Gone With the Win: A Bed-And-Breakfast Mystery

by Mary Daheim

  “Just from seeing her on the job, she strikes me as kind of tough, but I sense it’s a put-on to hide bad things that’ve happened to her.”

  “You’re right about that. Someday I’ll tell you her story.”

  “I hope it has a happy ending,” Jessi said.

  “So do I.”

  But Judith’s worst fear was that the ending might have already come for Ruby.

  Chapter 20

  The phone rang just after Judith finished cleaning up from dinner.

  “Dooley reporting in, Chief,” Tyler said in a conspiratorial tone. “Silver sports car I saw earlier, possibly a Maserati, just pulled into the cul-de-sac by the Frosch house. Man got out, waited for someone to let him in, and went inside. Couldn’t see who opened the door.”

  “It had to be Brick’s girlfriend, Lainie,” Judith said. “Herb Frosch is at work. I don’t suppose you have to walk your dog. You could check out the make for sure and get the license number.”

  “I already took Barkley out before dinner, but I can do it again. To heck with Algebra Two. I’m on the case.” Tyler rang off.

  Judith stood in the kitchen, wondering if she dared peek outside from the parlor. It was dark and the view was impaired. But it was time to put out the Pilgrim and Indian figures Aunt Ellen had sent from Beatrice, Nebraska. She’d used corncobs for bodies, corn husks for clothes, corn tassels for hair, and corn kernels for eyes. Aunt Ellen had also made a Thanksgiving wreath out of sixteen-millimeter film strips that wasn’t as appealing.

  Joe had already headed up to the family quarters, apparently to talk to Bill about their roles as building inspectors. It took Judith at least five minutes to get the decorations from the basement. By the time she went out to the porch, the sports car was still parked by the Frosch rental. Tyler was entering the cul-de-sac with Barkley, but stopped when he saw her. She moved her hands in a shooing gesture, indicating he should keep going.

  By the time she’d arranged the figures near the door and hung the wreath, Tyler was approaching Hillside Manor. “Cute stuff, Mrs. Flynn,” he said in a voice a trifle too loud. “How come those Pilgrims and Indians look blind?”

  “The dots my aunt painted on the corn-kernel eyes wore off the first year I had them,” Judith explained, speaking in a natural tone. “I consider the result symbolic. Both Pilgrims and Indians are blind to the fact that they belong to different races. A portent of things to come.” She lowered her voice. “You got the license plate?”

  Approaching the steps, Tyler nodded and also spoke quietly. “M-C-Q-S-P-Y. Maserati Spyder, first ones came out in ’01. Not a race car. Serious wheels, though.”

  Judith zeroed in on the license plate. “M-C-Q-S-P-Y? I get the ‘SPY’ for Spyder, but . . .” Movement in the direction of the Frosch house caught her eye. “Come up on the porch, Tyler. Don’t look around. I think somebody’s coming out of the rental.”

  Tyler climbed the steps at a normal pace with Barkley at his side. Judith edged to her right, by the planter box and behind the large rhododendron that grew next to the porch.

  “They can’t see us, but we can see them,” she whispered.

  “I don’t see anybody,” Tyler whispered back. “The door’s still open.”

  “Here comes the man,” Judith said. “He’s carrying a suitcase.”

  “And here comes the woman I saw in the Explorer. She’s got a bunch of stuff.”

  “She sure does.” Judith watched Lainie head to the Maserati while the man closed the door. “Lainie’s leaving. I mean, really leaving.” She stopped speaking, seeing the couple get into the car and pull out of the cul-de-sac.

  “That license plate—I wonder if the ‘MCQ’ stands for Dirk McQueen. I spoke to Lainie this afternoon and she mentioned his name. I gathered he’s another race car driver she’d turned down in favor of Brick.”

  “Hmm,” Tyler murmured. “Could that be a motive for running down Brick?”

  “It wasn’t a sports model that hit him. In fact, there’s a much better suspect who drives a Nissan very like a witness’s description of the car. He’ll probably get collared very soon.”

  “Who is it?” Tyler asked excitedly.

  “Wait until the arrest is made,” Judith replied. “He’s an old foe of the Frosches. Hey—do you want to come in?”

  Tyler grimaced. “I better not. Barkley likes to chew stuff he’s never seen before.” He glanced down at the dog, who was looking up at his master with fond eyes and a wagging tail. “Any point in me staying at my post by the telescope tonight?”

  “Maybe not as far as Lainie and McQueen are concerned,” Judith said. “But who knows what else could happen around here. I wonder how Herb will feel about Lainie defecting.”

  “Mr. Frosch? Maybe he’s glad to see her go.”

  Judith considered Tyler’s words. “Yes. Maybe he told her to get out. Herb ought to know her a lot better than I do.”

  After Tyler left, Judith went out to talk to Gertrude. “Mother,” she began quite seriously, sitting on the sofa’s arm, “think back to the tall, dark, and handsome caller you talked to the other day. I know you told me what he said, but is there anything you might’ve left out?”

  Gertrude narrowed her eyes at Judith. “You think I’ve got Alzie’s?”

  “No. But you insist you’re deaf. And”—Judith softened her tone and smiled at her mother—“you also tend to be flippant when you tell me things. Think back to what the guy told you. Maybe I’ll find more pig hocks in the next couple of days.”

  Gertrude gave her daughter a gimlet eye, but grinned. “You’re not always so dumb, kiddo. Okay, for pig hocks, I’ll try to remember. To tell the truth, I’m not sure what I told you in the first place. He didn’t say all that much, in fact. Refresh my non-Alzie’s memory.”

  It took Judith a moment to resurrect the conversation. “You already told me he didn’t ask about Ruby, right?”

  Gertrude nodded. “I didn’t mention her either. No reason to.”

  “He wanted the lady of the house, not Mrs. Flynn or the B&B owner?”

  Her mother nodded again. “No name. Just . . .” She frowned. “It wasn’t exactly the lady of the house. It was the landlady.”

  “Oh!” Judith slipped off the sofa arm. “That makes sense now!”

  “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why,” Gertrude chided.

  “Yes, I will.” She quickly explained about the sports car’s return and Lainie’s going off in it with her belongings. “The driver may not have been at the track when Renie and I were there. Silver sports cars aren’t that unusual in this city. I think McQueen showed up that day to find Lainie, but didn’t know exactly where she was. He may’ve had Joe’s address as the rental contact and thought the landlady lived here. That explains his question. At some point in the last few days, he must have gotten in touch with Lainie or vice versa. And now they’ve taken off.”

  Gertrude frowned. “So what’s it got to do with Ruby?”

  “Maybe nothing, but when Mrs. Frosch was taken to the hospital, Ruby said she recognized someone. I figured it was the son, Brick Frosch. I was wrong.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Gertrude said. “Don’t get your tail in a knot over it. You married two of your mistakes.”

  “Mother . . . please, stop,” Judith said, getting off of the sofa arm. “Just when I was thinking what an old darling you really are.”

  “I don’t want you getting used to that idea and me going all mushy on you like your aunt Deb does with Serena. Makes me want to puke.”

  Judith leaned down to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Don’t worry. I don’t expect miracles.”

  “Neither do I,” Gertrude retorted. “But I do expect more pig hocks.”

  Back in the house, Judith plotted her next move. The plan that evolved in her mind made her feel not just devious, but almost evil. She grabbed a paper-towel roll, a box of matches, and the phone. Moving purposefully to the front door, she went outside, removed Aunt Ellen’s wreath, and s
et it on the porch. Then she called 911 and reported a fire.

  Judith waited until she heard the sirens before putting the paper towels and the wreath on top of the rhododendron bush, but making sure they weren’t too close to the porch. Lighting the paper, she rushed back inside to drop the matches in the elephant-foot umbrella stand. By the time the fire engine roared into sight, the flames had consumed at least half the paper. And, of course, the sirens had already attracted the Rankerses and the Porters.

  “You’re on fire!” Arlene cried. “Stop, rock, and roll!”

  Judith moved into full view. “It’s ‘stop, drop, and—’ ” She broke off as the firefighters came racing toward the house, hose at the ready.

  “Lordy!” Rochelle Porter exclaimed, hands pressed to her face. “Are we hexed? What will happen around here next?”

  “Aren’t we due for something good?” her husband, Gabe, replied. “There is a law of averages. Unless you’re Job, I suppose.”

  As the hose went into action, Judith realized she’d better get out of the way and shut the front door. She barely made it before she heard a burst of water hit solid wood.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Joe demanded, hurrying down the stairs. “Is it a heart attack or a fire?”

  “A fire,” Judith said, forced to raise her voice to be heard over the high-powered hose. “Don’t worry, it’s not serious.”

  Joe stepped down into the entry hall. “Serious? Are you nuts? It sounds like whatever’s happening is right outside the house.”

  “It is. I’ll handle it. Go ahead and watch TV.”

  Joe’s face turned very red. “You are nuts! Tell me what’s going on before I pitch a five-star fit!”

  “Okay, okay! You never liked Aunt Ellen’s Thanksgiving wreath anyway.”

  “Aunt Ellen’s . . .” Joe seemed to deflate, shoulders slumping. “Right, it’s hideous. Was hideous?”

  Judith nodded. “I decided to get rid of it.”

  Joe ran his hand over his head just as the hose went quiet. “Okay. I’m beginning to figure out what’s going on. Yes, there’s some basketball on that I might enjoy. In fact, I’d enjoy watching a test pattern if they still had it on TV. I’ll now leave you to your latest weird yet misguided scheme.” He turned around and went back upstairs.

  Judith cautiously opened the front door. The Ericsons, the Bhatts, the Steins, and some of the Dooleys—including Tyler—had shown up, but they’d all moved away from the house. Judith wondered if the firefighters were going to call for crowd control. The porch was awash, though the inevitable slant of most structures in Earthquake Country allowed the water to slowly but surely run down the steps onto the pavement.

  Ignoring the smoking mess atop the big rhododendron, Judith scanned the firefighters for her prey. Sure enough, Jess Sparks was standing some ten feet away, making sure the hose didn’t get caught in the low-growing plants around the rhododendron. As she realized he was about to walk away, Judith called his name. He turned around and mounted the stairs.

  “You okay, Mrs. Flynn?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she replied, though not with her usual aplomb. “You’ll need some kind of statement from me, right?”

  “Yes, if you have any idea of how the fire started. But the battalion chief should be the one to talk to you.”

  Judith folded her hands, as if in prayer. “Please. I know you. I don’t know your chief. I’ve had such a scare. Do you mind if I speak to you instead? Inside, of course. I have to sit down. I’m kind of shaky.”

  “Well . . . let me go ask,” Jess said. He moved quickly down the steps.

  “Judith!” Naomi Stein called. “Can any of us help?”

  “No,” Judith responded. “I have to talk to one of the firefighters. But thanks. The fire apparently didn’t do much damage.”

  “Okay,” Naomi said. “Let us know if you need anything.”

  “I will,” Judith replied as Jess came back onto the porch.

  “I can’t get to the chief,” he told her, “so I guess it’s okay for me to take over. One of your neighbors has practically got him nailed to the engine.”

  Judith glanced at the onlookers, who were beginning to disperse. She saw Carl, but not Arlene. “It’s probably the block watch captain’s wife. She’s very . . . involved. Let’s go inside.”

  Judith allowed Jess to go first. Glancing at the Pilgrims and the Indians, she thought that the figures looked as if they’d lived long enough to survive the Johnstown Flood. But barely. Oh, well, she thought, corn can withstand a little rain. They’ll dry out. She figured the battalion chief might be in worse shape by the time Arlene got through with him.

  Judith offered Jess a seat in the parlor. “What do you need to know?” she asked, sitting in a matching chair.

  “Have you any idea of how the fire started?”

  “A prank, I suppose. Kids these days.” She shook her head. “I assume there wasn’t much damage?”

  “Not that I could see,” Jess replied. “That big bush was only scorched. It’s a good thing we’ve had so much rain. We couldn’t really tell what it was that got burned, though.”

  “It’s hard to say,” Judith said. In more ways than one, she thought to herself. Not everybody had a holiday wreath made out of filmstrips. Or so she hoped.

  “Maybe trash kids picked up someplace,” Jess suggested. “Just be glad it wasn’t heavy-duty fireworks.”

  “My, yes!” Judith exclaimed, feigning relief. “Say,” she said as if the thought had just occurred to her, “did you ever get in touch with Ruby?”

  “No. I tried to, but I couldn’t track her down in Little Bavaria.” He frowned. “Are you sure she’s still there?”

  “Not really,” Judith replied, sitting up very straight and shedding her air of distress. “I think something may have happened to her. Why don’t you tell me the reason you wanted to meet her.”

  Jess removed his firefighter’s hat and put it in his lap. “It’s personal. How well do you know her?”

  “Fairly well,” Judith replied. “Granted, I only met her last month in Little Bavaria, but she stayed here for several days last week. I do know a lot about her past, though.”

  Jess studied Judith for a few moments before he spoke again. “I wanted to tell her something. In fact, it’s something she doesn’t know about her past.” He cleared his throat and turned his gaze to the stone fireplace. “Ruby and I had different fathers, but the same mother. I wanted to find out if she had any idea about who killed our mother. She was Ruby’s mother—and mine. My father, Hector Sparks, and Opal Tooms were lovers.”

  Judith realized she should have guessed. It explained so much, including the photo of Opal in a house with expensive decor, in Ruby’s recognizing someone when the firefighters arrived at the Frosch rental, in her own reaction when she met Jess that there was something familiar about him. The resemblance between him and Ruby was slight, but it was there.

  “Have you met Ruby?” Judith asked.

  “No, but I’ve seen a picture. My father was in his sixties when I was born.” Jess smiled wryly. “He was still pretty frisky, I guess. He didn’t want to raise another kid. His legitimate daughter, Marla, was in high school about the time I was born. Her mother had died a couple of years before that. My father gave me his name and put money aside for my education, but Marla never knew about me—or my mother. I was raised by my uncle, Harold Sparks, and his wife, Patricia, over in a small town in the southeastern part of the state. They couldn’t have kids. Aunt Patty died of leukemia when I was twelve and Uncle Harold got hit by a truck right after I finished high school. I wanted to try city life, so I moved to Oregon, later came up here and became a firefighter.” He made a face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you the story of my life. I should get back to work before the chief comes looking for me.” He stood up and put his hat back on. “Are you okay now?”

  Judith also got to her feet. “Yes. But one thing . . . when you came here before, you referred to wa
nting to get in touch with Ruby as ‘a sentimental idea.’ Was that the only reason?”

  Jess looked embarrassed. “Well . . . no. My father was eccentric in some ways. In addition to providing for my education, he’d put money into a trust for me and for Opal Tooms. My share won’t come to me until twenty years after his death. He thought young people couldn’t handle money wisely. He stated in the trust that both money and people needed to mature.” Jess laughed softly as they walked to the front door.

  “Did Opal get her share?” Judith asked, knowing that her death had occurred before Hector’s.

  “I learned just recently that Opal was killed before my father passed away. Her money should’ve gone to her heirs. It didn’t. I found out that Opal’s son was in the navy, but not stationed around here. I decided to try to find Ruby first. I found out about the trust a couple of years ago because there was a stipulation that when I reached thirty-five, I should be advised I had money coming when I hit forty. A cushion against midlife crisis, maybe.” He shrugged. “Another one of my father’s quirks. I’ve tried to find Ruby ever since. All I had was a high school picture of her, but I recognized her the other day. I’m good with faces.”

  “You certainly are,” Judith said, opening the door. “I’m surprised you didn’t hire a private investigator to find her.”

  “Oh, but I did,” Jess replied, standing on the threshold. “That’s how I knew she was somewhere in the vicinity. Good night, Mrs. Flynn. And a word of advice: don’t ever play with matches.”

  Judith merely smiled.

  Turn off the TV,” Judith ordered Joe. “We have to talk.”

  Joe looked away from whatever Discovery Channel program he’d been watching. “Why? Is our marriage in trouble because you tried to burn down the house? I’m not holding that against you. It’s better than having you face off with homicidal maniacs.”

  “I mean it,” Judith said, collapsing next to him on the settee.

  Joe muted the sound. “Just when I was about to find out the secret of the universe. Okay. What now?”

  “Who, among your PI colleagues, tracks down missing heirs?”