This Old Souse (7 page)

“Was your car in view the whole time?” Trash inquired, bumping his knees against the new oak coffee table and ignoring his partner's baleful glance.

“Uh…no,” Judith admitted. “I'd moved my car. Moonfleet seemed so busy. I pulled into the dirt alley in back of the house. I probably didn't see the car for maybe ten minutes or so.”

Glenn cocked his head to one side. “Ten minutes? You were wandering around the property for ten minutes?”

“No,” Judith responded. “I was just…mostly strolling along the sidewalk.”
No need to mention going up to the door unless specifically asked.

“Did you see anyone in or around the house?” Glenn queried as he smoothed his patterned silk tie.

“No,” Judith repeated. “But I did hear a couple of noises—like a door being slammed. Oh!” She clapped her hands to her cheeks as she realized that what she'd heard wasn't a door in the house, but probably her trunk.

“What now?” Trash asked, hiking up his pants.

“The sound,” Judith said with a little shudder. “It must have been when the body was put in my car. Whoever did it was closing the trunk.”

Trash looked disbelieving. “You left your trunk open, lady? That's a bad habit.” Again, he paid no attention to Glenn's look of disapproval.

“It's been acting up the last couple of days,” Judith explained. She tried not to wince as she saw Phyliss lurking outside the French doors at the other end of the living room. “I probably didn't get it all the way shut when I left Uncle Al's.”

“So,” Trash said, leaning back on the sofa and again bumping the coffee table as he crossed one leg over the other, “whoever conked the milkman just happened to know you had a faulty trunk and decided to stash the body there. That's pretty far-fetched.”

“Hey,” Renie said loudly, “whatever happened to Good Cop–Bad Cop? Aren't you both being jerks? Don't make my cousin froth!”

Trash looked aghast. “Froth?”

“Froth,” Renie said again. “Foam at the mouth. Take it easy, you two.”

A cell phone rang. Judith knew it wasn't hers, which was in the kitchen inside her purse. But Renie and the detectives all reacted. The call was for Glenn. He listened for a few moments before saying, “Yes. We'll be there shortly.”

Glenn disconnected and stood up. “The Langford Precinct has dispatched two patrol officers. They're at the Moonfleet house now. We're going to check the place out. Come on, Trash, let's move.”

“Aw…” Trash, who looked as if he'd finally made himself comfortable, clumsily got to his feet. “Actually, I was kind of hoping to see her froth.”

Glenn ignored the comment, addressing Judith, who, along with Renie, was accompanying the detectives to the door. “I trust you aren't planning on leaving the city,” he said.

“No, I'm not,” Judith replied.

“She can't,” Renie put in. “She's far too frail.”

“Good.” Glenn waited for Trash to open the door for him. “Because as of now, we consider you a suspect in the murder of Vern Benson.”

G
REAT
!” J
UDITH CRIED
, slamming the door behind the departing detectives. “That's all I need! What the hell will Joe say about
this
?”

“Calm down, coz,” Renie urged. “I repeat, why does he have to find out?”

“How can he not?” Judith fumed, going in the direction of the kitchen.

“Think about it,” Renie said. “Being a suspect is the best thing that could happen to you. Even if my ruse didn't work, these days the cops rarely release names of suspects to the media unless they're holding someone in custody. If you don't tell Joe, who will?”

Judith considered. “That may be true about releasing names, but Joe still has ties to the department. Woody, for instance. He and Sandra are due back from Canada in a few days.”

“I'll call him,” Renie said. “Woody and I've always bonded because we both love opera. I'll tell him to keep mum.”

“Woody's not the only one Joe knows at headquarters,” Judith pointed out.

“But he doesn't keep in contact with most of the others except for the occasional reunion or holiday party,” Renie replied. “Besides, the force has grown so in recent years, it sounds to me as if the cops don't know each other as well as they used to. Didn't Glenn say he thought Joe was dead?”

“Yes, he did,” Judith admitted. “They thought Joe was still married to Herself. Maybe there's something in what you say. But it's risky.”

“There's one other thing,” Renie said with a sly smile.

“What's that?”

“You solve the case.”

Judith leaned against the sink. “Oh, swell!”

“Well? Aren't you tempted?”

Judith took a deep breath. “Of course. But with Mike and Kristin splitting up and the B & B at its busiest, I don't know when or how I could do any sleuthing.”

“But you will,” Renie said.

Judith's shoulders slumped. “I don't know…but maybe I'll have to, if only to get myself off the hook.”

“That's right.” Renie slung her huge black purse over her shoulder. “Got to run. I still have to buy Bill's snack, remember?”

“Why doesn't Bill buy it himself?” Judith inquired. “I thought part of his snack ritual was the pleasure he gets from choosing which delicacy he's going to eat that night.”

“It is. He does. But he's had a cold, and he coughed so hard this morning that he pulled a muscle in his side. I'm babying him.” Renie headed down the nar
row hallway to the back door. “I'll be in touch. I should be done with Bucky by tomorrow morning.”

Renie went out as Phyliss came in. There was a brief hostile exchange, but Judith didn't hear the specifics. She was too absorbed in the task that lay before her.

“Police, huh?” Phyliss said as she entered the kitchen. “I just happened to—”

“How much did you hear, Phyliss?” Judith demanded.

“Well…not as much as I'd have liked,” the cleaning woman admitted. “Those Dooley kids were playing out in their yard behind your place and they were making an awful racket. How many do they have now? About twenty?”

“Or more,” Judith replied. “There are grandchildren and even a great-grandchild, I think.”

“You wrecked your car, huh?” Phyliss remarked.

“What? Oh. Yes, in a way.” Judith patted the other woman's thin shoulder. If the only thing Phyliss had heard pertained to the Subaru's trunk, Judith would leave it that way. “We won't tell Joe, will we?”

“How're you going to explain why it's not here?” Phyliss asked. “I saw that fiendish cousin bring you home. What did she do with Beelzebub?”

“She bested him, four out of seven,” Judith murmured.

Phyliss cupped her ear. “What?”

“Never mind. He's gone.” Judith was absorbed in thought. There was too much else bothering her: Vern Benson's murder, the Moonfleet house, being a suspect, dealing with Mike's dilemma, keeping secrets from Joe. She didn't know where to start. It seemed as if there were bells and buzzers going off in her head.

“Are you going to answer the phone or shall I?” Phyliss asked.

“Oh! Sorry!” With an apologetic look, Judith snatched up the receiver. Joe was on the other end of the line.

“I've got a problem,” he said.

You've got a problem?
Judith thought. “What is it?”

“I have to go to Omaha,” he said. “The insurance company's home office wants me to come back there on this fraud situation. I'll have to leave tonight. I tried to get out of it, but I can't, not at this stage of the investigation. I'm really sorry, leaving you in such a mess.”

You don't know the half of it.
“Don't worry, I'll be fine. How long will you be gone?”

“Hopefully, we can wrap the whole thing up by the weekend,” Joe said. “The insurance carrier wants to avert a trial, so they're trying to get plenty of evidence to either discourage the lawsuit or settle out of court. I'm thinking I could be home late Saturday or early Sunday, depending on the airline schedules. I'll swing by the house and stuff a few things in a suitcase. I have to be at the airport by seven.”

Judith's reaction was mixed. She was relieved that Joe would be gone for a few days, but she'd still have to explain why the Subaru wasn't in the driveway. And of course she would miss him.

“Will you have time to eat dinner with Mike and the boys?” Judith asked.

“Maybe,” Joe said. “It depends on traffic. You know what it's like getting across the floating bridge this time of day.”

Judith, in fact, had lost track of time. She looked up
at the old schoolhouse clock, which informed her it was going on four. The commute between the city and the Eastside seemed to start earlier and earlier, even in midweek.

“I'll see you soon,” she said, and rang off.

Staring through the kitchen window at the Rankerses' hedge, Judith put her thoughts in order. Logic was her byword. First things first. She had guests due soon, another full house. Phyliss would have to make up for lost time if she intended to finish cleaning before the first arrivals. Meanwhile, Judith would prepare the guests' appetizers and make a start on dinner. Murder must be put aside until she'd taken care of her family and her business. She also had to check on Gertrude, but that could wait. Wednesday was bridge club, and the old girl probably hadn't gotten back yet. Judith's mother had put a horn on her motorized wheelchair, and usually honked when she got dropped off. Sometimes she honked just for the hell of it.

Half an hour later, as Judith was husking corn, Phyliss announced she was finished. Putting on her long black raincoat and a plastic rain bonnet, she headed out into the June drizzle.

“I'll see you tomorrow if I don't get pneumonia,” she called from the back door.

Ten minutes later, Gertrude honked. Judith put the corn on the counter and went outside.

“Did you win?” she asked, descending the steps to the backyard.

“'Course I did,” Gertrude replied, going pell-mell for the toolshed. “I got all the quarters, four dollars
and twenty-five cents, despite having Deb as a partner. She goes to bridge club to visit, not to play cards. Talk, talk, talk. She drives me crazy.”

“Mother,” Judith said, opening the door, “there's something I have to tell you.”

Gertrude twisted around in the wheelchair to look at her daughter. “You aren't expecting, are you?”

“No, Mother,” Judith replied. “I'm a few years beyond that.”

“You never know these days,” Gertrude said, moving up to the card table. “I read about a goofy woman in
The Inquisitor
who had twins at your age. Their father was an alien. Like Lunkhead.”

“I wish you'd stop calling Joe ‘Lunkhead,'” Judith said.

“Fair enough,” said Gertrude, allowing Judith to help her out of her coat. “I always called that first loser of yours that. How about ‘Knucklehead' for this one?”

“Don't. Please.” Judith sat down on the arm of the sofa. “I have some sad news.”

“Knucklehead croaked?” Gertrude asked hopefully.

“No, Mother,” Judith said through clenched teeth. “Mike and Kristin have separated.”

Gertrude's wrinkled old face sagged. “Holy Mother!” she breathed. “That can't be! You don't mean a
divorce
?” The word came out sounding like a dread disease.

“Not a divorce,” Judith said optimistically. “They need to be apart for a while, to straighten things out.”

“I could straighten 'em out with a hammer,” Gertrude asserted, but her chin trembled and her voice shook. “What's wrong with them?”

Judith reached out to take her mother's frail hand. “Frankly, to people like you and me, it sounds silly. Kristin wants more space.”

“More space?” Gertrude scowled. “She's living up in the mountains, isn't she? How much more space could she want? Montana?”

“It's an expression,” Judith explained. “I think she means she wants more opportunities for herself as a person. A career, maybe.”

“She's got a career,” Gertrude retorted. “A husband and two kids. That was enough of a career for most women in my day.”

“You worked, at least part-time,” Judith pointed out.

“It wasn't because I wanted a stupid career,” Gertrude shot back. “We needed the money. That's why Deb worked, too. And your Aunt Ellen and your Auntie Vance and—”

“Yes,” Judith interrupted, “I realize that most of the women in our family worked. But there are also two sides to any marital story.”

“As Deb never tires of reminding me,” Gertrude said. “She worked in a law office. She saw one divorce after another. I guess she ought to know,” the old lady added grudgingly.

“That's true,” Judith allowed. “Mike may be being unreasonable, too. Anyway, it's possible they can work things out. The problem is, the younger generation is self-absorbed and isn't very good at compromise. Or so it seems to me.”

“You're right about that, kiddo,” Gertrude said, still clutching at Judith's hand. “I'm too old for all this.” She paused, shaking her head and looking off into the
far corner. “You got married, you stayed married,” she declared, her voice a bit stronger. “The only time I threatened to divorce your father was when he got that brand-new Chevy and drove like Barney Oldfield. A real speed demon he was in that car. It scared me. And then less than a year after he bought the car, he died of heart trouble. Maybe it'd been better if he'd run us both off a bridge. Then I wouldn't have had to be alone all these years.”

Judith noticed tears in her mother's eyes. “But then I wouldn't have had you around to bully me,” she said to Gertrude. “I wouldn't have missed it for the world.” Judith bent down and kissed the top of her mother's white head.

Gertrude didn't say anything for a long time. The two women sat in silence, knowing their thoughts were the same, and finding quiet comfort in it.

 

Where's your car?” Joe asked as he breezed through the back door. “I thought you weren't home.”

“The car?” Judith paused to wipe corn tassels from her hands. “It's gone,” she said, kissing Joe.

“Gone where?”

“To…the shop. The trunk was driving me nuts. I had trouble loading the groceries.” That was true enough. “I couldn't wait for the appointment you made with Nabobs. They'll work it in.” Not true. But it sounded plausible.

“Oh.” Joe started for the back stairs. “I'm going to pack. It's a good thing I called the shuttle to pick me up. You can drive the MG while I'm gone. Just treat it kindly.” He disappeared around the hall corner.

The B & B guests seemed normal. So did Mac and Joe-Joe. But Judith, Joe, Mike, and Gertrude knew that their fried chicken dinner was anything but typical. The chair where Kristin usually sat had been pulled back from the oak dining-room table, but her absence hovered over the room like a phantom. The mood was so gloomy that even Gertrude kept her mouth shut.

Mike stayed on after dinner for a few games of cribbage with his grandmother. Joe skipped dessert. The airport shuttle arrived exactly at six-thirty. Judith's farewell kiss was fervent.

“Hey,” he said, looking into her black eyes, “do you think I'm going to be taken hostage by terrorists?”

“You never know these days,” Judith said somberly.

He kissed her high forehead. “I'll only be gone for a couple of days. What could go wrong in that short a time?”

Judith merely smiled. Weakly.

 

Upon leaving around eight o'clock, Mac and Joe-Joe were heartbroken when their great-grandmother informed them that their new toys couldn't go with them to Uncle Al's. The items Judith had purchased must stay with their other stash of playthings at Hillside Manor.

“Oh, go ahead,” Judith said to Mike. She couldn't, of course, mention that the original purchases were at police headquarters. “We can always get them something else.”

“Spoiled,” Gertrude muttered, but for once, she didn't sound as if she meant it.

Two of the guests forgot their keys that evening and
had to be let in around midnight. Judith always handed out two keys—one for the room and one for the house. She locked up at ten. Late arrivals could let themselves in. Unless they left the keys in their room.

Another woman, one of four teachers on holiday, came down with a cold. Judith offered her aspirin, nasal spray, and cough drops. As always, when dispensing over-the-counter medications, she cautioned guests to read the labels carefully.

A Methodist minister lost his glasses and couldn't read his Bible before going to bed. He was sure he'd had them after he arrived at Hillside Manor. After a twenty-minute search, Judith found them between the window-seat cushions in the living room. The minister promised to pray for her. Judith said she could use all the prayers she could get.