by Mary Daheim
“Who do you think I am?” Judith asked softly as Renie wandered around by the counter.
Rufus peered even harder, his face not more than six inches from Judith’s. “I don’t know,” he finally said, and slumped back in his chair.
“I do,” Judith said, still speaking softly. “You thought I was your ex-wife. Isn’t that who you expected to see?”
Rufus’s pale gray eyes narrowed again, this time in suspicion. “Go away. You’re trying to torture me.”
A pang of guilt struck Judith. Maybe that’s what she was doing. Rufus, after all, was a stranger, and while he might be reclusive, that didn’t mean he wasn’t a decent person.
“I’m sorry,” Judith said, noticing that Rufus had only a cup of coffee on the table. “Let me buy you lunch and I’ll explain.”
“It’s too early for lunch,” Rufus said. “I don’t eat lunch until noon. You have to keep good habits to stay healthy at my age.”
“It’s twenty to twelve,” Judith pointed out.
“It’s not noon,” Rufus said doggedly. “Besides, don’t you think I can afford to pay for my own lunch?”
“I think you can probably afford to pay for this entire café,” Judith said. “I’ve heard you’re a real whiz with money.”
“Says who?” Rufus countered.
“Says Helen Schnell, your neighbor,” Judith replied, giving Renie a high sign to join them. “She’s a great admirer of your financial acumen.”
Rufus looked up sharply as Renie pulled a chair over to the table and sat down. “What’s this? Is everybody ganging up on me?”
Sensing that Rufus was about to bolt, Judith put out a soothing hand. “No, Rufus, not at all. I’m Mrs. Flynn, and this is my cousin, Mrs. Jones. We’re friends of Helen Schnell. I must say, you’re both very shrewd to be able to buy back into the Alhambra.”
“Are we?” Rufus ignored Renie and avoided Judith’s gaze.
“Is there a problem?” Judith asked.
“None of your damned business,” Rufus snarled. “Why are you harassing me?” He turned around in his chair. “Where’s Alva? She never lets people bother me when I come in here.”
“Alva’s probably in the kitchen,” Judith said, “cooking lunch. Honestly, we don’t mean to bother you. We just wanted to ask a couple of questions about the Alhambra.”
Rufus again eyed Judith and now Renie with suspicion. “You thinking about buying into the place, too?”
“Possibly,” Judith said. “Do you think it’s worth the money?”
“No,” Rufus responded. “But that’s not the point as far as I’m concerned. I don’t want to live anywhere else. I never have. Neither has Miss Schnell. So what? It’s worth it to folks like us.”
Judith nodded sympathetically. “I understand. Still, the Alhambra hasn’t always been a happy place for some of its tenants. Like the Hasegawas, for example.”
“The Japs?” Rufus said. “I don’t recall. I was just a kid.”
“The Meachams,” Judith said.
“Oh, them.” Rufus dismissed the Meachams with a wave of one hand. “One of those wartime marriages. They never last.”
“But one of them doesn’t usually end up sealed in a wall,” Renie noted.
Rufus turned to Renie. “Oh, so you can talk? I thought you were this other one’s stooge.”
“I am,” Renie said in a hapless voice.
Rufus closed the book he’d been reading, and Judith noticed that it was entitled The Guilty Rich. “First off, I don’t watch TV or read the newspapers. Bunch of sensationalism. Now I’ve got to be going, or I’ll be late for lunch.”
“You aren’t eating here?” Judith inquired.
Rufus shook his head. “I feel like Chinese. I’m going down the street to Fu Man Chew’s.”
“Then let me treat,” Judith said. “I still have some questions about the apartment house.”
“I’m doing takeout,” Rufus declared. “I’ve had enough sociability to last me a week.”
“Please,” Judith begged. “Just a couple more minutes?”
Rufus made a face. “Make it quick. I’m getting hungry.”
Judith gave Rufus a grateful smile. “What do you remember about Harry and Dorothy Meacham? Or a blond woman who showed up with Harry later?”
“Not a damned thing,” Rufus said. “I was a kid, I didn’t pay much attention to grown-ups. Or to other kids, if comes to that. I like my own company just fine.”
“But eventually, you married,” Judith pointed out.
“It was a big mistake,” Rufus said grimly. “Ritzy didn’t approve of the way I made my money.”
“Ritzy?” Judith said. “That was your wife’s name?”
Giving a single nod, Rufus scowled at Judith. “That was her nickname, short for Fritzy Ritz, like the funny paper girl. Ritzy was superstitious as hell. Once she found out how I’d made my pile, she refused to come north with me from California. That was the end of it.”
Renie waved a hand in Rufus’s face. “Hey, remember me? The stooge? I thought you got rich through investments.”
“I did,” Rufus replied, taking his book from the table and standing up. “It was my original nest egg that bothered Ritzy. She called it blood money.” He glanced at the book under his arm. “That’s always bothered me. It was no such thing. I came by it honestly, the old-fashioned way. I inherited it.”
Rufus Holmes pushed his chair out of the way and moved swiftly to the café exit.
FOURTEEN
GREG, THE WAITER, finally showed up to ask the cousins if they’d seen the menu. Renie informed him that they didn’t need to, they were leaving. When Greg apologized for the slow service, Judith explained that they had come only to visit with an old friend. Mollified, Greg moved on to another table as the café began to fill up with the lunchtime crowd.
Judith and Renie barely got out the door when they spotted Joe and Woody heading in their direction.
“What now?” Joe asked, vaguely irritated. “I thought my lovely bride was going home after the hospital visit.”
“I had some things to do,” Judith murmured. “Did you find out about Mr. Schnell?”
Woody smiled at Judith. “You really are amazing,” he said. “I don’t care what Joe says. Charlie Schnell was indeed shot and killed while fleeing the old Sound View Apartments. He’d surprised an elderly woman who put up a struggle. The neighbors heard the ruckus and called the police. There was a patrol car just a block away. Charlie was armed and holding the woman hostage. He refused to come out at first, but he finally dragged the poor woman to the street level, then pushed her away and fled on foot. That’s when he was shot. The police in those days were quite a bit more trigger-happy than they are now. It’s believed that he was responsible for a series of burglaries over at least a ten-year period.”
“Wow!” Judith grinned back at Woody. “That’s terrific news.” She stopped, restraining her enthusiasm. “Not for the Schnells, of course. I mean, not when Mr. Schnell got killed.”
Joe was staring at Renie. “What happened to you? Did you finally run over yourself with your car?”
“Very funny,” Renie shot back. “I met Nurse Royce.”
“Oh, yes—the formidable Nurse Royce.” Joe was trying not to smile, but failing. Briefly. Suddenly, he scowled, not at Renie but at Judith. “Why was Renie at the hospital this morning? Was that your idea?”
“Well—yes,” Judith admitted. “One of the other nurses found a piece of paper in Dr. Ashe’s trousers.” Judith rummaged in her handbag, found the paper, and handed it to Joe. “It sort of confirms that Mr. Schnell was a burglar, doesn’t it?”
Woody looked over Joe’s shoulder. “Gosh, this is really old. It even smells funny.” He scanned the names on the list. “Yes, I think those other apartment houses were mentioned in Schnell’s file. But what’s this ’Meacham’ at the bottom?”
Judith snatched the paper away from Joe. “Good question. I assume Dr. Ashe wrote that, since it’s very recent
. He must have found this in the Schnell unit before he got knocked out.”
Woody nodded. “That makes sense. So do the tools in his attaché case. He’d brought them along so that he could search under the floor or in the walls or wherever. But what was he looking for?”
“Restitution, maybe,” Judith said, stepping aside as a quartet of businessmen walked past the little group. “Did you notice the Hasegawas on that list? Dr. Ashe is married to Hiroko Hasegawa. She was born after the war. I figure he came up here to check out her roots while he was attending the chiropractic conference. In doing so, he took the tour and learned that some so-called treasure had been found in the Alhambra. Hiroko’s family must have been one of Charlie Schnell’s victims. Maybe that treasure belongs to the Hasegawas. Maybe Dr. Ashe thought there was more, and was searching for it.”
Joe and Woody exchanged quick glances. “That’s possible,” Joe said. “But it’s not a motive for murdering Aimee Carrabas.”
Judith smiled sweetly at Joe. “Did I say I was investigating the Carrabas case? That’s your job. I’m working in the past, on the Meacham murder.”
“The Meacham murder was unofficially solved,” Joe declared, eyeing his wife suspiciously. “I thought you were looking for a connection.”
“Well—I was,” Judith said. “I am. I guess.” She turned an appealing look on Woody. “But how could the police have been sure that Harry killed Dorothy? Did they have proof or were they just guessing?”
Woody offered Judith a kindhearted smile. “Since the body was found only a month ago, and there was no trace of Harry Meacham after he left town, the case is officially open. But because of circumstantial evidence, we assume that the spouse is the prime suspect.”
Judith nodded slowly. “Yes, I see.” An idea suddenly struck her. “Woody, did Aimee Carrabas have any living relatives?”
“No,” Woody replied, looking bemused. “Her mother, Elizabeth Ritter, died recently in a nursing home out in the San Fernando Valley. Her father had been dead for several years.”
“Did Mrs. Ritter have a will?” Judith asked, ignoring Joe’s impatient sighs.
“She did,” Woody said, still regarding Judith with mild curiosity. “She left everything to Aimee. The estate is quite large, which is why it has to go through probate.”
“Of course.” Judith started to back away, then stopped. “Are you two having lunch here?” she asked, gesturing toward the café.
“That’s right,” Joe replied. “Do we need permission?”
“No,” Judith said meekly. “But you might consider Fu Man Chew’s down the street. You’ll find Rufus Holmes there, waiting for takeout. Bye.”
The cousins made a swift getaway. They had to stop at the corner for the traffic light, and Judith glanced over her shoulder. Joe and Woody were still outside the café, apparently debating something. The light changed and Judith moved quickly across the street.
“Hold up,” Renie yelled. “I thought your hips hurt.”
“They do,” Judith said. “I figure Joe and Woody are going to Fu Man Chew’s but Joe doesn’t want me to know it. Ergo, I want to get out of sight so they can arrive before Rufus leaves with his order.”
“How will they know who Rufus is?” Renie asked, hurrying to catch up.
Judith gave her a cousin a wry little smile. “Because they’re cops, that’s how.”
Renie had been adamant about not going to see George Guthrie. Since she had her own car, she was heading uptown to the art museum to show the staff how the Native American project was progressing. Then, she promised, she’d meet Judith at Papaya Pete’s around one-thirty.
Judith didn’t bother considering how Renie dared to show up at the art museum in her disheveled state. Though her closet was stuffed with designer clothes, Renie often showed an utter disregard bordering on contempt for her public appearance. Judith merely wondered how Renie managed to get away with it.
Rory, the receptionist, greeted Judith with a tentative smile. “You’re…?” he said, then frowned.
“Mrs. Flynn,” Judith replied. “I was here the other day to see Mr. Guthrie. Is he in?”
“Yes and no,” Rory answered, still frowning. “I mean, he’s not available. He’s in a big meeting that’ll probably last all afternoon.”
“A new project?” Judith suggested in her friendliest manner.
Rory’s hands twitched nervously on the desk. “Not exactly. I’ll let Mr. Guthrie know you stopped by.”
If Rory was hinting dismissal, Judith was ignoring him. “How soon will the Alhambra’s renovations be completed?”
“The finish date is the first of the year,” Rory said glumly. “But with all these delays in the past week, we may be looking at February.”
“That’s not unusual, is it?” Judith inquired. “My Uncle Corky used to be in construction. Between weather conditions, strikes, and other unforeseen occurrences, it always seemed as if completion dates got changed.”
“That’s true,” Rory said. “It’s just that—” He stopped as a tall man in an Armani suit came hurrying out of George’s office. “Mr. Stensrud?” Rory gulped.
The man paused at the reception desk. “I’ve got a one o’clock appointment with the city I can’t miss. George is on his own for the next hour. Whatever you do, don’t let him walk out on these clowns,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the inner office. “He’s pretty hot under the collar.”
“Yes, Mr. Stensrud,” Rory said with a jerky nod. “I’ll do my best. But you know how upset he gets with these zoning officials.”
Stensrud rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. That’s why he pays me big bucks to keep him out of trouble. See you later.” He swerved abruptly and looked at Judith. “Excuse me. Are you a client?”
“Of yours?” Judith retorted, assuming Stensrud was an attorney.
Stensrud shook his head. “No, I meant of George’s.”
“No,” Judith said. “I’m…sort of a friend.”
“Good.” Stensrud patted Judith on the arm. “No harm done, then. I’m off.” He was out the door in three long strides.
“Lawyers are usually more discreet,” Judith said with a little smile.
Rory seemed disconcerted. “Yes, of course. But Mr. Stensrud…Well, he can be blunt. He’s a very aggressive type of attorney, which is good.”
“That’s helpful for George,” Judith remarked. “Construction projects are so controversial these days.”
Apparently assuming he’d found a kindred spirit, Rory eyed Judith with approbation. “Mr. Stensrud gives Mr. Guthrie excellent representation. You’re right, when your client is a builder, you have to be tough to go up against all these zoning commissions and environmental agencies.”
“Of course,” Judith said, still in her friendly mode. “Builders are in a bind these days. There’s so much incity construction. People want to live close to downtown, but housing developments are restricted, not just because of a shortage of space, but because of all the…legal ramifications.” Judith wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but thought it sounded plausible.
Indeed, Rory agreed wholeheartedly. “Absolutely,” he declared, growing expansive. “I haven’t worked here that long, but already I can see what Mr. Guthrie’s up against.” He gestured toward the inner office. “Right now, he’s in there fighting for his projects. Don’t these negative types realize that construction is good for the community? It provides jobs, for one thing. I had some different ideas before Mr. Guthrie hired me, but I learned real quick that I was dead wrong. Take the Alhambra, for example. The Heraldsgate Hill Historical Society put up a big fuss about the renovation, but Mr. Guthrie hasn’t hurt the exterior at all. In fact, he’s improved the place. It was overdue for some big improvements.”
Judith looked puzzled. “I didn’t realize the historical society had protested the changes.”
“Oh, yes,” Rory asserted. “I was a member, in fact. I live over on the side of the hill above the lake. I majored in history at the
university, so I thought it might be kind of cool to join the historical society. There was quite a bit of news about it, especially in the weekly newspaper.”
Judith winced. With her busy schedule, weeks went by when she didn’t look at anything in the community paper except Falstaff’s Grocery specials.
“I guess I missed that,” she admitted. “When was it?”
Rory reflected briefly. “In the late winter or early spring. Naturally, I sided with the O’Dowds and some of the other members at first, but after I got this job, I quit the society altogether. They’re just a bunch of troublemakers.”
“The O’Dowds?” Judith said. “Do you mean the couple who used to lived in the Alhambra?”
“That’s right,” Rory said. “Billy and Midge. In retrospect, I can see that it was sour grapes with them. They couldn’t afford to buy a condo and didn’t want to move. They were just stonewalling.”
“Yes,” Judith murmured, her brain kicking into high gear. “Of course. Stonewalling. Well,” she said, her voice turning brisk, “I’d better be on my way. I’ll catch Mr. Guthrie later. Thanks, Rory.”
Uptown, in the luxury hotel that featured the exotic Papaya Pete’s Restaurant, Judith had to wait almost half an hour for Renie. In fact, she had just about given up and was going to call the art museum when Renie stomped into the restaurant wearing a gray wool dress, sling-back pumps, and a gray jacket trimmed in Norwegian fox.
“What on earth…?” Judith exclaimed. “It’s seventy-five degrees outside. Why are you dressed for winter? And where did you get those clothes?”
“I bought them at Nordquist’s,” Renie replied in an annoyed voice as she shed the fur-trimmed coat. “I got here early, and they wouldn’t let me in. They said I looked like a bum. I wasn’t up to another wrestling match, so I marched up the street to Nordquist’s and bought something more suitable.”
Judith gaped. “That must have set you back a grand.”
“Ha!” Renie batted at one of the artificial palm fronds that was drooping dangerously near her shoulder. “That was just for the coat. The dress and the shoes were another eight hundred bucks. I think I’ll send the bill to that snotty maître d’.”