A Fit of Tempera

by Mary Daheim

  Judith moved to the door. “I’m afraid so. It seems unlikely in either case, but alcoholics are so deceptive. To look at them, you’d often never know.”

  “Just like murderers,” said Renie, following her cousin into the studio.

  Judith turned to Renie, giving her a quizzical look. “Oh, no. Alcoholism is a disease.” She bit her lip and gazed around the artistic setting that had made up Riley Tobias’s life. And death. The outline of the body had been erased, though much of the spilled orange paint remained. “Drinking is no crime. It’s an affliction. Murder is another matter.” Judith bent down and lifted up the floorboard under which the empty bottles and the single beer can had been stashed. They were still there. “Hmm. I thought they might have been removed by now.”

  Renie was keeping one eye out for Iris. “By anybody we know?”

  “Probably. But a bunch of empty bottles aren’t evidence of anything except drinking.” Judith circled the studio twice, her black eyes darting into every nook and cranny. She reminded Renie of a mother panther, checking her lair for danger. Judith paused by the garbage can that stood next to the house. “When’s the pickup around here?”

  Renie shrugged. “How do I know? We’ve never been on the route. We either hauled our garbage home or buried it behind the cabin.”

  Judith lifted the heavy plastic lid. She peered into the can, then gingerly picked through the top layer of debris. “Nothing,” she said, then noticed another bin at the corner of the house. “Aha!” she exclaimed. “This is for recycling. There must be a half-dozen empty beer cans on top.”

  “And only one under the floorboard.” Renie didn’t sound impressed. “So what’s your conclusion?”

  Judith replaced the hinged lid on the recycling bin. “I’m guessing but there was a reason to ditch that poor lonely can. Fingerprints, maybe. Or the lack of them. Undersheriff Costello can sort that out. What matters now is that I think I’m on the right track,” she declared with a determined look at her face. “Come on, coz. We’re heading for the hippie hangout.”

  FIFTEEN

  “WHAT ABOUT THE phone?” Renie demanded as the cousins waited for Iris out by the fence with its esoteric, eclectic decorations treasured by Riley Tobias.

  Judith chewed on her lower lip. “Maybe you’re right. We ought to get Gary to solve the car problem first. We never know when we’re going to need a quick getaway.”

  Renie was pacing nervously around the well. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Ninety percent,” Judith replied. “There’s one thing I’d like to check out before I start shooting my face off. But it’s pretty straightforward, really. If Abbott N. Costello weren’t such a dope, an arrest might have been made two days ago.”

  Iris Takisaki came out of the house just as the glazier pulled out of the driveway. The phone-company van followed almost immediately.

  “They’re gone,” she said in relief. “How do you feel about a martini?”

  Judith smiled and shook her head. “No, thanks, Iris. We’ve got a sixty-mile drive ahead of us. If we can get my car started. That’s why we came—to inaugurate your new phone.”

  Iris laughed. “Why not? Come on in, and we’ll see if it really works.”

  It did. Gary Johanson told Judith he’d be down as soon as he finished his dinner. He always ate early, he explained, before the regular customers arrived at the inn’s restaurant.

  Iris was smiling at the mauve Trimline phone. “That’s a relief. I didn’t mind when Riley was here, but since he’s gone, I’ve felt isolated without a phone.”

  “You ought to meet my mother,” Judith murmured. She started to sit down on the sofa, then gave their hostess a piteous look. “Fix yourself a drink, Iris. You’re got a funeral to face the day after tomorrow. What Renie and I could really use is some crackers and cheese. We may not get dinner until late, unless Gary uses witchcraft to fix my car.”

  “I’ve got Brie,” Iris said. “Let me go out to the kitchen and rustle up some crackers, too. Do you want the cheese warmed?”

  Renie thought that sounded great. She rubbed her stomach as Iris headed for the kitchen. She rolled her eyes as Judith began opening drawers. She sat down with a thud when her cousin waved a contract at her that was signed by Dewitt Dixon and Clive Silvanus. She leaned back in the contour chair and sighed as Judith shook the contents of a brown paper bag under her nose.

  “Now what?” murmured Renie.

  “Now we eat Brie,” Judith replied. “Or would you rather have Sweet-Stix?”

  An hour later, Gary Johanson still hadn’t shown up to start Judith’s car. The cousins were getting anxious. Iris kept assuring them that they weren’t imposing on her, but shortly after six, Clive Silvanus arrived.

  “Oh, good Lord!” Iris exclaimed, seeing Clive on the back porch. “I forgot Clive was taking me to dinner in Glacier Falls! He thought the two of us should go over material for Riley’s eulogy.” She rushed off to admit her caller.

  Renie glanced at Judith. “Well?”

  Judith stood up. “Let’s go so they can head out for dinner. We can wait for Gary by the side of the road.”

  “But—” Renie’s protest was cut short by the reappearance of Iris, with Clive in tow.

  “Tin Hat or Thai?” Judith asked, waving hello to Clive.

  Clive, as usual, was dressed in varying shades of brown, his beige-and-taupe tie neatly knotted, but his tan slacks rumpled. Fleetingly, Judith wondered how he’d feel if he knew his scheme with Dewitt had been sabotaged.

  “Ah thought we’d try that little steak place up from the traffic light,” Clive said as Iris dashed into the bedroom, presumably to get ready. “Iris says it’s hash-house food, but Ah say, what’s wrong with hash?”

  “Nothing,” Renie replied, “unless you make it like Cousin Sue. She put her goldfish in it once.”

  Clive blanched. The cousins made their farewells, calling out to Iris, who returned a muffled “Good-bye” from the bedroom.

  It was still daylight outside, so the cousins ambled back and forth along the shoulder of the road. Traffic was somewhat heavier than usual for a Thursday night, perhaps due to people getting a jump-start on the weekend. Ward Kimball’s Volkswagen bus no longer stood in Nella’s drive. Over at the auto court, three new arrivals were parked in front of the little cabins. There was no sign of the Dixons. Perhaps they were inside, doing battle over Dewitt’s deception. Except for Kennedy Morton, who was pumping gas into a white Mazda Miata, the rest of the family was nowhere in sight. Judith figured they were probably eating, though what and how, she didn’t want to know.

  The cousins didn’t recognize the old rust-red beater Gary Johanson drove from the Green Mountain Inn. “My latest fixer-upper,” he said, sticking his head out the window. “Where’s your car?”

  Judith and Renie led the way up the rolling drive. Gary went to work. The cousins watched hopefully. Gary slid off the seat and crouched under the dashboard. Gary hit his head. Gary swore. Gary ducked under the dashboard again. Gary got out of the car, looking glum.

  “These Japanese jobs can be tricky,” he announced. “I’m a Detroit man. Now, if it were something simple like Iris’s problem the other day, all I’d have to do is jiggle the key around and free up the wheels. She could have done that herself. But this”—he jabbed a thumb at the blue compact—“has got me stumped. You got towing insurance?”

  Judith did. Gary told her to have the car taken to Fast Freddy’s Auto Repair in Glacier Falls. But he warned her that they wouldn’t be able to do anything until the morning. It was, after all, past six-thirty. Freddy might be fast, but he didn’t do overtime.

  Chagrined, Judith offered to pay Gary, but he refused. “You’re a neighbor. We’ll figure out a way to get back at you.” He gave her a diffident grin and backed down the drive.

  “Great.” Downcast, Judith tried to figure out a better solution than the one Gary had offered. “I really don’t want to spend another night up here. I’d rather have the car tow
ed all the way into town, pay the extra mileage, and somehow get back to Hillside Manor tonight.”

  Renie, however, was puzzled. “I don’t get it, coz. I thought you intended to solve this murder case. Are you slipping?”

  “I wanted to tie up the loose ends, drive home, call the sheriff—the real sheriff—and let him sort it out. I’m not really sure, coz. I’ve only got a glimmer.” Judith sighed as they started out for the phone booth at the auto court. “Most of all, I don’t like the conclusions I’m drawing. I’d rather not stick around for the last act.”

  “You can’t order up a murderer du jour, like soup,” Renie pointed out. “I can follow your rationale—or your logic, as you’d put it—but I agree. You may be way off base this time. Either you’re not telling me everything you know, or I’m being dense.”

  Judith gave Renie a rueful look while they waited at the edge of the road for a lull in traffic. “I’m probably not very convincing. But this isn’t a situation where there are so-called clues that jump out at you. I’m sorting through fragments to make the big picture. What strikes me as unusual about this case is that the murder was so simple. Yet it’s the innocuous, everyday things that seem to point to the killer. If I were a painter, I’d find Truth in tiny specks of color, not in great, bold splashes.”

  Reaching the other side of the highway, Renie gave a little shiver. “Frankly, I’ll be glad to get out of here. I wasn’t particularly nervous when we didn’t have any inkling of the murderer’s identity. But now, it’s spooky.”

  The people at the towing service in Glacier Falls could scarcely believe that they had to make two trips to virtually the same place in one day. They’d be happy to take Judith’s compact all the way into the city. But renting a car was not so easy. They had only one vehicle at their disposal, and it already had been leased to the Dixons. Nor could both cousins ride in the tow truck: There was room only for the driver and a single passenger. Judith requested the tow truck; she and Renie would sort out their own transportation later.

  “Joe?” suggested Renie. “Bill? Joe and Bill? Bill and Joe?”

  Judith looked at her watch. Dusk was settling in. “It’s almost seven. Joe ought to be home. Still…” She frowned. “I hate to ask him. He’s probably been chasing mass murderers all day and coping with Mother and Arlene the rest of the time.”

  Renie nodded. “Thursdays are horrid for Bill. He’s got a lecture hall of over four hundred students, a graduate seminar, a division meeting, and about four private counseling appointments. Plus, it’s his turn to air the hamster.”

  Judith looked impressed. “Wow! I didn’t know Bill ever took care of the family pet.”

  “Only when the kids are gone and I’m out of town. The last time he did it, the hamster bit him. Or was it the other way ’round?” Renie looked vague.

  Judith snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! We’ll borrow one of Gary’s beaters. We can have the tow truck haul it back.” She started walking briskly up the road.

  “Hey, hold up!” Renie called. Judith stopped and turned around. “What about the hippies?”

  “Forget the hippies.” Judith waited for Renie to catch up. “Maybe a word of warning to the sheriff will suffice.”

  “You really think Clive is in cahoots with them?” Renie asked as they walked past the cyclone fence that guarded Trent and Glenna Berkman’s property from the road.

  “He’s up to something,” Judith said. She, too, was feeling ill at ease. The cousins walked faster. “I think Clive and Riley were in cahoots with them. Somewhere along the line, they struck a bargain with the hippies—a regular bribe to keep them from pinching Riley’s art. Carrie Mae Morton mentioned that they were well heeled, at least by her standards. Since Riley was the only one around here who never got robbed, how else do you explain his good luck? He certainly had a lot of stuff worth stealing. I’ll bet Clive was up there paying them off—or else calling it off, now that Riley’s out and Iris is in.”

  Gary Johanson wasn’t keen on letting the cousins borrow a beater. None of the four he had parked by the shed was really roadworthy. He’d rather they took his new pickup or Dee’s Honda Accord. But Judith and Renie wouldn’t hear of that. The trio stood under a tall hemlock and tried to come up with another solution.

  “Say,” said Gary, “what about Iris’s Acura? She won’t need it until the funeral on Saturday.”

  Judith wasn’t so sure. “She might have to go into Glacier Falls tomorrow to finalize the arrangements.”

  “That Southern guy can take her,” Gary countered. “Didn’t he go off to dinner with her a while ago?”

  “Yes, but…” Judith chewed on her lower lip. The darker it got, the more nervous she became. “I don’t suppose they’ll be gone long. We’ll have to wait for Iris to come back with the car keys and ask her permission.”

  Gary loped over to the inn. “Hang on. I’ve got her extra set of keys. She left them in case the other one got broken off in the ignition. I forgot to return them, with all the excitement about Riley getting killed. Iris must have been too upset to miss them.” He opened the door to the inn and reached inside. “Here, they were up on the board. Leave her a note. I’ll explain.” He eyed the cousins sympathetically. “Frankly, you two look beat.”

  “We just want to get home,” Renie said. “Maybe it’s finally hit us that there’s a killer loose around here.”

  Gary gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Tell me about it. Dee and I have been sleeping with my .22 under the bed the past two nights. Who says all the crime is in the big city? We got plenty of it right around here.”

  Slowly, Judith closed her hands around Iris’s car keys. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.” She looked at Renie. “Do you think I could get Dooley and his chums to drive up here tonight and return the Acura?”

  “You can if you give Dooley fifty bucks,” said Renie, referring to Judith’s former newspaper carrier, who had recently passed his first driver’s test. “Now that he’s given up Police Auxiliary work and taken up with girls, he might look upon it as an adventure. I’ll split the cost with you.”

  Having settled the matter of commandeering Iris’s car, Judith thanked Gary, who offered to drive them back to the cabin. The tow truck was just pulling into the dirt drive. The cousins removed their belongings from the compact’s trunk and gave directions to the auto-repair shop at the foot of Heraldsgate Hill. After the defunct car had been dragged out of the driveway, Judith and Renie lugged their suitcases and the picnic hamper over to Riley’s house. Judith slipped a note under the door and they were off.

  “Phew!” Judith exclaimed as they raced past the Woodchuck Auto Court. “I feel better already! I was getting pretty antsy.”

  “Me, too,” Renie agreed. “Maybe we can still stop for dinner someplace. Now that I’m not scared, I’m starving.” She settled back in the comfortable seat as they took the curve by Ward Kimball’s house. “Music. We need music to settle our nerves.” With a flick of the wrist, Renie opened the glove compartment.

  “We’re chicken, coz,” Judith said as the car began to make the Sand Hill climb.

  Renie, however, scoffed. “Don’t be silly. It’s not ‘chicken’ to avoid getting ourselves killed. Tonight, you talk over your ideas with Joe. Tomorrow, you call the sheriff up here. On Saturday, we bow our heads and say a prayer for Riley. Come Sunday, I’ll fix fried chicken with cheese spaghetti and you bring our mothers. Bill and Joe can watch whichever NBA teams are still dunking for dollars. All this will be behind us and life will go on.”

  Judith, however, didn’t respond. A sense of failure, as thick as the darkness which now enveloped all but the ribbon of headlights, had settled over her. “I don’t like giving up,” she finally asserted. “Or giving in.”

  “You aren’t,” Renie argued, shoving a sturdy plastic cassette case back into the glove compartment. “You’re only being sensible. And safe. Joe will be delighted.”

  “Joe.” Judith sighed. Maybe Renie was right. If Joe had us
ed reverse psychology, it had worked. She glanced at her cousin. “What happened to the music?”

  “I can’t read the labels on the tapes in the dark. I couldn’t see them anyway without my glasses.” Renie made one last stab at the glove compartment. “Here, this is a loose one. Let’s try it and hope it isn’t something Nella would like.”

  They were coming down the steep grade of the Sand Hill. Renie, who was particularly inept with anything mechanical, fiddled with the cassette, putting it in backward the first time. At last, after poking several buttons, the cousins heard the soft whir of the tape.

  No sounds of a symphony, no thudding bass of a rock group, no brassy notes of a Broadway hit filled the inside of Iris’s Acura. Instead, Judith and Renie heard the voice of Riley Tobias:

  “This is my version of a love letter. I’m not clever with words…”

  Judith applied the brake and pulled the car over to the side of the road. She stared at Renie.

  “We’re going back.”

  Renie’s jaw dropped; then she saw the determined look on her cousin’s face. “You’re crazy,” she murmured. “Okay, let’s go.”

  SIXTEEN

  UNDERSHERIFF ABBOTT N. COSTELLO was off duty. He could be beeped, however, if there was an emergency. Judith said that was indeed the case. It might take a while, the voice at the other end of the bad connection informed her. Even if Costello could be contacted immediately, it would take at least forty-five minutes for him to get to the vicinity of the Woodchuck Auto Court.

  “Where do we wait?” queried Renie. The cousins had already returned Iris’s car and were standing outside the phone booth. “Nella’s?”

  Across the road, the lights in Nella’s house glowed invitingly, but Judith shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “With the Mortons?”

  This time Judith grimaced. “Mortal danger is one thing—the Mortons are another.” She turned around to gaze at their homely house. “On the other hand, I do have a question for the kiddies. Wait here and watch for Iris and Clive. I want to see what happens when he brings her home.”