All the Pretty Hearses

by Mary Daheim

  “My neighbor,” Judith said. “She worked with your mother-in-law at one of our department stores several years ago. Let’s go in. It’s chilly out here.”

  Geoff seemed uneasy, but he trooped after Judith. “We really should be on our way.”

  “I already am,” Renie said. “I’ll catch up with you later, coz. Bye, Addison.” She blew Gertrude a kiss. “The next time you pull a stunt like that, I’m going to let you crash and burn, you crazy old coot.”

  “Go ahead,” Gertrude muttered. “I need to have some fun once in a while, Toots.”

  “Take a seat,” Judith said to Geoff. “Your wife won’t escape from Arlene for at least ten minutes. Now tell me the real reason why you came back here.”

  Geoff slipped into the place that Renie had occupied, warily eyeing Judith and Addison. Gertrude edged her wheelchair closer to the table. “This is fun, too,” the old lady declared. “Are we playing grill the suspect? Can I pretend this good-looking foreigner is Lunkhead and give him a hotfoot?”

  “Mother . . .” Judith began in a warning tone, “please.”

  Gertrude shrugged. “Please yourself.” She adjusted her baggy cardigan around her shoulders and gave Addison her sweetest smile.

  “See here, Mrs. Flynn,” Geoff began earnestly, “I can’t tell you why we came back. Word of honor.” He glanced at Gertrude. “As a so-called foreigner, Queen Elizabeth couldn’t make me tell her the reason. I might add that she’d approve wholeheartedly if I could.”

  “Off with his head,” Gertrude murmured.

  Judith ignored her mother. “Let me take a wild guess. You came to fetch the horse.”

  The color drained from Geoff’s face. “I . . . we . . . how did you know?”

  “It’s not exactly nuclear physics,” Judith said, trying not to sound impatient. “You’re involved with animal rescue people. Judging from the distance you mentioned between my B&B and where you were headed when you left, I assume you intended to collect the horse that was in our garage and take it to their sanctuary not far from the mountains, Pedro’s Paradise. Someone got here before you could get the poor animal and shot it. Then someone carted it off last night—evening, I should say. The horse’s carcass was gone when we . . . I returned from downtown shortly before midnight.”

  Geoff gaped at Judith. “You mean Son of Scarlet’s . . . dead?”

  Judith was bewildered. “The horse that was brought here was called Knickers.”

  “Oh,” Geoff said, “that was the name the previous owner used, but the horse had been renamed.” His voice was leaden. “This is awful. Son of Scarlet is a Thoroughbred.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Judith said. “Do you have any idea who would want to destroy the poor animal?”

  Geoff couldn’t seem to answer right away. “No,” he said at last. “Stealing, maybe. But there’s no way anyone who knows anything about horseflesh would kill an animal like that one.”

  “Who told you about the horse in the first place?” Judith asked.

  Once again, Geoff became reticent. “I won’t say more.” He spread his hands in a pleading gesture. “I can’t involve innocent people. “Not even you and Mr. Flynn.”

  “Actually,” Addison began, “I’m not . . .”

  Judith dug her nails into Addison’s arm under the table. “My husband and I are involved. Deeply so. But I understand. Go ahead, extract your wife from Mrs. Rankers’s fond clutches and drive safely.”

  Geoff’s whole body sagged with apparent relief. “Thank you. After what you just told me about Son of Scarlet, I’m not sure we’ll be heading home after all. In fact, do you have a vacancy for tonight?”

  Judith considered the pros and cons of hosting the couple again. “I do. I had a special event last night and couldn’t accept guests who wanted to stay over the weekend. You can take your previous room.”

  “Thanks,” Geoff said, getting to his feet. “I’ll talk to Cindy.”

  “Good luck,” Judith said.

  Geoff went through the swinging doors and almost collided with his wife. “We’re staying here,” he told her. “Mrs. Flynn has room for us because of last night’s auction party.”

  “Oh!” Cindy looked uncertain. “Are you sure we should?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “Come on, we have work to do. It seems we don’t need that horse trailer after all.” He turned back to Judith. “We’ll see you later. Okay?”

  “Of course,” Judith said with a tight little smile.

  The Owenses took their leave as Arlene reentered the kitchen. “Well! Such fun catching up with Cindy now that she’s all grown and married,” she said, putting her arm around Gertrude’s sloping shoulders. “Oh, the tomato paste! Judith, do you—”

  “In the pantry,” Judith interrupted. “Take two. I’ve got plenty.”

  “No, just one. I’ll pay you back,” Arlene insisted, hugging Gertrude before starting toward the back hall. “I always do.” She disappeared into the pantry, but emerged within seconds. “Time for Carl’s back massage.” She paused to gaze at the can of tomato paste. “I wonder if this would help his . . . never mind.” She hurried out of the house.

  Gertrude had rolled as far as the fridge. “I should leave you two lovebirds alone. I’m taking my lunch with me—stuff I like, for a change.” As good as her word, she stockpiled cheeses, lunch meats, and dill pickles into her lap. “It’s time for my Saturday TV comedy show. There’s a channel that has a recap of our state legislature not at work.” She flipped the switch on her wheelchair and headed down the hall.

  Judith awkwardly stood up. “It’s not yet one o’clock and I slept in and I still feel worn-out.” She poured a glass of water and took two Excedrin for the onset of another headache. “What do you make of the Owenses’ attempted rescue of the dead horse?”

  Addison had also risen from his chair. “What am I to make of you clawing me when Geoff Owens thought I was Mr. Flynn?”

  “Sorry,” Judith said, draining the water glass. “Did you want to get sidetracked about how and why the real Mr. Flynn is in police custody?”

  “I’m not complaining,” Addison said, wandering over to the counter under the cupboard. “You didn’t draw blood. I was flattered.”

  “Don’t say things like that,” Judith snapped. “The last thing I need right now is . . . complications.”

  “I apologize.” He leaned against the counter, looking embarrassed.

  “Never mind,” Judith said. “Did you notice that Geoff mentioned the school auction?”

  Addison shrugged. “So?”

  “I referred to last night’s disaster as an event. So how did Geoff know it was connected to the SOTS auction?”

  “Good point.” Addison turned thoughtful. “I feel like a fool.”

  “Why?”

  “For embarrassing both of us. I apologize. Widowerhood doesn’t sit well with me.” He gave Judith a crooked smile. “I’m calling Paulina.”

  Judith was so disconcerted that she couldn’t immediately remember who Paulina was. “Oh—you mean about the twins and the horse?”

  “It’s as good an excuse as any,” he murmured, and left the kitchen via the dining room.

  Fine, Judith thought. I don’t need an excuse to call Joe. She picked up the phone and dialed police headquarters. Five minutes later, she finally got through to someone who seemed to know something. “Captain Price and Mr. Flynn have left the building,” the faintly familiar male voice at the other end informed her.

  “Del?” Judith said.

  “Uh . . . yes?”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, this is Joe’s wife, Judith Flynn. Are you the only one holding down the fort on the condo homicide case?”

  “As a matter of fact,” he responded, “I was about to go home. If I can remember where I live at this point.”

  “Before you do that,” she said,
assuming a less antagonistic tone, “please tell me if you people have tracked down Hannah Conrad.”

  “We haven’t,” Del admitted. “We called her parents, but they refused to talk to us. Mrs. Paine was very rude and hung up on me.”

  Judith sighed. “Why don’t you arrest her for impeding justice?”

  “Under the circumstances, that would be unwise,” Del said primly. “We can hardly do that when she hasn’t yet been informed that her son-in-law has been murdered.”

  “I suppose not. Where have Joe and Woody gone?”

  “I can’t tell you,” Del said.

  “It should be a food supply company called ARBS on the southwest edge of Heraldsgate Hill,” Judith said. “If not, tell them that’s their next stop.” She hung up the phone before the young tec could respond.

  Originally, her next task had been to run down the twins. But Addison was going to get in touch with their mother, Paulina. Given his current state of lonely self-pity and Mrs. Andrew Paine’s obvious disdain for her husband, touch might be the operative word. Chase and Chad looked about twenty years old. It was possible that they didn’t live at home. She got out the phone book, but there was no listing for either of the twins. Thwarted, she shoved the directory back in the cupboard. Maybe it was time to put aside solving the mysteries that hovered over the Paines and the rest of what seemed to be a frustratingly complex homicide case that might or might not lead to someone at City Hall.

  Without Phyliss, who rarely worked weekends, Judith had to make sure the rooms were ready for the incoming guests. She spent the next hour on the second floor. Since the Paines hadn’t stayed overnight, there wasn’t much to do except some light housekeeping. Assuming Addison wouldn’t move out, she didn’t bother with Room One.

  A little after three o’clock, Judith was using some of her leftovers from the previous evening for the social hour when she realized she hadn’t seen or heard Addison since he’d mentioned calling Paulina Paine. Going to the front door, she looked outside to see if his Rover was parked where he’d left it after they’d returned from downtown the previous night.

  The car was nowhere in sight. She went to the end of the porch, thinking he might have pulled it into the driveway. The Rover wasn’t there either. Maybe he’d gone to see Paulina. Or maybe he’d just gone. Maybe that was just as well.

  Back inside, she heard the grandfather clock chime the quarter hour after three. Otherwise, the house was quiet. Too quiet. Despite being a social animal, Judith occasionally appreciated a respite from other human beings, but there was something unnatural about the silence that enveloped her.

  On a whim, she went out the back door and opened the garage. Maybe there was something that Addison had overlooked when he’d checked the interior after discovering that the horse carcass had been removed. The first thing she realized was that the temperature was dropping. Though the rain was fairly light, the clouds were heavy and low. It felt as if it could snow. Judith decided that as soon as she had given the garage a once-over, she’d move Joe’s MG back into its usual spot next to her Subaru.

  The first thing that struck her about the garage was that it was relatively clean. The twins must’ve provided the horse with feed and water, but there was no sign of either necessity. Joe kept the garage reasonably tidy, though there were some dried leaves and oil stains on the cement floor. What wasn’t there was more intriguing than what was: Judith saw no blood. Surely if the horse had been shot, the animal would have bled. It might also have thrashed around before dying. She’d heard the gunfire. At least she’d assumed it was a gun that had been discharged. But could she have been mistaken? So much else was going on inside the house at the time. For several minutes, she continued her inspection, but found nothing of interest. Stumped, she went back inside to get the MG’s keys.

  Fifteen minutes later, Joe’s beloved sports car was in the garage and Judith was at the front door, admitting the couple from Savannah. Marvella and Roscoe Billingsley were middle-aged, pleasant, and portly. Fortunately, they’d reserved Room Three, the largest room, and the only one with a king-sized bed.

  Virtually on their heels came the Lexington duo. They had been on the same connecting flight out of Detroit. Tall, dark, and handsome, Qani Rahman and Darab Abdel were dressed in what looked like expensive casual clothes. They had only one sleek leather suitcase, explaining that since they were flying to Dubai the following morning, the rest of their luggage had been stored at the airport.

  “We are here only for a brief meeting,” Qani—or maybe Darab—told her. Judith was so dazzled by their good looks that she couldn’t remember which was which. “We expect the arrival soon of our business contact. Will you announce her to us?”

  “Of course,” Judith said. “You’re in Room Six. Here are your keys. If you go out this evening, I lock the front door at ten.”

  The other young man nodded. “We shall decide later,” he said.

  “That’s fine,” Judith said, smiling. “You both speak beautiful English.”

  “Oxford,” said Qani—or Darab.

  “Cambridge,” said Darab—or Qani, and both men laughed, showing brilliant white teeth.

  “Either one works for me,” Judith assured them. “The social hour is at six, by the way. That is, if you aren’t in your meeting.”

  They both nodded, smiled some more, and went upstairs. An hour passed before the two older women from Chicago showed up looking frazzled. Their flight from O’Hare had been delayed for almost two hours, their luggage had been misplaced but finally found in a storage bin, and they were in desperate need of a nap. Judith did her best to soothe them, although when they started arguing with each other, she handed over their keys and excused herself.

  Just before six, the front doorbell rang. Expecting Cindy and Geoff Owens, she was surprised to see Zoë Paine standing on the porch.

  “Come in,” Judith said. “Did you forget something?”

  Entering the house, Zoë looked nonplussed. “No. Why?”

  “Ah . . . I didn’t know . . . I mean, I didn’t expect to see you again.”

  “Oh.” She undid a striped muffler and removed her woolen gloves. “I’m here to meet with the cousins.”

  “Cousins? What cousins?”

  “The emir’s dudes,” Zoë said. “Don’t tell me they haven’t arrived.”

  “Oh! Those cousins. I didn’t realize they were related. Yes, they’re upstairs. I’ll let them know you’re here.”

  Before reaching the second landing, Judith encountered the Billingsleys of Savannah coming down the stairs. “I’ll set the appetizers on the living room buffet as soon as I deliver a message,” she informed them. “The sherry and sparkling cider are already there.” She squeezed past the chubby couple and continued on her mission.

  A single knock on Room Six’s door brought an immediate response. Both young men appeared when the door opened. “Yes?” they said simultaneously.

  “Zoë Paine is here to see you,” Judith said. “I’ll show you into the parlor. The other guests are gathering in the living room.”

  “Excellent,” one of the young men murmured, following Judith down the hall. She didn’t speak again until they reached the bottom of the stairs, where Zoë was waiting, an impatient expression on her face.

  Apparently, the visitors had not met Zoë. Elaborate introductions followed, accompanied by bows on the men’s part and an increasingly irritated look on Zoë’s face. Judith finally interrupted by indicating the door to the parlor.

  “If you wish,” she said, ushering them into the cozy room, “there are beverages and appetizers on the buffet in the living room.” She pointed to the second door by the far wall. “You can go through there. If there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “We’re fine,” Zoë said. “This won’t take long.”

  Judith knew a tone of dismissal when she heard o
ne. The Chicago women had arrived in the entry hall, looking slightly less harried. Judith informed them she was fetching the hors d’oeuvres and moved on to the kitchen. Adding a bowl of salmon pâté to the tray, she went into the living room, relieved to see the chatty couple from Savannah engaging the Chicago women in what seemed to be amiable conversation.

  Coming back into the hall, she noted that the door to the parlor was still closed. There was no way she could eavesdrop. The house’s original oak doors were too thick. Besides, Gertrude would be champing at the bit for her supper.

  Before Judith could figure out what to serve her mother, she noticed that the red light was glowing on her phone’s base, indicating that a call had come in while she’d been away from the kitchen. With a heavy sigh, she picked up the receiver and dialed her voice-mail code.

  “I won’t be back tonight,” Addison said in a slightly strained voice. “I’ll call you sometime tomorrow.” The message ended abruptly.

  Fine, Judith thought. Men are all idiots. She was tempted to call Renie and say as much, just to let off steam. Then she realized it was after six, and Bill didn’t permit taking calls during the dinner hour. Bill was an idiot, too. So was Carl, for trying to carry a heavy ladder with his bad back, and Mike, for not calling his mother in the past week to see if she was alive. As for Joe and Woody and that young nincompoop, Del. . .

  Judith continued to fume inwardly while she took Gertrude’s dinner out to the toolshed. “Ham, creamed corn, french fries, and chocolate pudding,” she said, placing the tray in front of her mother. “Like it or lump it.”

  “Well, well,” the old lady said, “somebody’s cross as two sticks. What’s wrong? You got dumped by your new boyfriend?”

  “Screw him,” Judith snapped.

  Gertrude scowled. “Don’t talk like that! Can’t you act like a lady?”

  “Sorry.” Judith’s shoulders sagged as she sat on the arm of the sofa. “I’m mad at the world.”

  “No kidding,” Gertrude said. “What happened to Romeo?”

  Judith tried to be fair. “Addison has a job that’s not always nine to five. He may be on the trail of whatever’s going on at City Hall. Joe’s still there, helping Woody Price with the same situation.”