by Mary Daheim
Brewster shrugged. “That would be between the Stokes family and Barnes. It’s not a crime to rent your own land.”
Judith suppressed a sigh. “Right. But there’s something else I should mention. I don’t want to be an alarmist, but Trixie O’Hara—the motel maid—disappeared from her room this morning. She’s been quite ill, as you may know. Has anyone notified you that she’s missing?”
“No.” Brewster uttered the word without any expression. “Maybe she didn’t feel up to working.”
“She was unwell when we saw her last night,” Judith said. “It’s possible that she’s been abducted by one of the Stokes family members. We saw Teddy Stokes drive off in a rush earlier today and Trixie may have been with him.”
Brewster sighed heavily. “Why didn’t you report this earlier?”
“We should have. Except . . .” Judith bit her lip. She didn’t want to expose the skein of thought that was unraveling in her head. “Trixie has an odd history in Banff, especially for somebody who hasn’t been here very long. I don’t want to butt in, though it wouldn’t hurt to see if she’s at the campsite. My cousin and I found her the other day passed out in the family’s VW bus.”
“I’ll send someone over there,” the sergeant said in a resigned voice. “Is there anything else I ought to know?”
There probably was, Judith thought, but she held back. “Not really, but we figured we should stop by now before we leave town.”
“You’re heading home?” Brewster sounded hopeful.
“Tomorrow morning,” Judith said. “Thanks for keeping my cousin and me stay apprised of what’s been going on with the case.”
Brewster’s smile seemed sincere. “Our pleasure. It’s rare to have a famous amateur detective helping us.”
Judith suspected the Mountie might be kidding. But at least he hadn’t called her FATSO.
Banff’s downtown was still buzzing with tourist traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian. Judith counted license plates from six different Canadian provinces, eight U.S. states, and one from Costa Rica.
Renie wasn’t intrigued by the sightings. “Why,” she asked in a plaintive tone, “do I sense that we’re going to make yet another call on the wretched Stokes folks? Am I supposed to claim we’re still working on the Cornucopia article?”
“Good idea,” Judith said, brightening. “We’ll tell them it’s an in-depth series.”
“More like an in-death series,” Renie muttered glumly.
“Okay, so I’m concerned about Trixie.” Judith braked for a family of five at a crosswalk.
“Maybe you ought to give Brewster time to check out the Stokes menagerie,” Renie suggested. “I got the impression he’s a bit overwhelmed by your sleuthing.”
“Nonsense!” Judith snapped. “He’s a typical man and he doesn’t like it when a woman—and in this case, an older tourist from across the border—gets involved with his job.” She stopped again, this time at an arterial. “Fine, we’ll hold off checking out the current suspects.”
Instead of continuing to the Stokes campsite, Judith turned the SUV around the corner and drove in the opposite direction. Renie kept quiet. She sensed where her cousin was going.
“The old guy, right?”
“Yes, yes,” Judith replied impatiently. “I’m curious. I’m remembering what Doris told me about her family going to California and how Grandpa took off. I have a feeling that he can tell us something we should know.”
Renie nodded. “I guessed as much.”
“I thought you might,” Judith said in a more normal tone of voice. “We’ve always been good at reading each other’s mind. Like sisters. Maybe better than a lot of sisters.”
“True.” Renie stared at the rugged mountain crags that surrounded the town. “Oddly enough, I’m going to miss this place, despite going broke. It’s such spectacular scenery. A lot more primitive than our part of the world.”
Judith didn’t argue. Instead of heading for the hotel entrance’s porte cochere, she turned in the direction of the Banff Springs golf course. “I suspect parking’s free here. It better be. I’m tired of tipping people.”
After they got out of the SUV, the cousins looked in every direction for the elderly man they’d seen in the Rundle Lounge. There was no sign of him.
“The old guy should be around here somewhere,” Judith muttered, shielding her eyes from the sun. “He didn’t look as if he could walk very far.”
Renie had turned to look at the hotel. “I see him coming out of the Banff Springs’ rear entrance. He’s heading this way. Slowly. Why don’t we go get a snack while we wait for him to get here?”
“Not funny,” Judith said, though she smiled. “We could offer him a ride.”
“For twenty yards? He may be feeble, but he’s not nuts.” Renie had turned back to face her cousin. “Are we going to stay here or offer him a joyride?”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Judith replied. “But why not? He must get bored sitting around the hotel all day.”
Renie grimaced. “So we get busted for elder-napping?”
“We’re too old for that charge to apply. Harassment, maybe.” Judith considered her approach to their prey. “Who could he remind us of that we actually know?”
“He’s as old as your mother. Why not ask if he’d like to date her?”
Judith shot Renie a dark look. “I’ve been feeling sorry for him being all alone, but I’ve no intention of ruining the rest of his life.”
“Good point,” Renie murmured as the old man came within ten feet of them.
“Hello,” Judith all but shouted. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
The oldster hesitated and narrowed his gray eyes at the cousins. “I may be up in years, but I’m not deaf. Who are you?”
“Tourists,” Judith replied in a normal tone. “And you?”
“The name’s Smith,” he answered, stopping a couple of feet away from them. “John Smith. Are you two planning on staying anonymous?”
Judith kept smiling. “No. This is my cousin Mrs. Jones, and I’m—”
He interrupted her. “Don’t kid a kidder. You two got real names?”
“That is her real name,” Judith replied. “I’m Mrs. Flynn.” She turned to Renie. “Show him your driver’s license, coz.”
John Smith waved a gnarled hand. “Never mind, never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He stumbled slightly, but managed to circumvent the cousins and went on his cautious way.
“Gosh,” Renie said in feigned shock, “you just flunked warm and friendly camaraderie with a stranger. Isn’t that a first?”
“Hardly.” Judith turned just enough to watch John Smith’s slow progress toward the golf course. “I suspect he may keep going as long as we’re still here. Let’s go back into the hotel.”
“I thought we were going to bid farewell to the Stokes zoo,” Renie said as they headed for the rear entrance.
“We are,” Judith replied, opening the door. “I want to find out if John Smith registered as . . . John Smith.”
It took over five minutes before anyone behind the front desk was free. Finally, a faintly harried-looking young woman with short ash-blond hair offered her best effort of a smile and asked if she could help the cousins.
“Yes, thank you,” Judith replied, noting that the desk clerk’s name tag identified her as Caitlin. “Mrs. Jones and I are staying here tonight. We work for a magazine and have been interviewing guests in Banff. A few moments ago we talked to an older man who’s staying here. He stated that his name is John Smith. We need to verify that, as it struck us as possibly not his real name. Would you mind checking your registry?”
Caitlin hesitated, but acquiesced. It didn’t take long. “Yes,” she said, and then lowered her voice. “That’s the name he gave us. He paid cash in advance, so we had no reason to question if that was his real name. We have celebrities who come here under false names, of course.”
“Yes.” Judith nodded and smiled. “I suppose he could be one of them. That is, being so elde
rly, he might not be recognized by his former fans. Did he say where he lived?”
“He did.” Caitlin uttered a small, discreet laugh. “It was a funny-sounding place in the States.” She paused, still amused. “Big Stove, Nebraska.”
Bingo! Judith managed to keep a straight face. “Very unusual. Our magazine’s readers have probably never heard of it. Thank you, Caitlin.”
As they went back to the rear entrance and got into the SUV, Renie nudged Judith. “Cornucopia’s readers would love to hear about Big Stove. Have you forgotten that its audience is made up of people in the sweet and industrial corn business?”
“I’d forgotten it was a magazine until I just told that fib,” Judith admitted.
“As its editor, I find that disheartening. Any ideas about where we should have our last dinner in Banff?”
“Good grief!” Judith cried. “It’s not even four o’clock. Remind me again around six.”
“Are we really having another chin-wag with the Stokeses?”
“Yes.” Judith was driving the route that would, in fact, take them back to the far end of the encampment. “Call me crazy, but if the corpse wasn’t Codger, why did they go to so much trouble with the bier?”
“Did they?” Renie’s question was artless.
Judith didn’t say anything while they waited for two women and at least a dozen preschool children to cross the street. “Day care, I bet,” she said softly before speaking in her normal voice. “You’re right. We don’t know that really happened. We only know the old guy was dead. But how he got that way and who he really was is another matter.”
“But,” Renie said resignedly, “we’re going to find out.”
“I hope so,” Judith replied with a tinge of pessimism. “But we only have until tomorrow morning to do it. The clock is ticking.”
She hoped that her brain was, too.
Chapter 26
As the cousins approached the campsite from the street, Judith could see an RCMP cruiser parked at the curb. “Now what?” she muttered. “Can you spot Brewster anywhere?”
“Not with all that shrubbery,” Renie replied. “You can pull in behind the cop car where it says No Parking.”
“The last thing I need is a ticket. I’ll make a U-turn up ahead and park across the street. If Brewster—or another Mountie—is with the Stokes crew, I probably won’t get busted.”
After parking the SUV, the cousins jaywalked across the street. Judith’s rationale was that there were no other cops in sight and Brewster was preoccupied with the Stokes family at the campsite.
They spotted Brewster, but he was accompanied by Constable MacRae. They were directing their attention to what appeared to be the entire Stokes family, including the Odells.
“Damn!” Judith said softly as they stood by the shrubbery. “Can you hear what they’re saying?”
Renie shook her head. “If we hid in these shrubs, maybe we could.”
“The shrubs aren’t tall enough,” Judith said. “I can’t really bend down with my phony hip. We’ll just have to barge right in.”
Renie emitted a low groan but didn’t argue.
MacRae was the first to notice the cousins. His ruddy face was puzzled as he stepped away to confront them. “Pardon me, but this is an official investigation. I have to ask you to leave the area.”
Judith was stymied. Apparently, Brewster hadn’t informed his fellow officer of the cousins’ sleuthing. Renie, however, smiled and shook her finger at him. “Now, now, Constable MacRae,” she said in an unusually pleasant voice, “I don’t think your superior would like that.” She moved closer to the Mountie and whispered in his ear.
MacRae jumped a bit. “Seriously?” He stared at Judith and his face turned almost crimson. “I’m sorry, I’ve been off for the last few days. I had no idea. Oh my!” He goggled at Judith. “Is it true there’s a FASTO comic book about you?”
“Not yet released for publication,” Judith replied with a kindly smile, despite being horrified at the mere idea. “Maybe after the first of the year. Would you mind telling us what’s going on here?”
But Brewster had seen the cousins and he gestured at them. Whatever he’d been saying to the Stokes family had left them with a variety of reactions: Pa’s stoicism, Ma’s irritation, Teddy’s sheepishness, Martha Lou’s consternation, Ada’s indignation, and the Odells’ mutual dismay. Only Trixie seemed oddly at ease. But then Judith realized she wasn’t part of the family. Or was she?
MacRae regained his aplomb. “It’s a very queer case. I’ll let Sergeant Brewster explain it to you.”
But his fellow officer was reluctant. “Before I can tell you anything, I have to contact Inspector Colbert.” Brewster removed his hat and ran a hand through his thick hair. “It’s a confounding situation.”
“Yes,” Judith agreed. “Shall we join you at the office in half an hour?”
Brewster hesitated. “I suppose you could. I have to find out what the inspector thinks, eh?” He put his hat back on and motioned for MacRae to follow him away from the encampment.
“Our turn,” Judith said under her breath as she moved toward the now-glum family gathered at the picnic table. She considered speaking first to Pa, but decided Ada was a better choice. “What did your family tell the Mounties?”
Ada’s eyes flashed at her kinfolk. “The truth.”
“I thought so.” Judith saw what looked like alarm in Ada’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t press you. I’ll let Brewster tell me.”
“Maybe he won’t,” Ada said.
Judith shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” She smiled kindly at the young woman. “I already know.”
Renie stalked off, apparently heading for the SUV. Judith knew she was irked about not confiding in her cousin that she’d come to understand what was going on with the case, but it had only been in the last hour that everything had started to come together. And there were still some gaps.
Still, Judith hesitated. Maybe she should first talk to Ma and Pa. No, she thought, they still won’t tell me the truth. She headed for the shrubbery.
Renie was sitting in the passenger seat looking miffed. “Well?” she said when Judith slid into the SUV.
“I wasn’t sure until now,” Judith replied, only fibbing by three-quarters of an hour, but still feeling remorse. She’d almost always been candid with her cousin. “Okay, so it was a little longer, but not by much. It was John Smith who enlightened me.”
Renie stared. “John Smith? How?”
“Because I think he’s the real Codger.”
“Well.” Renie thought about it for a moment or two. “I admit I had to wonder. But why stick around?”
“That’s why we’re going back to see Brewster. I have a feeling only he can tell us who Codger—the dead one—really is.”
Renie decided not to query her cousin further. She sensed when the sleuthing wheels were turning in Judith’s brain. Before Judith could turn the ignition key, a female voice called to them. A sheepish-looking Ada was hurrying to the SUV.
“I want to apologize,” she said, leaning into the open window on the driver’s side. “I never wanted any part of this charade. Neither did Dela and Norm. I’m not going to try to explain why Ma and Pa did this and the rest of them went along with it, because it makes no difference now that they’ve been found out. Anyway, I’m sorry if they caused you any problems.”
“I suppose we could guess,” Judith said.
Ada made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t bother. It’s over. At least I hope so. Once we get back to Big Stove, I hope we can forget any of this happened.” She whirled around and rushed back through the shrubbery.
Renie gave Judith a quirky look. “Okay, FASTO, tell me this—why was Trixie looking so pleased with herself?”
“Because,” Judith replied in an ironic tone, “she got what she came for, even if it wasn’t what she expected. She’s found a man with money.”
Renie was faintly aghast. “Teddy?”
“It’s not Codg
er,” Judith replied. “I’m calling Doris Draper. I think she can answer my question.”
Renie noted the time on the SUV’s clock: 4:25. “Won’t she be at work?”
“I’ll leave a message she can’t refuse to answer,” Judith said, tapping in the number. As expected, the call went to voice mail. “Judith McMonigle here. We met the elder Mr. Stokes. Why did you tell me the family was going to California? Please call me and explain that or my editor won’t include your family’s farm in the magazine article. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Wow,” Renie said softly. “That was a really big fib. I might lose my editor’s job at Cornucopia.”
Judith smiled. “I think your job is safe since . . .” She paused as a pickup truck pulled up alongside of them and stopped. “Now what? I can’t pull out.”
“It’s Mr. Barnes,” Renie said, twisting in the seat to get a better view. “He’s getting out of the truck. Maybe he doesn’t think we really know how to drive.”
Judith saw him coming to her side of the SUV and reluctantly rolled down the window. “Yes?” she said as he wedged his burly body between the two vehicles.
“Where’s my damned maid?” he shouted. “Trixie O’Hara’s disappeared! I’m told you two were the last ones to see her at the motel.”
“We probably were,” Judith replied calmly. “She’s been ill, you know. We left her sleeping last night.”
Barnes’s scowl deepened. “The room’s empty. I even checked the bathroom. Everything’s cleared out. I hear you two spent quite a bit of time with her. She’d already been in the hospital a day or so. I can’t keep an employee who either gets sick or runs away. Come on, you must have some idea where she went.”
Judith debated whether to tell him the truth or fib. She decided on something in between. “Why don’t you ask those people who are camping on the property beyond the motel?”
“That crowd? Pah!” He made a disparaging gesture. “I’d rather talk to a bunch of donkeys. And somebody should tell that freckle-faced broad to stay way from my motel!”
Judith assumed he meant Martha Lou. “Your motel, your call,” she said. “But they’re close enough to the motel that they may’ve seen Trixie leave.”