by Mary Daheim
Judith gazed at him with innocent eyes. “I gave you my word. When have I ever lied to you?”
Joe looked dubious. “You lie to everybody else when it suits you.”
“I do not lie. I tell fibs only when absolutely necessary.”
Joe’s green eyes danced. “Some of those fibs are real whoppers. You’re very good at it.”
Her dark-eyed gaze met his. “I repeat, have I ever lied—or fibbed—to you?”
Joe didn’t answer immediately. “How,” he finally asked, “would I know if you did?”
Shortly after the current group of guests left on their appointed evening rounds, Judith began to worry about Ruby. It was almost seven-thirty and she had not yet returned to Hillside Manor.
“Maybe,” Joe suggested when he and Judith were finished cleaning up the kitchen, “she ran into some old pals. Not everybody flees the Thurlow neighborhood like you did.”
“It’s possible,” Judith conceded. “If she hasn’t eaten, I saved enough of the spare ribs and the rest of dinner for her because I assumed she’d eat with us.”
“Ruby’s a free spirit,” Joe said. “Sounds as if she likes to keep on the move. Never married?”
“No,” Judith said, turning on the dishwasher. “She had some guy with her at an event in Little Bavaria, but he was kind of a drip. I figure she dumped him about the time Renie and I left town.”
“There can’t be a lot of eligible men in a little place like—”
Joe was interrupted by the phone, which happened to be sitting behind him on the counter. “Flynn here,” he said, never breaking the habit after thirty years as a cop.
Judith assumed it was for her, so she paused in the kitchen, watching Joe. His ruddy face darkened. “Okay, I’ll be right over. Thanks.” He hurried off. “That was Carl Rankers,” he said, heading down the back hall to grab his jacket. “They’ve got Ruby and she’s a mess. Mistook their house for ours. Drunk, he figures. It’s raining hard, so I’ll go get her.”
“Wait!” Judith cried. “I’m going with you!”
“Stay put,” Joe called, already at the back door.
But there was no stopping Judith. By the time she caught up with Joe, he was already on the Rankerses’ front porch. Carl opened the door.
“We’ve never had one of your guests come here before,” Carl said in his droll manner. “Kind of exciting, at least for Arlene. She’s making coffee. Want some?”
“No thanks,” Joe replied, leading the way in through the dining room and the adjacent living room. “Save it to sober up my wife’s latest guest.” He shot Judith a reproachful glance. “She likes to take in the occasional stray.”
Arlene poked her head out from the kitchen. “Five minutes,” she announced. “Booby, are you alive?”
The object of her question was flopped on the beige sofa, eyes closed, mouth agape. Judith moved closer, noting that Ruby’s face was dirty—or bruised. “Ruby,” she said softly, “are you awake?”
The other woman’s closed eyes flickered open—and shut. “Unf.” She shifted her body with obvious painful effort. “Oof.”
Judith sat down next to Ruby and looked up at Joe’s disgruntled face. “Go home. This is going to take a while. If I need help, Carl’s here.”
The two men exchanged wordless male glances. “No,” Joe said. “Carl’s got a bad back. I’ve only got flat feet.”
Carl put a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go watch whichever overpaid NBA teams are on TV. This is women’s work.”
Joe took one last look at Ruby, whose eyes were still closed. “Oh, hell, why not? Call when you need me,” he said, following Carl back out to the hallway and presumably to the family room downstairs.
Arlene stepped into the living room. “Thank goodness they’re gone. Men are so helpless except for heavy lifting. Though Carl isn’t very good at that with his bad back. I told him not to lift our SUV by himself. Men aren’t very good at listening either. Is Booby dead?”
“It’s Ruby,” Judith said. “Just passed out. Is the coffee ready?”
“Almost,” Arlene replied, tapping her fingernails against the kitchen doorframe. “Maybe she needs smelling salts. I don’t have any.”
“Neither do I,” Judith said, gently trying to arrange her unconscious guest into a more comfortable position. “But we can’t leave her here to sleep it off. How on earth did Ruby get this far?”
Arlene moved across the room to help Judith. “Well,” she went on as she handed Judith some throw pillows to put under the head of their patient, “I’m not sure. Carl heard something out on the front porch, but he thought it was your cat, flinging himself at the storm door. He does that sometimes if we’re serving fish. But we weren’t. I’d made lasagna instead. Finally, Carl opened the door and Ruby fell into his arms. We never got a sensible word out of her. Of course, that’s not unusual around here, especially when our children visit.”
“That happened how long ago?” Judith asked.
Arlene’s pretty face puckered in recollection. “Ten minutes before Carl called? She mumbled your name, so we thought she must be a guest who’d confused our houses, given that they’re similar in style and it’s such a dark, rainy night. But night often is . . . dark, I mean.”
Judith nodded. “I wonder if she took the bus, but I don’t see how she could have walked the two blocks from the bus stop. She would’ve had to cross Heraldsgate Avenue and that’s not easy, being so busy and so steep. Maybe she took a cab. Or got a ride,” she murmured, frowning. “It looks as if her face is bruised.”
“Maybe she fell down,” Arlene suggested. “You’re right—she wasn’t in very good shape to walk. And she does reek like a distillery. Not that I’ve ever been to a distillery. Why would I do that? Carl took a tour once of a brewery and said it smelled awful. Goodness, your guests usually aren’t drunk. When Carl and I have taken over the B&B for you, I don’t recall anyone being more than a tad tiddly.”
“That’s true,” Judith replied, noting that Ruby had begun to stir. “While I can’t control how much liquor guests consume when they’re off the premises—or if they bring their own supply with them—I clearly state that excessive use of alcohol or any other harmful substance is grounds for being ejected. Is the coffee ready?”
“It must be,” Arlene said. She hurried off to the kitchen.
Ruby was groaning and had flung a hand over her eyes. “Oooh . . . what . . . ?”
“It’s me . . . Judith. You’re at our neighbors’ house. You’ll be fine.”
“Huh?” Ruby removed her arm and blinked several times. “That light . . . can you turn it down?”
“Sure.” Judith reached around to click off the lamp on the end table. “Coffee’s coming.”
“Coffee.” Ruby uttered the word as if it were foreign to her.
“Can you sit up if I help you?”
“Not sure.” Ruby licked her dry lips. “What happened? I feel like I was run over by a truck.”
“You’re lucky you weren’t,” Judith said, but immediately felt repentant. “I mean, how did you get here?”
Ruby had raised her head and her bloodshot eyes were wide open. “I’m not sure. Where did you say we are?”
Arlene appeared with a tray, three mugs, cream, sugar, and artificial sweetener. “You’re at our house,” she said, setting the tray on the end table. “I’m Arlene. Carl is downstairs with Joe watching tall men in long shorts with names like Dako and Manu and Nazr and Beno and Radoslav and Tim. Wouldn’t you think Tim would feel out of place? And Tony, too.” She shook her head.
Ruby looked justifiably confused. She stared at Judith. “Are you sure you know where we are?”
Judith nodded. “Yes.”
“Does it matter?” Arlene asked. “We know where you are. Have some coffee. It’s Sully’s. Carl and I like it very much. For all I know, Tim and Tony do, too.” She poured coffee into a mug. “Sugar? Cream?”
“Black,” Ruby answered, still looking dazed as she
turned from Arlene to Judith. “Do you know what happened to me?”
“No,” Judith replied. “Do you mean you don’t remember anything?”
Ruby inched her way up on the throw pillows and took the coffee mug from Arlene. “I’m not sure. I took the bus downtown and transferred to the one that went out to the Thurlow District. I found our old house, but I almost didn’t recognize the place. It’s been updated.” She blew on the coffee before taking a sip. “Then I walked around the block. No vacant lots, condos instead. Most of the houses looked like they’d been fixed up. At least one had been torn down and a real modern glass thing had been built in its place. Kind of ugly.” She put a hand to her head. “Anybody got aspirin?”
“I’ll get some,” Arlene volunteered. “And water.” She dashed back to the kitchen.
Judith helped Ruby sit up straighter. “Did you walk through the business district?”
Ruby nodded. “It’s only three blocks from where I grew up at the end of the bus line. Man, but it’s grown! I had lunch at a real nice café not far from where The Meat & Mingle used to be. That’s where I met . . .” Her face scrunched up in confusion. “Who was it?”
Arlene had returned with the aspirin and water. “Nazr? Manu? Tim?” She made a self-deprecating gesture. “I’m just throwing out names. You never know when one will hit home.”
“None of the above,” Ruby replied glumly, swallowing the aspirin with a gulp of water. “Damn! I can’t remember anything!”
Judith pointed to Ruby’s cheek. “Somehow you got a bruise. Did you fall? Or . . . ?” She left the query unfinished.
Ruby scowled. “Did somebody slug me? I’m blank. Could I have a concussion?”
Judith grimaced. “You might. Maybe we should go to the ER.”
But Ruby emphatically shook her head. “Forget it. All I want to do is sleep. If I’ve got a headache, it’s from a hangover. I ought to know—I’ve done it before.”
Judith hesitated, but decided not to argue. “Okay. Finish your coffee while I get Joe.”
“I’ll do that,” Arlene said, already heading toward the hall. “I’d like to see if Tony and Tim have adjusted to playing with those people who have such peculiar names. And why are those shorts so long? They aren’t at all short. They look like frocks to me.”
Ruby turned to Judith. “Is she for real?”
Judith smiled. “Arlene is one of the most real people on the planet. She’s the best neighbor and a very good friend. She just has a different way of making people think about things.”
“If you say so,” Ruby remarked doubtfully before she took another swig from her mug. “She makes damned good coffee, I’ll say that.”
Joe and Carl reappeared with Arlene. “Let’s take Ruby to our house,” Joe said. “It’s still raining hard.”
Ruby offered Joe a weak smile. “Thanks. You guys are great. I’m not used to people looking out for me.”
Five minutes later, Joe, Judith, and Ruby arrived at Hillside Manor’s back door. “Go ahead,” Joe said to Judith. “I’ve got Ruby.”
As usual, the back door was unlocked until ten o’clock. Judith stepped inside and thought the hallway seemed strangely cool. After hanging her jacket on a peg, she entered the kitchen. The usually pristine floor was tracked with dark patches.
“Joe?” she said, turning around to see him helping Ruby down the hall. “Did you come back over here?”
“No,” he said. “Has your mother vandalized the place?”
“It’s not Mother . . . her wheelchair would leave long tracks. Look.”
Joe kept his arm around Ruby. “Jesus!” he said under his breath. “Did a guest . . .” He steered Ruby into a kitchen chair. “Stay here. Both of you,” he ordered, suddenly the brisk, controlled policeman that Judith remembered from their first meeting forty years earlier. She stood motionless as he brushed past her, through the swinging half doors, and presumably into the front hall.
Ruby propped her head up on one hand. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Judith said, but jumped when she heard Joe swear again. “Something’s not quite right.”
“One of your guests?” Ruby inquired.
Judith shook her head. She couldn’t hear any further sound from Joe. Growing more anxious by the second, she was about to head for the front of the house when he returned to the kitchen, cell phone at his ear. “That’s right. The cul-de-sac. You make one smart-ass comment about 911 being called to this address and I’ll give you the address of the unemployment office.” He clicked off.
“What is it?” Judith asked.
Joe grimaced. “Lippy 911 operator,” he muttered, putting the cell back in his shirt pocket. “Okay,” he finally said, leaning on the back of an empty kitchen chair. “We probably had an intruder. Whoever it was came in through the back door but didn’t go out that way. Instead—I don’t know this for sure—whoever it was probably went to another part of the house because the wet marks end in the front hall.”
Judith shivered. “Is the intruder still here?”
Joe shook his head. “No, because the front door was open. I suspect whoever it was left when he—or she—heard us coming through the back. Until the cops get here, we don’t leave the kitchen.” He gave both Judith and Ruby a dour look. “Relax, ladies. Pretend you can enjoy yourselves. For now, Hillside Manor is a crime scene. What else is new?”
Chapter 4
The patrol officers who arrived within five minutes were known to the Flynns. They were also known to each other as an old and tired joke. The tall, lanky female was Smith; her short, stocky male partner was Wesson. After two years on the Heraldsgate Hill beat, Smith and Wesson had heard it all and laughed at none of it.
Judith remained in the kitchen with Ruby, but recognized the voices of the officers talking to Joe in the entry hall. “These cops are rather young, but they know what they’re doing,” she assured her bleary-eyed guest. “I’m glad they didn’t use their siren. Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink?”
“I feel like I’ve had plenty to drink,” Ruby replied, “but I don’t remember doing it. If I’m hungover, I’d like to know if I had fun.”
“Don’t push yourself,” Judith cautioned. “You may be in shock. After a good night’s sleep, things may start coming back to you.” She paused, hearing the voices of the trio grow fainter. “Joe must be going around the house with them. I wonder if they went into the living room or upstairs.”
Ruby looked up at the kitchen’s high ceiling. “Can you hear them walking around up there?”
Judith shook her head. “Not unless they tromp. As you may’ve noticed, the hall is carpeted.” She paused again. “Yes, they have gone upstairs. If they’d stayed on this floor, we could still hear them. I imagine Joe checked out the parlor and the living and dining rooms while he was waiting, so I assume nothing was amiss. I wonder if I should check on Mother. Do you mind if I run out to make sure she’s okay?”
Ruby shrugged. “Go ahead.”
Judith grabbed her jacket to ward off the rain. To her relief, Gertrude was at the card table, playing solitaire. “Well?” the old lady said. “To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?”
“I just thought I’d see if you were all right,” Judith explained. “Sometimes an accident like yours has a delayed reaction.”
Gertrude narrowed her faded blue eyes. “Like death?”
Judith expelled an exasperated sigh. “No, Mother. You know I worry about you.”
“Okay, Toots, I’ll give you credit for that much.” She slapped an ace on a deuce and palmed a string of clubs. “Gotcha! I win this game.”
“Good for you. It’s been quiet around here tonight, right? I mean, so you could focus on the cards.”
Gertrude scowled. “I can always focus on the cards. It’s your aunt Deb who drives me nuts when we play bridge. She likes to gab, and then we get into it when she’s my partner. I’m not there to visit, I’m there to . . .” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s goi
ng on? You find another stiff on the front porch?”
“Of course not!” Judith winced. Gertrude was the only person who could see through her daughter’s so-called fibs. “Okay, okay. Someone apparently came in the back door and walked through the house. It could’ve been a guest, but they usually use the front door because they have a key and know we don’t lock up until ten.”
“Did you call the cops or is Lunkhead pretending he remembers how to figure out how his pants got stolen while he was wearing them?”
“Two patrol officers are going through the house now.”
“So Dim Bulb doesn’t remember,” Gertrude said, putting the deck into her card shuffler. “I hope he’s not running around in his BVDs.”
“He’s not.” Judith remained patient. “Just make sure you’re locked in, and if you hear anything unusual, let me know.”
“Like your so-called better half’s brain working? If that happens, I won’t call you, I’ll call the Times and the TV stations. That’s news.”
Judith leaned down to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Fine. Just be careful.” She hurried out of the toolshed, but made sure that the door was securely locked behind her.
When she returned to the kitchen, Joe was coming through the half doors from the dining room. “I used your master key so Smith and Wesson could check all the rooms,” he said, looking grim. “Only one was disturbed.” His gaze turned to Ruby. “You’re in Room Two, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “It’s been trashed. What have you got that somebody wants?”
Ruby looked startled. “Nothing. I travel light. Besides, I don’t have anything worth stealing. Not even over-the-counter meds.”
Joe nodded once. “Okay, you can check to see if anything’s missing as soon as the cops finish processing the room. They don’t expect to find much, but you never know. I’m making sure they vacuum.”
“Vacuum?” Ruby was obviously puzzled.
“For hair, fibers, whatever,” Joe said . . . and grinned. “Don’t you watch crime shows on TV?”
