A Case of Bier

by Mary Daheim

  “Except that we’re staying in it,” Adela murmured, and shook her head.

  “Barnes is in the wrong business,” Judith declared. “By the way, has there been any news about Ada?”

  Adela sighed. “No. Of course they’re all worried. So are we, for that matter. She seems so . . . helpless.”

  “Is she?” It was Renie who posed the question.

  Norman looked puzzled; Adela seemed embarrassed. But she was the one who responded. “Ada was still a toddler when I left home. In fact, she was named after me. Being a teenager at the time, I didn’t know anything about early childhood development. I only recall her as being what I’d describe as ‘clingy.’ She seemed to crave affection. I guess I thought that was natural for a little kid. Frankly, Corny and his wife seemed like undemonstrative parents.”

  “What about Codger?” Judith asked. “Was he more affectionate?”

  Adela nodded emphatically. “Very. I suppose it was because he didn’t have a wife. In fact, I always thought he’d marry a third time, but he didn’t. Life on a big farm can be lonely. You’re always a long way from your neighbors.”

  Norman’s expression was wry. “Maybe he spent his time daydreaming about Marilyn Monroe. He certainly had a thing for her or he would never have come up with the crazy stunt of being sent down the Bow on a raft.”

  “A bier,” Adela remonstrated. “I can’t believe the rest of them followed through.”

  Judith frowned. “Are you sure they did?”

  Adela started to speak but paused. “About now I’m not sure of anything.”

  Judith didn’t blame her.

  “The Stokes folks can’t leave town without Ada,” Renie said after they were back in the Flynns’ suite.

  “The Mounties are making sure they don’t,” Judith replied. “This may sound like an afterthought, but I wonder if the family had to get a permit to stay on that chunk of land by the river.”

  “You’ve got a possible homicide, a missing person, and maybe a kidnapping, but you’re wondering about illegal trespassing?” Renie looked genuinely flabbergasted. “Are you insane?”

  “No. Think about it.” Judith had sat down on the bed. “How long had the Stokeses been there before we showed up? At least overnight, but it could’ve been longer if they were waiting for Codger to go sticks up. The RCMP could hardly miss seeing them, so why weren’t they asked to leave? Banff has an excellent reputation as a tourist destination. Face it, the Stokes camping arrangements are an eyesore. But they must have given the RCMP a good reason for staying there.”

  “How about the truth?” Renie responded, turning away from the window and sitting down in one of the two matching armchairs. “The Mounties might’ve been sympathetic.”

  “Maybe.” Judith checked her watch. “It’s almost ten. I’m going to peek in on Trixie. Are you coming with me?”

  Renie shook her head. “I’ve seen her before. I’ll watch the local ten o’clock news. Maybe we’ll be on it.”

  “We’d better not be,” Judith said grimly as she went out the door.

  At first glance, Trixie looked as if she hadn’t moved since Judith had last seen her. Not having turned on a light, Judith moved closer to the bed. The girl was breathing regularly and looked as if she had barely rumpled the covers. Her purse was where Judith had left it. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed, including the soup on the nightstand. Reassured, Judith tiptoed out of the room and made sure the door was locked behind her.

  “All’s well,” she announced upon entering the Flynns’ suite.

  Renie switched off the TV. “Are you disappointed?”

  “Of course not!” Judith snapped. “I’m not a ghoul.”

  “Really?” Renie yawned. “Does that mean I can go into my own suite and read a book about espionage during World War Two so I can calm my nerves while on our vacation?”

  “Not funny,” Judith declared, wishing she didn’t sound so grim. “Time is running out to solve this mess.”

  Renie threw up her hands. “Stop! It’s not up to you to solve the stupid case! You’re in a foreign country that has one of the best police forces in the world. We’re not even sure the alleged victim was murdered. Heck, we aren’t sure who he was. Get a grip on yourself and assume your usual rational approach to what this may be. Please.”

  Judith sat down in the other armchair. “Am I an idiot?” Her voice was weary.

  “No,” Renie replied quietly. “But what’s gone on here isn’t your normal kind of crime. It’s almost as if . . .” She stopped and gazed up at the ceiling. “I feel as if I were watching some kind of theater of the absurd.”

  “Maybe we are,” Judith said after another pause. “Maybe that’s what we’re meant to think. Maybe,” she went on, her voice growing heavy, “it’s a charade to disguise what’s really going on with the Stokes folks.”

  Renie frowned. “Do we want to know?”

  “Maybe not,” Judith replied. “But I still intend to find out.”

  For once, Renie opted for discreet silence.

  Chapter 22

  Just before ten thirty, Renie kept her word about making an early night of it and went into the Joneses’ suite. Judith remained in the armchair, deep in thought. It was eleven thirty in Beatrice, Nebraska. Aunt Ellen never went to bed until after midnight. In fact, Judith wasn’t sure if her aunt ever slept. Reaching for her cell, she tapped in the number.

  To her surprise, a sleepy-sounding Uncle Win answered. “Judith?” he said in his Midwestern voice that was a cross between a twang and a drawl.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Did I wake you?”

  “No,” he replied—and yawned. “Thinking about heading for bed, though.”

  “Is Aunt Ellen busy?”

  “Kind of.” He paused. There was never a way to hurry Uncle Win. “She’s hanging from the ceiling.”

  “What?”

  “Wallpaper,” Win said. “She’s redoing the hallway. Should I get her down?”

  “I hate to bother her,” Judith began, but heard Aunt Ellen shout to her husband.

  “Hang on,” Win said, though Judith didn’t know if he meant her or Aunt Ellen. A sort of scrambling noise occurred at the other end of the line.

  “Judith?” Aunt Ellen didn’t wait for a response. “Have you ever tried to align red, white, charcoal, and black stripes in your wallpaper?”

  “Uh . . . no, I’ve never put up wallpaper. Renie has, but I don’t recall her ever using a pattern with stripes. Wouldn’t a floral be easier to work with?”

  “The Nebraska football team doesn’t wear floral uniforms,” Aunt Ellen declared a bit testily. “What were you thinking?”

  “Oh. Of course.” Judith vaguely recalled an area in their hallway with a glut of Cornhusker memorabilia. “I didn’t realize the team had more than two colors.”

  “They don’t,” Aunt Ellen replied. “But their fan gear goes beyond red and white. Why are you calling so late? Have you and Renie run out of money?”

  “No, I have a question. Do you actually know anyone who lives in Big Stove?”

  Aunt Ellen didn’t answer right away. No doubt she was considering her vast network of contacts around the state. “I really don’t,” she finally admitted with a touch of embarrassment. “But Sue Boo might. She and the town’s mayor may’ve met at a conference or some such event. I’ll call her in the morning. It won’t be early, though. She sleeps in until almost six.”

  “Okay,” Judith said. “I’ll wait to hear from you. Remember, we’re an hour behind you here. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Back to work.” Aunt Ellen disconnected.

  Judith remained sitting in the armchair, worrying about Trixie being left alone all night. What if she woke up and was frightened? She knew where to find the cousins. Or she could call on the house phone. Judith was still silently fussing when Renie entered the suite.

  “My neighbors on the other side are partying,” she announced. “I called Layak to complain, but he didn’t pick up. T
hose loudmouthed sots may keep on with the loud music and the drunken yelling for hours, so I’m bunking in here with you.”

  “That’s fine. But don’t talk in your sleep.”

  “I’ll try not to, but you’re the one who makes weird noises,” Renie murmured, sitting down on the bed. “Now unload about Aunt Ellen.”

  Judith related her phone call.

  Renie laughed. “If anybody knows someone in a tiny Nebraska town, it’d be our aunt. Why doesn’t she run for governor?”

  “She doesn’t have time,” Judith said. “Besides, I think her pal Sue Boo has a lock on public office in Beatrice and maybe the rest of the state.”

  “Right. Aunt Ellen prefers working behind the scenes.”

  “Then I suggest we go to sleep. Knowing our aunt, she may call before the sun comes up.” Judith put her words into action by crawling under the covers. Renie followed suit.

  The prediction proved all too true. The phone rang just before seven. A groggy Judith fumbled for the cell while Renie let out a couple of choice obscenities, burrowed down, and pulled the blanket over her head.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting your breakfast,” Aunt Ellen began. “I assume you’re eating in your room.”

  “They don’t have room service here,” Judith replied, still not quite alert.

  “You don’t bring breakfast with you?” Aunt Ellen sounded aghast. “We always did when we drove out to see you and the rest of the family. The trip took us just two and a half days. We only stopped to sleep because we brought all our meals with us.”

  “Yes, now it’s come back to me,” Judith admitted. “You made very good time.”

  “I also made sandwiches that would keep a couple of days,” Aunt Ellen retorted. “We ate them for every meal.”

  Judith marveled that the sandwiches hadn’t spoiled along the way. Her aunt and uncle had been too cheap to get AC in their car. “What did Boo have to tell you about a Big Stove contact?”

  “She knows someone there—the postmaster. Unfortunately, he works for the government and won’t be in until nine our time.” She paused briefly while Judith heard a rustling noise. “His name is Reginald—Reggie—Upton. The number is . . .”

  “Wait!” Judith broke in. “I have to grab a pen.” Luckily, the motel provided a pen and tablet on the nightstand. “Go ahead.”

  Ellen rattled off the number. “Are you sure you took that down right?”

  Judith repeated the number. Her aunt approved. “You were always better than Renie with numbers, Judith. I’m afraid my goddaughter is a math disaster. Where is she?”

  Judith winced. “Still asleep.”

  “Is she sick?”

  “No, she’s fine,” Judith said. “It’s an hour earlier here.”

  “That still means it’s time to be up and doing,” Aunt Ellen asserted. “She’s wasting the best part of—oh, I have to go. Uncle Win needs me to help pick the paint color to go with the new wallpaper. Do take care.” She hung up.

  Judith stared at the clock. It was 7:09. Renie was obviously sound asleep. But rousing Renie might lead to the next homicide. Instead, Judith would leave a note telling her cousin to call when she was ready for breakfast.

  By seven thirty, she was out the door, down the elevator, and heading for the Stokes encampment. For all Judith knew, the family might have taken off. She’d noted that the Odells’ Buick was still parked behind the motel. Maybe they planned on leaving later on.

  Judith hadn’t gotten beyond the motel parking lot when she heard a soft voice call out: “Mrs. . . . ? Mrs. . . . ?”

  Turning around, she saw that the Buick’s left rear door was open. “Yes?” she said, moving warily toward the unseen speaker.

  “Help me,” the voice urged.

  Still cautious, Judith approached the car. “Who are you?” she asked, stopping by the left rear fender.

  “Ada, Ada Stokes. Help, please?”

  “Of course!” Judith looked inside the car where Ada was lying on the backseat. Except for her rumpled slacks and uncombed hair, the young woman appeared unharmed. “Are you sick?”

  “No. Just hungry,” Ada replied as Judith helped her sit up. “Doesn’t this car belong to Dela and Norm Odell?”

  “Yes, it does,” Judith replied. “Do you want to see them?”

  “Honestly, this backseat isn’t very comfortable when it comes to sleeping,” Ada said, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry, but I couldn’t remember your name.”

  Judith was momentarily speechless. “Judith Flynn. You’re not . . . I mean . . .”

  Ada laughed, though without mirth. “My crazy relatives love playing games. I’ve gone along with some of them, including pretending to be a Gypsy foundling and another as Hugh Hefner’s illegitimate daughter. But this last one was demeaning. I’m a University of Minnesota grad and a CPA, for God’s sake. Who do you think keeps the books and the rest of the family’s finances in order?”

  Feeling vaguely mesmerized by the revelations, Judith stared at Ada as she got out of the car. Without the slack-jawed, vacant expression, she was quite a good-looking young woman, if on the thin side. The deep-set eyes now showed some spark. Or maybe it was spunk. “Do the Odells realize you’re . . . normal?”

  Ada brushed herself off. “No. That’s how I ended up nodding off in their car. I came over here while everybody else in the family was asleep. Then I figured maybe Dela and Norm were, too. But they were talking about going home today and I wanted them to know I’m normal. I probably should’ve contacted them years ago, but I never got around to it.” She shrugged and shook her head. “Dela hadn’t seen me since I was about five or six. I was really shy back then and didn’t talk much to grown-ups.”

  Judith nodded. “I see. But Adela kept in touch with the family. Didn’t she realize you were okay?”

  “I doubt it,” Ada replied. “When Dela called—which wasn’t often—Ma or Pa always talked about the farm. I swear that all they know is corn. Dela wrote letters, too, but I can’t imagine Ma would respond with anything except about the farm and Pa’s arthritis and her bunions.”

  “But you still live at home?”

  “No. I live and work in North Platte,” Ada replied. “It’s about thirty miles from Big Stove. Of course, I respect family ties and all that, but I need my own space.” She paused, her gaze looking off in the direction of the Stokes encampment. “I wonder if the gang’s still there.”

  “I was going to check that out,” Judith replied. “Do you want to join me?”

  “No thanks,” Ada said. “I want to eat breakfast. I’ll walk to town and forage.”

  “I could drive you,” Judith volunteered.

  Ada smiled. “That’s kind of you, but I’ll walk. I’ve missed my morning workouts at the gym during this zany trip. I’ve vowed not to turn into a lump like my mother. l still don’t know why I agreed to go along, but . . . well, they are family.”

  Judith nodded. “Yes, kinship’s important. My cousin and I are both only children, but we grew up together, so we’re more like sisters. I admire you for your fitness regime. That’s smart. I’ve struggled with weight all my life.”

  “You’re tall,” Ada said. “Which is good. I’m only average and that makes a difference. Thanks for the wake-up call. If you see the Odells, tell them I’d like to talk to them before they leave, okay? I want them to know that I’m fine. They’ve got two teenagers and someday they’ll probably get married. Genes are important.”

  “Of course.” Judith paused. “I am so sorry about your grandfather’s passing. I gather he was a very special person.”

  Ada’s expression changed, but she quickly recovered. “That’s very kind of you. Thanks so much. Enjoy the rest of your vacation.” She turned around and jogged away toward the town’s center.

  Judith watched the young woman disappear around a corner. She liked Ada, especially the intelligent, candid version. But, as Bill Jones was wont to say, “Something’s off.”

  She was still brooding when Renie
stumbled out into the parking area. “Are you insane?” she yelled. “I thought you’d been kidnapped!”

  “Pipe down,” Judith said. “You’ll wake up everybody.”

  “Good. You woke me up. I heard you close the door. What’s going on?”

  Judith explained about finding Ada in the Odells’ car—and the discovery that the young woman had apparently been forced to perpetrate a hoax. “But that’s not the strangest part,” she added. “Her reaction to Codger’s death was odd.”

  “How?” Renie asked. “Did she applaud?”

  “No.” Judith again considered Ada’s manner. “The best word I can come up with is ‘indifferent.’ By the way, your T-shirt’s on backward.”

  “The UW’s Husky mascot wants to see where he’s been, not where he’s going.”

  “No wonder they went two and nine last season,” Judith muttered. “I assume you want to eat breakfast.”

  “That or one of your arms,” Renie said. “Let’s go.”

  “Fine,” Judith agreed. “I was going to see if the Stokeses are still here, since Ada didn’t say otherwise.”

  On the way into town, Judith thought they might spot Ada, but there was no sign of her on the streets or at a restaurant called Tooloulou’s, where they found a parking place by the entrance on Caribou Street. They also found a lineup of other hungry people.

  The wait wasn’t long, however, but Renie was still grumbling after they were seated. “Some of these people don’t look like tourists. Why don’t the locals eat at home?”

  “You and Bill eat breakfast out sometimes,” Judith reminded her cousin.

  Renie merely sniffed. “We rarely have to wait.”

  “But you get to have breakfast out,” Judith said. “Owning a B&B means Joe and I can’t do that.”

  “Stop trying to make me feel guilty,” Renie said, gazing beyond her cousin. “Here comes Mr. Barnes with, I assume, Mrs. Barnes. It looks like they’ve already eaten. I’ll hide behind the menu.”

  The couple passed by without so much as a glance. “You can come out now,” Judith said. “They’re gone.”