by Mary Daheim
“Great,” Geoff replied.
“Yummy,” Cindy declared. “Any chance we can stay tonight?”
“Oh,” Judith said with regret, “I wish you could, but I have a charity event. I’m booked solid.”
The couple exchanged glances. “Maybe it’s just as well,” Geoff said. “We’re supposed to meet with some animal-rescue people later today, and they’re located about thirty miles from the city. They offered to put us up for the night at some friends’ farmhouse nearby.”
Judith nodded. “Coming back this way in Friday commuter traffic would be a problem. I’m sorry, though. Next time you come to the city, don’t forget Hillside Manor.”
“We won’t,” Cindy vowed. “We may be here again in the early spring. We’re working on a project for an animal safe haven outside of Kamloops. That’s why we’re taking this trip instead of going skiing. There’s not a lot of snow yet this year, so we made this a working holiday. We’ve got ski slopes outside of Kamloops anyway.”
“The haven sounds like a worthwhile project,” Judith said, noticing that Sweetums had entered the dining room. “Would you take in cats?”
“Maybe,” Cindy answered with an uncertain look at Geoff. “We’ve been trying to decide the best way to go. Geoff wants to focus on larger animals, not just wild ones, but horses and other domesticated creatures. Small farms are disappearing and livestock owners can’t afford feed. Or are you referring to feral cats?”
Sweetums appeared to be stalking Addison, who had moved away from the buffet to Grandma Grover’s breakfront. Judith was about to answer when the cat rubbed his big yellow-and-white furry body against Addison’s leg. “Um . . . never mind,” she said, hearing Sweetums purr like a small-bore drill. Traitor, she thought as Addison reached down to pet the cat. The perverse animal must’ve sensed I was having an evil fantasy. She excused herself and returned to the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes after she’d started the first load of dishes for the day, Phyliss Rackley arrived. “I thought people eloped before they came here to honeymoon,” she declared, removing her plastic rain bonnet. “Or are you painting the house in this wet weather?”
Judith stared at her cleaning woman. “What do you mean?”
“The ladder out in the driveway,” Phyliss replied, bending over to remove her galoshes. “It’s outside of Room Three. A dog is on it. The Hound of Hell, I figure.”
“Oh no!” Judith cried. She started down the hallway past Phyliss, but before she could open the back door, a commotion erupted nearby.
“Told you so!” Phyliss called after Judith. “Satan’s chasing the elopers! That’s what happens to sinners who have carnal knowledge before they tie the knot!”
Turning the corner of the house, Judith heard angry voices and barking dogs. Almost slipping on the wet pavement, she grabbed a recycling bin to steady herself. Arlene was by the ladder, shouting at Alicia Beard-Smythe, who was four rungs up from the ground. Tulip, the Rankerses’ Boston terrier, was chasing Mayo down the driveway. Reggie’s rear end could be seen emerging from the second-floor window.
“Shame on you!” Arlene yelled, trying to shake the ladder. “You’re frauds! Are you trying to sneak out without paying poor Judith?”
Alicia held on for dear life. “Go away, you busybody! We’re trying to escape with our lives! This B&B is a house of horrors!”
“Nonsense!” Arlene retorted before noticing Judith. “Call the police!” She did a double take. “Wait—where’s Joe?”
“Never mind,” Judith said. “Let them go. I never want to see that pair again.”
Arlene backed off. “I don’t blame you. But what’s going on here? They told Carl on the phone they were locked in their room and wanted to come down for breakfast.”
“I’ll explain later,” Judith said under her breath, motioning for Arlene to step away from the ladder. “Go ahead, Alicia. Move your butt and take Reggie with you.”
“I can’t,” she said, slowly descending to the ground. “Reggie’s stuck in the window with the suitcase.”
Judith felt like gnashing her teeth. “Okay, I’ll get someone to fetch the damned suitcase so he can come down.”
Arlene backed away as Alicia stepped onto the driveway. Reggie apparently hadn’t heard that help was on the way. His legs were flailing away as his midsection writhed on the windowsill. Out of the corner of her eye, Judith saw Tulip still chasing Mayo around the cul-de-sac.
“Shall I get Carl?” Arlene whispered to Judith.
“No, I’ll get Addison,” she replied, watching Alicia stomp off to the Humvee. “I thought Carl was stuck under the dining room table.”
“He is, but . . .” Arlene stared at Judith. “Addison?”
“Never mind,” Judith said, heading for the rear of the house. “Come inside. You’re getting wet.”
Addison was at the back door. “What’s going on out there?”
Judith explained as concisely as possible. “So please get that idiot out of the window and throw the damned suitcase after him.”
“Will do.” Addison nodded vaguely at a wide-eyed Arlene and went up the back stairs.
“Who,” Arlene demanded, “is that?”
“He’s a newspaper reporter,” Judith replied. “And stop looking at me as if I’m Jezebel. Remember the actress Joan Fremont?”
“Yes, but . . . oh!” Arlene put a hand over her mouth.
Judith nodded, aware of what Arlene was thinking. “He’s helping me sort through what’s going on with Joe.”
Before Arlene could respond, Geoff and Cindy Owens entered the kitchen. “Is something wrong?” Geoff inquired.
Judith tried to maintain a calm demeanor. “One of our guests had a problem with the window in Room Three. He’s a fresh-air fiend.”
“Can we help?” Cindy asked, tugging at Geoff’s hand as if to offer her husband as a sacrificial lamb.
“No,” Judith said, “we’ve got everything—”
A loud crash from outside interrupted her words of reassurance.
Startled, Geoff dropped his wife’s hand. “What was that?”
“Probably Carl,” Arlene said, unperturbed. “He’ll be fine. He always is. He should never have brought the ladder over here for the Beard-Smythes to use.”
Judith played along with Arlene’s deception. “Carl’s so good-hearted.”
“It’s those Christmas lights,” Arlene said. “He usually takes them down right after New Year’s, but he kept putting it off because of his war injury. He was in Tasmania.”
The young couple glanced at each other. “Tasmania?” Geoff finally said. “That’s . . . unusual.”
Arlene waved a hand. “Tasmania, Romania, Albania—I always get those manias mixed up. I was never good at geography. It wasn’t really a war kind of war, it was business, but things got out of hand.” She turned around as Phyliss entered the kitchen from the hallway. “Oh, here’s dear Mrs. Rackley! Excuse us, it’s our Bible study time.” Grabbing a goggle-eyed Phyliss by the wrist, Arlene hauled the cleaning woman back down the hall and into the pantry. Good move, Judith thought. The last thing she needed was Phyliss to further muddy the already murky waters.
“Maybe,” Geoff said, “Cindy and I should go meet the animal-shelter people.”
Figuring that the B.C. couple probably already thought they were at the zoo, Judith nodded. “It’s wise to get a head start. The drive’s almost an hour if there’s traffic.”
“We have directions,” Cindy said hurriedly, following Geoff out of the kitchen. “Thanks again. It’s been . . .” Her voice trailed off, apparently stumped for the right word.
Addison came down the back stairs just as a squawking Phyliss flew out of the pantry. “Don’t try to tell me about Moses,” she cried. “He never rejected anyone who worshipped the Golden Cat!”
Arlene entered the hall. “He didn’t
? I thought that would please you. You always say unkind things about Sweetums.”
Phyliss paused at the top of the basement stairs. “It was the Golden Calf!”
“Oh.” Arlene was unfazed. “Cat, calf, cart, whatever. Catholics prefer the Bible’s sequel. The first part has so many peculiar names, and if you think I have trouble with Romania and—” She stopped as the cleaning woman flounced back down to the basement. “Really,” she said, putting out a hand to Addison, “that woman is very peculiar. You must be from the newspaper. I’m next door.”
“Arlene.” Addison smiled and shook her hand. “You are the font of all knowledge.”
“Not according to Phyliss,” Arlene responded. “The Old Testament is so long. Isn’t there a short version? You know—like the wrap-ups you do after a tiresome city council meeting. Those people go on and on.”
“They do indeed,” he agreed, accompanying Arlene into the kitchen. “Gasbags, most of them.”
Judith kept going to the front door to make sure the Humvee had left. She caught only the rear end of the big vehicle as it turned out of the cul-de-sac, but that was enough. “Good riddance,” she muttered, heading back to the kitchen.
Arlene had already begun to tell Addison what she knew about the Beard-Smythes. “He runs Smythe’s Suppliers. Reggie inherited his father’s business.”
Judith was surprised. “I didn’t know he was born into money.”
“He wasn’t,” Arlene said. “Mr. Smythe owned a pawnshop.”
“Indeed,” Addison remarked. “Reggie parlayed it into a fortune?”
“In a way,” Arlene said, accepting a mug of coffee from Judith. “It was a fluke, really. After Mr. Smythe died of drink, Reggie’s mother had to sell the shop. But first she wanted to make sure she got her money’s worth, so she asked a friend who was some sort of appraiser to go through the inventory. He—I think it was a he—discovered a first edition of Mark Twain’s . . .” She made a face. “I forget which book, not Huckleberry Finn or Tom Sawyer, but something less well known. Anyway, it was still worth a great deal of money. Mrs. Smythe sold it for a huge sum. Then she went to the track, put it all on a long shot in a big race, and won over five million dollars.”
“Good grief!” Judith cried. “Talk about luck!”
Arlene shook her head. “Not really. She got so excited that she had a heart attack and died on the spot, right by the paddock. Being an only child, Reggie inherited everything and went into business for himself by starting a supply company. He and Alicia had been married less than two years when that happened. Later, they moved from Reggie’s modest home by Boring Field to a big house just a few blocks from here.”
Addison had made a few notes. “What does Reggie supply?”
Arlene frowned. “I’m not sure. Equipment of some kind, I think. I know he recently got a big contract from a hotel chain. Alicia bragged about it after Mass one day. She insisted it was all because she made a novena to Saint Oddjack.”
Judith and Addison both looked puzzled. “Who or what is that?” he asked. “I’m not Catholic.”
Arlene waved a hand. “Oh, I’ve no idea, but Alicia insisted it was the saint her mother-in-law prayed to before that long shot came in. Some saints have obscure names, though the New Testament ones have nice, simple names like Mary and Joseph and John.” She looked at Judith. “Just think what’ll happen if this younger set is canonized. My grandchildren have names like Jade and Brooks and Parker and Tuba.”
Judith was looking even more perplexed. “Tuba? Which of your kids named somebody Tuba?”
“None of them,” Arlene replied, “but you think that won’t happen?”
“Well . . . anything’s possible,” Judith said. “By the way, how is Brooks feeling after his stomach upset the other day?”
“He’s fine.” Arlene shrugged. “Corinne Dooley told me that before school let out, ten more kiddies got sick, including one of their grandchildren, Carson. Now, what kind of name is that for a girl? That flu must be a twenty-four-hour type. At least none of the teachers came down with it.”
“The flu comes in all kinds these days,” Judith said, “and the vaccines don’t guarantee immunity.”
“I know,” Arlene agreed. “Carl and I got our shots . . . oh! I forgot to ask you about that car I saw in your driveway yesterday afternoon. I can’t tell what’s parked closer to your garage unless I stand on the upstairs toilet.”
Judith caught Addison’s bemused expression. “I’ve no idea. I wasn’t home at the time.”
“I suppose Joe was at work,” Arlene said, then suddenly looked in every direction. “Where is Joe? I haven’t seen his MG since day before yesterday. Did he have to go out of town?”
Briefly debating with herself, Judith decided to come at least semiclean. “Joe’s helping the police with their inquiries.”
Arlene rocked in her chair. “What? Doesn’t that usually mean someone’s committed a crime and is tortured until there’s a confession?”
Judith grimaced. “Not this time. Did you hear anything about a man who was shot in a condo at the north end of Lake Concord?”
Arlene looked stunned. “Joe was shot by the police? No wonder he’s helping them! They obviously don’t know what they’re doing. Things haven’t been the same since Chief Silver Fox retired. Now, there was a real policeman.”
Judith had lived on Heraldsgate Hill for only a short time before learning of her neighbor’s frequent encounters with a former police chief whose real name was Lloyd Volpe. Arlene always called him the Silver Fox because of his lush, prematurely white hair. They’d been on a first-name basis due to her frequent calls while the infamous Underwear Thief was on the loose. The burglar had a fetish for women’s lingerie, and his loot had included what Gertrude called her “bloomers.” But even before Carl had become the Block Watch captain, Arlene’s sharp eyes and keen instincts had reported every possible crime or suspicious character in the area directly to the police chief. It was only after Judith had reunited with Joe that she’d met Volpe at his retirement party some years later.
“No,” Judith said, “Joe wasn’t shot. He was on surveillance near the site when it happened.” She didn’t want to go into details. “I haven’t had a chance to watch TV or the newspapers. I thought you might’ve seen or read something about the shooting.”
Arlene thought for a moment. “Oh, that shooting. There’ve been so many of them lately. Yes, Mavis Lean-Brodie mentioned it briefly last night on KINE’s five o’clock news.” She turned to Addison. “Are you writing a story about it?”
Addison seemed absorbed in the dregs of his coffee mug. Judith could have sworn that he was trying to keep from laughing. He turned his attention to Arlene. “I filed an equally brief account. It’s probably buried in the regional catchall section. I only had the bare facts.”
“Maybe,” Judith said to Addison, changing the subject, “you should ask Arlene about background for your City Hall investigation.”
“Of course.” His expression was faintly puckish as he posed a question. “How about those Paines?”
Arlene scowled. “Why are you asking me these questions? None of these people, including the Beard-Smythes, have anything to do with City Hall. The Paine children grew up here, but I don’t think most of them live in the city. Norma’s always complaining about not seeing them often enough.” She glanced at Judith. “Isn’t that so?”
Judith shrugged. “That’s why Addison is asking you. Mike was only at SOTS for a short time before we had to move. I was working, so I wasn’t able to get involved with the parents’ club. Dan wouldn’t bother, so I never knew the younger generation. I didn’t meet the senior Paines until I moved back to Heraldsgate Hill. I think most of their kids were older than Mike. Norma mentioned having adult grandchildren.”
Arlene looked thoughtful. “Yes—they probably do. Norma always insisted she and I were the sam
e age. We were—but in different years.”
Addison, who had started to nod, burst out laughing. “Oh, Arlene—if I may call you that?”
“Of course you may,” she retorted. “It is my name. Go on.”
Addison composed himself. “Here’s the situation.” He looked quickly at Judith as if for approval. “I’m covering a story that may touch upon corruption at City Hall. Joe got involved through his work as a PI. I’m trying to find out if there’s a link between his last surveillance job and anyone who has recently stayed or is going to stay at the B&B.”
Arlene frowned. “Such as the couple leaving this very minute?”
“Yes,” Addison replied as the front door closed. He stared at Arlene. “How did you know that? You can’t see the front hall from here.”
“I can’t see, but I can hear,” Arlene said, pointing to the ceiling and looking at Judith. “Room Six, correct? I heard them coming out into the hall. When Carl and I take over the B&B for you, I make sure I’m attuned to whoever is about to come down for breakfast.”
Judith smiled at Arlene. “You’ve always had very acute hearing.”
“I’ve had to,” Arlene declared. “Raising five children in a house that’s almost identical to this one, I trained myself to hear them sneak back in when they broke curfew.” She zeroed in on Addison. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about.”
Addison grimaced. “That’s the problem—neither do I. Right now I’m trying to connect the dots. The Beard-Smythes and the Paines who are coming tonight are local. Even if they don’t live in town, they have a connection with the city because they were raised here. I can eliminate most of the other guests, like the B.C. couple who just left.”
Arlene’s pretty face was puzzled. “You can? I thought they’d be at the top of your list.”
Judith and Addison stared at Arlene. “You mean,” Judith said, “because they’re Canadians?”
Arlene shrugged. “He might be, but his wife isn’t. She was born and raised here. I doubt Cindy remembers me, but I certainly recognized her.” She turned to Judith. “You know that years ago I worked at Donner & Blitzen department store during the holidays to make extra money and take advantage of their post-Christmas sales. The full-time employee in charge of the department was Cindy’s mother. Surely you remember me talking about Jean Rogers.”
