renie sounded dubious.
“They might,” Judith said. “You know Arlene has rampant curiosity. Besides, they’re both game for a little adventure. I think I’ll go over there now before the two sets of new guests arrive.”
Renie wished Judith good luck and hung up.
Arlene was in her kitchen, cleaning out cupboards. “Where,” she demanded, clutching a trio of nesting bowls against her bosom, “do all these old dishes come from? Most of them are ugly. Why do I need them taking up space?”
“We all collect too much stuff over the years,” Judith said. “Give them to St. Vincent de Paul’s.”
Arlene was horrified. “I can’t!” she exclaimed. “I’m sentimental about these precious items. They hold so many memories.”
Judith thought she recognized one of the bowls as a missile Arlene had hurled at her better half during one of their heated arguments. “Would you and Carl like a mysterious job?”
Arlene’s blue eyes brightened. “Do we get to wear disguises?”
“Sort of,” Judith replied. “You’d be gardeners at Sunset Cliffs.”
“We don’t need disguises for that,” Arlene declared. “We always wear our regular clothes when we’re working in the garden. Why Sunset Cliffs? That’s a very exclusive area. They must have their own gardeners.”
Judith explained about the Schmucks and their entourage leaving the B&B. “I’ve no idea whether the rest of that crew intends to stay, but since they reneged on their B&B payment to me, I’d like to find out what they’re up to.”
Arlene smiled. “You’d also like to find out if Mrs. Schmuck was murdered. And if so, who did it. I know you too well, Judith. How do Carl and I get into Sunset Cliffs? It’s a gated community.”
“I’ll think of something,” Judith said. “In fact,” she went on as inspiration struck, “I have Rodney’s cell-phone number. You can call and tell whoever answers that before her untimely demise, Mrs. Schmuck asked you to do some gardening for them.”
“That’s a lie,” Arlene stated. “I never tell lies.”
Judith knew that her neighbor’s integrity was beyond reproach. “I can call for you,” she said.
“I couldn’t let you lie for me,” Arlene declared. “That’s wrong.”
“We’re seeking a higher truth here,” Judith said solemnly. “And justice. Think of it not as a lie, but as merely taking a fabrication to a new level.” It was, after all, the attitude she adopted for her own so-called fibs.
Arlene, who had put aside the bowls, fingered her chin. “Yes, I can understand that. When you put it like that . . . Do you have the number with you?”
Judith nodded, removing the Post-it note from her slacks pocket. “Here. It’s an L.A. area code, so I’ll reimburse you for the call.”
“Nonsense!” Arlene cried. “It’s in the line of duty. But I’ll have to talk to Carl first. He’s painting the furnace. Teal. Very nice.”
“You keep up your house so beautifully,” Judith said, rather wistfully. “It’s like a showplace.”
“Oh, Judith! It’s such an old house, built at the same time yours was over a hundred years ago. Raising five children in it has caused a great deal of wear and tear. And I don’t mean just on Carl and me, but to the house. Still, it’s home.” She smiled.
Judith smiled back—this time not so wistfully.
Joe arrived home just after Phyliss had left for the day. “I got stuck at City Hall,” he said, looking faintly out of sorts. “It turned out to be a record search for one of the doofuses I’d kept under surveillance a couple of months ago. But I finished around four, so I stopped in at the precinct station to see Woody. He got the final autopsy report this afternoon.”
“And?” Judith asked, wide-eyed.
“The poison—aconitum—isn’t hard to come by,” Joe replied. “Are you sure we don’t have some of the plants growing in our yard?”
“I know just about ev
ery flower, shrub, and plant we’ve got,” Judith said. “Many plants are poisonous. But I don’t think we have aconitum or monkshood. On the other hand, I might not recognize either plant unless I saw them in bloom. What else did Woody have to say?”
Joe was opening the cupboard. “Let me make us some drinks first. Have you got any guests coming in tonight?”
“Yes,” Judith replied, and told him about the two reservations.
“They don’t sound like perps,” he said, setting a couple of glasses on the counter. “Any news from the Schmucks?”
Judith avoided her husband’s gaze. She’d wait to tell him about the visit to Sunset Cliffs. “The Schmucks won’t be back. There’s no way Woody can keep the Californians from returning to L.A., is there?”
Joe shook his head. “He’s already talked to them and he has no evidence. Woody turned the investigation over to a couple of ’tecs.”
“Anyone I know?” Judith asked, taking the glass of Scotch Joe had poured for her.
“No, a couple of newbies,” he replied sitting down at the kitchen table. “I don’t know them either. I suppose they’ll come by to talk to us.”
“I’d think they would’ve done that already,” Judith said, joining Joe at the table.
“They were only given the assignment today. They have to do their homework first. Besides, there’s not much we can tell them that isn’t in Woody’s case notes.”
The doorbell rang. “That must be the first of the guests,” Judith said, getting up.
Annabelle Brewster and Suzanne Schuster were white-haired, dowdy of dress, and thin as matchsticks. Judith wondered if they were sisters, but didn’t ask. She had them sign the registry.
“Are you interested in seeing any of the city sights?” she inquired of the newcomers.
“Only the bars,” one of them replied somberly.
“We have quite a few of those,” Judith said, not sure which woman was Brewster and which was Schuster. “Would you like a map of the city?”
“No, thank you,” the same widow responded. “We prefer to be surprised. That’s part of the adventure while visiting other cities. We dislike having preconceived notions.”
“That’s very . . . wise of you,” Judith said, for lack of a better comment. “I’ll show you to your lodgings.” She led the way up the stairs and stopped at the door to Room Five. “Feel free to open the window. Our nights are mild this time of year. As you may recall from the information I sent you, there’s a social hour at six. I serve wine and appetizers.”