by Mary Daheim
“Maybe . . .” Renie hedged. “How could two sides of a family be so different?”
“Let’s face it, some of our relatives are a bit strange.”
“True. I’ve been trying to forget they’re actually our relatives. I confess I always admired Great-Aunt Rosie for fighting off boredom in that little mountain town where she and Great-Uncle Drano lived.”
“His name was Duane,” Judith pointed out.
“That’s not what she called him,” Renie countered. “Aunt Rosie joined the Ku Klux Klan and the Communist Party. Remember how one night she got the meetings confused and showed up in her bedsheet to denounce capitalism?”
“No,” Judith said, “but I believe it. Rosie was quite a character. Uncle Drano—I mean, Duane—was a gravedigger during the Depression.”
Renie laughed. “See? You can’t avoid dead bodies, even from the past.”
Judith didn’t try to defend herself. The cousins slowed their pace as they neared the Stokes family, who seemed rather subdued. In fact, Martha Lou was slumped by the bier with tears running down her cheeks.
“We shouldn’t bother them,” Judith said. “Let’s go back to the motel.”
Renie kept going. Judith hurried to catch up with her. “Coz,” she whispered, “what are you doing?”
“What you really intend to do,” Renie retorted. “You know damned well that you’re more curious than I am.”
“They’re grieving,” Judith declared. “We can’t intrude. We’re strangers.”
“I may be, but you’re not,” Renie said. “What did I tell you? You’re never a stranger to anybody.”
“Ohhh . . .” Judith sighed. “I suppose they might need help. If Codger has died, they may be emotionally overwrought. It’s often difficult for mourners to make decisions at such a time.”
“There you go,” Renie said cheerfully. “Your usual logic has snapped into place. You offer them comfort while I figure out where we go to lunch.”
Judith shot her a dark look. “Fine. You really are the most unsympathetic person . . .”
Before she could get the words out, Teddy Stokes emerged from the family group and hurried toward them. “Guess what?” he cried, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Codger croaked!”
Judith nodded solemnly. “That must be a relief to all of you. Will you grant his wish about putting him on the bier to go down the Bow River?”
Teddy blinked several times. “We can’t. Not now. Later, maybe.”
“Why not?” Judith asked.
Teddy twisted his fingers together. “Because”—he gulped, going pale under his summer tan—“Codger was murdered.”
Chapter 5
Judith was stunned. Deep down, she knew the reaction would be normal for most people, but experience should have hardened her. Then, before the usual shocked responses came out of her mouth, she asked Teddy if he was sure that the old man had been a homicide victim.
“Sure?” Teddy gasped. “Heck, yes! He was stabbed twice.”
“That’ll do it,” Renie said. Seeing Teddy look confused, she continued. “His advanced age. His lack of strength. He was dying anyway, right?”
“Well . . .” Teddy took a swipe at his unruly forelock. “Yeah, but why kill him? I mean . . . he was practically a goner.”
Judith cleared her throat. “That’s what my cousin means. Have you notified the police?”
“I think Aunt Adela’s gonna call on her fancy cell phone,” Teddy replied, “but we’re not legal. I mean, we ain’t got no real camping permit.”
“I see,” Judith murmured. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
The question seemed to puzzle Teddy. “Shucks, I don’t know . . .” He turned around to glance at his family members, who now seemed to be facing off with each other. “Everybody’s kinda upset. Aunt Adela’s doin’ her best to shush ’em up, but . . .”
“That’s natural,” Judith assured him. “But let’s see if there’s some way we can be of assistance. After all, we Americans should stick together since we’re in a foreign country.”
“We are?” Teddy responded in an uncertain voice. “I thought we were in Canada. It’s North America, ain’t it?”
Judith’s usual patience was fraying. “Yes, but Canada is a separate country. It’s part of the British Commonwealth.”
Teddy took some time taking in the information. “Hunh,” he finally said. “So that’s why they speak English. But some of the signs are in another language. Ma says it’s French.”
“That’s because Canada is bilingual,” Judith said. “English is a second language for many of the people to the east, so the country is bilingual to accommodate—”
“Stop!” Renie cried. “You lost him at ‘bilingual.’ Let’s move on and check out the corpse. I know that’s what you’re dying—excuse the expression—to do.”
Judith glanced at Teddy, who was looking even more befuddled. She reached out a hand to him. “Maybe we can help. We’ve already met your cousins because your aunt and uncle are staying at the same motel as we are.”
“Oh.” Teddy’s face brightened almost imperceptibly. “That’s good. I mean, you’re not . . . strangers.”
“True,” Judith said, relieved that at least the statement was credible.
The first person to notice the cousins was Adela Odell, who confronted Teddy. “Who are those women?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Do you work at the Banff Springs Motel?”
“We’re guests,” Judith replied politely. “We met your twins last night in the bar.” Seeing Win and Winnie on the edge of the gathering, she waved. They didn’t wave back.
“Why are you here?” Adela demanded. “This is a private family meeting.”
Martha Lou waved both hands at her aunt. “Don’t be mean to them, Auntie. They’re going to write us up and make us famous. Maybe we’ll get some big bucks out of it.”
Adela eyed the cousins with suspicion. “Is that true?”
“We work freelance,” Judith replied. “It depends on you and your family if the story’s worth publishing. We understand the elder Mr. Stokes has died. Is there anything interesting about how that happened?”
At least two people uttered short, harsh laughs.
“That also depends,” Adela said coldly. “How much is it worth to you?”
“I’m a writer,” Judith replied with dignity. “Writers aren’t rich. In fact,” she went on, figuring it was time to tell at least one truth, “my cousin is a graphic designer. She provides the art.”
Adela sighed and moved closer. “Look,” she said, lowering her voice, “this is awkward for us. I gather you know why we’re all here.” She took in Judith’s nod. “Then you know Codger was almost dead when the rest of the family arrived yesterday. He died during the night, but . . .” She ran an anxious hand through her platinum pageboy. “Someone apparently couldn’t wait for the inevitable. He was stabbed.”
Judith decided not to reveal that Teddy had already delivered the gruesome news. “Was he suffering?” she asked in a sympathetic tone.
“I don’t know,” Adela admitted. “Norman and I didn’t come to the camp until this morning. We only found out that Codger was dead about an hour ago. In fact, our twins had never met him and went to his tent.”
Judith noticed a much smaller tent closer to the river. “Was he ill?”
“He was very old and very frail,” Adela replied. “He wanted his privacy. Win and Winnie came here a few minutes before Norman and I arrived. They’d never met their grandfather, but he’s been generous with them since they were very small. I haven’t been back to Big Stove in over twenty years.”
Renie finally had to speak before she exploded. “How big is Big Stove?”
Adela looked surprised by the question—or maybe because she thought Renie really was a puppet. “Well . . . I’m not sure,” she replied. “There were fewer than a hundred people when I grew up there, but so many of them were related to each other. It was a peculiar community.”
Renie nodded. “Any extra arms or legs? Ears in the wrong places? How about noses? I’ve always felt they could easily go astray.”
“Not that peculiar,” Adela said with a touch of umbrage. “It’s more of an environmental or educational deficiency. Oh, come along, you might be able to convince the rest of the family that they should contact the police. They won’t listen to Norm and me. In fact, they’re talking about sending Codger down the river on that stupid bier they brought along. That can’t be legal, even in Canada.”
“Probably not,” Judith agreed.
The group had simmered down and was looking appropriately mournful. Pa Stokes was the first to speak.
“You two got a real hot story now,” he said in a dismal tone. “But can you keep it to yerselves for now? We don’t want no trouble with the law.”
Judith decided to take a soft approach and smiled kindly. “Don’t you want justice to be done? If you think he was murdered, his killer must be caught.”
Pa shrugged. “Codger was half dead anyways. We can pack up now and head on back to the farm. Ain’t no reason to tarry here.”
“But,” Judith persisted, “don’t you want to know who stabbed him?”
“Some hobo,” Pa said dismissively. “Besides, we’re furriners in these parts. They won’t care if one of us got done in. Back home, we’ve got corn growin’. And those soybeans. They need tendin’ to.” He turned away.
Judith looked at Adela. “You can’t let your relatives flee the scene of an apparent crime. You know the Royal Canadian Mounted Police will track them down.”
Adela sighed. “I hate to do it, but Norm and I will have to go in person to tell the RCMP what happened. We’d better do it now before they put Codger on that stupid bier.” She gestured at her husband to join her. “Poor Norm! I don’t think he realized until now what kind of a family he married into.” Shaking her head, Adela hurried to join her husband.
Renie was looking unusually concerned. “Can we stop the Stokeses from doing such a stupid—and illegal—stunt?”
“When,” Judith asked incredulously, “did you get so softhearted?”
“It’s not that,” Renie asserted. “It’s common sense, my mother’s favorite virtue. The whole thing is no doubt not only against the law, but gruesome.”
Judith didn’t respond right away. “Maybe we’d better make sure Codger is dead.”
“What?” Renie shrieked, keeping up with her cousin’s pace. “You plan to stick pins in the old duffer?”
“If necessary,” Judith replied grimly.
“Ghoul,” Renie muttered.
Adela was conferring with her husband and Teddy had separated himself from the herd. He was now wearing a cap with a jutting visor in the shape of a corncob. Judith approached him with a kindly smile.
“I’m sorry about your family’s loss,” she said. “I hate to trouble you, but could I see Codger?”
Teddy’s tanned visage was puzzled. “Why?”
“For verification,” Judith replied, realizing the word seemed to puzzle Teddy. “That is, we writers have to make certain our facts are right.”
“Oh. Sure, why not?” He beckoned for them to follow him past the big tent. “Codger liked to be alone. Couldn’t stand noise. Kinda odd, since he was deaf as a fence post.”
As they passed the gathering at the picnic table, only the Odell twins seemed to notice. Adela had taken Norman aside, apparently conferring with him about calling in the police. Pa was peeling an apple while Ma laid out a game of solitaire. Martha Lou was flipping through a stack of what looked like celebrity magazines. Ada sat in the same canvas chair where she had been the previous day. She still stared straight ahead.
Going by the big tent, Judith glimpsed rumpled sleeping bags, empty beer and soda cans, assorted items of clothing, more magazines, and a black top hat.
“I’ll bet that hat belonged to Codger,” Renie said. “I can’t see anybody else in this bunch wearing one of those.”
“True,” Judith agreed. “There’s something tawdry about the Stokes folks, but I’m not sure what it is.”
“You’re comparing them to the Nebraskans you know—Aunt Ellen and Uncle Win. They’d never wear a Cornhusker hat like Teddy’s to a Nebraska football game. They’re educated and classy, like all of us Grovers.”
“We’re classy?” Judith said sarcastically. “We just have better grammar.”
“You know what I mean,” Renie mumbled as they approached the smaller tent. “Oh, drat. This is ghoulish. Why didn’t I stay back at the motel? I hate gore. And I just got bit by another mosquito.”
“Quit griping.” Judith lifted the tent flap. “After you.”
“No thanks,” Renie shot back. “I’m not going in there.”
“Fine.” Judith sighed and ducked inside the tent.
Apparently, Codger slept in his overalls. They were well worn, as was his frayed denim shirt. The clothing fell loosely about him, as if what had once been a larger frame had been wasted by illness. He wore heavy work boots and there was a straw hat on the tent’s floor. His wrinkled, veined hands were big but callused, evidence of hard work growing his corn. She couldn’t see his face and didn’t want to for fear he’d died in agony. Judith said a prayer that the old man had finally found eternal rest.
Then she studied the two wounds in his back. One was slightly deeper than the other, as if the killer had wanted to make sure the victim was dead. The blood on his shirt and the blue blanket he’d slept on had dried. From her previous encounters with dead bodies, Judith realized that rigor had set in three or four hours earlier. There was no sign of a struggle. Codger had probably been asleep when he was killed.
“You done in there yet?” Renie called.
“Yes.” Judith backpedaled out of the tent. “Poor old guy. I figure he never knew what happened.”
Renie was solemn. “The problem is why it happened.”
Judith’s dark eyes flashed. “Yes. But before we find out why, we have to find out who.”
“I knew you’d want to know that,” Renie said. “After all, what’s a vacation for if we can’t find a corpse?”
Judith didn’t answer.
Chapter 6
The surviving immediate members of the Stokes family were now seated around the picnic table in deep conversation. All four Odells, however, apparently had gone off to contact the RCMP.
“Let’s not bother them,” Judith said. “They need time to collect themselves.”
“Are you kidding?” Renie retorted. “They need time to collect their wits. They could be anywhere.”
“Adela and Norman seem smart,” Judith pointed out.
“That’s because they’re the Odells,” Renie shot back. “Adela escaped before she could become contaminated.”
“She probably went to college.” Judith thrummed her fingers against her cheek. “Where’s the weapon?”
Renie frowned. “You’re asking me? I didn’t do it.”
Judith checked her watch. “It’s after noon, but even you can’t be hungry after that big brunch.”
“You’re right. Give me another hour. What do you want to do in the meantime?”
Judith considered. “I really wouldn’t mind looking at sweaters. They always have nice ones in Canada. The good Scottish woolens and all that.”
Renie laughed. “Why not? It seems wrong not to buy a souvenir. A wearable one, at that. And we’ve got the car.”
Fearing that Arlene might have called with another crisis, Judith insisted on checking for messages at the motel desk. There weren’t any. Relieved, she joined Renie, who was already sitting in the rental’s passenger seat.
“You drive better than I do,” she said. “I never had to hold down two jobs to make ends meet. It’s a wonder you didn’t meet yourself coming and going between the library and bartending at Dan’s café.”
“You were lucky,” Judith murmured.
“I have a husband who worked for a living as a shrink,” Renie said.
“If that’s luck, I’ll take it.”
Following the river, Judith kept her eyes on the road, but her mind went back almost forty years to when she and Joe had become engaged. She’d been so happy with her fun-loving policeman and his magic Irish green eyes. And then, after a rough night on the job, he’d stopped for a drink—or two or three or . . . Judith winced at the memory.
“What’s wrong?” Renie asked.
“I was time-traveling backward,” Judith replied, turning off from the river. “To the fateful night that Joe got drunk after dealing with a gruesome homicide case and ran into Herself at a bar by the downtown precinct. The next thing he knew, he was on a plane headed for Vegas.”
Renie nodded. “When Joe sobered up, he discovered he was married to Vivian instead of you.”
“And I was pregnant with Mike.” Judith’s smile was melancholy. “Dan didn’t mind. I guess he’d always had a thing for me. He played the gallant and asked me to marry him. So I did.”
“You always were too easygoing,” Renie said, but not without sympathy. “I was amazed that Joe stayed married to Vivian for so long. Wasn’t he Husband Number Four?”
“At least.” Judith slowed down. “Check that street sign. Does it say Lynx?”
“Links?” Renie frowned. “We already passed the golf course. Since when did you take up golf?”
“L-Y-N-X,” Judith spelled out, looking for a parking space. “Yes, I took the turn that Trixie told me about.”
“Trixie? Who’s she?”
“The girl who sometimes fills in when Niall is away. Very sweet.”
“Good for her,” Renie said vaguely. “Hey, why are we stopping here?” She paused. “The Mounties! This is the police station! I should’ve guessed.”
“I want to make sure the Odells reported what happened to Codger,” Judith said, easing into an open spot near the entrance. “I’m not certain I trust any of those people, including the ones with good grammar.”
“No argument here,” Renie said. “So why aren’t we getting out of the car?”