by Mary Daheim
“Where were we?” Aunt Ellen asked. “Oh—the people from here. What about them?”
“The farm has over fifteen hundred acres,” Judith said. “Is that as big as it sounds?”
“Not really,” Aunt Ellen replied. “If you want to make a living growing corn, you have to have a lot of land, often handed down from generation to generation. Acquiring additional acreage is accomplished by marriage with the son or daughter of a neighboring one. It can be a very profitable—and big—business. Millionaire farmers like the ones you’ve met aren’t uncommon around here.”
“Seriously?” Judith exchanged looks with Renie.
“Oh yes!” Aunt Ellen exclaimed. “Your new friends must be rolling in money! Got to hang up. The jam’s ready and the mayor’s at the front door.”
Judith stared at Renie. “The Stokes folks are rich?”
“Sounds like it.” She wore an ironic expression. “Lucky you. Aunt Ellen just gave you a very big motive for murder.”
Judith nodded. “But not so lucky for Codger.”
Chapter 9
Renie wasn’t sparing sympathy for anyone. “Unfair,” she muttered. “Dumb people don’t deserve to be rich.”
“They may be dumb about some things,” Judith said, “but not about raising corn. They don’t need a college education to do what their ancestors have done for generations.”
Renie was still muttering. “I knew I shouldn’t have slept through Economic Geography at the U. It was the only class I ever took at eight in the morning, and it was so boring. Three times during the quarter I didn’t wake up until a different prof was lecturing on international econometrics. I thought his subject was foreign poetry.”
“Now who’s dumb?” Judith asked with a smile.
“Okay, I get your point. But you’re right about money always being a good motive. Is it time to go to dinner yet?”
Judith glanced at her watch. “It’s almost eight. We’ve been doing a lot of walking today. Let’s relax.”
“By doing what?” Renie retorted. “Wondering how much money the Stokes family has? I can answer that. More than we do, put together.”
Judith looked a bit sly. “But who really has it? You’re the one who mentioned money as a motive. Why do I think Codger kept a tight rein on the finances?”
Renie’s answer was cut short by a pounding on the door. She got up from her chair to see who it was.
A harried Adela practically fell into the room. “Have you seen my kids?” she asked in an overwrought tone.
“Not since late this afternoon,” Renie replied. “They were coming back here from wherever they’d been, which we gathered was with you at the campsite.”
Adela collapsed into the closest chair. “Wherever they are, they got there in our car. It’s gone.”
Judith’s expression was sympathetic. “They’re probably at a bar or a restaurant. Come to think of it, they were going to play tennis.”
The other woman’s eyes snapped. “They wouldn’t still be doing that now. How did they seem to you? Upset? Anxious?”
Judith briefly considered the question. “They did seem annoyed about being questioned by the Mounties. Don’t get me wrong—just the usual hassle that kids their age resent from dealing with authority figures.”
Adela showed no sign of taking comfort from Judith’s words. “I don’t like not knowing where they are. There’s a murderer loose, don’t you know? Maybe this homicidal maniac wants to wipe out all of us. Why was Codger killed in the first place when he was dying?”
“That’s a good question,” Judith said. “Was it old age or did he suffer from an incurable illness?”
“Old age is incurable,” Adela declared. “People wear out.” She frowned. “Pa—my brother, Cornelius—never actually told me what was wrong with Codger, only that they’d brought him here to carry out his last wishes. Norman and I never asked for specifics. We didn’t have time because the rest of the family had already left for Banff and we had to rush to get ready to join them.”
Another knock sounded on the door. Renie got up to answer it. Norman Odell burst into the room, breathing heavily and red in the face. He spoke directly to his wife.
“You better come quick, hon. We’ve got problems with the cops.”
“What now?” Adela cried. “Is somebody else dead? Or is it the twins?”
“No, not that,” Norman said, putting a hand on her shoulder and warily eyeing the cousins. “I’ll tell you on the way back to the camp.”
“Tell me now,” Adela said, and gestured at Judith and Renie. “I’ve been dumping all over them. They’re totally trustworthy.”
Norman looked dubious. “All the same . . .”
Adela put a finger to Norman’s lips. “Sergeant Brewster ran a background check and told me that Mrs. Flynn is FASTO.”
“What?” Norman’s heavy features wadded up like used bubble gum. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means,” Judith said reluctantly, “that I’ve been—rather accidentally—involved in a few homicide investigations. My husband is a retired police detective and still takes on an occasional private investigative assignment,” she added, hoping that would explain everything.
It didn’t—at least not to Norman. “So what’s with this FASTO moniker?”
Judith sighed impatiently and turned to Renie. “You tell him. I’ve always thought it was silly.”
Renie nodded once. “My cousin has attracted a fan club over the years. People all over the country became intrigued by her ability to help solve crimes. They made up an acronym—Female Amateur Sleuth Tracking Offenders.”
Judith was thankful that Renie hadn’t added that sometimes the nickname was mistakenly changed to FATSO. Since she had always been self-conscious about her weight, the error drove Judith crazy.
“Hunh,” Norman said. “That’s kind of wild.” He sat down in the only other available chair. “Okay, I might as well open up. The cops—the Mounties, I mean—found that bier thing about a quarter of a mile down in some trees by the river. Your idiot brother told them they’d granted your father his last wish. But they haven’t found the body.”
Adela regarded her husband with a level gaze. “What a mess.” She sighed and stood up. “But it’s our kids going off on their own that worries me most. Have you seen anything of them since I came here?”
Norman also got to his feet. “No. Stop fussing. I’m not worried unless they wreck the car. Let’s go. Sorry to bother you. Have a good one.”
The Odells departed.
Renie ran a hand down her face. “Sheesh. Maybe if we stay here every suspect will eventually show up and we can order from room service.”
“They don’t have room service here at the motel,” Judith reminded her.
“So I forgot. It’s close to eight thirty. Let’s go to the Banff Springs Hotel and have drinks in one of their bars. We might get called early for our nine o’clock reservation.”
“With traffic, it might take us that long to get there,” Judith said, standing up. “What do you think about the police finding the bier downstream, but no sign of Codger?”
Renie looked bleak. “Not much. Just for an hour or two, could we pretend we’re on a real vacation?”
Judith smiled. “Of course.”
Neither the words nor the expression convinced her cousin. After all, Judith was FASTO.
The excellent dinner at the hotel’s 1888 Chop House kept Judith from focusing on murder and mayhem. They dined on Caesar salad and filet mignon, prepared over cherrywood. Neither cousin flinched at the expensive total on their tastefully designed bill. Perhaps the two stiff whiskeys they’d had before dinner and the snifters of Drambuie afterward had taken the edge off thinking about thrift. On the other hand, the exchange rate was in their favor.
“I wonder what our husbands are doing,” Judith mused in a vague voice. She’d taken a roundabout way to avoid traffic and drove the big Lexus GX470 very carefully.
“Who?” Renie
asked with indifference. “Oh, right. Bill and . . . Joe. They’re probably sitting around a campfire eating some of the fish I hope they caught. Hey—this isn’t the way back to the motel. Are you really loaded?”
“No,” Judith said, “but I’m being cautious and taking a back road to come in from a different direction. There’s still too much traffic in and around the town. Besides, I think this is the way to that Cave and Basin historic site Teddy mentioned.”
Renie looked nonplussed. “We’re going to visit a historic site in the dark? Did you bring extra flashlights?”
“Don’t worry, I know where I’m—damn!” She hit the brakes to avoid a family of raccoons crossing in front of them.
Renie held her head. The younger raccoons were dawdling. “Kids these days!” she moaned.
“That’s odd,” Judith murmured. “Mama and Papa Raccoon have stopped by those big trees.”
“Maybe the family lives there,” Renie said. “Do you want to interrogate them, too?”
“They wouldn’t live so close to a road,” Judith responded. “Look, the whole lot of them have stopped.”
“Maybe they met some friends. Can we go back to the motel now? I’m sleepy.”
“At home you go to bed at midnight,” Judith said, still staring out the car window. “It’s only a little after eleven.”
“You’re blocking traffic,” Renie declared.
“What traffic?” Judith retorted. “I haven’t seen anybody on this road since we turned off.”
“Raccoon traffic. Don’t mess with them. They’ll come back to haunt us with their big, doleful eyes and sharp, pointy teeth.”
“They’ve moved on,” Judith said, rolling down the window and noting how quiet it was away from the town. The only sound was of the wind ruffling some leaves in a nearby cottonwood tree.
Renie squirmed in her seat. “Well? Are we camping out here or going back to the motel?”
Judith had taken her foot off the brake, steering the SUV to the verge. “I’ve got a weird feeling about this. You know I have to go with my hunches. I want a look.”
“Oh, for . . . !” Renie didn’t finish the exclamation. “Fine. But I’m staying in the car.”
“Do that,” Judith said, turning off the engine. “Oh—see if there’s a flashlight in the glove compartment.”
There was. Wordlessly, Renie handed it over. Judith turned it on as soon as she stepped onto the ground. The raccoons had made a fairly decent trail on their passage to wherever they lived at night. But she still walked very carefully on the uneven path. The scent of evergreen needles evoked the evenings that she and Renie had spent at the family cabins by Mount Woodchuck. The night air was not only fresh but fragrant, a potpourri of woodsy earth and, from somewhere nearby, ripe berries. It was cooler, Judith thought, and to her surprise, she shivered.
Less than fifteen yards off the verge, she spotted what looked like a large, dark bundle. Sucking in her breath, she moved closer. The fabric covering whatever lay beneath it was an ordinary blue blanket. It was ripped in places, as if torn by animals or birds. Raccoons, she suddenly remembered, were omnivorous.
But through the rents in the blanket, Judith recognized the overalls and denim shirt that covered Codger’s corpse.
Chapter 10
Judith fought back a sudden onrush of nausea. Seeing the old man’s body in his tent wasn’t nearly as upsetting as finding him abandoned in the forest. She tried not to stagger as she made her way back to the car.
“Coz!” Renie yelped when she saw her cousin struggle to get into the driver’s seat. “What’s wrong?”
“Codger,” Judith gasped. “They never sent him down the river. We have to tell the Mounties.” She handed over the flashlight, but made no attempt to start the car.
“Now?” Renie finally asked.
“Yes. But give me a minute. That was kind of gruesome.” Briefly, she recounted what she’d seen.
“Why,” Renie asked, “would they do such a thing?”
“‘They’?” Judith said. “Maybe only one of them.”
“The killer?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. They’re peculiar people.”
“The Odells seem normal,” Renie noted.
“They’re still related. Genes don’t lie.” Judith turned the ignition key. The sighting of Codger’s body had sobered her in more ways than one. “Maybe they took him to the Cave and Basin Hot Springs, but the curative waters didn’t help. Then they gave up and left him here.” She shook herself. “I want to get away from this place. It’s just too weird.”
For once, Renie didn’t comment.
Ten minutes later when they reached RCMP headquarters, the building was dark. Judith rolled down the window and looked out at the sign by the door.
“Drat! They close at eleven and open at seven in the morning. I suppose they have patrol cars on duty, but that’s no help.”
“Why don’t you speed through town and knock over a few pedestrians?” Renie suggested. “Of course, you might have to take a Breathalyzer test and then you’d get a DUI.”
“Come up with a helpful idea for a change, okay?”
“I did. I bet the thought crossed your mind.”
Judith smiled. “Not quite. But you and I often know what the other one is thinking.”
“Propinquity and heredity,” Renie allowed. “So why would anybody hide Codger’s body in the woods? Why not follow the old coot’s plan to be sent down the river on that bier?”
Judith didn’t answer until they were almost in sight of the motel. “The bier was hidden from the police,” she finally said, “so maybe they wanted to make it look as if his wish had been granted without the chance of the body being found downriver and being arrested for violating a local law. The answer to your question may be that the body would’ve been found eventually. But that poses the obvious question of why didn’t they want the police to find the body? They knew he’d been murdered. Naturally, they’d all become suspects.
“Now you’re the one who’s saying ‘they,’” Renie pointed out. “How come?”
Judith pulled into the parking area behind the motel. “We have to assume that only one person killed Codger. Maybe all or some of them know who did it. But the body disposal had to involve at least two people because it was done in broad daylight. One to do the deed and one to keep watch. The only thing I know for sure is that the Mounties aren’t going to let them leave Canada until they figure out who’s not guilty.”
Renie frowned. “As opposed to who’s innocent?”
Judith shrugged. “I’m not sure any of them are innocent. In fact, I’m not even sure the Stokes folks are really the Stokes folks. They seem unreal to me.”
When they got out of the car, Renie pointed to an empty parking place. “No Buick.”
“You’re right. But the twins may still be partying somewhere. It’s not quite midnight.”
“True,” Renie agreed. “Let’s put ourselves to bed, along with all our speculations.”
“Good idea,” Judith murmured.
But that was easier said than done, even after she’d gone to sleep. Judith had nightmares of a hooded Codger-like creature waving a scythe. But instead of a black robe, he was wearing bloodstained overalls.
It was not a restful night.
When Judith awoke shortly before eight thirty Sunday morning, she was tempted to call Arlene and find out if Mighty Tidy and Sons had shown up to do the housework. But it was only an hour earlier at the B&B and the Rankerses would be preparing the guests’ breakfast. Instead, filial devotion overcame her, so she dialed her mother’s number.
“What now?” Gertrude rasped. “You need bail money?”
“Of course not,” Judith replied. “Renie and I had dinner last night at the big hotel after we went to church. The boys have gone fishing but should be back tonight.”
“The boys?” Gertrude sounded as if she were sneering. “Haven’t those two knuckleheads been draining the Social Security system for alm
ost as many years as I can count on my fingers?”
“Not nearly as long as you have,” Judith reminded her mother, and changed the subject. “How are Phyliss’s stand-ins doing?”
“What stand-ins?” Gertrude snapped. “Her Royal Religious Loonyness was here yesterday.”
“She was?” Maybe Gertrude’s memory was slipping.
“Are you sure?”
The old lady chortled. “The crazy fool got jilted. Why not? Who’d be dumb enough to marry Phyliss?”
“They say there’s someone for everybody,” Judith said. “So who was Phyliss’s suitor?”
“A serial bigamist, that’s who,” Gertrude declared. “Her groom-to-be has at least three other wives. He got the idea that Phyliss owned my house. I guess she didn’t let on that she doesn’t live in the B&B. She met him at her weird church. No surprise there.”
“Poor Phyliss.” Judith felt sorry for her cleaning woman. “Have you talked to her?”
“She says the devil made her do it. I told her even Satan wouldn’t come up with a crackpot idea like that. He’s too busy trying to get everybody to vote for the Republicans. Speaking of which, Aunt Deb and I are playing bridge tonight with Sophie Savery and her sister, Samantha. Sophie lies about her age. I know she voted for Dewey not once but twice—against FDR and then Truman. She swears she only did it in ’48.”
Judith knew better than to get her mother launched on politics. She’d never stopped insisting that Herbert Hoover had caused the Great Depression all by himself. “I hear Renie stirring in the next room. I’d better see if she’s ready to go out to breakfast.”
“She better not be stirring up trouble,” Gertrude warned. “You two are behaving yourselves, aren’t you?”