Here Comes the Bribe

by Mary Daheim

  “We don’t drink alcoholic beverages,” the other woman asserted, perhaps proving that her vocal cords worked. “However, fruit juice would be refreshing.”

  “I’ll put some out in the dining room just off the hall.” Judith gave them her friendliest smile and went back downstairs.

  “The widows don’t drink,” she reported to Joe, who had migrated to the living room in her absence. “But they want to visit the local bars. Is that weird or what?”

  “It’s an ‘or what,’” Joe said. “Maybe they like to watch. Or they’re trolling for men. Speaking of drinks, I put yours on the coffee table.”

  “Thanks.” Judith sat down on the opposite sofa. “Did Woody have anything else to say about the case?”

  “He got the rest of the lab results back,” Joe replied. “As we figured, the glass that contained the juice also had the poison in it.” His green eyes glinted. “Both Millie and Rodney’s DNA was on it.”

  Judith stared at Joe. “Did they both drink the juice?”

  “The DNA was on the rim,” he replied. “Of course it’d depend on when the aconitum was put in the glass.”

  “Oh, dear!” Judith exclaimed. “Then it would have to be Rodney or Millie, right?”

  “So it would seem,” Joe said. “But maybe one of them only took a sip and the other drank the rest. And some people have higher tolerances than others. Were all the rest of the guests at the table? I don’t remember. I was too busy cooking.”

  “Let me think.” Judith’s high forehead furrowed in the effort of recalling the morning’s events. “Yes, I think the five other couples were all in the dining room. Of course, any one of them could’ve briefly left the dining room and gone upstairs. We really can’t see who’s at the table from the kitchen.”

  Joe allowed that was true. Fortified by the Scotch, Judith revealed the visit to Sunset Cliffs.

  “You took that long trek to find out they were playing bingo?” He merely shook his head and asked what was for dinner.

  Earl and Minnie Irwin of Topeka didn’t arrive until almost six. They’d rented a car at the airport, gotten stuck in rush-hour traffic, tried to take a shortcut they found on a map, and discovered the street was under construction. Before they could figure out exactly where they were, they’d ended up across the ship canal staring at the giant stone sculpture of a gnome holding a real VW under the bridge.

  “Nothing like that in Topeka,” Earl murmured before Judith led them to Room Three. “Kind of strange.”

  Judith hadn’t argued.

  Both sets of guests had gone out to dinner. As the Flynns were relaxing in the living room, the phone rang. Judith got up to grab the receiver off the cherrywood table.

  “Mrs. Flynn?” a hushed female voice asked.

  “Yes, who’s calling?”

  “Belle. Belle Schmuck. I’m scared.”

  “What’s scaring you, Belle?” Judith raised her voice to alert Joe.

  “I’m not sure,” Belle replied, still keeping her own voice down. “We never got Clark’s wallet back. The drugstore wasn’t open when we drove by this morning. It was too early.”

  “Can’t you take one of the cars tomorrow and collect the wallet?”

  “I don’t know,” Belle said. “I don’t think they’ll let us.”

  “Who won’t let you?”

  “Um . . . mainly Sophie. She’s sort of in charge here. She was mad because I went out this afternoon. Do you think I’m in danger?”

  Judith considered the question carefully. “Since the police aren’t sure if foul play was involved in your mother’s death, they may think all of you are in danger. Has anyone in your party talked to Captain Price or his detectives since you left the B&B?”

  “Ah . . . I don’t think so,” Belle replied. “I haven’t seen any police cars around here.”

  “The detectives may not drive cruisers,” Judith said, thinking that the Sunset Cliffs residents might ban anything as crass as a cop car inside their enclave. She looked at Joe, but he merely shrugged. “Look, Belle,” Judith continued, “don’t worry about something that will probably never happen. Oh—I almost forgot. Mrs. Grover found your mom’s purse by her apartment. I should’ve brought it with me today. Maybe I could deliver it to you tomorrow.”

  “No!” Belle’s tone was sharp. “I mean, it’s too much trouble. I doubt she had much money in it. Seeing her purse would only make me sad. I have to go now. Clark’s mom wants to talk to me. Hi, Cynth—” The line went dead.

  Judith hoped Belle wouldn’t end up the same way.

  Chapter 19

  Bacon sizzled in the skillet, ham slices heated under the broiler, and the waffle-iron light registered green. Joe paused with his hand on the mixer controls. “The Rankerses are going to do what? Are you insane? Are they insane?”

  “They like adventures,” Judith replied, holding tight to the carton of eggs she’d taken out of the refrigerator. “The Schmuck bunch won’t recognize them. What could possibly go wrong?”

  Joe clapped a hand to his forehead. “Can I count the ways? Belle calls and says she’s scared spitless, meanwhile, you con our favorite neighbors into playing spies, and knowing Carl, he won’t be armed. Hell, he doesn’t even own a gun.”

  Judith set the eggs on the counter before moving across the kitchen to put her hands on Joe’s shoulders. “Arlene and Carl are savvy. They won’t put themselves in harm’s way. Besides, are you convinced that Millie was murdered by Rodney or one of their so-called friends?”

  “As a former cop,” Joe replied, “I’m damned suspicious. Millie didn’t strike me as a suicidal type. She was pretty full of herself as far as I could tell. Didn’t she have big plans for some kind of spa?”

  Judith let her hands fall away. “Yes, she did. But that could be a motive for murder. I mean, what if one of the others in their party wanted in on the project and she turned that person down? What if the Schmucks moved up here to get away from those hangers-on? There was something wrong about all this from the start.”

  Joe’s expression was wry. “You realize you’re arguing against yourself about whether or not the Rankerses could be at risk?”

  “Well . . . I see what you mean,” Judith admitted, “but I still think there’s no harm if they pose as gardeners. Why would anyone think they were suspicious?”

  “Because that’s the nature of the beast,” Joe replied, checking the bacon. “Your ex-guests struck me as not only difficult people, but paranoid. Maybe Belle isn’t wrong to think someone’s out to get her.”

  Judith started to respond, but hearing voices in the dining room, she went out to greet her visitors.

  “How was your evening out?” she asked Brewster and Schuster.

  “Fascinating,” replied the widow who seemed the more loquacious. “So many bars, so little time. We had no idea.”

  “Did you go downtown?” Judith inquired, not knowing what else to say.

  “We stayed in this neighborhood,” Widow Number One said. “We found a half dozen within a few blocks right on top of this hill. We don’t drive, you see.”

  “That’s . . . just as well,” Judith murmured, still bewildered by the women’s interest in bars, but not wanting to seem nosy. “Will you see some of our other sights today?”

  “Perhaps,” the same widow replied. “We don’t go to taverns, which are sometimes seedy, only to establishments that serve hard liquor. We discovered that the restaurants here open their bars early, so we might get started on our rounds after breakfast. Oh! I see you have a pitcher of that lovely cranapple juice we had last night. Quite bracing. Suzanne and I had never tasted it before.”

  Judith hid her relief at finally learning which widow was which. The Irwins entered the dining room, looking faintly disgruntled.

  “Good morning,” Judith said, even if Earl and Minnie didn’t look as if they agreed. “Did you have a restful night?”

  “Restful, yes,” Minnie replied, her eyes zipping to the buffet, where Joe was setting out waf
fles and ham. “But we didn’t realize we were on such a steep hill. It’s very disorienting. Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “The hill’s been here for quite a while,” Judith said. “In fact, this is the house in which I was brought up.”

  Earl scowled. “Well, ‘up’s’ the word for it. We’re way up here. What about those earthquakes you people have?”

  “They don’t happen very often,” Judith assured them. “The last one was five years ago.”

  Joe smiled pleasantly at the Kansans. “If you’re here when everything starts to shake, the best place is under this dining room table. It’s solid oak, so watch out for your heads.” He returned to the kitchen.

  Minnie put a hand to her large bosom. “My! That doesn’t sound very comforting!”

  “Believe me,” Judith asserted, “that table has withstood many an earthquake. It’s seventy-five years old.”

  “So am I,” Minnie retorted. “I never thought I’d see the day that I’d have to crawl under a table to keep from getting killed in an earthquake.”

  Judith smiled kindly. “The chances of having one while you’re here are unlikely. Really.” She kept smiling as she joined Joe in the kitchen.

  After finishing his cooking chores, Joe informed Judith that he was going to see Carl and Arlene to tell them not to go to Sunset Cliffs. Judith started to argue, but saw from his stern expression that she couldn’t change his mind. Three minutes later he was back in the house.

  “They’ve already left,” he said grimly. “I forgot what early risers they are. Damn. How come they’ve never had a cell phone?”

  “I suppose because they don’t want one,” Judith replied. “Stop worrying about them. You’re making me crazy.”

  Joe refrained from commenting.

  Only two rooms full?” Phyliss looked elated. “Hallelujah! The Lord has been good to me again. Less hard labor today. My trick knee is acting up again. It goes out for no reason, as if Satan grabbed my leg and was trying to drag me down into the Netherworld.”

  “That’s a shame,” Judith said vaguely. “Since you only have two rooms to make up, why don’t you go through the drawers and closets to make sure they’re free of cobwebs and dust? I’ve noticed a few spiders coming into the house now that it’s May.”

  Phyliss grimaced. “Spiders! They’re Beelzebub’s tool! They terrify me.”

  “Then grab a can of bug killer out of the cupboard upstairs and spray the closets first,” Judith said. “You’ll be giving Beelzebub’s familiars an afterlife in Hades.”

  “I will do that, the Good Lord willing,” Phyliss declared. And off she plodded, singing “Onward, Christian Soldiers” in her shrill, off-key voice.

  The Irwins had offered the widows a ride. Schuster and Brewster had accepted, feeling they’d be remiss if they didn’t visit the downtown area. That was fine with Earl and Minnie. They’d go from there to the adjacent Civic Center to see the sights.

  Judith checked her Wednesday reservations. She had three, so if the unscheduled widows and Kansans wanted to stay another night, that was fine with her.

  A few minutes after eleven thirty, Phyliss came downstairs into the kitchen, sneezing and coughing her head off. “Dust!” she exclaimed. “Satan’s relentless. He’s trying to weaken my resistance in his battle for my immortal soul. Oh—when I was making up the bed in Room Two,” she continued, digging in her apron pocket, “I found these Post-it notes. Lots of scribbles I can’t make out.”

  “Thanks,” Judith said, taking the notes from Phyliss, who was blowing her nose with what sounded like the Seventh Angel’s trumpet in Exodus.

  As soon as the cleaning woman left, Judith picked up the phone and called Renie to tell her about the Rankerses’ ruse as gardeners.

  “So,” her cousin said, “Arlene and Carl are on the case. I was wondering why you hadn’t already called to ask me to join you in another fruitless visit to Sunset Cliffs.”

  Judith kept her voice down, lest Phyliss suddenly reappear. “My pious cleaning woman found some notes in Belle and Clark’s room. I haven’t looked at the contents. Want to check them out with me?”

  “Why don’t you take a picture of them with your cell?” Renie responded. “I’ve got work to do.”

  “You never start until afternoon.”

  “Ohhhh . . . why not? I have to buy more Copper River sockeye at Falstaff’s before it goes out of season. I almost swooned when we had it last week. Bill thought he’d have to get the smelling salts. Or wait until I came to so I could bring him his dessert. You want me to pick up some sockeye for you?”

  Judith hesitated. “It’s quite expensive, isn’t it? I saw the ad, but they didn’t list a price. That scares me.”

  “And facing off with killers doesn’t. I’ll get enough for you, Joe, and Aunt Gert. My treat, though I don’t know why I’m so damned goodhearted. It’s early yet. Maybe I should look in the mirror and make sure I’m me.” Renie hung up.

  Though tempted to read the notes, Judith exerted supreme self-control. Luckily, Renie staggered in the back door ten minutes later. “I’m worn out,” she announced, flopping onto a chair in the kitchen, where the Flynns were eating lunch. “I practically had to arm-wrestle some snooty old bat to get the last of the sockeye. She was asking the fish man all sorts of inane questions about how the fish are caught, how they’re shipped, how they spawn, how they got along with their in-laws. I finally stepped on her foot and asked for the last pieces they had. Ha ha. I won. But I twisted my knee when I stepped on her.”

  “Serves you right,” Judith declared. “But I’m glad you persevered.”

  “So am I,” Renie said. “If she didn’t know anything about fish, she’s not from around here. I bought halibut cheeks, too, along with gulf prawns and a couple of rainbow trout. By the time I was done, she looked like she was having an aneurysm.”

  Joe made a face. “I should arrest you for assault. How come nobody’s ever tried to kill you?”

  “It’s my charm,” Renie asserted. “I’m irresistible. And, as you may recall, there were times when outraged murderers tried to kill me—and your sleuthing wife.”

  Joe passed a hand over his forehead. “Don’t remind me.”

  Judith decided to change the subject. “Would you like a sandwich?”

  “No, thanks,” Renie replied. “I had my usual late—and big—breakfast. I don’t suppose you’ve baked any cookies yet?”

  Judith shook her head. “I really haven’t had time. If you’re going to stay for a while, maybe I’ll do it while you’re here.”

  “I can help,” Renie said. “I’ll be your taster. I love raw cookie dough. Where are the notes?”

  “I think,” Joe said, getting up, “that’s my cue to leave. I’ve got to see a man about an MG.” He exited the kitchen and the house.

  “How much do I owe you for the fish?” Judith asked Renie.

  “Zip. I told you I was treating. It’s in my purse. I’ll put it in your fridge. I assume you don’t want to freeze it? Since it’s fresh and I paid for it, I advise you to have it tonight.”

  “I thought by a treat you meant . . . Never mind. Are you sure?”

  Renie feigned indignation as she removed the sockeye in its brown wrapping paper and opened the fridge. “Am I ever not sure about what I say? Even when it’s really weird?”

  Judith smiled. “No, you’re not. I mean, yes, you are.” She frowned. “Now I’m not sure what I’m saying. Let’s have a look at those notes.”

  Placing the Post-its on the table, she saw Renie’s brown eyes grow curious. “I bet Clark made those. My artist’s eye tells me that’s not feminine writing.”

  “You can probably figure these out for yourself once you get used to the chicken scratches,” Judith said.

  Renie was looking in her big purse. “Damn! I forgot to bring my glasses. You’ll have to read them to me.”

  Judith scowled at her cousin. “You rarely remember your glasses.”

  “I don’t need them except
for really small print—and chicken scratches,” Renie replied in a reasonable voice.

  “Okay, fine. The first one says ‘beer.’ Got that?”

  Renie looked vague. “I don’t have any beer.”

  Judith ignored the comment. “Next is ‘bank’ or ‘bunk.’ This one says . . .” She frowned. “I think it’s ‘dud.’ That sounds right for this bunch. Here’s ‘get renal’ . . . no, ‘get rental.’ The cars they rented, maybe. ‘Learn prayers.’” She looked at Renie. “Do you suppose that’s to help Kindred with his ministry?”

  “Probably,” Renie said, appearing bored.

  “‘Read Bibble.’” Judith paused. “He must mean Bible, right?”

  Renie nodded vaguely.

  “There are three or four I can’t make out at all,” Judith said. “The last one is ‘talk 2 crumb pol claws.’ What does that mean?”

  “Huh?” Renie was staring off into space.

  “You heard me. See for yourself.” She shoved the Post-it across the table. “Well?”

  Renie peered at the notation. “I honestly can’t tell. Unless he means Crump, not crumb. Would ‘pol’ refer to the police? They don’t have claws, though. Just handcuffs.”

  Judith took back the note and studied it again. “Yes, it must be Charlie Crump. But what’s ‘pol claws’?”

  “I have no idea,” Renie admitted. “Police is a good guess. Or politics of pollution or . . . any word that starts with those letters. Give it up, coz.”

  “What’s not among these notes is any reference to the wedding,” Judith said, still staring at the Post-its as if she were willing them to reveal more information. “Wouldn’t you think a groom-to-be might have some reminders of what he had to do before the ceremony?”

  Renie’s expression was wry. “The groom being the spaced-out Clark, yes—as in remember to show up. But the bride’s also a flake. What are you implying?”