All the Pretty Hearses (12 page)

“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 same 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.”

Chapter Ten

J
udith’s jaw dropped. Addison froze in the kitchen chair. Arlene was taken aback by their reactions. “What did I say? For all I know, Cindy
is
a Canadian. Maybe she became a citizen when she married . . . Geoff, isn’t it?”

Judith was the first to regain her voice. “It’s not that. But there was another guest registered here last night, who gave her name as Jean Rogers. She checked in, but left without notice only a few hours after she arrived. Then another woman contacted me to say
she
was Jean Rogers. Except she wasn’t. Where is the Jean Rogers you knew at Donner & Blitzen?”

“In Phoenix,” Arlene replied. “She moved there a year or so ago. I heard from her at Christmas. Her husband, Clark, was quite a bit older. He retired and liked to winter in Arizona. I wanted to ask Cindy how her mother was doing, but Phyliss showed up. I knew you didn’t want her creating a diversion trying to save people, so I dragged her into the pantry to save you from her. Frankly, I don’t know if Cindy would recall who I was. I only saw her two or three times when she was still in grade school. Jean would bring her into the store to see Santa Claus. But why are there so many Jeans? That makes no sense.”

Addison agreed. “But the fact that it makes no sense
is
important. We just don’t know how to put it all together.” He looked across the table at Judith. “Any ideas?”

Judith shook her head. “If anything, I’m more confused than I was in the beginning. Can we be sure that Geoff and Cindy are from B.C.?”

“We could check through Canadian and U.S. Customs and Immigration,” Addison suggested. “They might know if they crossed the border in the past few days. Security is much tighter since 9/11.”

“Don’t bother,” Arlene said. “Jean wrote to me about her daughter getting married and moving to Canada. Drat! I should have paid no attention to Phyliss and talked to Cindy instead. What was I thinking of?” Her blue eyes widened as she got out of her chair. “Carl! That’s what I was thinking of! His back went out after he brought the ladder over here. The Beard-Smythes should’ve called
you
to let them out if their door wouldn’t unlock.” Arlene was halfway down the hall. “They may be rich, but they aren’t smart,” she called over her shoulder.

Addison stood up. “I’m going down to City Hall. To think I thought everybody working
there
was nuts.” He shook his head.

“Good idea,” Judith said. “I almost wish I were in jail with Joe.”

Addison shot Judith an ironic glance. “Be careful what you wish for.” He rinsed out his coffee mug. “How about marrying me instead?”

Judith thought she hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

He waved a hand at her. “I don’t mean for real—just for tonight.”

“I . . .” Startled, Judith wondered if she really was gaga. “Uh . . .”

“Relax.” He grinned. “These Paines don’t know you, right? Thus they don’t know Joe. Like you, Arlene doesn’t seem to know much about the second and third generations. I never got a chance to quiz her closely. I can pretend I’m your devoted spouse and help you entertain the guests while wheedling all sorts of information out of them and going through their wallets when they’re not looking. Isn’t that what Joe would do if he were here with a houseful of nonpaying guests?”

Judith put a hand to her breast. “You scared me for a minute. No—Joe usually keeps clear of the guests. Especially this bunch. He’d hide upstairs in front of the TV and pretend we’d never met.”

“The Paines don’t know that,” Addison said, heading out of the kitchen. “Besides, I’m in love with another woman.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Let me know if Carl got out from under the dining room table. If he didn’t, Arlene is mine.”

L
ook,” Renie said into the phone, “I know it’s ten-thirty and I’m supposed to be awake, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. Either we have a bad connection or I need to go back to bed.”

Judith sighed. “I realize it’s confusing. I’m trying to convince you that I need your help for the dinner after all, if only to bounce ideas off of you and get your impression of the Paines. When do you think you could come? That is, if you can do it.”

“Um . . . I suppose around four?”

“Not any sooner?”

“I have to finish some preliminary sketches,” Renie said. “Bill’s doing the Friday grocery run. Has that man ever used a
coupon
? Has he ever checked out a
sale
? What doesn’t he understand about ‘buy one, get one free’? Has he ever met a seven-dollar French pastry he didn’t like? No wonder we spend two hundred bucks a week on groceries.”

“Yes. I mean
no
.” Judith paused. “Three?”

“Three what?”

“Three o’clock. The Paines arrive between five-thirty and six. We need time to talk. Besides, Addison is going to help.”

“He’s still hanging around? Doesn’t he have a beat to cover?”

“That’s what he’s doing—and why I have to talk to you in person.”

“I’ll try,” Renie said, sounding resigned. “Let me finish my sketches in peace. How the hell do I put a hula skirt on an energy-saving lightbulb?”

“Gee, I wish that was all I had worrying me.” Her tone was wistful. “As Grandma Grover used to say, I’ll look for you when I see you.”

“Hey—what about Joe?” Renie asked. “Can Bill see him during visiting hours?”

“I’ll know more when Addison gets back from City Hall,” Judith said. “Maybe it’s good that the Paines are coming. It’ll keep me busy instead of driving myself crazy by having too much time to think.”

“You know perfectly well that Joe’s fine,” Renie asserted. “In fact, I’ll bet he’s enjoying himself.”

“That,” Judith said, “is what worries me most.”

G
iven what had gone on during the past twenty-four hours, the rest of the morning and early afternoon were quiet at Hillside Manor. Gertrude had been picked up by one of her bridge-playing friends and wouldn’t return until four. Phyliss had complained only a half-dozen times about Arlene’s biblical interpretations. Sweetums had been in and out of the house, either missing Gertrude’s company or disliking the steady, if not heavy, rain.

Aside from forcing herself to keep from calling someone at the city jail and asking about Joe, Judith’s biggest concern was accommodating the Paine family’s dietary restrictions. She decided to stick with a buffet supper. Renie could make labels listing the ingredients of each dish—or she could staple signs to the guests, naming their personal poison.

By three-thirty, Phyliss had left for an appointment with her chiropodist, Addison hadn’t reported back, and Renie called to say that she was on her way. If Judith needed anything, she could stop off on top of the hill and get it.

“No,” Judith said, slicing tomatoes while holding the phone under her chin. “I think I’m good. Thanks, though. Oh! Wait. Maybe tofu?”

“Oh my God!” Renie cried. “You
have
gone crazy! What are you going to do with it? Wash the car?”

“I’ve got a vegan or two,” Judith said. “Don’t they eat tofu?”

“Gack. For all I know, you can make Popsicles out of the stuff. See you as soon as I overcome the gagging factor.” Renie hung up.

Judith went online, searching for tofu recipes. By the time she’d found a couple that sounded easy to prepare, Renie arrived. “Here,” she said, handing over a Falstaff’s bag. “It looks like a sponge.”

Judith removed the package. “It
is
a sponge!” she exclaimed. “That’s not funny.”

“Oops. Wrong bag. Be right back.” Renie grabbed the sponge from Judith and went out the back door.

Judith collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs and held her head. The preparations were getting off to a bad start. Maybe asking Renie to help wasn’t smart. Her cousin was a sport about doing things she didn’t really want to do, but out of sheer perversity, she often managed to make everybody else miserable in the process. Judith returned to her task of figuring out how to make a tofu scramble for the breakfast included in the auction offering.

“Sorry about that,” Renie said breathlessly. “Bill wanted a new sponge for the upstairs bathroom.”

“Fine,” Judith said unenthusiastically. “What’s he doing for dinner before he goes to the basketball game with Uncle Al?”

Renie had hung her jacket on a peg in the hall. “They’re getting hot dogs before they go to their seats.”

Judith began spraying cooking oil on a big baking dish. “By the way, now that Joe’s temporarily out of commission, what’s going to happen with Bill’s stalking-victim patient?”

“No idea,” Renie said. “Want me to trim the asparagus? The ends are too thick for human consumption.”

“Go ahead. I’m going to steam them.” She took two large packages of chicken breasts out of the fridge. “I keep thinking Joe’s either going to call me or walk through the back door. You’ve no idea how frustrated I am with this whole mess.”

“I do, actually,” Renie said, slicing off an inch or more of the asparagus spears. “But you know he’s safe. He has the police for company, and probably Woody’s there most of the time. I think you’re more curious than worried.”

Judith considered the suggestion. “Maybe. But it’s still unnerving, especially with the weird stuff that’s been going on here.”

“As far as I can tell from what you told me on the phone, the only really weird thing is the Jean Rogers duplications. For all you know, somebody’s writing an article on credit-card theft and experimenting to see how far you can go without getting caught.”

“That doesn’t explain why Joe told me to find a gun that wasn’t supposed to be where he said it was.”

“Obviously, you were supposed to find something else.”

“No luck. Addison said he’d help look in case Joe has anything connected to his newspaper story. I wonder what’s taking him so long.”

Renie had gotten out the big steamer kettle and was filling it with water. “You mean Addison? They’re short-staffed at the paper these days. I imagine he has other stories to cover besides the elusive corruption angle. He may have deadlines.”

“True. I tend to focus only on what affects Joe.” Judith had gone back to the computer. “Now that I’ve got tofu, I can’t figure out what to do with it. Except for the breakfast scramble, so many of these recipes call for other ingredients that the dietary-challenged Paines can’t eat.”

“You could stick some artificial flowers in it and use it for a centerpiece,” Renie suggested.

“Thanks. You’re a big help. Oh, wait—here’s something. Lemon-baked tofu. And another one, sweet and spicy tofu nuggets.”

“Gack.”

Judith glared at her cousin. “Have you ever eaten tofu?”

“No, nor have I eaten an S.O.S. Pad or a bar of soap. So what?”

“So I’ll do the sweet and spicy one first. It has to marinate.”

“In what? Pennzoil?”

“Stop. Fix us drinks. Do something to keep me from killing you.”

“Good idea,” Renie said cheerfully. “By the way, have you got a list of the Paines so we know who’s who, or do I have to make name tags?”

Judith had her hands full of lemon juice, soy sauce, and olive-oil bottles. “That’s a good idea. I put their names on the bulletin board by the swinging doors.”

“Okay.” Renie had gotten out the Scotch and the bourbon. “By the way, did you find anything interesting when you were going through Joe’s safe?”

Judith shook her head. “The only odd thing was a Post-it note with ‘SF OR LA’ printed on it. I assume it must’ve gotten stuck to something else. I’d never have seen it if it hadn’t fallen on the floor.”

“The letters don’t mean anything to you?”

Judith shook her head. “Only the obvious—San Francisco or Los Angeles. Maybe Oregon, too. Places that pertain to some of his cases and could be from a long time ago. Often he gives me the bare bones, but,” she went on, removing a jar of Dijon mustard from the fridge, “like Bill, he has to worry about client confidentiality.”

Renie nodded. “And snoopy wives like us.” She’d poured out the drinks and set Judith’s down next to the marinade bowl. “What can I use to make name tags?”

“Look in that drawer to the right of the sink. I keep a bunch of blank clip-on tags in there from the days when Arlene and I used to cater events,” Judith said, wielding a wire whisk. “Every so often, I get some guests who want to wear name tags for the social hour.”

“Bill refuses to wear a name tag. So does Oscar. He doesn’t like anything pinned to his fur. Oscar, I mean. Good grief,” Renie said, making a face as she opened the drawer, “your junk pile is worse than mine. Have you cleaned this out since you moved back home? Here’s a newspaper clipping about Nixon’s resignation in 1974. Who drew the horns on his picture?”

“Mother,” Judith said. “In 1974, I was working at the Thurlow Public Library by day and hustling drinks at the Meat & Mingle at night.”

“Hustling drinks or hustling drunks?”

“Both. At least it felt like I was,” Judith said, after taking a sip of her Scotch-rocks. “I spent most of my time keeping an eye on the cash register. Dan’s hired help had a tendency to loot the premises.”

“The bad old days,” Renie remarked, sitting down at the kitchen table with the name tags and the list of Paine attendees. “Gosh, I don’t remember any of the Paine bunch except Hannah, and now that I think about it, she was three or four years ahead of Tony. Big girl, like her Amazonian mother. She fell down on top of Mugs Rankers—I should say
Meagan
now that she’s a wife and mother—and they practically had to use a forklift to get Hannah off of her before she suffocated.”

“Hannah sounds like a match for Kristin,” Judith said, and immediately regretted the unkind words about her daughter-in-law. “Sorry. I still haven’t quite recovered from Kristin telling me I’m a doormat and need to improve my self-esteem.”

“Not to worry,” Renie said, taking a green pen out of her purse. “At Christmas, I told her if she ever mouthed off to you like that again, I’d rearrange her dental work. I may be small, but I’m cunning.”

“You are, alas,” Judith allowed, “but I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“Why not? What else is Christmas for? Family, friends, friction.”