by Mary Daheim
Judith made a beeline for Freddy Polson’s assistant. “Hi,” she said, sitting down across from the other woman. “I had to go back into the city, so I don’t know the latest with the investigation. Can you fill me in?”
Grisly looked suspicious. “Why?”
Judith assumed her most helpless expression. “I haven’t had time since I got back to see Joe.” She pointed at her plate. “I missed lunch.”
Grisly remained skeptical. “What were you doing in the city?”
“I had to see about a counter—” Judith feigned a cough. “Well, not exactly a counterculture. That’s the wrong choice of words. I was looking into Stillasnowamish customs with one of the tribal members who met me at my house.” As fibs went, Judith thought, it wasn’t the worst one she’d ever told.
“Oh.” The suspicion began to ebb from Grisly’s face. “What has that got to do with Sally’s murder?”
Judith swallowed a bite of ham. “It helps Joe to better understand the Native-American witnesses. I often do research for him when he’s working a case.” True enough, even if Joe rarely requested his wife’s aid.
“I suppose that makes sense,” Grisly remarked, though she still didn’t look entirely convinced.
“Do you know where Joe is?” Judith inquired. “I should meet up with him as soon as I finish lunch.”
Grisly put aside her half-eaten slice of lemon meringue pie. “Try Pancho Green’s office on the second floor. That’s where they moved the investigation. The greenroom is needed for the replacement act.”
Judith was surprised. “They already booked another act?”
Grisly nodded before lighting a cigarette. “There’s always somebody on standby. This time it’s a Country & Western band. The cabaret’s dark tonight anyway since we get Tuesdays off.”
“I must admit,” Judith said in a musing tone, “this case has me stumped.”
“Really?” Grisly didn’t sound very interested in Judith’s reaction.
“It’s the timing,” Judith continued, ignoring the look of indifference on her companion’s face. “The lights went out before Salome—Sally—was killed. She was there for her turn with the cabinet and the sabers after the power came back on. So how did her body get into the Corvette on the casino floor?”
Grisly shrugged. “That’s what everybody’d like to know.”
“It seems to me,” Judith said in a humble voice, “there’s only one answer to that.”
“Really?” Grisly repeated, still not exhibiting much curiosity.
“Of course.” Judith’s dark eyes fixed on the other woman’s thin face. “That wasn’t Salome who appeared in the second part of the act. It must have been an impostor.”
SEVEN
THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE,” GRISLY scoffed. “Freddy would’ve known if someone had impersonated Sally.”
Judith sipped from her diet 7-UP. “It’s the logical explanation. I firmly believe in logic.”
Grisly frowned into space. When she spoke, she seemed to be talking to herself. “It can’t be. Freddy and Sally worked together for years, they’d been married, they’d known each other forever. He could never make such a mistake. Unless…” Grisly clapped her hands to her face.
“Yes?” Judith coaxed.
But the other woman defiantly shook her head. “No. It’s not possible.”
“What’s not possible?”
What little color Grisly had in her cheeks drained away as she stood up. “It doesn’t matter. It was an insane idea.” None too steadily, she walked away from Judith.
Pancho Green’s office was at the end of the corridor. The stained-cedar door was surrounded by frosted glass with etchings of trees, birds, and mountains. Upon entering, Judith saw Emily, the security guard, behind the receptionist’s desk.
“Hi, Mrs. Flynn,” Emily said with a smile that showed off her dimple. “Are you looking for Mr. Flynn?”
“I am,” Judith replied. She gestured at a door on her right. “Is he in there?”
Emily nodded. “He’s with Mr. Green and Mr. Fromm and Jack Jackrabbit. Oh, Freddy Polson is there, too. Have you met him yet?”
“No,” Judith said. “Maybe I should do that now.” She started for the door, then turned back. “Are you the regular receptionist?”
Emily shook her head. “They—Mr. Green and Mr. Jackrabbit—felt that someone from security should be up here during the investigation. The regular receptionist has been put in charge of making sure there are no leaks to the press. The publicity would be terrible.”
Judith thought of her own bouts of bad publicity. “It could,” she hedged, though Hillside Manor’s reputation hadn’t yet suffered irreparable damage.
“Mr. Green knows he can’t stall forever,” Emily explained, “but he’s trying to buy just a few days in the hope of solving the case.”
“That’s understandable.” Anxious to enter the inner office, Judith made no further comment. She was turning the doorknob when Emily spoke up in an uncertain voice:
“Are you sure it’s okay for you to join them?”
“Oh, sure,” Judith declared, and breezed through the door.
Through a cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke, the five men at the long oval table stared at Judith.
“Hi.” She smiled at the ten curious eyes. She recognized Freddy Polson, though he looked sallow without his stage makeup. His mustache was also missing, and his brown hair looked much thinner. Judith assumed the other man was Jack Jackrabbit. He was about Freddy’s age, also dark, but with more hair and slightly broader facial features.
“What are you doing here?” Joe asked in a deceptively mild tone.
“Trying to find you,” Judith replied, equally benign. She sat down in one of the empty chairs. “How’s everything going?”
Joe stood up. “We were just about to take a break. Come on, we’ll go down to the coffee shop. I skimped on lunch. You can tell me all about what’s going on back at the house.”
Judith didn’t budge. “Oh, Joe, please introduce me to these people I don’t know. They’ll think I’m standoffish if you don’t.”
Reluctantly, Joe gestured at the sallow-faced young man first. “This is Freddy Polson, the Great Mandolini.”
Freddy half-rose and extended his hand. “I don’t feel so great right now. I’m really upset.”
Pancho put a hand on the illusionist’s back. “You have a right to be, Freddy. Even if your marriage to Sally didn’t work out, you still made a terrific team onstage.”
Freddy seemed to be looking past Judith. “I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”
“You have my greatest sympathy,” Judith responded, feeling Freddy’s cold, limp hand in hers. She turned to the fourth man. “You must be Mr. Jackrabbit.”
“That’s right,” Jack said, also shaking Judith’s hand. Unlike Freddy, Jack possessed a firm grip. His expression was polite, but his eyes were slightly hooded. Maybe, Judith thought, the shielded eyes helped Jack deflect the bad things that people did. A detective, no matter what his ethnic origins or his tribal beliefs, couldn’t always think the best of others.
“I can’t wait to hear how the investigation is progressing,” Judith said, exercising her most engaging smile for Jack. “Unless…” She darted a quick glance at her glowering husband. “Unless you’d rather tell me yourself. I mean, you’re in charge here, right?”
“At this point,” Jack replied modestly. “The FBI will have to come in soon, I’m afraid.”
“Does that mean you already have a suspect?” Judith inquired, her dark eyes round with feigned surprise.
Jack hesitated as Joe gave him a warning look and Pancho shifted uneasily in his chair. “I’ll let Mr. Flynn fill you in,” Jack finally said.
Joe clamped a hand on Judith’s arm, but his voice was light. “Will do. Come along, my darling, I yearn for a cheeseburger and fries.”
“Okay, okay,” Judith said when they were in the corridor. “Let go.” She yanked her arm out of her husband’s gra
sp. “I don’t see why you’re being such a pill about this murder case. It isn’t as if we haven’t worked together before. What about the homicide that ruined the B&B and put us in this mess to begin with? Didn’t I figure out who the killer was before you did?”
“A lucky break,” Joe retorted, punching the elevator button with unusual force. “You’re a killer magnet. If I hadn’t gone to the hardware store that morning to get a new hinge for the kitchen cupboard…”
The elevator doors slid open, revealing the stout figure of Inga Polson. “Where’s my brother?” she demanded, charging at Joe like a bulldozer.
“In Pancho’s office,” Joe said, trying in vain to reach around Inga to hold the door.
“What are you doing to him?” Inga growled in her deep voice. Frantically, she rubbed at her hands. “Freddy’s very sensitive. He’s an artiste.”
“Jack Jackrabbit is merely asking some questions,” Joe said as the elevator doors closed. “Freddy’s fine. Go see for yourself.”
Inga’s small eyes narrowed. She shook a finger in Joe’s face. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on around here. It’s a conspiracy, that’s what it is. I’ve already called our attorney.”
“You’re jumping the gun,” Joe said calmly. “Freddy’s a witness, that’s all. His ex-wife, his partner in the act, has been killed. I’m told they were still friends. Who’d know better than Freddy why someone might have wanted her dead?”
“It’s obvious who killed Sally,” Inga declared, raking her nails over her hands in agitation. “I know; Mr. Fromm knows. But Freddy’s naive. It’s because he’s an artiste. He’s sensitive.”
“I believe you mentioned that,” Joe murmured, nimbly stepping around Inga to poke the elevator button again.
“Freddy should never have let them question him without me,” Inga huffed, finally moving away. “I wouldn’t have left him alone this afternoon, but I was exhausted after last night. I had to rest. I’m not as strong as I look.”
“I hope not,” Joe said under his breath as Inga stomped off toward Pancho’s office. “That woman is driving us nuts.”
“How come?” Judith asked as another elevator arrived.
“She’s too damned protective of her kid brother,” Joe responded, poking the button for the main floor. “I get the impression she practically raised Freddy herself.”
As Joe seemed to open up a bit, Judith’s annoyance faded. “What happened to their parents?”
Joe shrugged as they got out of the elevator and headed for the coffee shop. “I gather they died young. Freddy and Inga are from Shoshone, Idaho, originally. So’s Sally, who was a neighbor. And Griselda Vanderbehr. Their acquaintanceship dates back to grade school, I think.”
“They all go back a long way,” Judith remarked.
“Right.” Joe stopped short of the hostess desk where an auburn-haired young woman offered the Flynns a welcoming smile before leading them to a window table.
Judith decided to keep her questions people oriented. “Have you met Sally’s second husband, Manny Quinn?”
Behind the big plastic menu, Joe nodded.
“What’s he like?”
Joe seemed absorbed in the menu’s selections. He didn’t speak until a pink-cheeked waitress appeared. “I’ll have the bacon burger with fries, and a green salad. Bleu cheese dressing, coffee, and whatever my lovely bride here would like.”
“I just ate,” Judith said, “but I’ll have some coffee, please.”
The waitress, who could smile as well as the rest of the hired help, darted away. Judith persevered. “What did you think of Manny Quinn?”
“Manny?” Joe removed his reading glasses. “He strikes me as a bit of a hustler, but he seemed pretty shaken by his wife’s death. They’d only been married a year or so.”
“I had lunch at the buffet, with Grisly,” Judith remarked. “She was shocked by my idea.”
“What idea?”
Judith shrugged. “That Sally was killed during the power failure.”
“Oh.” Joe yawned.
“Don’t you agree?”
“It could play out that way,” Joe allowed.
“So whoever the blonde was in the second half of the performance, she was an impostor, right?”
“Maybe so,” Joe said without much enthusiasm.
Judith tried to hide her exasperation. “What do you think?”
“Time of death is hard to establish within, say, thirty minutes to an hour. According to Doc Engelman, Sally could have been killed anytime between nine and ten.”
“Is this Engelman reliable?” Judith queried.
“Jack and Pancho think so,” Joe replied as their beverages arrived. “He’s not a tribal member, but he lives around here, near the family cabin. Engelman’s retired, but he served as county coroner a few years ago. He keeps his hand in by caring for the Stillasnowamish people.”
“It can’t be that hard to fix the time of death,” Judith asserted. “We saw Sally with our own eyes, at least until…” She thought back to the last moment she’d gotten a really good look at the whirling, twirling Salome. “Maybe we really didn’t see her after the power failure.”
Joe evinced mild interest. “You’re saying the woman who got in the cabinet and who reappeared was an impostor?”
“Exactly. It had to be that way.” Judith’s voice was gaining momentum. “It’s the only explanation for how Sally’s corpse got into the ’Vette.”
Joe frowned. “Freddy would have noticed if Salome wasn’t Sally.”
“Unless he was in on the plot to kill her. Or had already killed her himself while he was offstage. In fact,” Judith went on, “what if Freddy’s spiel in the dark was a recording? He could have been murdering Sally and getting rid of her body.”
Joe considered the idea. “Not impossible. But who impersonated Sally then? Griselda Vanderbehr’s too thin. Micki Mendoza’s too short. Inga Polson’s too heavy. Besides, she was seated in the audience.”
“Did you watch her the whole time? I didn’t,” Judith pointed out. “Oh, I know she couldn’t have impersonated Sally because of her size. But with all that cape twirling, the audience didn’t get a really good look at her.”
“Something’s not right,” Joe said with a shake of his head. “After the saber thrusts and the cabinet was open again, we all saw Sally standing there in her silver dress without the cape.”
“I know.” Judith sighed. “It’s really a puzzle. And why did Pancho and Lloyd roll out the cabinet in the first place? The stagehands did all the other grunt work before that.”
“The stagehands had been called out to help on the casino floor during the power failure,” Joe replied. “They hadn’t come back yet. Pancho and Lloyd filled in for them.”
“Did they take the cabinet away after the curtain fell?”
“No,” Joe said. “There’s some confusion about who did. Pancho got paged to check out a possible cheater at the blackjack tables. Lloyd was working on that weird musical instrument of his.”
“The theremin,” Judith remarked absently. “Where were Grisly and Micki at the end of the performance?”
“They met Freddy when he came offstage. They always do that, at least since Freddy got engaged to Micki.” Joe gazed through the window at the cedar trees. The March rain was still fitful. A stiff breeze made the evergreen branches sway like a hula skirt. “At this point,” Joe finally said, looking back at his wife, “I feel stumped.”
Judith’s expression softened at the unexpected admission. “You’re never stumped,” she declared. “Or do you mean stymied?”
“Either. Both.” Joe accepted his bacon burger, fries, and salad from the waitress. “Jack Jackrabbit’s frustrated, too. I guess it’s time to call in the feds.”
“Have you found the weapon?” Judith asked, filching a fry from Joe’s plate.
Joe nodded. “It was one of those sabers that Freddy uses in his act. It was hidden downstairs behind some scenery. Unfortunately, Freddy has si
x of those things as backup. His prints are all over them; so are those belonging to other members of the company. For all we know, the killer could have worn…” Joe stopped speaking as a fair-haired young man with a scraggly goatee came up to the table. “Hi, Lloyd,” Joe said in greeting. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” the young man replied, a doleful look on his faintly pockmarked face. “Bummer, eh?”
“It is at that,” Joe allowed. “Want to sit down? I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Judith.”
Lloyd sat down next to Joe and reached across the table to shake Judith’s hand. She recognized him from his number with the theremin. “You must be Freddy’s assistant,” she said with a smile. “I’m pleased to meet you. Where do you get your ideas?”
“Ohh…” Lloyd ran a hand through his longish, unkempt hair, which was no longer tied back in a ponytail. “Everywhere. Anywhere. You look.” He held up his empty hand. “You see.” He closed the hand and waved it around his head. “You look again.” Lloyd’s hand opened to reveal a deck of cards. He held them out, then put them in the front pocket of his denim jacket. “Like that.”
Judith was bemused. “How did you do that?”
Lloyd wore an “aw-shucks” expression. “Easy. Think about it.”
“It’s fascinating,” Judith asserted. “How long have you been creating illusions?”
Lloyd offered Judith a diffident smile. “Forever. Long, cold winters in Medicine Hat, Alberta. Imagination. That’s how I amused myself. Then I’d try the tricks on family, chums.”
“I think that’s great,” Judith enthused. “How did you get together with Freddy?”
“Sun Valley, three years ago.” Lloyd ducked his head, as if embarrassed. “Freddy and Sally were there. Performing. I met them. Freddy was on his way up. He needed help with the creative part. He hired me. Here I am.” Lloyd suddenly looked bleak. “But Sally isn’t. I can’t believe she’s dead.”
The waitress reappeared to ask for Lloyd’s order, but it turned out that he hadn’t come to eat. “I was looking for Manny,” he explained to the Flynns. “Poor guy’s all broken up. He and Sally were really in love.”
