by Mary Daheim
“Well.” Liz flashed a toothy smile at Renie. “Very interesting. Thanks.” She turned to Judith. “Okay, so now I owe you. Here’s what happened when I got to the Alhambra with the TV crew.”
Judith was eager to hear the revelation, but had to wait until Liz disentangled herself from a small child who was holding on to her ankles and screaming. A harassed mother disengaged the child, administered a weary warning, and took off into the crowd.
“When we arrived at the Alhambra,” Liz began, “we had to use the stairs because we couldn’t all fit into the elevator. I was passing by when the car door opened and a man came out. He looked rather furtive, but I didn’t pay any attention because I figured he was probably part of the tour and maybe he’d been put off by whatever spiel Nan Leech or Jeremy Lamar happened to be giving. Anyway, the last I saw of him, he was headed out through the courtyard.”
“Was he part of the tour?” Judith asked.
“No,” Liz replied. “After I found out about the murder and heard that the police had questioned all of the members on the tour, I learned from Nan Leech that everybody was accounted for—except you two.”
Judith grimaced. “We deserted, I guess.”
“Whatever.” Liz shrugged. “The point is, the man didn’t belong to the group or to George Guthrie. I know, because I asked him. Anyway, he didn’t look like a workman.”
“What did he look like?” Judith asked, her excitement growing.
Liz paused, running her fingers through her short red hair. “I want to be accurate. It was only a glimpse, remember, and it didn’t seem important at the time. He was probably sixty, very thin, fairly tall, maybe six feet, and was wearing a short-sleeved knit shirt and dark pants. He didn’t have much hair, and what there was of it was gray. Does that give you any ideas?”
Judith glanced at Renie, who looked blank. “Yes,” Judith said, “it does.”
The idea she had in mind was named Rufus Holmes.
“Rufus, huh?” Renie remarked as they fought their way to the parking lot. “Are you sure?”
“Not a hundred percent,” Judith replied. “I didn’t get a very good look at him yesterday. I mean, it’s sort of hard to tell much about people when they’re unconscious.”
The cousins both stopped dead in their tracks as they saw the nuns loading the trunk of their car with several large houseplants. Judith heard Renie tense and let out a hiss, like a cobra preparing to strike.
“Don’t,” she urged, putting a firm hand on her cousin’s arm.
“Why not? Nuns or not, they’re a couple of creeps.”
“Face it, coz,” Judith said in a reasonable tone, “you robbed them of their parking place. Nuns expect better treatment. Or at least civility.”
“I don’t know why,” Renie began, then stared as the nuns started removing their long habits to reveal shorts and halter tops. “Good grief!” Renie shouted. “I’ll bet they’re not nuns at all! They’re phonies, wearing habits just to get better treatment! No wonder they got their shopping done so fast!”
The two women had jumped into the white sedan and were pulling out. As they passed the cousins, Cherie and Didi gave them the finger.
“I should have guessed,” Renie muttered as they made their way to the Camry. “Not only didn’t they sound like nuns, they sounded like me.”
Judith laughed. “You’ve got to admit, it was a pretty good gig.”
“I suppose.” Renie let out a sigh, then unlocked the car doors. “What were we talking about before we saw Cherie and Didi get rid of their bad habits?”
“Rufus Holmes,” Judith said, getting into the passenger seat. “Rufus at the Alhambra. Maybe.”
“So why was he there—if he was there?” Renie asked, barging out into the main exit lane as three irate motorists honked their horns.
Judith shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Maybe he wanted to see what progress was being made on his new condo. Maybe he wanted to kill Mrs. Carrabas.”
“And the motive?” Renie prompted.
“I couldn’t guess,” Judith said. “It crossed my mind just now that Rufus’s brief marriage might have been to Aimee Carrabas. But if that were the case, why would he have expected to see a live wife at the café downtown?”
“Good point,” Renie said. “Of course, the man Liz saw might not be Rufus Holmes. That description could fit any number of men.”
“Say,” Judith said, with a wry glance for Renie, “where did you come up with that goofy Hungarian gold train idea?”
“In the newspaper,” Renie replied as they drove through the busy commercial district that abutted on the university. “Or was it a movie? I forget. Anyway, I thought I’d throw it out there and see if Liz would take the bait. She did, right?”
“Very clever,” Judith said with a smile. “I thought you were making it up.”
“I don’t tell whoppers like you do,” Renie declared, running a red light and scattering several pedestrians. “I’m an upright citizen.”
“Those people you just grazed with the Camry aren’t,” Judith noted. “At least one of them is hanging on to a lamp post back there.”
“They jumped the gun,” Renie retorted. “They see an amber light flash on, so they trot right off the curb. They should wait for the WALK signal, which is delayed at least a second after the red light comes on. I’ve no patience with people who’re in such a big hurry, especially college students. They’re probably cutting class or they wouldn’t be out wandering around. Where do they think they’re going?”
“To the hospital emergency ward?” Judith suggested.
Except for a sour expression, Renie had no response. After they returned to Hillside Manor, Judith headed straight for the telephone to make good on her promise to call the Whiffels. Renie picked up the extension in the living room.
“Miss Whiffel?” Judith said when a high-pitched, quavering voice responded at the other end. “This is Judith Flynn, Deborah Grover’s niece. I have Renie on the other—Yes, Serena Grover. Jones. I used to be Judith Grover…Yes, there was another name in between…McMonigle…That’s M-C-cap M-O…Really? I didn’t know you had a family of McMonigles when you taught school…No, Dan was from Arizona…”
Judith glanced across the coffee table to where Renie was sitting on the other sofa. Her cousin’s eyes were rolling upward into her skull and her mouth was agape.
“What I wanted to ask was about the years you lived in the Alhambra Arms,” Judith finally managed to wedge into the conversation. “Especially the period right after the war. Do you remember the Meachams?”
There was such a long pause that Judith thought Jewel Whiffel might have hung up. Finally, the other woman spoke:
“The Meachams, did you say? A man and a woman?”
“Yes,” Judith said. “A couple.”
“With a dear little girl,” Jewel added.
“Yes, around four years old by the end of the war. Harry Meacham served in the army.”
“Brother didn’t go into the service,” Jewel said. “He had an overbite.”
Judith recalled that Ewart Gladstone Whiffel’s overbite was very prominent, possibly capable of felling large trees, though she didn’t know why that should have earned him a 4-F rating with the military. Nor did she ask.
“Such lovely people,” Jewel was saying. “The wife—I don’t recall her name—was quite nice-looking. The husband was…tall. Do you know them, too?”
“Dorothy and Harry,” Judith said. “No, I don’t. In fact, they’re both dead. Or may be. Dorothy is. Do you recall anything about that?”
“About what?” Jewel sounded mystified.
“About Dorothy and what happened to her.”
“She was blond,” Jewel said. “A foreigner, but that can’t be helped. Still, she was always pleasant.”
Judith frowned at Renie, who appeared to be asleep with the receiver propped between her chin and shoulder. “I thought Dorothy Meacham was a brunette,” Judith said, though for all she knew, Harry’s first w
ife’s hair could have been primrose pink.
Jewel’s reaction was to let loose with a giggle so high-pitched that one more note would have sent it into hearing range only for dogs. “No, no, dear Judith. She was very fair, tall, a strong-looking woman. My late mother called her Brunhilde. It was meant as a compliment, of course. Mother was never unkind.”
Unless, Judith thought with a quick glance for Renie, the old girl had caught Brunhilde playing gin rummy. “A good mother, I take it?” Judith remarked.
“I’m sure she was,” Jewel replied. “Though I must admit, she…”
Again, the long pause made Judith wonder if Jewel Whiffel had hung up. “Yes?” Judith encouraged.
“Oh, dear.” Jewel sounded confused. “I don’t remember ever seeing her with the little girl. Such a precious child. Was there a nanny?”
“Ah…” It was Judith’s turn to pause.
“Anne-Marie’s mother,” Renie put in, her eyes not only fully opened, but wearing what Judith called her cousin’s board room face. “Jewel, this is Serena. Tell me about Anne-Marie’s mother.”
“Anne-Marie?” Jewel sounded vague.
“The Meacham girl, the precious one,” Renie said.
“Oh. Well,” Jewel began, her quavering voice a bit more certain, “you mean the dark-haired girl with the green eyes. She was nice, but very quiet.” Another pause, though brief. “Was she the nanny?”
“No,” Renie said. “There was no nanny. Do you know if the blond or the brunette was Anne-Marie’s mother?”
“Oh, dear,” sighed Jewel, “I really can’t recall. Now I’m all mixed up. Maybe the blond woman was a governess. Foreigners often are. Governesses, I should say.”
Judith gave Renie a shake of the head. “Never mind, Jewel. I was really calling about your friend, Helen Schnell. She was a student teacher under my father. I understand you still see her.”
“Helen!” Jewel’s voice brightened. “Such a lovely girl. We have so much in common, both being schoolteachers and spinsters and with such wonderful mothers. We lived right over the Schnells, you see, on the third floor. I never understood,” Jewel went on, her voice darkening a bit, “why Mrs. Schnell and my own dear mother weren’t better friends. Of course there was an age difference. Mother was older, just as I’m a few years further along than Helen.”
Renie flashed the fingers on both hands twice and mouthed the word “plus.” Judith calculated that Jewel must be in her nineties. “That’s too bad,” Judith said. “About your mothers, I mean, especially when you lived right on top of each other. So to speak.”
“We,” Jewel said carefully, “were on top of them. Of course it might have been the noise that upset Mother. She didn’t like noise.”
“Noise?” Judith echoed. “I thought the Alhambra was solidly built.”
“It was,” Jewel responded. “But all the same, Mother and Brother and I could sometimes hear noises directly below us. Sometimes they woke us up. It was very hard on Brother, especially when he’d stay up half the night studying for his law school exams.”
“What do you think the Schnells were doing?” Judith asked.
“I have no idea,” Jewel replied, then added in a disapproving tone, “dancing, perhaps.”
“Jewel,” Renie said, still in her professional mode, “do you remember anything peculiar about the Schnells?”
Yet another pause. “Yes. But I’m not clear on what it was.”
“Would Ewart know?” Renie asked.
“Brother rarely spoke to people who weren’t saved,” Jewel said firmly. “The Schnells weren’t churchgoers, that is, not Mr. Schnell. Mrs. Schnell and dear Helen went to the Methodist church upon occasion. They were probably saved. Mother should have liked that, but…I believe Helen fancies herself an Episcopalian these days.”
“Was Mr. Schnell a…” Renie made a face. “A heathen?”
“I believe he was,” Jewel said. “That’s why Brother wouldn’t speak to him. Nor would Mother. Perhaps that’s why Mother and Mrs. Schnell weren’t close. Mother couldn’t understand why a woman would marry a heathen.”
“So even after Mr. Schnell was killed in the war,” Renie began, “your mother didn’t become friendly with—”
“No, no, dear,” Jewel interrupted. “Mr. Schnell never went to war. He was killed by the police.”
After that, the conversation ended abruptly. Brother wanted his cocoa. Politely, Jewel hung up on the cousins.
“Mr. Schnell had a rap sheet?” Judith said as the cousins stared at each other.
“Maybe it was a mistake,” Renie said. “You know, dark night, dark alley, wrong suspect.”
“Maybe not.” Judith stared at the gypsy phone lying in her lap. “I wonder how far back the police records go?”
“Pretty far, as you ought to know,” Renie said. “Ask Joe.”
“No,” Judith said. “Not Joe. He thinks I’m silly for concentrating on the Meacham murder. Or supposedly concentrating on it. I’ll ask Woody.”
“How about asking Helen Schnell?” Renie suggested.
Judith frowned at Renie. “As in, ‘Hey, Helen, I hear your old man got whacked by the cops back in ’forty-five. How come?’ But there are other ways to find out.”
“All of which you are well-acquainted with,” Renie noted. “Helen must have given you the impression that her father was killed in the war, right?”
“Yes, something about how he was killed shortly before V-E Day. I assumed he died defending his country.”
Judith dialed Joe’s old work number, which had now been assigned to Woody Price. Woody wasn’t in, but Judith left a message.
“I wish Ewart hadn’t needed his cocoa just then,” Judith complained. “The longer we talked, the more Jewel’s mind seemed to stay on track.”
“I know,” Renie said. “It’s sad. Old folks spend so much time shut in and alone that their brains get rusty. At least that’s what Mom says. According to her, the brain is a muscle which needs exercise like any other part of the body. Sometimes I think it’s why she talks on the phone so much. It keeps her mind working. She’s much more like you than like me. She loves people and they tell her all their troubles.”
Judith looked askance at Renie. “Which, I hope you realize, means that you’re more like my mother.”
“I know,” Renie said with a nod. “Scary, huh?”
“For you,” Judith grinned.
Renie shook her head. “Oh, no. For you. You’ll have to put up with me. I’ll have a wonderful time being an ornery old codger.”
“Great.” Judith got up from the sofa. “It sounds as if Jewel got the two Mrs. Meachams confused.”
“I suspect,” said Renie, following Judith out through the dining room and into the kitchen, “Jewel either forgot or didn’t realize there were two Mrs. Meachams.”
“Brunhilde,” Judith mused, opening the refrigerator. “Could she have been a war bride?”
“What?” Renie was leaning against the sink counter. “How could she be? Harry was still married when he got out of the service.”
Judith stopped with her hand on a package of frozen shrimp. “Of course. Harry was still married to Dorothy. Maybe that’s why he killed her.”
“A perfect motive,” Renie said, then her face fell. “Damn!”
“What’s wrong?” Judith asked.
Renie gave her cousin an odd look. “You know—one of those visual memories you don’t even know you had? Well, I just had one.”
“What was it?” Judith asked, putting the shrimp on the counter and staring at Renie.
“I was just a little girl, maybe three or four at the most,” Renie said. “Mother and I took the streetcar to see the Whiffels. Mother wasn’t working then, Aunt Ellen had taken her place at the law office. It had to be early on in the war because Aunt Ellen and Auntie Vance hadn’t gone to work for the navy yet. It was summer, and Jewel wasn’t teaching. We were in the courtyard of the Alhambra and a woman and a little girl came in. Jewel pointed to them and
said, ‘There’s so-and-so. She’s close to your age. You two should play together.’ It could have been Anne-Marie.”
“You’re kidding,” Judith said, a little breathless.
“No, I’m not. I’d forgotten all about those early visits to the Whiffels,” Renie went on in a slightly awed voice. “After the war, when Dad quit working on the oil tankers, I didn’t go with Mom anymore to visit. Dad drove her and I stayed here with Grandma and Grandpa Grover. You and I’d play paper dolls.”
“Our own version,” Judith said, “which usually featured our paper dolls trying to solve a mystery.”
Renie laughed. “Isn’t that strange? Here we are, a couple of middle-aged matrons, still doing the same thing.”
“Did you actually play with Anne-Marie?” Judith asked.
“No. Mother wouldn’t let me. She was afraid Anne-Marie might have germs.”
“Do you remember what the little girl or the mother looked like?” Judith asked.
“Only an impression,” Renie said, frowning. “I think the mother was wearing a hat, one of those dinner-plate styles that sat kind of on the back of the head. It’s very vague. I suppose it means they were both nondescript.”
“Coz,” Judith said, now very serious, “what else do you remember about those visits to the Alhambra?”
“Nothing,” Renie said. “I don’t think we went more than two or three times. It wasn’t easy on the streetcar.
We had to transfer at least once. As I mentioned, I’d forgotten all about that trip until now.”
Judith studied Renie for a moment, then put the frozen shrimp into the microwave and hit the defrost button. “You have a tremendous memory when it comes to your youth, especially going way back. Do you think you could delve a bit?”
Renie uttered a little laugh. “I could, but nothing may come of it. I honestly had forgotten about those early visits until now, when I heard Jewel’s voice and pictured her not in that retirement home, but the Alhambra. I sure didn’t recall that they lived over anybody named Schnell. In fact, I don’t remember either Jewel or Ewart mentioning their neighbors. But I’ve always tried to steer clear of the Whiffels. That oozing, unctuous type of Christianity rubs me the wrong way, particularly when Ewart was so stingy when it came to paying his employees. I almost prefer Phyliss’s aggressive brand of ‘my way or the hell way.’”