by Mary Daheim
“Got it. Maybe I can still get my homework finished and play Trivia with some of my sibs. Or cousins. Or—”
“Yes, a lot of Dooleys to sort through,” Judith said. “Thanks again. You’ve been really helpful.”
“So,” Joe said as Judith finally sat down, “you’ve got another junior spy from the Dooley brood?”
“Tyler,” she replied after chewing some chicken. After a bite of pasta, she related his sightings and the possibility that the second visitor just might have been in the sports car she’d seen at the track.
“That’s a stretch,” Joe declared, finishing his meal at the same time Judith concluded her recapitulation. “This is Heraldsgate Hill, twenty-first-century edition. Those fancy cars are all over the hill. When was the last time anybody came in unannounced to check out the B&B?”
Judith glared at her husband. “A week ago Friday. A couple from California stopped in to see if this would be a suitable situation for the husband’s parents, who’re coming this way after New Year’s. I had to show them around while you were taking a nap. Meanwhile, my appetizers got scorched in the oven.”
“Oh. Right. Hey—I was tired. I’d just finished a twenty-four-hour surveillance job.”
“Of a strip club. No wonder you were worn out.”
“A job’s a job. Besides, those neon lights hurt my eyes.”
Hearing noises in the hallway, Judith stifled a rebuttal. Apparently some of the guests were off on their evening rounds of pleasure.
“It’s almost seven,” she said, gazing at the schoolhouse clock. “I wish I’d never taken the afternoon off. I didn’t learn much of anything. I just missed Lee Watkins and I forgot to ask Duke Swisher about Jorge Gonzales, the trainer Renie literally ran into, but he went into the restroom. If I’d stayed home, I might have some idea of where Ruby is.”
“Has it occurred to you that she might have gone out to dinner with somebody she knows?” Joe asked, putting his plate in the dishwasher. “Not every person Ruby runs into is a murder suspect.”
“And taken her luggage so she could change clothes en route?”
“You women do some odd things with your wardrobes.”
“Not that odd.” Having lost her appetite, Judith pushed her plate aside. “I’m going to see Arlene and Carl. Maybe they know something we don’t. They might’ve heard about the hit-and-run accident victim’s condition. The couple from Chicago won’t get here for another hour.”
Joe shrugged. “Fine. I’m going to watch some mindless TV as soon as the guests get finished in the living room. Meanwhile, I’ll clear up the dinner stuff.”
Judith kissed his cheek. “You’re wonderful. Really.”
His green eyes twinkled. “I’m getting soft with age. I know I can’t change you. And except for the occasional killer trying to do you in, I don’t want to. I never quite believed it when you swore you were going to retire from sleuthing. As a hobby, it beats knitting me hideous sweaters or making jewelry out of corn kernels like your aunt Ellen in Nebraska.”
“Corn’s very big there,” Judith said, touching his cheek. “You watch some of their football games. Maybe there’s one on now.”
“Take off so I can watch. I missed most of today’s college games.”
Judith started for the back door. “I know when I’m not wanted. But I love you anyway.”
“You’d better,” Joe said, before resuming his kitchen duties.
Although the rain had stopped, the wind had come up. Judith looked skyward, surprised to see a few stars and at least three airplanes circling to land out at the airport. Maybe her Chicago guests were on one of them. She skirted the hedge to reach the Rankerses’ front door.
“Judith!” Arlene cried. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in . . . hours!”
“Running errands.” Fool’s errands, she thought to herself as she stepped inside and decided not to bother Arlene with an account of her fruitless trip to the Thurlow District. “I was wondering if you’ve heard anything about Bernard—or Brick—Frosch’s condition.”
“Not a word,” Arlene replied. “Come sit in the living room. Carl’s downstairs watching some football game. I don’t know why he bothers. They all look the same to me. Pass, run, tackle, fall down, get injured and carried off the field. It’s just like watching our kids when they used to play outside—except for the helmets. We should’ve thought of giving them some. Do sit—but not on Tulip.”
“Oh!” Judith had been keeping her eye on Arlene as they entered the living room and hadn’t noticed the black-and-white Boston terrier on the sofa. She moved a few feet to avoid the snoozing pooch.
Arlene sat down on the other part of the sectional. “The only thing I can tell you about Bernard Frosch is what Cathy found out today when she went to the house as the rental agent.”
Judith was puzzled. “I didn’t know Cathy handled that house. Joe’s never mentioned it.”
Arlene looked askance. “Did I say she represented Herself’s property? I did not. But Cathy is an agent for rentals as well as being a Realtor. You know that.”
“Uh . . . yes, of course.” It occurred to Judith that Arlene’s subterfuge was almost as disingenuous as her own. “What did Cathy find out?”
“That Herb was at home today, lounging around in his underwear and a very loud plaid bathrobe.” Arlene winced. “Of course Cathy couldn’t let on that she knew anything about their current situation. Lainie was there doing her nails, so Cathy asked if she was Mrs. Frosch. Lainie said she wasn’t. A daughter, perhaps? Lainie just shook her head and went on filing her nails. Antisocial, really. Cathy asked if Mrs. Frosch was home. Mr. Frosch looked quite glum before saying she’d died. Then he belched. Disgusting. That was when Cathy noticed the beer cans by his chair. ‘Was it sudden?’ my daughter inquired. It was six a.m., Herb said. That struck Cathy as sudden, though of course she knew it already. But she offered condolences. Herb thanked her. Lainie kept on filing her nails.”
Arlene had paused for breath. Perhaps, Judith thought, that was why Tulip suddenly woke up and jumped off the sofa. The dog thought his mistress had passed out.
“Did Cathy ask if there was going to be a funeral?” Judith inquired.
“Yes, but they had no plans,” Arlene replied. “That’s when Lainie finally spoke up, saying how could they even think about a funeral when Brick—that is, Bernie or Bernard or whatever he’s called—was barely out of danger from joining his old lady. Her words, not mine—or Cathy’s.”
“Then he’s improving?”
Arlene shrugged. “I suppose so. He’s at least better than dead.”
“Did they say anything else you don’t know?”
Arlene caught the gibe in Judith’s tone. “Judith! I told you I didn’t know anything—it all came from Cathy! Shame on you!”
“I couldn’t help it. You call me a sleuth, but you’re no slouch.”
“Oh, it’s just being neighborly,” Arlene said with a wave of her hand. “Besides, with Carl being the block-watch captain, we have to know what’s going on around here. I’m thinking about having everybody’s mail delivered here first. Just in case, you know, there’s a bomb in it or something.”
“About now, that’s not the worst idea I’ve heard lately,” Judith murmured as Tulip sniffed her shoes. “I do have another question to ask. Did you see Ruby leave late this afternoon?”
Arlene looked stunned. “Ruby left? What do you mean? And how did I miss it? Where did she go?”
“That’s the problem. I’ve no idea. I wasn’t home and Joe was taking a nap. She wrote a note saying she’d gone on an errand and would be back soon. That was three hours ago. Tyler Dooley saw her leave with her suitcase. I checked the spare bedroom and it was cleared out.”
“Tyler is your new junior spy? How sweet!”
Judith nodded. “He’s very good, just like the other Dooley kids. Not long after Ruby went off, he saw an exotic sports car pull up. A man came into the B&B and left a few minutes later. Joe and I
have no idea who he was or what he wanted.”
“Oh!” Arlene put a hand to her cheek. “Carl did see that car. He remarked on it, saying it was a Mazzerooni or something like that. He was going to ask Joe about it, but he took a nap instead.”
“Too bad Joe and Carl take naps at the same time,” Judith said. “Maybe we should get them to alternate. Did Carl see the driver?”
“He didn’t because it was raining and he’d just let Tulip out for a moment. He did notice that the car had California plates.”
Judith grimaced. “I don’t suppose he could see the number.”
“I didn’t ask,” Arlene said, looking chagrined. “Shall I do that now?”
“Well . . . I hate to have you bother him when he’s watching football.”
“It’s no bother,” Arlene said, getting up and leaving the room with Tulip trotting along after her.
Judith could hear only snatches of the exchange from the hallway on the other side of the living room. When Arlene returned, she was frowning. “At first, Carl said it was twenty-one-ten. That didn’t make sense, but then I realized he thought I meant the score of the game. Maybe he’s going deaf. He often doesn’t hear what I say. The plate didn’t have numbers as far as he could tell—just some letters. Being a man, he doesn’t recall what they were. A vanity plate, I suppose. People who drive those Mazzeroonis are probably vain and stuck-up.”
Judith tried to remember if the car she’d seen at the racetrack had out-of-state plates. She only recalled that it was very sleek and going faster than she was. Renie, however, had a bit of a license-plate fetish. Every time she saw an out-of-state car on the hill, she’d cuss, saying they’d better not move to our too-crowded city. We might seem friendly, but we’re only polite. Then she’d make an obscene gesture.
“I should go back home,” Judith said, standing up. “I’ve got late arrivals due soon. At least Brick Frosch must be improving. I assume whoever struck him hasn’t been apprehended. There’s often some front-end damage when a car hits a pedestrian.”
Arlene rose from the sofa to walk Judith to the door. “Can’t Joe find out from Woody?”
“He can, but without a better description of the car and none of the driver, it’ll be hard to track down.”
“Hmm.” Arlene fingered her chin. “The intersection right by our street . . . so many apartments on the Avenue . . . walking distance to church . . .” Blue eyes widening, she dropped her hand and blurted out, “Bridey O’Leary! You know her—she always sits up front because she’s deaf as a post. Over ninety, can’t hear the TV or listen to the radio, so all she does is sit by the window. Bridey can still see.” Arlene removed her jacket from the hall hat rack. “I’ll call on her now. She loves company so I drop in now and then. Of course I have to TALK VERY LOUD.”
Judith jumped at the last shouted words. “T-t-that’s a good idea,” she said. “Let me know if Bridey saw anything. I only know her by sight.”
“And sight is what Bridey still has,” Arlene asserted. “You go along. I should tell Carl I’m leaving. I wouldn’t want him to think I ran off with a dashing man in a Mazzerooni.” She paused, frowning. “Or would I?” She turned around to head for the basement.
Judith stopped by the toolshed to collect her mother’s dinner tray. Gertrude was jabbing at the remote and muttering under her breath. “Why isn’t Lawrence Welk on Saturday nights anymore?” she demanded.
“Because he’s dead?” Judith responded.
Gertrude made a face at her daughter. “So are half the people I still see on TV. Clark Gable, Lana Turner, John Wayne, Joan Crawford, Bing Crosby—one of them pops up every week. Why not Lawrence Welk?”
“That’s because he was a bandleader, not a movie star,” Judith explained. “I think you can get some of his shows on DVD.”
Gertrude looked horrified. “I don’t want his show plastered all over my BVDs! In fact, I don’t wear BVDs. What’s wrong with you tonight? You all thrilled about your gentleman caller this afternoon? Or didn’t he ever find you?”
Judith perched on the arm of the small sofa. “What gentleman caller? When was he here?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Gertrude said with a sniff.
“Yes, I would. Maybe he’s a guest. What time was he here?”
Gertrude sighed. “Oh, you have to know everything. It was almost five and it was raining, but I didn’t see your car, so I thought I’d go inside to see if supper was ready. You know I like to eat supper at five.”
“You know I usually don’t serve until six. Where was the man?”
“Coming into the kitchen when I came into the hall. He asked if the lady of the house was here. I told him how would I know, I was only her mother. He asked if anyone else was around. I didn’t see any sign of Knucklehead or your weird guests, so I told him he’d have to come back later. Seeing as how supper wasn’t ready at five, it wouldn’t be ready until six. Turned out it was later than that, due to your gallivanting.”
“Did he give his name? A card, maybe?”
“You’re a card. No. Why should he? He didn’t come to see me.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Tall, dark, and handsome.” Gertrude looked smug. “Better-looking than either of your two goofy husbands. But so’s a rutabaga.”
Judith gritted her teeth before asking another question. “How old?”
“The rutabaga?”
“Mother! Please! This is important. Ruby’s gone somewhere and I don’t know where she is. I’m worried about her.”
“What’s that got to do with your gentleman caller?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
Gertrude’s eyes hardened. “He didn’t ask about Ruby. Why are you worried about her? It’s Saturday night, she’s young and good-looking. Why shouldn’t she be out on the town? You jealous?”
“No, of course not.” Judith stood up and collected Gertrude’s tray. “This man didn’t say anything else?”
“Not that I can think of. He had manners, I’ll say that for him.”
“Okay.” Judith surrendered. “Maybe he was inquiring about a reservation. I wish he’d left a note or some way to get in touch.”
“If he wants to stay at the B&B, he’ll call back,” Gertrude said in a reasonable tone.
“True.” With a firm hold on the tray, Judith leaned down to kiss the top of her mother’s head. “Good night. Maybe you can find some old Jack Benny or Bob Hope shows on TV.”
“Why would I do that? They’re dead, too.”
“Then try some vampire programs. They’re already dead and they’re still walking.”
“That’s more than I can do,” the old lady retorted.
Judith exited the toolshed. The wind was blowing harder, making the almost bare branches of the old cherry tree writhe against the night sky. She jumped when something brushed against her leg. Sweetums, of course, seeking sanctuary in the toolshed. But her feet suddenly seemed heavy as she approached the porch. Too much walking, she thought, especially on pavement. Gripping the handrail, she dragged herself up the steps. As she cast one last look out into the garden, a shadowy form appeared at the far end of the hedge where the garden sloped uphill. Judith froze in place. The shape kept moving toward her.
Chapter 13
Judith!” Carl Rankers called, hurrying to the porch and putting a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh! You startled me! I’m so sorry!”
Carl’s usually engaging grin seemed a bit uncertain. “I’d better go inside with you. You seem sort of shaky.”
“I am,” Judith admitted, letting Carl open the door for her. “I guess I’m just tired. What were you doing outside?”
He chuckled as they went down the hall. “Arlene won’t let me smoke inside the house except in the basement. The football game was at the half, so I came upstairs to get a drink. Arlene was worried about the bird feeder at the back of the yard blowing over, so I went out to check. It was fine. But I decided t
o have a cigarette while I was outside. I saw something white in the hedge. It was closer to your side than ours, so I came out at the other end.”
“What was it?” Judith asked, getting her nerves under control.
Carl shrugged. “Some kind of flyers the mailman dropped or somebody left on the porch.”
Judith’s natural curiosity took over. “Have you got them with you?”
Carl looked puzzled as he reached inside his jacket. “Yeah. I might as well toss them in your recycling, if that’s okay. They’re kind of damp.” He handed over three sheets of dirty, crumpled paper just as Joe came down the back stairs.
Joe ambled into the kitchen. “Oh—hi, Carl. What’s up?”
Carl started to answer, but Joe noticed Judith was pale. “Hey—what’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”
“Nothing, really,” Judith replied. “I overreacted. I thought we had an intruder, but it was Carl. He was in the hedge.”
Joe looked curiously at his neighbor. “Really? Do you always do that at half time?”
“Only when I smoke,” Carl replied. “Arlene can’t find me there to chew me out.”
“Good move,” Joe said. “What did you think of the first half?”
Judith turned her back on both men and headed for the recycling bin. She straightened out the three sheets of paper to make sure they weren’t of any importance. To her astonishment, they were tip sheets from the racetrack. The Rankerses occasionally went to the races, which ordinarily wouldn’t have made her check the dates. But on this stormy night that had followed a seemingly futile afternoon, she saw a tip sheet for the Breeders Cup races and two pages of sports car rally listings.
“Here,” she said, breaking in on Joe and Carl’s pigskin analysis. “I want Woody to check these for any trace of DNA.”
Joe looked puzzled; Carl seemed bemused. “Why?” both men asked at once.
Judith carefully put the pages on the kitchen table. “Because whoever came to the house probably had these with him. The guy in the Maserati visited with my mother.”
Joe gazed at the ceiling. “He should either get a medal or be committed. I think you’re reaching.”