by Mary Daheim
The walk was clear of ice; only patches remained on the street. To elevate their sense of relief, a Federal Express truck passed by effortlessly. So did a new Volvo, going in the opposite direction. By coincidence, the tow truck they had seen earlier was now hauling away its prey, a late-model compact which bore the city’s official seal.
“Too bad it’s not a police car with Buck Doerflinger in it,” chortled Judith as they reached her Nissan Stanza.
Renie settled into the passenger seat, fastening her safety belt. “Do you mind if we stop at Falstaff’s Market? I have a need for a half-rack of Pepsi. They’ve got a special this weekend.”
Judith didn’t mind. She was too pleased at the prospect of escaping Major Manor. Her determination to flee had all but put the murder case out of her mind. She didn’t care that Jill had secretly married Uncle Boo; she was immune to the ongoing war of the wills; she was even willing to concede that Buck Doerflinger was right and that Weed Wakefield was the killer. Nothing mattered except being reunited with Joe, making peace with her mother, and getting back to Hillside Manor in time to greet her next round of guests.
The car wouldn’t start. Judith turned the key, but nothing happened. She tried again. And again. She swore.
“Cars! It’s always some damned thing!” She waited a few moments, then made another try, this time tromping on the accelerator. There was still no response.
“Battery?” suggested Renie, looking worried.
“Probably,” Judith replied testily. “My car’s used to being in the garage. It probably got too cold sitting out here since yesterday afternoon. Drat, I should have tried to start it this morning. It’s after two now.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “I wonder if Derek has jumper cables.”
But Derek’s black Ford Taurus was reversing out of the driveway. The cousins had been too absorbed in starting their own car to notice that the Rushes—minus Jill—had loaded up and were leaving.
“Toadie’s car is still there,” Renie noted, pointing to the Buick Park Avenue.
“I hate to ask her for help,” Judith said in a dismal voice. But as she spoke, Trixie came hurrying down the street. “Oh—I forgot she’d gone to borrow a phone.” Judith couldn’t help but break into a wry smile. “She doesn’t know about Jill and Boo. Shall we tell her?”
Renie scowled at Judith. “I thought you wanted to get out of here.”
“I do. I can’t.” Judith made a desperate gesture with her hands. “I’ve got to get a jump-start first.” She opened the door and swung out of the driver’s seat just as Trixie was stepping off the curb.
Trixie looked startled to see Judith. “You’re leaving?” she asked in a hopeful voice.
“We were, but my battery’s dead. Does your mother have jumper cables?”
Trixie frowned in the effort of concentration. “I don’t think so. I do, but they were in the Lexus.” Her face turned wistful. “I had everything in that car. It’s really a shame Mason wrecked it. I’ll have to wait weeks to get a customized replacement.”
Judith knew she should stick to the crisis at hand, but Trixie had given her an opening she couldn’t resist. “I’m impressed by how well you’ve done as a Wear-House Dressing rep, Trixie. Maybe I’m in the wrong business.”
An elderly couple drove slowly past in a large, aging Chrysler Imperial, testimony to the safety of the streets. Trixie gave Judith a self-satisfied smile.
“It’s all on commission, and if I do say so myself, I’m a very persuasive salesperson. Some months I net as much as a thousand dollars!”
Judith tried not to let her jaw drop. Trixie wasn’t making a living wage. Maybe she’d reamed her first three husbands. The family rumor mill had said as much. But Vaughn C. Vaughn had been a junior-high-school teacher. Hamlin McBride was a repairman for the gas company. And Rafe Longrod, with his scattering of X-rated movie houses, had usually been one stumble away from bank-ruptcy. None of the three ex-mates had had much, though Judith was sure they’d ended up with even less by the time Trixie got through with them.
“My, my!” Judith exclaimed after she had collected herself. “I guess I am in the wrong business! I sure couldn’t afford a fancy car like a Lexus on what I make with the B&B! You must be a smart money manager.”
Trixie made a futile attempt at looking modest. “Mummy taught me everything I know.” She gave Judith a sly glance. “It’s not always what you have, but what you’re going to get. And I believe in making the most of what’s coming to me.”
“So do I,” said Renie, who had finally gotten tired of waiting in the car. “What have you got coming to you, Trixie?”
Trixie turned a malevolent eye on her. “You know what it is,” she asserted. “My inheritance. I’ve used my expectations to help me get by.”
The cousins exchanged swift, vaguely startled glances. “You mean…” Judith began, then stopped for fear of jumping to the wrong conclusion.
“You know what I mean,” Trixie said in a querulous tone. “Uncle Boo was always an angel about co-signing loans with me. He knew I’d never default, because I wasn’t paying back with my money. It was his. Which was going to be mine anyway. And Mummy’s,” she added as an afterthought.
Judith’s brain was spinning. “You mean…?” This time she was overcome by Trixie’s sheer audacity. “You had Boo take out loans for you? Like to buy your car?” She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice.
Trixie, however, was undaunted. “Of course. He was so sweet about it. We’d have a few drinks and visit and laugh, and the next thing you knew, he’d sign those old papers as if he were doing Christmas cards. What a sweetie! I’ll miss him, though.” Her effort at sorrow failed.
“You’ll miss his signature,” Renie said, not bothering to disguise her venom.
Exasperated, Trixie made a face at Renie. “Now, now! Sour grapes and all that! After all I’ve done for Uncle Boo! Why, he couldn’t have gotten along these last few years without me. And Mummy.”
Renie leaned against the roof of Judith’s car. Her brown eyes danced with mischief. “He got along, all right. To the justice of the peace. Gee, Trixie, didn’t you know Boo and Jill tied the knot last month?”
Trixie’s reaction was to laugh, a merry sound that seemed to linger on the cold winter air. “Very funny, dearest cousin! You always were the family joker! Or,” she continued, the smile swept from her face, “are you just a joke?”
“The joke’s on you, Trixie.” Renie nodded toward the big house. “Go ask Mrs. Major. She’s still in there, playing the piano—and playing her cards just right.”
For the first time, Trixie seemed shaken. “I’ll just do that,” she declared with an attempt at dignity. “Jill! She’s a mere child! What does she know about getting married?” Trixie stamped off across the street.
“Not as much as you do,” Renie called after her.
“Coz.” Judith’s tone was mildly reproachful. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you enjoyed trading barbs with this bunch.”
“I do,” Renie answered promptly. “The only problem is that in a duel of wits, they’re all unarmed.”
Judith gave a faint shake of her head. “Now, we’d better not ask Aunt Toadie about the jumper cables. I’ll have to call the AAA. I wonder if Trixie found a phone. I forgot to ask her.”
The cousins resorted to the same method that Trixie had used, walking down the street until they found someone at home. No one responded until they got to the end of the block. The square-jawed, middle-aged woman who came to the door of the Roman brick rambler acted suspicious.
“How many of you are going to bother us?” she demanded. “Isn’t it enough that there’s a crime spree going on around here? On The Bluff!” She tossed her head, almost but not quite loosening the tightly wound chignon at her neck.
After a brief lecture on why modern society was going to hell in a handbasket, the woman offered to call the AAA for Judith. Obviously, she was not going to permit strangers into her impeccably mai
ntained home.
The cousins waited on the porch, which was decorated with planters containing fading winter cabbages. Renie paced, from the covered lawn swing to the red, white, and blue mailbox; Judith silently tried to identify the shrubs that lined the graceful walk.
It was more than ten minutes before the woman reappeared. “That was very tiresome,” she complained. “I was on hold forever. The AAA tow truck will be here in about two hours. They’re all backed up because of the weather. And accidents, of course.” She slammed the door in the cousins’ faces.
“I guess I won’t ask her if she has jumper cables,” Judith muttered as they returned to the street level. “Two hours! Damn! What do we do now?”
“The neighbors aren’t exactly what I’d call warm,” Renie noted. “That’s the trouble with rich people—they’re always afraid you’re after their money.”
Judith uttered a short, dry laugh. “Sometimes they’re right. Look at Trixie, getting Uncle Boo swizzled and then having him sign those loans.”
“How did she get him to make the payments?” Renie mused. “Even Trixie wouldn’t go through all that every time she had to send a check.”
They had reached Judith’s car. “Automatic deductions, I’ll bet. Trixie probably had Boo’s bank account number, gave it to whoever she was borrowing money from, and then the payments would come out as regular as rain. Boo would have to sign only once.”
“She’s not smart, but she sure is cunning,” Renie allowed. She paused with her hand on the car door. “Well? Do we sit here and wait for the AAA?”
Judith’s shoulders slumped as her gaze traveled across the street to the house. “Not for two hours. Still, I hate to go back in. Trixie and Jill must be going at it by now.”
But they weren’t. At least not anymore. Toadie came flying out from around the side of the house, with Trixie bringing up the rear. A second later, Jill appeared, waving a fireplace poker.
“And never come back!” she yelled as Toadie and Trixie scrambled to get into the Buick.
The cousins waited for mother and daughter to depart. Ironically, Toadie’s car didn’t start on the first two tries, either. But the third time, just as Jill began to lunge with the poker, the engine turned over. Toadie and Trixie fled the scene of the crime. Literally.
Judith set her jaw. “We might as well go back inside. I could use a drink, I guess.”
“I could use a ham sandwich,” Renie said. “Creamed chicken is never very filling.”
“You ate all the ham,” Judith reminded her cousin.
Renie looked mildly surprised. “I did? Well, I’ll have to finish the Havarti, then.”
Jill was still standing on the lawn outside the den. Her satisfied expression changed to curiosity as she saw the cousins return to the house.
Judith explained about the dead battery and the delayed arrival of the tow truck. Jill’s reaction was resigned, but not entirely cold.
“You can keep me company until that cabulance hauls Mason off,” she said, leading the way back around the house to the front entrance. She paused at the end of the house with its plastic-draped scaffolding. “I wonder if there are jumper cables in the garage. Do you know how to use them?”
Judith did, having had the opportunity to learn when her old Mercury went through its last winter and died shortly before Dan did. Her most memorable disaster had occurred after the 2 A.M. closing at the Meat & Mingle. She had shut the bar down, taken the money from the till to put in the bank’s overnight drop, and discovered that the car wouldn’t start. The Thurlow neighborhood was tough, rough and ready for any innocent person who wasn’t as armed and dangerous as most of its inhabitants. Judith couldn’t afford the AAA membership in those days. She had considered spending the night in the car but had known she’d be afraid to sleep for fear someone would come along and rob her. Or worse. At last a gang of teenagers had pulled in behind the restaurant, stereo blaring, speakers pounding, bass throbbing. Judith had hidden under the dashboard. But one of the youths had sauntered over to the Mercury. He’d seen her and called her by name. She had recognized him from her day job at the branch library. In gratitude for her help with a history paper the previous semester, he had shown her how to use jumper cables. It was only after he had got the car started for her that she learned he’d flunked the paper and dropped out of school.
But a search of the Major Manor garage revealed no jumper cables. Judith figured that if they existed, they were probably in the Cadillac Mrs. Wakefield had driven downtown. The three women returned to the house through the door off the entry hall. Judith and Renie were taking off their jackets when the cabulance arrived.
“Thank God.” Jill sighed. “I’m sick of listening to that guy moan and groan.”
“Where are they taking him?” Judith inquired.
Jill gave a little snort of contempt. “Who cares? Actually, he’s going to stay with Trixie, who, I gather, lives with Toadie. Or has since her last divorce.” She opened the double doors for the cabulance attendants. “Come and get him,” she urged, stepping aside for the stretcher and its bearers.
Moments later, Mason Meade was being rolled out of the house, down the walk, and to the waiting vehicle. His pleas for caution fell on deaf ears. Wheels squeaking, the litter bumped, thumped, and almost dumped him onto the ground. Jill went as far as the brick steps which led to the sidewalk, apparently to make sure the patient was really gone. Keeping their jackets on, the cousins followed her.
“Whew!” Jill exclaimed as the cabulance drove away. “Now I can have a little peace!” She turned, gazing up at the front of the house. The fitful sun was now out, casting its pale rays on the brick facade. Above the dining area, the half-timbered overhang was the color of rich cream. The windows with their small panes of leaded glass winked in the afternoon’s western light. “It’s so beautiful,” she murmured. “I suppose I should be grateful to Aunt Toadie for having the masonry work done. The house was beginning to show serious neglect.”
Judith regarded Jill carefully. In some ways, she seemed older than her twenty years, and it dawned on Judith that she had been genuinely affected by Boo’s death.
“You must have cared for Boo quite deeply,” Judith said in what she hoped was a concerned tone.
With her foot, Jill nudged at an errant pebble in the border next to the walk. “I did. I loved him. Oh, not madly, but as a friend. My father…” She frowned. “I never knew my real father. He was killed in ’Nam soon after I was born. Derek adopted me, but he’s an aloof sort of man. He played the role of father fairly well, but I always sensed something was missing. Maybe that’s what I was looking for in Boo.”
Jill’s reaction was understandable. Though Boo had never had children of his own, his easygoing manner would strike a responsive chord in a child. Boo Major had been like a father to Derek; it seemed he had held a special place in Jill’s heart as well.
“Boo was lonely after Aunt Rosie died,” Jill went on, leading the way back to the house. “He told me that he thought my grandmother wanted to marry him. At first, it sounded like a good idea. But Grandmother is such a ditz—she’d have driven him crazy. I told Boo that if he wanted to marry a Rush, why not me? I thought I was kidding.” She opened the double inner doors for the cousins and gave them a rueful smile. “He took me seriously. And it dawned on me that it could work. I’m not ambitious. I dropped out of college after two years. I couldn’t decide on a major. The only thing I really like to do is play the piano, but I’m not good enough to perform. So I asked myself, why not make Boo happy and be his companion? I’d have some purpose.”
“But you hadn’t told your parents,” Judith remarked as Jill took them into the breakfast room.
Sitting down at the round table with its gay flowered cloth, Jill nodded. “We were going to surprise everybody just before they left last night. I think Boo went off to the den to steel his nerve. He hated scenes; he hated being involved in any kind of controversy. And you know how they’d react. You saw how t
hey did react when I told them this afternoon, even with Boo dead.”
Someone, presumably Mrs. Wakefield, had left a plate of oatmeal cookies on the table. Renie took two. “Why didn’t you tell them sooner? After Boo was killed, I mean?”
Jill rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “And make myself the prime suspect? Can’t you see the headlines? ‘Young Bride Shoots Elderly Groom—Estate Valued in Billions.’”
Judith gave a start. “Billions? Really?”
Jill’s response was nonchalant. “I suppose. Major Mush is a huge international conglomerate now. They make more than cereal. Pet food, breakfast meats, baked goods—I don’t know what all. They went public shortly after Dunlop Major died, but Boo retained the majority share, which must be enormous in terms of actual money. And Dunlop wasn’t only a shrewd businessman, but a sharp investor. We’re talking about a man who weathered the Depression and prospered by it. If nothing else, people could afford Major Mush.”
Recalling the determined cast to Dunlop Major’s face in the family photographs, Judith had to agree with Jill’s assessment. “Do the police know?” she asked as Renie gobbled up another cookie.
Jill toyed with a stray tendril of hair. “Not yet, but they will. That’s another thing. I’d like to see a lawyer before I find myself in too deep.”
It occurred to Judith that Jill was already in up to her neck, and possibly in over her head. Tactfully avoiding the issue, she asked a more innocuous question instead: “Will you live here?”
“I’d like to,” Jill said, but her forehead creased. “It’s not practical for one person, though. I know Uncle Boo was all by himself, but that was different. He had the Wakefields. If Weed killed Boo, I couldn’t possibly let the family stay on. And I’m not sure I’d want live-in servants. There’s no privacy.”
Renie had slipped off to the kitchen. “Milk, anybody?” she called.
Judith and Jill declined. “There’s still quite a bit of work to be done on the house,” Judith noted. “You’ll have to hire some more masons, and it looks as if you could use a new roof.”