Here Comes the Bribe

by Mary Daheim

  “Yes,” Agnes replied with more certainty than some of her previous statements. “He’s quite a fine man. He owns his own business. Ronald is involved with helping people find jobs.”

  “That sounds very worthwhile,” Judith said. “I assume he lives in the L.A. area?”

  “He travels quite a bit.” Agnes’s round face seemed to shut down. “I’d better take that ice up to Charlie. He’s kind of miserable.” She rose awkwardly from the chair.

  “I’ll get the ice bag,” Judith said, getting up and going to the refrigerator. “I hope your husband feels better soon.”

  “So do I,” Agnes murmured. “Men make such cranky patients.” She accepted the ice bag and exited the kitchen.

  Judith found two simple hors d’oeuvre recipes that she could practically make in her sleep. In fact, that’s what she felt like she was doing as she put them together and slid two trays into the oven. The important thing, she reminded herself, was not to turn on the oven until it was going on six o’clock. She didn’t need another visit from the firefighters—or the city inspector.

  What she did need to do was figure out what to make for her family dinner. Her brain seemed empty when it came to ideas, despite having the larder well stocked. She decided to go out the back way and call on her mother. If nothing else, Gertrude could tell her what she didn’t want for her so-called supper.

  The sun had come out and it was a pleasant May afternoon. The sight of the crime-scene tape by the birdbath wasn’t so pleasant. She’d asked Joe if the ’tecs had told him what they’d found in Room One. He’d insisted they hadn’t told him anything. Judith thought he was lying in an attempt to discourage her from sleuthing.

  Gertrude had the TV on overloud, blaring the dialogue from Life with Father. “Can you turn that down?” Judith shouted to be heard over William Powell.

  “What?” Gertrude called back. “I can’t hear you.”

  Judith lowered the volume. “There. It’s a wonder the Dooleys in back of us don’t report you for disturbing the peace.”

  Her mother took umbrage, waggling the remote at Judith. “With that big family, I need to turn up the TV to drown them out. I’m deaf, you know.”

  “When you want to be,” Judith muttered, carefully perching on the arm of the small divan. “Being deaf, I don’t suppose you heard or saw anything unusual in the backyard this morning.”

  Gertrude’s wrinkled face was blank. “I’m not nosy like some people around here. And I sure don’t go around looking for dead bodies. Say, what’s that ugly yellow ribbon doing by the birdbath? Aren’t the birds supposed to have a good soak? What’s worse is I might get my wheelchair caught in that ribbon and have a tragic accident.”

  “It’s not that close to the walk,” Judith pointed out, “and I doubt it’ll be there by tomorrow. The police should be done with their crime-scene investigation later today.”

  Gertrude shot her daughter a skeptical glance. “We’ll see. The real crime scene is your kitchen. What gruesome thing are you cooking for supper tonight?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Judith admitted. “You’re an early riser. Are you sure you didn’t look out to check on the weather? You often do.”

  Gerrude shook her head. “The weather is always the same,” she replied doggedly. “It’s either raining or it isn’t.”

  “Mother . . .”

  Gertrude knew when her daughter’s patience was running out. “Okay, so I did see somebody out there. There was an idiot who looked like he was saying his prayers. Had his hands folded and kept looking up at the sky. Maybe he wanted to see if it was raining.”

  “That’s the Reverend Kindred,” Judith said.

  “Kindred and his spirits, I suppose,” Gertrude muttered. “Probably a religious wacko.” She paused. “Earlier on, there was another, younger guy out there, but I forget when. He seemed to be taking notes. Of what, I couldn’t say. Maybe he’s a bird-watcher.”

  “Young, as in his twenties?”

  Gertrude nodded. “I guess so. At my age, anybody under sixty looks young to me. I’m still waiting for you to grow up.”

  “But you didn’t see Mrs. Schmuck’s body?”

  Gertrude scowled. “If I did, wouldn’t I have mentioned it? The cops asked me the same dumb question.”

  “I didn’t realize the police had interrogated you,” Judith said, though in retrospect she should have known. No doubt Woody had told his subordinates that there was another possible witness on the premises. “I assume you gave the same information to them?”

  Gertrude glared again. “No, I told them I’d seen Humpty-Dumpty fall off the wall and land on whoever it was who got killed around here this time. If those cops are as dumb as Lunkhead, they need all the help they can get. And I’m not gaga. Yet.”

  Judith couldn’t suppress a smile at her mother’s feistiness. “I know. You’re a good citizen.”

  “I’m a Democrat, that’s what I am,” Gertrude asserted. “But I still do my duty, no matter who’s running the government around here or in D.C. I always wished I could have voted for Harry Truman twice. Now, there was a man who knew his own mind and said what he thought.”

  “You and Truman would’ve gotten along just fine,” Judith said, standing up. “It’s too bad you didn’t see who killed Millie Schmuck.”

  Gertrude gazed at her daughter with unblinking faded blue eyes. “Who says I didn’t?”

  Judith couldn’t argue the point.

  When she got back inside the house, Joe was in the kitchen with a red-faced Reverend Kindred. “I see no reason why I shouldn’t conduct my Saturday-evening prayer service here. It’s always open to all comers.” He pointed to a sheet of paper on the counter. “I’d only distribute my flyers to the immediate neighborhood. Now, will you allow me to use your copier or will I have to file freedom-of-religion and freedom-of-speech charges against you and Mrs. Flynn?”

  “First of all, I don’t think you’d get many takers right around here,” Joe countered. “The Rankerses, the Dooleys, and my wife and I are all Catholics. The Steins are Jewish, the Ericsons are Lutheran, the Porters and the Bhatts are Methodists, and the new people in the rental don’t seem to attend any church.”

  Kindred’s jaw jutted. “You see? Fresh ground with souls to save! I’ll personally call on them.” Clumsily, he whirled around and left the kitchen.

  Joe sighed. “Why did I think I could talk sense to a religious zealot?”

  Judith laughed. “Because you’re sensible?”

  Joe, however, was looking beyond his wife. “Can it,” he said under his breath. “Hi, Mrs. Kindred. Are you looking for your spouse? He just went out.”

  “Oh,” Elsie replied without much interest. “No, I wanted to know if you people could help me find poor, dear Millie’s project information.”

  Joe turned to Judith. “Not my line of duty. I have to check on the MG’s progress at the repair shop.” He made his exit via the dining room.

  “Well?” Elsie asked, fists on hips. “Is there any chance you might’ve come across Millie’s valuable data?”

  “No,” Judith answered. “I didn’t realize she had a project. What’s the purpose of it?”

  The other woman folded her hands as if in prayer. “A program aimed at women who are seeking salvation. Very personal in its approach. The eye is the beholder of all unworldy and worldly things.”

  “It sounds . . . comprehensive,” Judith said for lack of anything more cogent. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what happened to Mrs. Schmuck’s project information. Did you ask Mr. Schmuck?”

  Elsie shook her head with its lank strands of graying auburn hair. “I don’t like bothering him in his time of sorrow. Clayton Ormsby told me that Rodney is being badgered by the police.”

  “I think he may be exaggerating. The police have to follow procedure,” Judith said in her most reasonable manner.

  “The police!” Elsie exclaimed. “They’re all corrupt. But I refuse to bribe them. I have no patience with them
after they . . . Never mind. I’ll only adhere to my conviction that all officers of the law are ungodly. They suspect the worst of even the most law-abiding, God-fearing people.”

  Judith feigned shock. “Surely you and Reverend Kindred have never been treated badly by the police.”

  “Well . . .” Elsie cleared her throat. “There was an incident about a year ago, but my dear husband was able to clear his name. It was all a silly mistake. There are some preachers who aren’t quite all they should be, you know. Then there are some like George, who is more than a man of the cloth.” She turned on her sensible heel and stalked self-righteously out of the kitchen.

  Judith snatched up the phone and called Renie. “What are you doing this afternoon?” she inquired.

  “I was working on this damned county design,” her cousin replied glumly. “How do I convey changes in recycling rules? Dare I show the current county executive being stuffed upside down into a blue bin instead of a black can?”

  “Probably not,” Judith said. “I wondered if you could come over and help me do some research.”

  “Oh, no! I thought you weren’t sleuthing.”

  “Well . . . I’m not, really, but I’d like to find out if these current guests are dangerous. They are, after all, under my roof.”

  “They paid to be there, right?” Renie retorted. “I suspect they’d just as soon head back wherever they came from.” She paused. “It’s a couple of hours before I have to conjure up dinner. Maybe I should pick up something easy at Falstaff’s deli. Okay, I’ll come by in a few minutes.”

  Renie’s comment about where the Schmuck party had come from bothered her. She wondered why they had traveled from L.A. to hold a wedding in her B&B. They were headed for Japan, but Judith didn’t think there were any direct flights to Tokyo from the local airport. She sat down at the computer and entered Rodney Schmuck’s name. A few people came up with that surname, but no Rodney. That, of course, didn’t mean he was using an alias. It only indicated he wasn’t well known or into self-promotion via the Internet.

  She typed in Sophie Kilmore Ormsby. As a surgeon, there should be a listing for her. No luck. She retyped the name, omitting Ormsby. The name appeared, but as a veterinarian over on the other side of the mountains. Maybe there was more than one Dr. Sophie Kilmore. Judith gave it one last shot, entering George Kindred. There were several, with some variations, but no reverends. Deciding her quest was hopeless as well as frustrating, she surrendered. She’d wait to see how Renie reacted to her futile efforts.

  And realized she was indeed sleuthing. It seemed to be a habit she couldn’t break. A bad habit, she told herself. And often a dangerous one. Yes, she’d been lucky over the years. But nobody’s luck lasted forever.

  Chapter 6

  Judith conveyed the information—or lack thereof—to her cousin upon her arrival. Renie, in turn, reported that she’d seen the Reverend Kindred being chased off the porch at the rental house between the Ericson and Bhatt properties.

  “Who lives there now?” Renie asked. “I don’t think you told me who Herself’s latest renters are.”

  “That’s because I’m not sure,” Judith replied. “They only moved in the first of May. Joe hasn’t been in touch with his ex since then. Whoever they are, they seem like decent people, which is nice, considering some of the jerks Vivian has rented to in the past. Of course, she can’t personally interview potential tenants when she’s holed up with Jim Beam in Florida on the Gulf Coast.”

  “Understood,” Renie agreed. “Oddly enough, the rev wasn’t coming back here, but heading for the Bhatts on the corner. I don’t think they’re home. The SUV is gone.”

  “They’re probably off with their kids,” Judith said, ignoring her cousin’s wistful look at the cookie jar. “It’s a nice day. In fact, we should be out and doing.”

  “Doing what?” Renie asked with a faintly alarmed expression.

  “Meeting the new neighbors,” Judith replied, heading down the hall to fetch her jacket. “I think their last name is Clary or Cleary. Something like that. Try to be pleasant, okay?”

  “Why do I always have to assume an uncomfortable demeanor?” Renie moaned. But she followed her cousin outside and across the cul-de-sac. “Gosh,” she murmured to Judith, “I hardly recognize this big open space when it’s not jammed with emergency vehicles. I feel disoriented.”

  Before they reached the curb, a familiar voice called out: “Yoo-hoo! Wait for me!” Arlene Rankers hurried to join the cousins. “I just happened to be standing on my toilet upstairs when I saw you heading to . . . the rental, correct?”

  Judith nodded. “I thought I should introduce myself. And Renie.”

  “Of course,” Arlene agreed. “I’ve come over to the Careys three times, but they’re never home. They both must work. I’ve just happened to notice that they never take their mail inside until early evening. They shop at Gutbusters wholesale store and Nordquist’s. Is Vivian really charging two thousand dollars a month to rent that rather small house?”

  Judith didn’t want to know how Arlene had found out the rental price. “That’s really not exorbitant for Heraldsgate Hill,” she pointed out. “Your Cathy should know that from her real estate dealings.”

  Arlene looked indignant. “What I’d really like to know is why Joe’s ex didn’t list the house with my daughter.”

  “Face it,” Judith responded. “Vivian is a bit addled from drink. She’s lucky she remembers she owns a house here on the hill.”

  “Hey, Arlene,” Renie said as they started up the steps of the modest bungalow, “how come you spend so much time standing on your toilet? Doesn’t it make you kind of dizzy?”

  “The view,” Arlene replied. “Do you realize how precious a view is? It adds immensely to the price of real estate.”

  “Right, right,” Renie concurred. “We’ve got a view of the mountains and a good chunk of the city. But I’ve never yet stood on . . .” She shut up as a fair-haired young woman opened the front door.

  Judith did the honors, introducing the trio. “We’ve been remiss,” she went on. “We should’ve welcomed you to the neighborhood sooner.”

  “I tried,” Arlene said, “but you and your husband must work. No one was home.” Somehow she made their absence seem like a federal crime even as she put a foot down on the threshold.

  Mrs. Carey offered her callers a strained smile. “My husband sometimes works nights. I’m Madeleine Carey. Call me Maddy. My husband is Jeb. Would you like to come in?”

  “No,” Judith replied firmly before Arlene could vault inside the house. “As you may know from the sign in our front yard,” she went on, gesturing toward Hillside Manor, “I run a B&B. I was curious because one of our current guests was seen stopping off at your house a little earlier. I hope he didn’t bother you.”

  Maddy’s smile was more genuine. “No. Jeb was able to stop his salesman’s pitch fairly fast.”

  “Good for him,” Judith said. “That sort of proselytizing can be a nuisance.”

  Maddy looked puzzled. “Well, I’m not sure I’d call it that. I mean, it doesn’t matter what he was trying to tell Jeb. As you probably know, we rent this house, so we couldn’t sell it if we wanted to.”

  Judith couldn’t suppress her surprise. “You mean he wasn’t trying to evangelize?”

  “No, no.” Maddy shook her head. “He told Jeb he was a Realtor.”

  “Maybe,” Arlene said, “he meant his kingdom wasn’t of this world.”

  “I don’t think so,” Maddy responded. “He insisted we could get at least four hundred thousand for this house. He kept repeating, ‘Location, location.’ I don’t think he meant heaven.”

  Arlene harrumphed. “My daughter, Cathy, could sell it for more than that. She’s a very savvy Realtor.”

  Judith nudged Arlene. “That’s not the point,” she said. “I thought the reverend was in his preacher’s mode. Sorry to have disturbed you, Maddy. We’ll be going now. You must come over for coffee soon.”

/>   Maddy looked dubious, but smiled again before closing the door.

  “That explains it,” Arlene muttered as they reached the sidewalk. “Naomi Stein told me a man had come to their house earlier this morning asking if they were interested in selling. Did you know that, Judith?”

  “No,” she replied in a toneless voice. “I’ve been kind of caught up with other things, like having a dead body in the backyard.”

  “Oh, that’s not so unusual,” Arlene said with a dismissive gesture. “But door-to-door Realtors are. Usually they simply send you a letter saying how much they’d like to sell your house if you’re thinking about a move. Of course we’re not. Unless we do.”

  “Unh,” said Renie, who had been remarkably quiet during the brief visit to the rental.

  Arlene shot her a sharp glance. “Well? Are you put off because you live on the cheap side of Heraldsgate Hill?”

  “No,” Renie replied. “Our property taxes are lower. Ha ha.”

  Arlene didn’t comment. Instead, she kept going toward the giant hedge. “I’m going to ask Cathy to check out this Kindred person’s real estate credentials. He’s probably not licensed to practice in this state. Heavens, he may not even be a preacher!” She disappeared around the huge mass of shiny laurel leaves.

  “She’s right,” Renie murmured, “even when she’s wrong. Damn—her manner of speaking is contagious. No wonder I like her so much.”

  “You’re kind of contrary yourself, coz,” Judith said, pausing by the driveway to the Flynn garage. “What do you think about calling luxury car rentals?”

  Renie wrinkled her pug nose. “I don’t really want to go anywhere. We might not get back in time so that I can fix Bill’s dinner by six.”

  “I mean to find out where my guests were picked up,” Judith explained. “I’d like to make sure they came from the airport. It puzzles me as to why they came here just to hold a wedding.”

  Renie kicked at a dead leaf. “That’s different. I can deal with research. I’m calling it that because you’re not really sleuthing, right?”