Here Comes the Bribe

by Mary Daheim

  “It’s not right,” he declared. “Belle and I shouldn’t be the ones to have to run away from my house.”

  “Actually, Dad,” Belle said, “it’s my house. But you’re right. This is all wrong.”

  Judith cleared her throat to get her guests’ attention. “Perhaps you two would like to go out to dinner,” she suggested, hoping to sound sympathetic. “You’ve both been through so much.”

  “Gosh, Mama,” Rodney said in dismay, “I was hoping for a home-cooked meal. You know—like you would’ve made for me if you’d had the chance to bring me up.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do that tonight,” Judith responded. “I have family coming and my cousin is making the dinner. There are several nice restaurants on top of the hill.”

  Rodney didn’t look happy about that idea. “I’m not family?” he asked in an injured voice.

  Before Judith could respond, Belle reached out to touch her father’s knee. “Hey, Dad, why not eat out? I can pay. I’ve got money, remember?”

  “Right.” Rodney still looked unhappy. “I should be the one paying. Oh, well—a man’s gotta eat when a man’s gotta eat. Pick one that serves booze. Mama doesn’t seem to want to bring me a refill.”

  Judith discreetly withdrew. Ten minutes later, the Joneses arrived.

  “Make way,” Renie called out from the hall. “Here comes the sockeye! Oops!” She tripped over her own feet and would’ve fallen if Bill hadn’t caught her by the arm.

  “It’s a good thing she can cook,” he muttered. “She sure as hell can’t walk.”

  Renie snarled at him before setting the package of salmon on the counter. “I need vegetables and potatoes. I’ll make hash browns. They go well with fish. By the way, Aunt Gert is out in the backyard trying to run over Sweetums with her wheelchair.”

  “She often does that,” Judith said. “He’s too quick for her.”

  Bill was gazing around the kitchen. “Where are the drinks?”

  Joe reached for the cupboard. “Sorry. I needed mine sooner. My lovely wife inflicted one of her goofy guests on me this afternoon.”

  Bill shot a wary glance at both cousins. “Our wives get some oddball ideas. They just like to do that. Why did we marry into this crazy family?”

  “Because we’re crazy?” Joe retorted, handing Bill a shot of Scotch over ice. “Let’s go outside. It’s clearing up. We can let Judith’s mother verbally abuse us instead of trying to cream the cat.”

  Judith watched the husbands decamp from the kitchen before turning to her cousin. “Let me catch you up on what’s happened since I saw you. I don’t think Joe cares and I know Bill doesn’t.”

  “Go for it,” Renie said, rinsing asparagus spears under the tap. “You need to vent.”

  And Judith did, focusing mainly on the Schmucks. By the time she finished, Renie had chopped up the raw potatoes in the food processor. “So,” she said to Judith, “Rodney may be broke, but Belle has all the money. What’s their problem? Their so-called friends can’t stick around the area forever. Father and daughter can wait it out.”

  “They can’t wait it out here,” Judith asserted. “I feel sorry for them, but I can’t play nursemaid. I’ve got a B&B to run.”

  “They can stay at a hotel,” Renie said. “Where are they now?”

  Judith moved to the half doors. “I can’t hear them. Maybe they left to eat dinner elsewhere. They have no car, so they might’ve called a cab.”

  Renie placed the salmon in the oven under the broiler. “Then relax. You’ve really let them ruffle your fur. Unless,” she added with a puckish expression, “you want to adopt Rodney.”

  “Oh, good grief! Never! I’ve given up trying to tell him he is not my son, but he pays no attention. He’s fixated and that’s that. But the Mama bit is driving me nuts!”

  Renie’s face grew solemn. “Could that be part of a plan?”

  Judith leaned against the kitchen counter. “I never thought of that.”

  “Maybe,” Renie said, still serious, “you should.”

  While Renie prepared the food, Judith visited with her guests in the living room. The widows informed her they’d be leaving in the morning right after breakfast.

  “We’ve done all we can about the bars,” Schuster declared. “There’s only so much we can absorb in a single city.”

  “Absorb?” Judith echoed. “How do you mean, if you don’t drink?”

  “Oh!” Brewster exclaimed. “I don’t think we told you about our mission. Like you, we’re in the travel business. We write guidebooks. The one we’re working on now is on drinking establishments in the country’s twenty largest cities. We have our own method of grading them, which, of course, has nothing to do with the quality of their potables.”

  “I see,” Judith said, trying not to smile. “Have you ever written a guidebook to B&Bs?”

  Schuster nodded. “That was our first ever, over ten years ago. We’re doing a revised and expanded edition now.” She glanced at her companion. “We haven’t yet graded Hillside Manor. In fact, we always wait two or three days after we leave to evaluate any establishment we visit. I will say this—it’s been remarkably quiet and very pleasant so far.”

  Judith did smile, but she felt it was a trifle forced. “That’s a very reassuring assessment. I hope it stays that way.”

  “It probably will,” Brewster responded. “After all, what could possibly go wrong at a B&B?”

  Judith wasn’t about to tell her.

  Gertrude declined eating with the rest of the family. She had to watch her favorite TV programs, though Judith wasn’t sure what—besides the news—came on in the six to seven o’clock slot. For all she knew, her mother could be watching mud wrestling.

  There was still no sign of Rodney and Belle Schmuck, so Judith assumed they were dining elsewhere. The Flynns and the Joneses had just finished dinner when the phone rang. Judith rose from the table to answer it while Bill muttered something about phone calls never being taken at their house between six and seven o’clock.

  “Judith,” Arlene said, “how are you?”

  “Fine,” Judith replied, mouthing Arlene’s name for Renie’s benefit. “I’ve been wondering how you got along at Sunset Cliffs.”

  “Not all that well,” Arlene answered. “We were discovered. I’m afraid we’re being held prisoner at Heaven’s Gate. At least they didn’t confiscate my cell—”

  For the second time in the day, the line between Judith and Arlene went dead.

  Chapter 22

  They can’t be in any real danger,” Joe declared. “You know how Arlene tends to dramatize things.”

  “I don’t think she’s doing that now,” Judith retorted. “What’s wrong with you? These people aren’t exactly benign. For all we know, one of them poisoned Millie. And by the way, I don’t see Woody’s ’tecs pulling any rabbits out of hats with their investigation. In fact, I wonder if they’re doing their job.”

  “Hey,” Joe shot back, “Woody always does his job and so do his people. What’s he supposed to be doing? Putting your favorite suspects on the rack?”

  Judith didn’t back down. “You said yourself that there might be a problem with investigating a crime in Sunset Cliffs. Why wouldn’t I be concerned, especially when it involves the Rankerses?”

  “I still say Arlene may be exaggerating,” Joe asserted.

  Bill nodded. “She just likes to do that.”

  Renie let out a squawk. “Quit saying that! You’re driving me nuts!”

  “Short trip,” Bill muttered, gazing at the high ceiling.

  Joe stood up. “Let’s go watch a baseball game in the living room, Bill. I’m sure my wife feels one of her migraines coming on.”

  The men left the kitchen. “Great,” Judith grumbled. “Now we have to clean up the mess.”

  “I didn’t make a mess,” Renie said. “I clean as I cook. I can’t work in chaos. It disturbs my artistic temperament.”

  “Well . . . we still have to clear off the table and pu
t stuff in the dishwasher.” Judith paused. “No, we don’t. We should go check on Arlene and Carl. What if they are being held against their will?”

  “Call her.”

  “I can’t. I don’t have her son’s cell number. I only have the one for their regular phone.”

  “The number didn’t show up on your phone when she called?”

  Judith shook her head. “My landlines’s so old that its features are really limited.”

  “Drat.” Renie frowned. “I suppose we should make sure they’re okay. If our ornery husbands are watching baseball, they won’t know we’re gone.”

  “True.” Judith ran a hand through her salt-and-pepper hair. “Okay. Let’s do it. Shall I take my car?”

  “Yes,” Renie replied, standing up. “If Bill wants to go home, he may’ve forgotten I was with him. He just likes to do that,” she said in a loud voice. Nothing. “Damn,” she whispered. “They’re so caught up in the game that Bill doesn’t even know I’m taunting him. To further quote my husband, ‘Let’s move on out. Boppin’!’”

  The cousins left via the back door. A quick look at the Rankerses’ driveway verified that their car was still gone. Judith paused before leaving the cul-de-sac as a big black SUV went by on the through street. Five minutes later, they were going down the north side of the hill and taking a right to the six-way stop.

  “Don’t look now,” Judith said, “but I think we’re being followed. Did you see a white Camaro parked anywhere near the B&B?”

  “No,” Renie answered. “I was watching you watch traffic. Wait—wasn’t the phony inspector driving a Camaro?”

  “He was. I think he’s two cars behind us. I first noticed the Camaro up on the Avenue at the arterial by the bank, but I didn’t think much about it. Of course I may be wrong.”

  Renie twisted around to look. “All I can see in back of us is a red car. Why don’t you avoid the big bridge and take the smaller one across the ship canal? That way maybe we can lose him.”

  “Good thinking,” Judith agreed as she went through the intersection and around under the big bridge. “Hey, once we get to the bottom of the hill, I’ll keep going on this side of the canal all the way to Fisherman’s Bridge.”

  “Brilliant,” Renie said. “After that first stoplight, gun it.”

  “You want me to get arrested?”

  Renie grinned. “Hey, that’s not a bad idea. You could really lose the phony inspector, then.”

  “And end up with a fat speeding ticket? No thanks.”

  “Come on, coz,” Renie urged as they waited for the light to change by the forested college campus at the foot of Heraldsgate Hill. “I don’t see the Camaro yet,” she said, looking behind them. “Maybe it’s not him. There must be several white—uh-oh. Here he comes.”

  The light turned green. “Oh, what the heck,” Judith muttered. “They don’t patrol this street except when classes are in full session.” She pressed the gas pedal. “Is he still behind us?”

  “I can’t tell,” Renie replied. “A couple of other cars are in the way now. It’s starting to get dark.”

  The wide street that ran along the canal wasn’t very busy. Judith suddenly grew reckless, pushing the pedal even harder. She felt a sense of liberation from all of the past few days’ frustrations. “Whee! That headache I felt coming on is gone.”

  “Good. You’ve been tying yourself into knots ever since the Schmucks showed up. You need to kick back.”

  “You can’t blame me for being upset over . . .” Judith heard a siren close by. “Damn! Is that the cops?”

  Renie turned around again. “It’s not a parade float. You better pull over before we get to the bridge turnoff.”

  “Damn it!” Judith exclaimed, spotting a place to park by a lumber store. “Just as I was starting to feel good again. Can you see if the cop’s pulling up, too?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Renie said. “Should I fake near-death symptoms so you can tell him you’re taking me to the ER?”

  Judith shook her head. “I was speeding. My husband’s a former cop, as you may recall.”

  “He was never a traffic cop. In fact, did Joe ever walk a beat or . . .” Renie shut up as the officer appeared next to the car and Judith rolled down her window.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” the tall, fresh-faced policeman said, “do you know the speed limit on this street?”

  “Yes,” Judith replied, “and I know I was going too fast. I’m in a hurry because my neighbors are being held hostage in Sunset Cliffs.”

  The cop blinked and removed his hat. “Really. That’s quite an explanation for speeding.”

  “It can’t be helped,” Judith asserted. “But as long as you’re here, why don’t you follow us out there? We could use your assistance.” She noted his name stitched into his uniform’s shirt: D. Frolich. “My cousin and I would really appreciate it.”

  Frolich looked taken aback. “Ah . . . May I please see your driver’s license?”

  “Of course.” Judith rummaged in her purse. “I’m Judith Flynn. My cousin is Serena Jones. Here.” She handed her wallet to the cop.

  “Okay,” he said, returning the wallet. “But I still have to cite you for going fifteen miles over the posted limit.”

  “That’s fine,” Judith responded. “Just write it up quickly so we can be on our way. You will follow us, won’t you?”

  “I can’t do that,” Frolich said. “I’m on patrol.”

  Judith stared at him. “If I call 911 and ask for help, will you respond?”

  Frolich looked askance. “But I’m already here.”

  “Exactly,” Judith agreed. “So please follow us. Or lead the way. You choose. Otherwise, I’ll have to call another policeman when we get there.”

  The officer still seemed conflicted. “Let me make a call of my own.” He stepped away from the Subaru.

  “Why,” Renie asked, keeping her voice down, “didn’t you tell him you’re Mrs. Joe Flynn and have him call Woody? Or do you just like torturing the poor guy?”

  “I don’t want to use clout,” Judith declared. “It’d make me sound . . . pretentious. Besides, he probably wouldn’t believe me.”

  Frolich returned. “I’m sorry, ma’am. My desk sergeant says I have to write you up.”

  Judith didn’t argue. “Fine.”

  “It’s seventeen dollars over the basic fine,” Frolich replied. “The total—”

  “Just do it,” Judith broke in. “I told you, I’m in a hurry.”

  The officer scowled. “But you don’t want to get pulled over again for going too fast, Mrs. Flynn.”

  “Of course not,” Judith retorted, “but I want to get where I’m going before somebody gets killed.”

  “Right.” Frolich looked unmoved as he began to fill out the ticket. “Is that your current address on the license?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is the photo correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well . . . your hair’s a different color than it is on the license.”

  “Aaaaargh!” Renie screamed. “She colors her hair! Write the stupid ticket, you . . . you Frolich, you! We’ve got lives to save!”

  The cop’s face flushed. “Okay, okay, I’m doing it.”

  Two minutes later, the cousins were on their way again. “Is he following us?” Judith asked Renie.

  “Not yet,” she replied. “I don’t think he remembered he was driving a cruiser. Maybe he’s waiting for a taxi.”

  “Speaking of being followed, that Camaro must’ve passed us when I pulled over,” Judith said. “Did you see it?”

  “No,” Renie replied. “I was watching the cop car. Gosh, coz, this is the second time you’ve been picked up for speeding in the last year.”

  “At least I didn’t have to pay a fine when we were up on Whoopee Island in January. That county deputy had common sense.”

  “He found out you were FASTO,” Renie said.

  Judith grimaced at the reference to the nickname admiring fans had gi
ven her when they’d learned of her detecting skills. It stood for Female Amateur Sleuth Tracking Offenders, which was bad enough. But ocasionally when the acronym was misspelled as FATSO, she’d get angry. Judith had always been self-conscious about her weight.

  “Right,” Judith said. “But he stopped regarding us as suspects.”

  “I still think you should have pulled rank and had Frolich call Woody. How much is the ticket?”

  “Eighty-seven bucks,” Judith replied as they headed over Fisherman’s Bridge. “My main concern is Arlene and Carl. Now it’s getting dark. Maybe that’s good. It might be smart to park the car away from Heaven’s Gate and sneak up on the place.”

  “But the guard will have to call the house,” Renie said.

  “No, he won’t. You’re going to tell him we’re calling on the Key Largo bank president.”

  Renie looked dismayed. “I am? No—you tell them. You’re a much better liar than I am.”

  Judith considered. “Okay, I can do that.”

  “I can’t wait to hear what you’ll say,” Renie said, grinning.

  “I can’t either. I’ll wing it when we get there.”

  Eight minutes later, they were pulling up to the gatehouse. A young, dark-haired man stepped up to the car. Judith assumed her most businesslike expression.

  “I’m Ms. Dooley,” she said. “We’re here to meet with Mr. and Mrs. Quincy about some details of the project our company is working on.”

  The young man nodded politely, then reached inside the gatehouse for the phone. Less than a minute passed before he gave them the high sign and opened the gates.

  “Who on earth are Mr. and Mrs. Quincy?” Renie demanded. “And when did you adopt Tyler Dooley? Isn’t Rodney enough of an extra son?”

  Judith explained about the construction project that Tyler’s father had been involved in. “I thought about using the Key Largo bank president instead, but I figure Tyler will get a kick out of my little ruse.”