by Mary Daheim
Judith considered. “Probably. But as I told you, I think he said something about a key. Maybe whoever it was used the key in the fake rock to get in.”
“Could they hide in the house?” Dooley traced something in the air. “I’m trying to remember what I could see inside with my telescope. It’s been a while.”
“They could hide in the living room,” Judith said dryly. “Nobody ever went in there. Plus, there are two other bedrooms. I’ve never seen them, but I know they’re there. One’s in the basement. That was Art’s. Glenda’s was on the main floor.”
Dooley polished off his pop. “This is cool.” He suddenly looked apologetic. “I don’t mean that in a good way, Mrs. McMonigle. But it’s…interesting.” Unwinding his long legs, he stood up.
“I think so,” Judith said. “And by the way, it’s Mrs. Flynn now.”
“Oh!” This time, Dooley flushed all the way to the roots of his blond hair. “I keep forgetting! You married Lieutenant Flynn. He’s cool, too.”
Judith nodded. “Yes, he is. Most of the time.”
“I’ll be working on this,” Dooley said, heading for the French doors. “It’ll keep my mind active while I’m on break.”
“Good,” Judith replied, noting that the rain had finally stopped. “Say hi to the rest of your family.”
“I’ll do that.” Dooley ambled off toward the fence that separated Hillside Manor from his parents’ property. With a dazzling leap, he was up and away and out of sight.
Judith smiled to herself. She had failed to convince Renie and Joe that George Goodrich was innocent. Dooley had proved more reasonable. She had cause to feel smug. An ally had been secured. At least until Gabrielle Porter finished finals.
SEVEN
RENIE WAS EXUBERANT. She stood in the cool night air and all but jumped up and down. “It’s great, coz! Your village is absolutely wonderful! I feel like I’m right there in a nineteenth-century New England town. If only I were a midget.”
Judith couldn’t help but be pleased by her cousin’s admiration. It was almost nine o’clock on Thursday, the second day of December. Renie had stopped by on her way from a Christmas decoration meeting at church. She not only praised the miniature town but lavished kind words on the rest of the cul-de-sac.
“It looks so festive,” she declared, her eyes darting from the Rankers’ Holy Family to the Porters’ rooftop Santa to the Steins’ tasteful bulbs, and then to the other side of the street with Mrs. Swanson’s delicate fairy lights and the Ericsons’ charming carolers. If the darkened Goodrich house bothered her, Renie didn’t say so.
“How do your guests like it?” she asked, moving to the Rankers’ lawn for a closer view of the Nativity scene.
“This is the first night everything’s been set up,” Judith replied. “It will be even better when the indoor lights are on and the trees are decorated. I’ve only got four guests tonight anyway. Weekday business will pick up around the thirteenth.”
Renie was pointing to the laurel hedge that separated the Rankers’ property from Hillside Manor. “Look—I like the way they’ve got the camels’ heads poking out of the shrubbery. But where are the Wise Men?”
“In the hedge,” Judith replied. “They’re shorter, so you can’t see them. Yet.” She still had qualms about Arlene’s concept. “There aren’t any carpet cleaners, though. The hardware store doesn’t carry them.”
Renie turned a quizzical face to Judith. “Huh?”
Judith laughed. “I forgot, you weren’t at our neighborhood meeting. Arlene said she wanted the Nativity scene to include the carpet-cleaners. It turned out that she meant the Wise Men’s attendants. Sometimes they’re depicted carrying Oriental rugs. You know, ‘We three kings of Orient are.’”
“Are rug salesmen?” Renie shrugged. “Maybe they were. That might be how they got so rich. Bill and I priced new carpeting this fall and the estimates were sky-high.” She turned to gaze the length of the cul-de-sac. “What are you going to do about the sign that Ted had made?”
Judith grimaced. “Well…the police put somebody on duty at the Goodrich house for the first twenty-four hours, but he left this evening before dinner. Nobody else has been around, so I thought…ah…maybe…er…”
Renie went right to the point. “Why not? Enid’s dead, and I’ll bet George won’t come back.”
Judith gave her cousin a grateful smile. “I didn’t want to sound crass. And of course I’ll have to ask the other neighbors what they think. Joe says they might let George out on bail, but if they do, I’d guess that he’ll stay with either Glenda or Art.”
“What else has Joe heard downtown?” Renie inquired, now back at the edge of the New England village.
“Not much. He hasn’t had time. If he calls home today, I’m going to beg him to find out about the hatchet.” Judith straightened one of the villagers who apparently had been blown askew by the wind that was coming off the bay. “Fingerprints, too. Or signs of anyone else being on the premises.”
“So you’re still trying to exonerate George.” Renie sighed, then turned solemn. “The hatchet bothers me. It’s pretty gruesome. Maybe it wasn’t a hatchet. Maybe it was a meat cleaver.” The thought didn’t seem to cheer Renie.
Judith was staring up at the sky. A few clouds were passing overhead, but she could see a scattering of stars. All around them, the big old trees sighed and groaned. Despite the recent tragedy, the cul-de-sac seemed peaceful.
Or did, until a van careened around the corner, turned with a screech, and pulled up in front of the Ericson house. Startled, the cousins stared as three people got out and hurried to the Goodrich house.
“Who’s that?” Renie asked, shivering as the wind began to blow harder.
“I can’t see,” Judith said. “It’s too dark. It looks as if they’re heading for the Goodriches’. Unfortunately, a couple of my guests are parked in front of George and Enid’s house. But that van doesn’t belong to either Glenda or Art.”
The squeal of tires had brought Arlene Rankers and Gabe Porter outside. They were both questioning the cousins when the lights went on in the Goodrich house.
“I’ve seen that Ford E-250 before,” said Gabe, who was an expert on automobiles. “It must belong to one of the grandsons.”
Arlene set her chin. “We can’t be sure. Let’s go over and see what’s going on. It might be looters.”
“I don’t think so,” said Gabe, thoughtfully stroking his trim mustache. “Didn’t you say they went around back? That sounds like family.”
Judith was about to agree when someone emerged through the front door, carrying a chair. Arlene set out at a run. The cousins and Gabe Porter dutifully followed, but at a slower pace.
“I don’t like getting mixed up in this,” Gabe murmured. “If that’s the grandsons, one of them works with me at United Foods.”
“Oh?” Judith regarded Gabe with interest. “I didn’t know that. Which one?”
“I’m not sure of his first name,” Gabe admitted. “He hasn’t been there long, but he’s the one who’s losing his hair.”
“That would be Greg,” Judith said. “I think.”
Just as Arlene reached the communal driveway, someone else came out of the house, carrying two lamps. Judith was now able to recognize Dave, who was wearing a windbreaker and a baseball cap turned backward.
Arlene already had confronted Greg, who was putting the chair in the back of the paneled van. “Where are you taking these things?” she demanded.
Greg peered out from under the hood of his duffel coat. “Why do you care? It’s our stuff.”
Arlene stamped her foot. “No, it’s not. It belongs to your grandfather. You put those things back right this minute!”
Greg’s brother had joined him, juggling lamps and looking annoyed. Hurriedly, he slammed the van’s rear doors shut. “What’s happening? Who are you?” Greg glanced from Arlene to Gabe to Renie to Judith. “Wait—weren’t you at the house yesterday?” The question was directed at Judith.
“
We’re all neighbors,” Judith replied, “except my cousin. But she was with me yesterday when we came to help…”
“Guys!” The sharp female voice cut through the chilly air. “Give me a hand with this armchair. I can’t get the stupid plastic off of it.”
Under the porch light, Judith could see a tall young woman with tendrils of honey-colored hair swirling around her head and face. Taking two steps closer, she saw the strong yet feminine features and the wide-set blue eyes. The hair didn’t really swirl, Judith realized; rather, it had been cultivated to frame the beautiful face.
Nervously, Greg looked up from his position at the rear of the van. “You don’t need an armchair, Leigh. It’ll cost you to ship it back east.”
“I can afford it.” Leigh’s voice held a note of arrogance. “I always liked it because it’s so ugly and we were never allowed to sit in it. I’m going to remove the stuffing and plant ivy in it and set it out on my roof garden.”
“That’s dumb,” Dave said, putting the lamps in a cardboard box. “I like that armchair. I’ll take it and the couch, too. My apartment’s got about two sticks of furniture.”
“Our apartment, man,” Greg put in. “We want the bedroom set, too.”
“Like hell,” snapped Leigh. “I covet that dresser and the bureau. They’re antiques. You can have the twin beds.”
Arlene hadn’t recovered from having her authority ignored. She now stood on the porch between Greg and Leigh. “You’re all out of order. Who gave you permission to strip this house?”
Arlene was above average in height, but Leigh was almost six feet tall. Her shiny silver boots had high heels, so that when she spoke, the words were directed at the top of Arlene’s head. “Who’ll stop us? This is family stuff. Butt out, Mrs. Do-Gooder.” With a flip of her artistic tendrils, Leigh went back inside the house. Her cousins followed.
“Barbarians!” shouted Arlene as the front door slammed in her face.
Gabe was shaking his head. “I don’t like this. You’re right, Arlene. It may not be looting, but it sure is greed. What if George comes back? These grandkids will have cleaned the place out.”
Judith turned to Renie. But Renie had wandered over to the van and was bending down, looking in the gutter. She saw Judith and came back to the sidewalk.
“Did George say ‘key’?” Renie asked in pretended innocence. Opening her hand, she displayed what looked like a house key. “I found it in the gutter in front of the Ericsons’, under some leaves.”
Judith stared at the key. There were traces of dirt, but otherwise it was shiny. “I wonder,” she mused, fingering her chin. She turned to Gabe. “You don’t have a flashlight, do you?”
“On me?” Gabe grinned. “No, but I can get one from the garage real quick.”
“Get a plastic bag, too.” As Gabe headed across the cul-de-sac at a semi-jog, Judith turned to Renie. “Don’t move. Just stand there and hold that key exactly the way you’ve got it now.”
“Jeez,” Renie grumbled, “what do I look like, one of your village characters?”
“What about those awful grandchildren?” Arlene raged. “Are we going to let them pillage the Goodrich house?”
“We sure aren’t. We’re going to call the police.” Judith threw Arlene and Renie a smug look, then hurried down the sidewalk. “I’m getting Joe.”
Joe didn’t want to play cop. He was in the third floor family quarters, sitting in the den with his feet up and watching a vintage Bogart movie.
“Send Bogie,” he told his wife. “Better yet, send Peter Lorre. I’m off duty and I don’t want to put my shoes on.”
“Come on, Joe,” Judith pleaded. “Those Goodrich kids are pillaging the place. They can’t be allowed to get away with outright theft.”
Joe clicked the TV volume up a notch higher. “I’m Homicide, not Larceny. Wait until they kill somebody.”
Judith turned grim. “Maybe one of them already did.”
“What?” Joe tore his gaze away from the screen. “Hey, don’t start that again!”
“I’m not,” Judith replied calmly. “Renie found a key in the street by the Ericsons’. It may fit the Goodriches’ back door. Come on, Joe, give those kids a scare. If nothing else, it’ll show them they can’t take what isn’t theirs.”
For several moments, Joe kept his eyes glued on Bogart, Lorre, and Mary Astor. Their predicament over a ceramic bird didn’t seem half as interesting to Judith as what was going on in the cul-de-sac.
“Joe…” She was verging on a whine.
The movie cut to a commercial. Grumbling, Joe slipped his feet into his loafers. “They aren’t kids. I’ve seen Art’s sons. They have to be in their late twenties.”
“They probably are,” Judith agreed. “Which means they ought to know better. Hurry, Joe. It won’t take them long to fill that van.”
Judith was right. The Goodrich house was dark again when she and Joe reached the cul-de-sac. The van’s lights were on, however, and a stream of exhaust could be seen on the cold night air.
“They’re leaving!” Judith cried, now running into the street. “Stop!” she yelled. “Stop or we’ll…”
It was the van that stopped, just shy of the corner. Arlene also had given chase, but was now teetering indecisively in front of Mrs. Swanson’s house. Gabe Porter was coming from his garage, carrying a flashlight. Renie stood quietly at the edge of the Goodrich and Ericson driveway, her right hand extended as she kept the key in its palm. The van’s rear end suddenly tilted to the right.
“They’ve overloaded it,” Judith said as she stopped next to Renie.
“Maybe.” Renie seemed unusually passive, which Judith recognized as a dangerous sign.
Joe was now moving carefully but purposefully up to the driver’s side of the van. Judith started to follow him but stopped and stared at Renie.
“What did you do?” she asked, as the meaning of her cousin’s demeanor sunk in.
Renie gave Judith a tight little smile. “You didn’t really think I was digging around in the gutter searching for clues, did you? I just happened to find the key after I punctured the right rear tire.”
Judith broke into a wide grin. “Coz! You scamp! How’d you do it?”
Renie nodded in the direction of the curb. “With the steak knife I found lying under the rest of the leaves. I was going to use my nail scissors, but they weren’t tough enough. I left the knife because I didn’t want Arlene to blab it all over the neighborhood.” Renie gave Judith a meaningful look.
Judith’s grin had faded fast. “A knife?” she breathed. “Was Enid killed with a knife?”
Greg had gotten out of the van and apparently was trying to explain the situation to Joe. Arlene had edged closer but wasn’t as yet interfering. Joe gestured toward the Goodrich house; Greg turned in that direction, then gave a jerky nod. A female voice yelled something unintelligible from the van. Dave got out on the passenger’s side and was immediately collared by Arlene.
“What now?” Gabe Porter murmured.
The instantaneous response was the appearance of Mrs. Swanson on her porch, Ted Ericson coming through his gate, and the Steins charging down their front steps. Leigh jumped out of the van, then charged Arlene. Arlene kicked Leigh in the shin, just above the top of her shiny silver boot. Dave ducked for cover in Mrs. Swanson’s yard. Joe backed up a few paces until he was in the middle of the cul-de-sac.
“It’s all right, everybody,” he shouted. “We’ve got a flat tire here, nothing more. If we all simmer down, there won’t be any more trouble.”
Judith marveled at the authority in her husband’s usually mellow voice. After an exchange of muttered threats, Arlene and Leigh moved away from each other. Dave looked up from under Mrs. Swanson’s silver spruce. The Steins stopped at the curb in front of their house. Ted Ericson paused, then closed his gate and presumably went back inside. Mrs. Swanson, however, remained on her porch.
Joe walked over to Arlene, took her firmly by the arm, and led her back to the d
riveway where Judith, Renie, and Gabe were standing.
“Greg says they won’t haul any more stuff out. I couldn’t see into the rear of the van, but he says they’ve got a couple of chairs, some lamps, an end table, the TV, a small radio, and a vacuum cleaner. It is family, and nobody’s filed a complaint.” Joe straightened the corduroy collar on the barn jacket he’d grabbed going out the door. “They’ll have to replace the tire before they can get out of here. Let’s all go inside and forget we ever saw them.”
“But…” In dismay, Judith glanced at Renie.
Renie gave a helpless shrug. Gabe discreetly slipped her the plastic sandwich bag, then tucked the flashlight under his arm.
“I guess that means me,” he said with a forced chuckle.
“I guess so,” said Judith, also sounding forced. “Come on, coz,” she said to Renie. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Gabe was escorting Arlene in the direction of their neighboring houses. Arlene didn’t bother to lower her voice as she bent Gabe’s ear: “…Never thought much of Leigh, even when she was little…Imagine, her being a model! Why, she used to have terrible posture…Always sulking and whining…Once, when our Kevin made her eat a bug, she…” Arlene’s voice finally grew faint as she reached the perimeter of her property where plastic shepherds watched by night.
At the other end of the cul-de-sac, the three Goodrich offspring were arguing, albeit quietly. It appeared to Judith that the latest dispute involved who would go and who would stay with the van. The matter was settled when all three of them trudged off in the direction of Heraldsgate Avenue and the local BP service station.
But it was Mrs. Swanson who deterred Joe and the cousins. Her voice was very soft as she called out to Joe.
Dutifully, Joe trudged back down the street. Judith and Renie followed, but at a discreet distance.
“Please, Mr. Flynn, I am very worried.” Mrs. Swanson had come down to the walk and was looking pitifully small in her heavy winter coat. “This is such a terrible thing with Mr. and Mrs. Goodrich. But I am also disturbed by these vehicles which come and go but don’t belong here. Why is this? Where do they come from?”