by Mary Daheim
“Thanks.” Jenny smiled. “I’ll be in the room next to Trixie’s. How is she? Layak told me she was back here, but not in very good shape.”
“Dr. Patel is seeing her now,” Judith replied. “Do you know him? He’s Layak’s uncle.”
“I know of him. I’ve only been here since early June. I’d better get busy or I won’t finish in time.”
Judith wished her well and knocked on the Jones suite’s door. Renie answered almost at once.
“Why didn’t you just pick the lock?” she demanded in a strained voice.
“What’s wrong? You look frazzled.”
“I am,” Renie said, closing the door. “Come see what I found in my cosmetics bag.”
Judith followed Renie to the bathroom, where her cousin removed a faux-leopard-skin bag from the drawer and handed it over. “Go ahead. Open it.”
Judith complied—and stared at the wad of hundred-dollar bills. “Trixie’s?” she gasped.
“They’re not mine,” Renie retorted. “If they were, I’d be back at the boutique.”
Still carrying the bag, Judith led the way back into the main room and sat down on the bed. “Is this some kind of weird plot or a bad practical joke?”
“Don’t ask me,” Renie said, still annoyed. “I just came along for the mountain scenery and the fine food.”
Both cousins were silent for a few moments. “I’m not sure we should give the money back to Trixie.” Seeing Renie’s puzzled look, Judith hastened to explain. “It makes her a target. She’s had enough trouble already.”
“True. The motel must have a safe.”
“They probably do,” Judith agreed, “but I’m not sure the safe is safe.”
“Good point,” Renie conceded. “But who can we trust?”
“Us. We’ll divvy it up.” Judith removed the bills and began to count. “Twelve hundred dollars. We’ll each take six hundred. You’ve got a zippered compartment in your wallet, right?”
“Two of them,” Renie said, then looked all around the big room. “Do you think these suites are bugged?”
Judith considered the idea. “No. Why would anybody do that? I mean, nobody here knows us.”
Renie grinned. “You mean nobody knows you as FASTO.”
“They still don’t, except for the Mounties. We registered as Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Flynn and Mr. and Mrs. William Jones. I’ll admit we seem to have had quite a bit of contact with the RCMP, but that’s only because we chanced upon the Stokes family. Brewster and his colleagues aren’t going to blab about our involvement in other investigations.”
“What about the other guests?” Renie asked. “I mean, besides the Odells. Could there be somebody else who would know about you as FASTO?”
Judith grimaced. “I never thought of that. Let’s find out.” She went to the house phone and dialed the front desk. “Layak? It’s me, Mrs. Flynn. I have a strange question for you. Did you have any holdovers from the weekend? Besides us and the Odells, I mean.”
Layak said he’d have to check and call her back. Judith assured him she’d stay by the phone.
Renie frowned. “Won’t he think that’s an odd question?”
“If he sounds suspicious, you can assume your guise as a travel magazine editor.”
“Great. I have to do all the work.” But Renie took the ploy in stride.
Less than three minutes passed before Layak called back. “We only had one other holdover, Mrs. Flynn. A couple from Altona, Manitoba. They didn’t plan to stay another night, but Mr. Abernathy fell into a bunker on the golf course Saturday and broke his arm. He was only released today, so they left this afternoon. Mrs. Abernathy has to drive and she said she might kill Mr. Abernathy before they got home. Is that any help?”
“Not for Mr. Abernathy,” Judith said. “But it does answer my question. Thanks, Layak.”
Judith relayed the Altona couple’s minor disaster to her cousin. “I think we can rule them out as suspects. At least of killing Codger. Mrs. Abernathy may be a suspect if Mr. Abernathy goes missing.”
“What do you bet most of the patients at the hospital here are tourists?” Renie remarked dryly. “Vacations often have their downside.”
“Obviously,” Judith agreed in a wry voice. “Let’s divvy up the money now.”
As soon as they finished, she suggested going back to check in with Trixie—and Dr. Patel, if he was still there.
The doctor, in fact, was coming out of his patient’s room. “Ah!” he exclaimed. “Here you are. I administered a mild sedative. Miss O’Hara needs to sleep.”
“She hasn’t done much else the last twenty-four hours,” Renie declared.
“I mean,” Dr. Patel said, lowering his voice, “a natural sleep. Does she take recreational drugs?”
Judith shook her head. “I honestly don’t know, but did she tell you about being drugged and abducted from the hospital?”
Dr. Patel bowed his head. “She did. It’s true?”
“Yes,” Judith replied. “In fact, we’re heading for the RCMP office now.”
“We are?” Renie gasped.
Judith turned to her cousin. “You’d rather stay here and sit with Trixie?”
Renie sighed in resignation. But Dr. Patel looked apprehensive. “I’ll tell my nephew to check in on Miss O’Hara as often as he can. He’s a very reliable lad. Meanwhile, I commend both of you for the concern you’ve shown that poor lass.” He sketched a bow and continued down the hall.
“Hey,” Renie said after Dr. Patel had gotten into the elevator, “I got commended, too!”
“You should,” Judith responded as they started down the hall. “You do your share of . . . whatever we do. Just don’t let go of your purse. We don’t want to lose Trixie’s money.”
“I thought you were going to call Doris in Big Stove,” Renie said, punching the elevator button.
“I will, but if both she and her husband, Jens, work, they might not be home yet. I’ll wait until after seven—which may be eight where she is in Nebraska.”
Once inside the elevator, the cousins kept silent. There was no sign of Mr. Barnes’s pickup when they reached the parking area. After they got into the SUV, Judith realized with regret that Brewster would probably be off duty. “I don’t want to explain all this Trixie debacle to someone I don’t know,” she said as they made the turn onto Lynx Street.
Renie smiled. “Remember what your former mother-in-law said? Dan’s mom insisted that you’d never met a stranger. You might have disagreed with a lot of what she told you, but I won’t argue with that statement.”
“She’d had a hard life,” Judith said. “Dan’s father was in the navy and she got pregnant while they were living at Pearl Harbor.”
Renie feigned enlightenment. “So that’s why the Japanese bombed it.”
“Not funny. But she was shipped out and Dan was born in California.”
“Right. His dad survived the war, but the marriage bombed,” Renie went on. “She never remarried, and Dan grew up fatherless. That was bad for everybody—including you. Dan had no role model as a husband or a father.”
Judith nodded absently. “Most people’s problems are rooted in the past. That’s why I’d like to know more about the Stokeses. I wonder if they ever found Ada?”
“Pull into the RCMP parking lot and find out,” Renie said.
To their surprise, Brewster was still on the job. Judging from his beleaguered expression, he wasn’t happy about it. Judith sympathized.
“Long hours,” she said. “I remember those from when my husband Joe came home very late and sometimes not at all if he was on surveillance.”
The sergeant nodded faintly. “Luckily, my wife is understanding about it, but my two little tykes aren’t able to take it in yet. How can I help you?”
“It’s about Trixie O’Hara, who’s employed at our motel.” Judith leaned against the counter and related what had happened to the young girl.
Brewster listened to the tale, at first with professional inter
est, then with perplexity, and finally with incredulity. “You’re certain,” he said, “she didn’t invent some of this?”
Judith hesitated. “Dr. Patel asked if she did drugs. We have no idea, of course, but there was no sign of drugs in her room or in any of her belongings, including her purse. She insists the money was her own.”
Renie, who’d been perusing various pamphlets on a shelf by the door, looked up. “The meandering hundred-dollar bills puzzle me most. What’s the point? It’s like a prank.”
“Maybe,” Brewster suggested, “it is, eh?”
Judith didn’t argue, but changed the subject. “Has Ada Stokes been found?”
“Not yet,” he replied. “Given what her mother told us, it’s likely that she’s hiding somewhere. Apparently, Ada does that when they’re at home. She likes getting lost in their cornfield, which I gather is quite vast—close to two thousand acres. Sometimes they couldn’t find her and then she’d reappear after two, three days.”
Renie gave a little shrug. “If she got hungry, she could eat the corn if it was in season.”
“Probably not,” Brewster said. “Mr. Stokes told me their corn is for industrial purposes. Ethanol, for example.”
Renie made a face. “Inedible corn? That’s so wrong.”
Judith asked if Brewster’s fellow Mounties were looking for Ada.
“They’ve been informed of her disappearance,” he replied, “but she’s been gone for only a few hours. We can’t initiate an official search until a person has been missing for forty-eight hours. However, in the past we’ve bent the rule to twenty-four if the person is a child or a visitor.”
“Ada is both,” Judith asserted. “Besides, she doesn’t know how to swim and the family didn’t want her to go near the river.”
“So they told me,” Brewster said grimly. “The only upside is that we won’t have to apply official pressure to keep them from leaving until Ada turns up.”
“True,” Judith responded. “But isn’t the missing corpse another reason to keep the family here? I can write a statement that I saw Codger and he was definitely dead.”
Brewster looked bemused. “That doesn’t mean he didn’t die of natural causes. Kidnapping a corpse may be someone’s ghoulish idea of humor, eh?”
“It’s possible,” Judith allowed. “I’ve always been intrigued by the vagaries of human nature. People react to death and other tragedies in very different ways.”
“True.” Brewster smiled. “You have a unique understanding of human nature, Mrs. Flynn.”
Renie elbowed her cousin. “She was always snoopy. Just be glad she didn’t turn into a window peeper.”
Judith didn’t take offense. She had, upon occasion, peeped into a few windows over the years. But always for a good cause.
After leaving the station, the cousins agreed there was food for thought in Brewster’s remark about the hundred-dollar bills.
“Bizarre, at any rate,” Renie said when they were back in the SUV.
Judith shrugged. “I suppose you could describe it that way. At least Brewster is sending someone to ask more questions about Trixie’s apparent abduction.”
“Right. Where to now? It’s going on seven and I’m starting to get hungry.”
“Well . . . we should go back to the motel and check on Trixie. I hate to leave her alone.”
Renie leaned back against the headrest. “Fine. But while we’re there, let’s figure out where we’ll eat and make a seven-thirty reservation.”
“Okay,” Judith agreed, pulling out onto Lynx Street. “I’m getting hungry, too.”
They were back at the motel in five minutes. Trixie was still asleep when they looked in on her. Layak told them he’d only been able to check on her once while the cousins had been gone.
“She looks comfortable,” Renie noted. “Let’s go eat.”
Judith hesitated, but gave in.
“We should try the Banff Park Lodge,” Renie suggested. “It’s next to the hospital and close to RCMP headquarters on Lynx Street. We could’ve gone from there and be ordering right now.”
“You can’t be that hungry,” Judith said. “But at least we can find the place. Do they have more than one restaurant?”
“Yes. I saw their brochure while you were chatting up Brewster. They have four restaurants, but I suggest the Crave Mountain Grill. It sounds like hearty food.”
“Hearty is good,” Judith agreed. “Let’s do it and hope we don’t need reservations. It’s a Monday night, after all.”
There was no wait at the grill. The cousins couldn’t resist ordering cocktails called Monkey’s Lunch, a smooth concoction of Kahlúa, banana liqueur, and milk. Judith chose the half order of baby back ribs and Renie opted for the mixed grill of pork, beef, and salmon. To make sure Trixie wouldn’t starve, they requested a seafood chowder to go. Judith had noticed a microwave oven on a shelf next to the girl’s closet. Trixie could warm it up if she slept for a long time.
After they got in the elevator, Renie told Judith she was going back to her suite to call her mother. “It’ll keep her from waking me up too early tomorrow. Besides, she’s probably sure I’m dead and has called the funeral home.”
“Do it,” Judith said. “I’ll have to check in with Arlene tomorrow—and maybe call Mother.”
The cousins parted outside of the Rose and Yew suites. Trixie was still asleep but looked peaceful. Judith noted that the purse was still where they’d left it on the nightstand. Since it was now almost dark, Judith turned on the small lamp next to the bed. She left the chowder container next to the lamp and tiptoed out of the room.
According to her watch, it was exactly nine o’clock. Judith felt as if it should be much later. She was tired, not as much from physical exertion as from mental gymnastics. The Stokeses weren’t the usual middle-class kind of people Judith had encountered, either in her day-to-day life or even as a result of coming across a dead body. Like some heretofore unknown insects, there was no easy way to classify them.
But there was no point in dwelling on the Big Stove family. Except that it reminded her to call Doris. Judith tapped the number into her cell. After three rings, a man answered. “Jens?” Judith said.
“Yes. Who is this?” He sounded wary.
“Judith McMonigle,” she replied. “Doris and I have been in touch about your relatives. Is she available?”
Silence. After at least thirty seconds, Jens spoke again. “Doris is under the weather. Can you call back tomorrow?”
“I can, but if you could ask her a quick question about—” Judith heard a click followed by the dial tone. “Damn!” she muttered to herself. “He hung up on me.”
“Who?” It was Renie, standing in the doorway between the two suites.
“Jens Draper. He said Doris is sick—and cut me off. Why aren’t you talking to your mother?”
“Because she’s hosting what’s left of her PTA group from my grade school years,” Renie replied. “I told her I’d call back tomorrow. Remind me. She did ask if I’d bought a heavy muffler. So why the put-off from Jens Draper?”
“I don’t know.” Judith stood up and wandered over to the window. “I think the Odells are driving around to the parking lot out back. It looks like their Buick.”
“Better than driving it into the river,” Renie remarked. “Haven’t you finished interrogating them?”
“They might know if Ada showed up,” Judith said, going to the door. “Let’s take an elevator ride. I think they’re on the first floor.”
“Oh . . .” Renie threw up her hands. “Why not? It beats relaxing in my comfortable suite reading a good book and drinking a nice cold Pepsi. Or not. What’s our excuse for just happening to run into them? Again.”
“We don’t need one,” Judith said as they headed for the elevator. “Asking about Ada is real.”
“Too bad she isn’t,” Renie muttered as the car moved down to the first floor.
When they arrived, Judith led Renie beyond the rear entrance. “Pr
etend we’re coming from the bar,” she whispered as she glimpsed the Buick’s approach.
“Should I slur my words?” Renie asked.
Judith tensed. “Just go to the bar. Mr. Barnes has landed. Really. Go!”
Renie started to balk, but heard his gruff voice, apparently calling out to the Odells. “Fine.” She skittered away down the hall.
Judith backed up a few steps to suggest she’d just come out of the elevator. She could still hear Mr. Barnes, but also Norman Odell. A moment later, the motel owner entered, still blustering. Adela and Norman were on his heels, looking angry.
“I don’t give a hyena’s hind end about your loony relatives,” Barnes shouted. “I don’t want the cops coming here . . .” He saw Judith and shut up. “Never mind.” Waving an arm as if batting away pesky bugs, he stormed off in the direction of the lobby.
Norman shook his head. “What a jerk!”
Adela linked her arm through his. “Relax. Barnes isn’t exactly a paragon of Canadian hospitality. Every place has its clinkers.”
He shook his head. “I still think we should have stayed home.”
Judith had to ask about the confrontation, but began by mentioning Renie’s earlier confrontation with Barnes in the parking lot.
Norman rubbed at the back of his head. “He started in on us about the twins drinking in the bar. He thought they were underage, but Dela had made them bring along their birth certificates for that very reason. Then he griped about why they didn’t seem to be staying in their room. Were we the kind of parents who let their children stay out all night doing God-only-knows-what? That really ticked us off, because we were already worried sick about them. The only thing Barnes cares about is that we wouldn’t pay for the room if Win and Winnie weren’t staying in it.”
Adela patted her husband’s arm. “Barnes is a real jackass. Then he found out that we’re related to the Stokeses. That really made him go nuclear.”
“Why?” It was the only thing Judith could think of to say as Renie sidled up to her.
“Barnes thought they were ghouls,” Norman replied. “He’d heard about Codger and the bier stunt. So it was wacky, but why did he care? Sure, the Mounties showed up at the campsite, but that had nothing to do with the motel.”