All the Pretty Hearses

by Mary Daheim

  Gertrude scowled at the items on the tray. “Store-bought cookies? What’s wrong with you? Did the oven blow up?”

  “I haven’t had time to bake,” Judith admitted. “Don’t you still have some of the spritz cookies left? I made four batches.”

  “When? In 2002? The last ones I ate were like hockey pucks. I almost busted my dentures.” She returned her gaze to the tray. “Where’s the horseradish? You know I like horseradish with pot roast. You gave me some last night for supper.”

  “I forgot,” Judith confessed. “I’ll go get it.” She started for the door. “Oh,” she said, turning around, “do you know where Joe went?”

  Gertrude was about to bite into a sour-cream-and-onion chip. “Yeah, I know. He went to jail.” She popped the chip into her mouth and chewed with gusto.

  Judith sighed. “Never mind. I’ll be right back.”

  She had one foot on the path between the toolshed and the house when Gertrude spoke again. “Aren’t you going to bail him out?”

  Judith stepped back inside to get out of the rain. “Of course not. I . . .” The serious expression on her mother’s face made her pause. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Gertrude shook her head. “I wouldn’t kid about that. Serves him right for being such a knucklehead. Didn’t I always tell you that when it came to men, you should’ve been born wearing a dunce cap?”

  “Mother!” Judith marched back to the card table, leaving the door open behind her. “What are you talking about?”

  Gertrude’s faded blue eyes met her daughter’s anxious stare. “I saw it happen. I went to let Sweetums out a half hour or so ago and there was Dumbbell being hauled off by the cops, handcuffs and all. I haven’t had so much fun since Dan’s funeral.”

  Chapter Four

  Judith didn’t know what to think. Maybe her mother really was gaga. Sometimes when the old lady dozed off, she’d wake up and insist what she’d dreamed had actually happened. To give herself a moment to recover, Judith went back inside the toolshed.

  “Tell me again what you saw,” she said, trying to remain calm.

  Gertrude nibbled at her sandwich before replying. “I looked into the driveway and sure enough, there was a squad car where your old clunk is parked now. See for yourself. Dimwit’s fancy sports car must still be in the garage.”

  Judith had closed the double garage when she’d pulled out to go grocery shopping. It was a long-standing habit to prevent Sweetums from getting himself trapped inside if the doors were left open. His eventual release always made him even more fractious and destructive than usual. Without another word, Judith started out of the toolshed.

  “Hey,” Gertrude called after her, “don’t forget the horse—”

  The slamming of the door cut off the rest of the old lady’s words. Judith rushed to the garage keypad. It took her four tries before her trembling fingers could enter the correct combination. The door seemed to open in slow motion, but when she saw the lower part of Joe’s classic MG, she knew her mother wasn’t hallucinating.

  The rain was coming down harder. Hurrying into the house, she pulled the hood up over her already wet hair. Phyliss met her in the hallway by the back stairs.

  “Where’s Noah and his ark when we really need him?” she demanded. “This is a real downpour.”

  “Never mind Noah,” Judith snapped. “What happened to Joe?”

  “Joe?” Phyliss’s prunelike face was blank. “Has he fallen into Satan’s clutches again?”

  “The police,” Judith said impatiently. “Were the police here?”

  Phyliss blinked two or three times. “To arrest Satan?”

  “Stop it!” Judith shrieked. “Yes or no?”

  Phyliss gave a start. “Yes or no what?”

  “Oooh . . .” Judith leaned against the wall and took several deep breaths. “Did you see Joe leave the house?” she finally asked, trying to keep her voice and manner under control.

  “No. I’ve been doing laundry in the basement.” Phyliss seemed to realize that Judith was distressed. “I haven’t seen Mr. F. since he came down to the kitchen to get some coffee around eleven. If there were any policemen around here, I wouldn’t know unless they had their sirens on. That’s what they usually do when they come here, isn’t it?”

  “They wouldn’t,” Judith murmured. “Excuse me, Phyliss. I have to make a phone call.”

  “Shall I pray on it?” Phyliss called as Judith went into the kitchen.

  “Yes.” For once, prayers from Phyliss didn’t seem so outrageous. Judith had Woody’s work number on her bulletin board by the entrance to the dining room. She carefully dialed the number, and didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she heard a recording saying that Captain Woodrow Price could now be reached at 206-555-7441.

  After jotting down the new number, she dialed again. A female voice with a slight Hispanic accent answered. “I am so sorry,” she said after Judith had asked to speak to Woody, “but Captain Price is working a case. Would you care to leave a message or may I help you?”

  “Ah . . . maybe,” Judith replied. “Is he on the Towne homicide?”

  The silence at the other end was further unsettling. “Captain Price is out of the office,” the woman said at last, sounding a trifle shaken as well. “I can leave him your name and number.”

  “No,” Judith said. “I’ll call back later. Thanks anyway.”

  She sat down at the kitchen table, considering her options. Three of the city’s five precincts surrounded the lake. If Delemetrios reported to Woody, then it must be the West Precinct, which included her own neighborhood. The station’s headquarters was located between the south end of the hill and downtown. Judith’s watch informed her it was only a few minutes after one o’clock. Guests wouldn’t be arriving until four, the official check-in time at Hillside Manor. Maybe she should go to the station and find out what was happening.

  As often as Judith had been involved with the police department over the years, both officially and unofficially, she didn’t relish the idea of going alone. Renie was the logical choice, but she was busy. Arlene would be glad to help and Carl was the Block Watch captain. Judith dialed the Rankerses’ number, but got their recorded message. Frustrated, she tried to think who else might be willing to join her. It suddenly dawned on her that Bill would be an ideal choice. He was smart, focused, and had a knack for going straight to the heart of any problem. He could be as pigheaded as Renie, but that wasn’t always a drawback. The only problem was that he never answered the phone.

  Judith took a chance and dialed the Joneses’ house on the other side of the hill.

  “What now?” Renie demanded.

  “Hi, coz,” Judith said meekly. “Is Bill around?”

  “He’s rounder than he used to be,” Renie snapped. “And you’re obtuse. Why are you calling when you know I’m up to my ears in work?”

  “I’m not calling you,” Judith said, trying to keep her nerves and her impatience in check. “I’m calling Bill.”

  “Are you crazy? You know he hates the telephone even more than your mother does. If you want to reach Bill, send him a letter. He doesn’t open his mail very often, but you might get lucky. Just mark the envelope ‘Attention Oscar.’ ”

  “Even Oscar would be nicer than you’re being,” Judith shot back. “I really need to talk to your husband. This is serious.”

  “It is?” Renie’s voice changed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Joe’s been arrested.”

  “What?” Renie’s shriek stung Judith’s ear.

  “You heard me,” Judith snapped. “I want Bill to go with me to the police station.”

  A sudden silence followed. “You’re not joking,” Renie finally said, suddenly serious. “Bill’s not here. He just left to get his hairs cut. All eight of them. What’s going on?”

  “It’s that insuran
ce case murder,” Judith began. “I don’t know what’s happening with Joe, but Mother told me—”

  “Skip it. I’ll be right there. Bill walked to the barbershop. I’ll leave him a note.” She hung up.

  Judith put the phone down. She was shaking, but didn’t know if it was from fear or relief—or both. Seven minutes later, Renie pulled up in front of the B&B and honked. Judith had already told Phyliss she was going out and to please let Gertrude know. For once, the cleaning woman didn’t grumble about having to confront Judith’s mother.

  “I figured you’d be ready to roll,” Renie said as Judith got into the car. “Where to? Our precinct station?”

  Judith nodded.

  Renie turned to exit the cul-de-sac. “Dare I ask why your husband got collared? Not soliciting, I hope.”

  “He’s a homicide suspect.”

  “Oh. That’s a change.”

  Judith nodded again.

  “Why,” Renie inquired as she headed for Heraldsgate Avenue, “would he kill the subject of his surveillance? That means he gets paid for only what? A couple of days?”

  Judith kept nodding.

  “Why did you ask for Bill? Did you want him to give his professional opinion that Joe is nuts so he can enter an insanity plea?”

  Judith scowled at Renie. “Of course not. I knew you were busy, and Bill is never daunted by any situation. He has a very rational mind, not to mention that he never digresses from the matter at hand.”

  “True,” Renie conceded, starting down the steep street known as the Counterbalance from the era when a cable car ran from top to bottom. “A bit of the bulldog in Bill, but if Joe shot the guy, why not wait until the end of the week so he could collect more money from SANECO?”

  “Coz!” Judith cried. “This is serious!”

  “It’s also absurd,” Renie said. “We know he didn’t shoot him, and if Woody’s on the job, he knows it, too. This is a mere inconvenience. I figure Joe will confess so he won’t have you trying to solve the case, and for once, your husband can have some peace and quiet in a nice cell for a few days until the real detectives find the perp whodunit.”

  In Judith’s current frazzled state, her cousin’s rationale almost made sense. “You don’t really think . . . ? Or do you?”

  Renie shrugged as she stopped for a red light at the bottom of the hill. “You have to admit it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had—looking at it from Joe’s standpoint.”

  Judith was thoughtful for a moment. “Do you think he’s set this whole thing up to help do just that?”

  Renie grimaced as she drove away from Heraldsgate Hill toward the city center. “That idea crossed my mind.”

  “So maybe he is helping them,” Judith said as much to herself as to her cousin. “Maybe Mother didn’t see him in handcuffs.”

  “Handcuffs?” Renie almost rear-ended the car that had stopped in front of her at the crosswalk. “That . . . um . . . sounds like an unnecessary touch. I mean, unless Joe and the cops think Arlene and Carl or the Porters or the Steins—”

  “I get it,” Judith interrupted. “I don’t think our neighbors are suspects. At least not this time around.”

  “True,” Renie allowed, driving more slowly as traffic increased. “You’ve already had your share of victims and perps in the cul-de-sac.” She made the turn onto the street that led to the precinct station. “Are you sure this is where they’ve taken Joe?”

  “You mean instead of to headquarters further downtown?”

  “Right.”

  “I . . . I don’t know,” Judith admitted. “It’s where Woody is located since his promotion. I wonder why he’s ‘acting’ captain?”

  “Maybe he needs to rehearse,” Renie said, though the lightness in her voice was forced. “You know how much Woody likes opera. A dress rehearsal would probably suit him.” She slowed to a crawl as the station came into view. “Where do we park? The lot’s full. So are all the parking places on the street.”

  “Drive around the block,” Judith said, rummaging in her purse to find the new cell phone her son, Mike, and his wife, Kristin, had given her for Christmas. “I’m calling the main headquarters.”

  “Okay.” Renie turned the corner—and found herself facing a detour sign in front of what was obviously a construction project. “Dammit! I’d like to go someplace in this stupid city where the streets weren’t closed or some giant crane wasn’t looming over my head.” She put the Camry into reverse—and realized that a cement mixer was blocking her exit. “Oh, crap! Now we’re stuck! What am I supposed to do?” Swearing under her breath, she began honking the horn.

  “Hey,” Judith said, having dialed the downtown police-department number she’d memorized long ago. “I can’t hear.”

  Renie ignored her and got out of the car, leaving the motor running. A faint voice answered. “Homicide, please,” Judith said, a finger in her other ear to block out her cousin’s shouts at the cement mixer’s driver. She winced when a jackhammer began pounding away at the construction site. A second voice spoke into the phone, but Judith couldn’t make out what was being said. Frustrated, she disconnected—just as Renie approached with a man in a hard hat.

  “Hey, coz,” Renie called, “it’s Kevin Rankers. He’ll back up.”

  Judith recognized the Rankerses’ elder son immediately. “Hi, Kevin. What are you doing here?”

  Kevin grinned at Judith. “Supervising.” He had to raise his voice to be heard above the din. “I followed your example and got a hip replacement a couple of months ago. I can’t do any of the grunt work for my construction company, so I decided to drive one of the trucks to keep my hand in. Office work bores me stiff.”

  To Judith’s relief, the jackhammer stopped. “I heard you’d had the surgery,” she said. “How’s it going?”

  Kevin shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Hey—is it true you’ve got a bunch of Paines spending the night tomorrow? I went through school with Andy. Watch that guy—he’s a big eater.”

  Lactose-intolerant, Judith remembered. “Is he the oldest Paine?”

  “Right,” Kevin replied, stepping aside so Renie could get back in the driver’s seat. “His wife’s Paulina. Hey, I better move the truck. Good luck with the Paines.”

  Renie was wiping rain from her face. “Did you call headquarters?”

  “Yes,” Judith said, “but I couldn’t hear a damned thing. I still think that’s where Joe must be. I was so upset that I wasn’t thinking straight, but at least that’s how it worked with a homicide suspect when Joe was on the force.” She leaned back in the seat. “I can hardly believe he’s been arrested. I keep thinking I’m having a very bad dream.”

  Renie was looking into the rearview mirror, watching Kevin reverse the cement mixer. “Tell me more about the actual incident. You sort of breezed through it earlier.”

  As the cousins drove farther into downtown, Judith tried to recall the details of what had happened while Joe was on surveillance. She finished just as they reached the city’s police headquarters.

  “Parking may be hard to find, so I’ll drop you off,” Renie said, pulling up by the main entrance.

  “Thanks.” Judith smiled wanly at Renie before getting out of the car. Her jaw dropped as she paused in front of the building. Even though Joe had mentioned that a new headquarters had been built recently, and she had probably driven by it several times, Judith hadn’t realized how imposing the gleaming new glass-and-steel edifice was up close. The steps to the main doors seemed daunting, but there was also a handicapped-accessible walkway. Braving the rain, she decided to take her time and use the ramp instead of the stairs.

  A husky security guard who looked as if he might be Samoan was posted in the lobby by the elevators. A bald man wearing a trench coat was opening his briefcase; a woman whose sari fell in graceful folds beneath her raincoat was showing the contents of her purse. Judith tried
to remember how long it had been since her last visit to the old headquarters. Four or five years, maybe? Time passed so quickly. Unable to recall when or why, she moved toward the security guard as the man and woman headed for the elevators.

  “Here,” Judith said, handing her wallet to the guard whose name tag identified him as Jonathan Tupali. “Should I take out my driver’s license?”

  “Yes, please,” he said in a soft voice.

  She fumbled a bit, trying to remove the license out of its slot. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Here. Do you want me to take everything out of my purse or—”

  “That’s fine,” the young man said, handing back the license. “Go ahead.” He nodded toward the elevators. “Fifth floor, Mrs. Flynn.”

  “Thank you.” Judith was pressing the button when it dawned on her that she hadn’t asked for directions. She turned around to ask how he knew where she was going, but he was checking through another visitor’s items. The elevator arrived. Judith got in and poked the fifth-floor button. According to the list of departments, Booking was one of the sections on five. As the car rose, her heart sank. This can’t be real, she told herself—but it was. The elevator slid open to reveal an area that—despite its cleanliness and fresh paint—felt like the entrance to Dante’s Inferno. Listings, arrows, a directory of the floor’s various departments in a dozen different languages overwhelmed her. Frustrated by what struck her as a criminal-justice maze, she approached a young dark-skinned woman at the reception desk.

  “Yes?” the young woman said with a faint smile. “May I help you?”

  Not in the way I want, Judith thought, unless you can rouse me from this nightmare. She glanced at the woman’s name tag. “Yes, Darcy. I’m looking for my husband, Joe Flynn,” Judith said, trying to make her request discreet. She cleared her throat. “He’s a retired homicide detective with the department.”

  “Oh,” Darcy said, seemingly enlightened. “So you think he may be visiting some of his old friends here?”

  “Well . . . maybe. His longtime partner was Woodrow Price.”

  Darcy smiled. “Oh, Captain Price. He’s assigned to the West Precinct. Mr. Flynn may be at the uptown station.”