A Case of Bier

by Mary Daheim

  “Maybe she mistook their campsite for the zoo. Maybe she thought Teddy was a stud.” Renie darted Judith a quick glance. “Maybe some people are just too damned curious.”

  “Maybe,” Judith said, pulling into a parking spot behind the motel, “you should shut up and focus on finding somewhere we can eat.”

  Renie grinned. “No maybe there, coz. I’ll go inside now. Stay put. It looks like you’ve got company.”

  Judith frowned. “Who?”

  “The aforementioned Trixie.” Renie slid off the car seat and onto the parking area tarmac. “Good luck. Your next person of interest looks higher than a kite.”

  “Great,” Judith said—and groaned.

  Trixie was literally reeling around the grassy area next to the narrow strip of plantings by the building. When the cousins exited the SUV, she stumbled and would have fallen if she hadn’t grabbed hold of an evergreen shrub.

  Judith reached out to take Trixie’s left arm. Renie, who had gotten only as far as the door, hurried over to help. She leaned into the girl’s back to steady her while Judith took hold of the other arm.

  “Can you walk?” Judith finally asked, seeing Trixie’s eyes starting to close. “Trixie? Trixie?” she repeated, giving her a little shake.

  When no answer came, Judith nodded at the SUV. “Let’s haul her inside. There’s room for her to lie down on the passenger seat. I think she needs a doctor.”

  It was a bit of a struggle, though Trixie didn’t resist. Her eyes were still open, but she seemed to be staring into space. After the cousins arranged her as comfortably as they could, Renie volunteered to go into the motel.

  “They probably have a doctor on call,” she said, moving quickly to the rear entrance.

  Judith got out of the SUV, but stood by the open door, eyes fastened on Trixie. The girl twitched a couple of times, but otherwise remained quiet. It was difficult for Judith not to speak to her, but she sensed that Trixie’s brain was somewhere other than in a stranger’s vehicle outside of the Banff Springs Motel.

  Three minutes later, Renie reappeared. “Layak called 911. That’s the motel’s policy for guests or employees who have medical emergencies. Insurance reasons, I suppose. He’ll join us as soon as he checks in some new guests.”

  “I hope your news won’t scare them off,” Judith said, still keeping watch on Trixie. “What’s your guess?”

  Renie wrinkled her pug nose. “A drug overdose?”

  “Possible,” Judith murmured. “But what kind?”

  Renie started to respond, but heard sirens in the near distance. “Shouldn’t someone from the motel be here to talk to the medics about their employee? If Trixie has to be hospitalized, they’ll need her ID.”

  “You’re right.” Judith noted that Trixie’s eyes were still open, and she was breathing, if somewhat erratically. “Did we ever learn her last name?”

  “I don’t think so.” Renie winced as the sirens grew louder. “I’ll go inside and ask Layak while you roll out the welcome wagon for the emergency crew.”

  “Got it.” Renie disappeared inside. A moment later a red-and-white medic van veered around the corner of the motel. Judith waved at the driver, who stopped just inside the parking area. A fire engine pulled up in back of the smaller emergency vehicle. Two husky uniformed men erupted onto the tarmac and hurried to join Judith.

  “What have we got here, ma’am?” the taller of the two asked in a calm voice.

  Judith explained Trixie’s erratic behavior prior to her collapse. “She’s a maid at the motel, but hasn’t worked here very long. In fact, she seems to be new in town.”

  The shorter of the EMTs was already checking the girl out. “No visible signs of trauma,” he said over his shoulder. “But she should be seen by a pro.”

  Judith was momentarily distracted by the fire engine’s departure. Before she could say anything, Renie virtually flew out of the motel. “O’Hara,” she called out, but stopped in her tracks to take in the EMTs and their van. “Ah! Help has arrived. Good.”

  Judith and Renie stepped back, watching the taller man pause, peering into the SUV at Trixie’s motionless body. “Victim’s still alive,” he announced.

  The shorter EMT rolled a gurney from the rear of their vehicle. They were very gentle as they maneuvered the young girl out of the car and onto the heavily padded conveyance.

  The shorter man looked at the cousins. “Which of you is coming with her?”

  “Not me,” Renie replied. “I’m allergic to hospitals. They give me hives.”

  “I will,” Judith said as she discreetly punched Renie in the back, “but only if my cousin comes with me. She can’t be left alone. She’s a bit . . . mental.”

  “Ah!” the shorter one exclaimed, darting a look at Renie. whose tongue was lolling on her lower lip. “Yes, I can see that. Get in the back. We’re ready to roll.”

  Once inside, Judith noticed that Trixie still hadn’t moved, though her eyelids fluttered once. The shorter EMT was at the wheel, and as soon as he turned the ignition key, the siren went on. As they sped away from the motel, the cousins had to hang on to anything they could get ahold of that wasn’t the gurney—or Trixie. Judith tried to overhear whatever information the taller man was radioing in, but the siren drowned out most of his words.

  After signing off, he angled around to look at the cousins. “Are you two visitors?”

  “Yes,” Judith replied. “We’re on vacation.”

  “I figured,” he said. “I’m Waldorf. My partner’s Statler.”

  “You’re hotels?” Renie cried. “Or Muppets?”

  Waldorf looked bleak. “We hear that one a lot.”

  “Darn,” Renie said under her breath.

  “Where is the hospital?” Judith asked.

  “Next to RCMP headquarters,” Waldorf replied.

  Judith remembered seeing the building but hadn’t realized what it was. “I know where it is—on Lynx Street.”

  “Right.” He looked at Renie. “I thought you might.” He turned around to face the front.

  “Oaf,” Renie muttered.

  Less than a minute later, they pulled into the emergency entrance of the Banff Springs hospital. The exchange between the EMTs and the medical personnel was brief. Before Judith or Renie could ask how they were supposed to get back to the motel, a fortyish man wearing a white jacket leaned into the van.

  “Come along, please,” he said in a deep voice.

  “To . . . where?” Judith asked.

  “I’m Medic Roberts,” he replied, waving an errant mosquito away from his shaved head. “We need information about the patient.”

  “But we don’t really know her,” Judith protested. “She works at the motel where we’re staying.”

  Roberts’s blue eyes snapped with impatience. “We’ll contact them as well. Please follow me.”

  Judith glanced at Renie, who was looking relatively benign. The cousins got out of the van and followed the medic through the emergency entrance and into a hallway. Trixie and the gurney had already disappeared. Halfway down the hall, Roberts led them into a small, cluttered office that had room for filing cabinets, a desk, a chair, and a life-sized skeleton. Roberts sat down, picked up a ballpoint pen, and skipped to a blank page in a legal-sized yellow tablet. Then he handed index cards to both cousins and proffered the pen.

  “I apologize for the lack of space,” he said in a neutral tone. “Can you write your names and permanent addresses, please?”

  Judith and Renie complied. After they gave Roberts the cards and his pen, he asked how long they’d known the patient.

  “We really don’t know her,” Judith responded, “except for seeing her on the job at the motel.”

  Roberts nodded faintly. “Who owns the SUV where the EMTs found her?”

  “It’s our rental for the trip,” Judith said. “We’d just pulled in when Trixie reeled out of the motel’s rear entrance. She staggered toward us and collapsed onto the SUV’s seat.”

  “Di
d she say anything to you?”

  Judith shook her head.

  Renie finally spoke up. “Nobody ever says anything to me. Can you see me, Medic Roberts? I do exist, if only in my mind.”

  Roberts’s face tightened. “Then tell me if the patient spoke to you.”

  “I already did. No.” Renie folded her arms and leaned back against the wall.

  “Very well.” Roberts cleared his throat. “Have either of you spoken to her on previous occasions?”

  Judith took a deep breath. “Yes, a few times. She struck me as being unhappy, especially about the maid’s job she’d just started at the motel. I got the impression she was new to Banff, though I may be wrong.”

  “Did she strike you as a drifter? That is,” Roberts clarified, “the rootless type who moves from place to place?”

  Again, Judith had to consider her answer. Hearing a hiss from Renie, she asked her if she’d gotten that impression.

  “No,” Renie said, mercifully benign for once. “I think she came here for a reason, maybe to be with someone, most likely a man. I’m sure she didn’t come to Banff to take a job as a motel maid. She obviously didn’t like the work.”

  “Ah.” Roberts looked satisfied with the answer. “Jilted, perhaps. A reason to go off the rails, eh?”

  “It’s a guess,” Judith admitted. “What do you mean by ‘going off the rails’?”

  His expression grew unreadable. “Is there anything else we should know?”

  Judith tried not to wince. “She fainted when she heard that the old man from that campsite by the river had been murdered. We were there. Later she explained that she had a problem with death, having seen so much of it when she worked in a nursing home.”

  Roberts frowned. “Did she know the family?”

  “I have no idea,” Judith admitted. “She might have wandered over there to check them out. We did.”

  “Yes,” the medic said thoughtfully. “I’ve heard about that bunch. But that’s up to the RCMP.” He put down his pen. “That’s all I need from you, ladies. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  “We understand,” Judith said, smiling. “May we check back with you later to find out about Trixie?”

  “Of course,” he replied, getting up from his chair. “Enjoy the rest of your stay here in Banff.”

  “We’d enjoy it more,” Renie said, “if we had a ride back to the motel.”

  Roberts grimaced. “You can call a taxi from the pay phone in the hall. I have to look in on Ms. O’Hara.”

  “She’s doing better than we are,” Renie huffed, grasping the doorknob. “The last I saw of her, she had wheels under her. We only have feet.” She stalked out into the hall.

  Embarrassed, Judith looked at Roberts. “My cousin has fallen arches.”

  The medic looked askance. “She also has bad manners.”

  Judith took umbrage. “I have an artificial hip. I don’t like to walk very much either.” She left the cluttered little room, but refrained from slamming the door.

  Renie was leaning against the wall by a fire extinguisher. “Are you mad at me? Again?”

  “No,” Judith declared. “You were right. Roberts—or someone—should’ve offered to take us back to the motel. We’re tourists, for heaven’s sake! And Canadians usually have excellent manners.”

  “Maybe,” Renie said as they stepped outside, “he’s an émigré from the U.S.A. Hey, why aren’t we calling a cab?”

  “Because we’re going next door. The Mounties will give us a ride. I’ll tell them about Trixie.”

  Renie looked puzzled. “She’s now a suspect?”

  Judith’s expression was grim. “Everybody’s a suspect.”

  Chapter 16

  The only officer on duty was the fair-haired young man who had let Judith into the building earlier in the day. She hadn’t taken in his ID tag at the time, but now she noted that he was Constable Robert Cavendish.

  “Excuse me,” Judith said with a smile, “is there any way someone could give us a lift back to our motel? We had to accompany a local young woman to the ER.”

  Cavendish frowned and flexed the fingers on his right hand. “Well . . . that’s not a service we provide. There are taxis here in Banff.”

  “Yes,” Judith said pleasantly, “but my cousin had a bad experience once with a taxi driver. Very bad.” She glanced at Renie, who assumed a horror-stricken expression. “Has Sergeant Brewster gone off duty?”

  Cavendish nodded. “He signed off at seven thirty. Brewster had already put in overtime this weekend.” The young Mountie paused. “We’ve had an apparent homicide in the last few days. In fact, two of our officers are now at the crime scene. I assure you, it’s very unusual for Banff. I’m afraid I can’t offer you a ride.”

  “Great,” Renie groaned. “Maybe we’ll be the next victims. Is there any way we can file a putative lawsuit?”

  Cavendish looked alarmed. “Pardon?”

  “Never mind.” Renie whirled around to head for the door. “Come on, coz. It’s past our dinnertime and I could eat a porcupine, quills and all.”

  Judith had no choice but to follow her cousin. She paused to thank Cavendish for his time—and to smile at the beleaguered young man. It wasn’t his fault that the RCMP had a homicide on their hands.

  Renie was already on the sidewalk talking on her cell. “Five minutes,” she said as she disconnected. “It’s after seven thirty. Let’s take a taxi to the restaurant.”

  “No,” Judith said in a firm voice. “That means we’ll have to take another taxi to the motel, where we can use our car. We can eat a little later.”

  “How little?” Renie asked, looking suspicious.

  “If the cops are at the Stokes campsite, I want to know why,” Judith said. “And before you say anything else, I doubt that young Cavendish would’ve told us. It won’t take long. Trust me.”

  Renie sighed. “Unfortunately, I do.”

  The taxi driver delivered them to the motel in less than ten minutes despite some early-evening traffic. Maybe, Judith thought, everybody else in Banff was going to dinner, too.

  “So,” Renie said, “now we walk to see what madness goes on in Stokesland?”

  Judith shot her cousin a wry look. “You want to rent a bicycle?”

  Renie didn’t respond. They took their time, savoring the sound of the river, the cries of birds in the evergreens, the delicacy of the alpine flowers, and the rawness of the granite mountains surrounding the town like stone walls protecting a medieval castle.

  “I spy a Mountie,” Renie said as they came within thirty yards of the encampment. “Two of them, in fact.”

  Judith also saw them. “I wonder if Brewster told them about us.”

  “You mean about you,” Renie responded wryly. “I’m not FASTO.”

  “Let’s find out.” Judith walked a little faster. She noticed that one of the Mounties seemed to be arguing with Pa Stokes. The other officer was being badgered by Teddy. Adela and Norman Odell stood off to one side, looking worried. Judith decided to tackle them first.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, gesturing discreetly at the Mounties. “Is it about the twins and your car?”

  “No,” Adela replied in a subdued voice. “That is, they found the car and it’s in the RCMP impound lot. But there’s no trace of Win and Winnie.” She moved even closer to her husband and touched his arm. “Please, Norm, we’ve got to ask the police to try to find them. This whole trip is making a wreck out of me.”

  He patted her hand. “They’ll show up. They just got tired of this circus you call your family.”

  Before Judith or anyone could speak, the older, taller of the Mounties approached them. Judith noticed that the badge on his short-sleeved shirt featured a royal crown and the initials GRC.

  “Pardon,” he said with a faint French accent. “Are you the Américaines?”

  “Yes,” Judith replied, ignoring Renie’s “oui oui” at her side. “That is, I’m Judith Flynn and this is my cousin Serena Jo
nes.”

  “Ah.” The tall, dark-haired man’s cobalt-blue eyes regarded them with interest. “I am Inspector Claude Colbert from Calgary. Which of you discovered the corpse?”

  “Not moi,” Renie piped up before Judith could answer. “I never discover anything. I’m just here for the excitement.”

  Colbert’s long, lean face remained impassive as his gaze returned to Judith. “Then you, Mrs. Flynn?”

  “Yes,” Judith replied. “That is, I realized that Mr. Stokes had been stabbed.”

  The inspector looked thoughtful. “Yes, Sergeant Brewster mentioned you in his report. Perhaps you’d come with me to the station after I’ve finished here?”

  “Again?” Renie all but shrieked. “We were just there.”

  “Ah . . .” This time Colbert sounded uncertain. “I didn’t know that. Perhaps we could talk in my cruiser, eh?” He nodded in the direction of the road that ran some forty yards from the Stokes encampment. “Excuse me, but I must finish my interview with the deceased’s family.” Touching the brim of his regulation cap, he moved away.

  “Darn,” Renie murmured. “I wanted to ask him if he has snacks in that cruiser. Or at least some chewing gum. Either there’s a bear loose around here or my stomach’s growling.”

  “We can eat after we’re done here,” Judith said. “I do feel sorry for the Odells. I wonder if the twins are hiding out somewhere. I doubt they’ve got much money with them.”

  “Credit cards,” Renie murmured. “They’re eighteen and old enough to get them.”

  Judith nodded. “If they use the cards, their whereabouts can be traced. How they got wherever they are is another matter.”

  “Hitchhiked?” Renie suggested. “Here comes Colbert.”

  The Mountie touched his cap in recognition, then pointed to the cruiser. “Would you mind?”

  “No,” Judith asserted before her cousin could say otherwise. “We’ll get in the backseat.”

  Once they were settled in, Colbert removed his cap and swiveled around in the driver’s seat. “I confess I only had time to glimpse at Sergeant Brewster’s notes about you, Mrs. Flynn.”

  “Hey,” Renie yipped, “how do you know which is Flynn and which is the dim-witted cousin?”