All the Pretty Hearses (14 page)

Judith offered her limp hand to Paulina. “I hope you
do
enjoy yourselves. I rarely have a guest complain.”

Paulina’s arch expression fell on Judith. “Really? How about Alicia Beard-Smythe?”

Dropping her hand for lack of a response, Judith stood very straight, eyeball to eyeball with the woman whose coal-black hair was pulled back to accentuate her high cheekbones. “The Beard-Smythes weren’t guests. I offered them a roof over their heads for one night because they had no heat. Neither Alicia nor Reggie behaved gratefully or graciously.”

To Judith’s surprise, Paulina flashed a big smile and gave her husband’s expansive midsection a hard elbow. “See, Andy, I’m right. The Beard-Smythes are trouble. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Andy Paine, who was a shorter but stockier version of his brother, Walter, looked embarrassed. “It was your idea to join that hunt club,” he muttered. “You know I’m scared to death of horses.”

“Chicken,” Paulina said, and made clucking sounds.

Apparently attempting to change the subject, Renie nudged a Louis Vuitton overnight bag with her toe. “Let’s get your bags upstairs. Mrs. Flynn has your comfy rooms ready.” She gave her cousin a saccharine smile that almost made Judith wince.

The Paine brothers started collecting their luggage, but Addison suddenly appeared in the entry hall. “Allow me,” he said with a little bow. “I’ll be your valet and butler”—Judith heard Paulina utter a small gasp just as Addison hesitated—“this evening,” he went on, lacking his usual panache.

“Thanks a lot,” Walter said. “Got a bad back. Have to be careful with the heavy lifting.”

“No problem,” Addison assured the other man, picking up the Louis Vuitton bag and a couple of other pieces of luggage. “I’ll return for those other two.”

“No, no,” Paulina said. “They’re light. I’ll take them up. One of them is mine anyway.” She turned to Judith. “Which rooms?”

“Here,” Judith said, handing Paulina a page from the registration book. “These are the assignments I made, but if any of you would like to switch places, go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Paulina followed Addison up the stairs.

“How about some appetizers?” Renie said in an unnaturally chipper voice. She gestured at the living room. “Come, enjoy. I haven’t quite finished setting up the bar. I’ll do that now.”

The guests migrated to the living room. Judith grabbed Renie and propelled her into the dining room. “Since when did you turn into me?”

“Hey—you were out in the kitchen playing house with Mr. Kirby,” Renie said, stumbling slightly before going through the swinging doors. “What’s going on with him? And why did he do a double take when he saw Paulina Paine?”

“Good question,” Judith murmured. “Maybe she can tango.”

Renie frowned. “Huh?”

“Never mind. Finish with the bar on the buffet. I’m going to take care of the dinner while you set the table.”

“Okay.” Renie gulped down the last of her drink just as the doorbell chimed again. “Want me to get it?”

“No,” Judith said emphatically. “Do the bar. Let’s get the guests loaded and then we’ll roll ’em.”

“Good idea.”

Judith hurried to greet the newcomers. A sour-looking trio of mismatched strangers stood before her. “Is this the bed-and-whatever place?” a rawboned thirtysomething woman asked in a testy voice.

“Yes,” Judith replied, forcing a smile. “You must be . . . ?”

“Sarah Blair,” the woman answered. “A Paine by birth.”

“I’m sure you were,” Judith said. “I mean,” she went on quickly, “you
are
. Do come in.”

Upon closer inspection, Judith could see a resemblance between Sarah and Norma. Both were big-boned women, though the daughter had not yet added as many pounds. Sarah, however, evoked at least a tinge of her mother’s overbearing demeanor. The small, fair-haired man Judith assumed was Dennis Blair resembled a gremlin. Maybe it was the bright green bow tie or the pointed ears. He barely glanced at Judith as he carried in three pieces of luggage and placed them carefully by the credenza. The third member of the trio was a young woman who looked like neither of her parents. She had short curly red hair, a curvaceous figure, and would’ve been pretty if her expression wasn’t so disagreeable.

“This must be Octavia,” Judith said to break the awkward silence.

“You were expecting someone else?” Sarah inquired archly.

“Yes,” Judith replied, struggling to remain polite. “Hannah and Zachary. It’s well after six and they haven’t shown up yet.”

“So?” Sarah said, her hard-eyed gaze following Renie, who was trying to manage a tray full of bottles and glasses as she entered the living room. “Good. I could use a stiff drink.” She dumped her leather satchel on the floor and followed the liquor.

“ ’Scuse me,” Dennis Blair, trailing behind his wife like a small caboose.

Judith was left with Octavia, who didn’t seem inclined to budge from the entry hall. “This doesn’t look like an inn to me,” the younger woman said, scrutinizing her surroundings. “It looks like a . . .
house
.”

“Is this your first stay at a B&B?” Judith inquired.

“Yes. I’ve always thought there was something far too twee about a hostelry called a
bed
and a
breakfast
. Inadequate, as well. So why are we having drinks and dinner?”

“Because,” Judith said, giving the liquor bottles Renie was placing on the buffet a longing glance, “this is a special occasion. I offered my
bed-and-breakfast inn
for the parish school auction. I assumed your grandmother informed you of that.”

Octavia waved a perfectly manicured hand. “Grandame! Or that’s what she insists I call her. She talks so much that I stop listening.” Her jade-green eyes also strayed to the buffet. “Have you any coconut rum?”

“No,” Judith replied. “Only dark and light rum.”

“What about grenadine syrup?”

“Sorry. What did you have in mind?”

“A Big Pink Dink,” Octavia replied. “Which reminds me, where are the twins?”

“Uh—I’m not sure,” Judith replied, getting so frazzled that she couldn’t remember if Chad and Chase belonged to the Walter or the Andrew Paines. “Why don’t you ask your uncle and aunt?”

Octavia shrugged. “Why bother? Excuse me. I’ll drink the dark rum. I assume you have hot-toddy mix left over from the holidays.”

“I do,” Judith said. “I’ll get it and heat some water.”

“Fine.” Octavia stalked off to the living room.

Judith went back to the kitchen, where her cousin was juggling plates and silverware. “Well?” Renie said. “You look like you could use another drink. I already made refills.” She gestured with her head at the counter by the sink. “Move. I don’t want to break your second-best china.”

“I’d rather break it over the guests’ heads,” Judith muttered, stepping aside. “They’re
real
pains. Two of them aren’t even here yet.”

“What would you expect from a bunch of Paines?” Renie said over her shoulder. “If you hear a big crash, you’ll know I didn’t make it to the dining room table.”

But Renie navigated the swinging doors without mishap. As she reached for the hot-toddy mix in the fridge, Judith heard only the sound of the guests talking in rather loud voices, and closer by, the rattle of plates and silverware as her cousin set the table.

She took a deep breath before sipping from the newly poured Scotch-rocks and gazed through the rain-spattered window over the sink. That was when she heard the shots outside.

Chapter Twelve

J
udith almost collided with Renie at the swinging doors. The cousins stared at each other.

“Impossible,” Judith said under her breath.

“Firecracker. Backfire. Anything but . . .” Renie’s voice trailed off.

Walter Paine sauntered into the dining room. “You hear those shots?” he asked, swirling his drink around in his hand.

“Shots?” Judith echoed. “What shots?”

Walter shrugged his broad shoulders. “Fireworks, probably. Left over from New Year’s. Kids these days.” He shook his head and ambled back to the living room.

“Where did they come from?” Judith whispered.

“I’m not sure,” Renie said. “Toward the back of the house?”

Before Judith could respond, she heard the gunning of an engine from somewhere in the vicinity of the cul-de-sac. “Hold on,” she said, hurrying to the front door. By the time she got there, all she could see were taillights disappearing onto the cross street.

“Well?” Renie said softly, joining Judith in the hall. “See anything?”

Judith had opened the door a scant inch or two. “No. But the horse trailer Arlene mentioned is gone. I wonder what happened to the twins? Do you suppose they went home to change? I don’t think they were dressed for dinner.”

Renie leaned around Judith to look outside. “Maybe your answer is about to arrive. Here comes a car.”

A Cadillac Escalade pulled up in a space by the Ericksons’ house on the other side of the driveway. “Fancy,” Judith murmured. “Not the kind of wheels for a couple of young guys.”

“Oh, crap!” Renie exclaimed softly. “I’ll bet it’s Hannah with Zachary Conrad from the lighting department. I’m outta here.” She rushed back down the hall.

When two very tall people emerged from the Escalade, Judith opened the door wider. Renie was right. Hannah Paine Conrad was a good six feet tall and almost half as wide. Her husband was even taller, but rail thin. As he lurched toward the steps, Judith figured that if his wife ever fell on top of him, he’d snap like a dry twig.

“He’s sick,” the woman said, trying to prop up her faltering spouse. “Where can we put him?”

“Hannah?”

“Yes, yes.” Hannah managed to haul Zachary up the steps. “Help me out here. Our luggage is still in the car.”

Offering a hand, Judith nodded in the front parlor’s direction. “I have a settee in there.” She tried to gauge Zachary’s height—no easy task, since his thin frame was contorted in apparent misery, but figured he must be close to six four. “He’d be better off in a bed upstairs.”

“The settee will do for now,” Hannah said. “I’m starving.”

The two women were lugging Zachary’s dead weight to the parlor door when Paulina Paine came down the stairs. “Hannah?” she said in a startled voice. “Is that Zachary? What’s wrong with him?”

Hannah turned sharply to look at her sister-in-law. “He’s come down with something. Leave him alone.”

Paulina had descended into the entry hall. “Gladly,” she said, tucking in a few stray tendrils of black hair before heading into the living room. “I need a drink.”

“Selfish woman,” Hannah muttered. “No sense of family. Ooof!” she exclaimed, dumping her husband on the settee. “There you go. Will you be all right now?”

Zachary’s head moved slightly, but Judith couldn’t tell whether he meant yes or no. One long leg was bent at the knee; the other dangled awkwardly over the armrest. He winced as he tried to resettle himself. “Thirsty,” he said in a thick voice. “Water.”

Hannah turned to Judith. “Could you fetch a glass?”

“Water and glasses are around the corner on the buffet in the living room,” Judith said, backpedaling. “I really must check on . . . dinner.” She was out the door before Hannah could respond.

There was no one in the kitchen. Judith took a quick look at the two kinds of lasagna in the oven and turned off the heat. Not bothering to grab a jacket, she hurried out the back door. Renie and Addison were just going into the toolshed.

“Wait!” Judith cried. “What’s happening?”

Renie went inside, but Addison paused. “We don’t know,” he said. “I’d just come down the back stairs when your cousin was running out the door. She told me you’d both heard something that sounded like shots. But everything around here seems quiet.”

Judith had joined him at the toolshed. She went inside, where Renie was sitting on the arm of Gertrude’s small couch. The old lady looked fit to spit.

“I’m deaf, you know,” she declared. “Starving me won’t work. It’s going on seven. Where’s my supper?” Seeing Addison behind her daughter, she suddenly brightened. “Well, well, here’s somebody who can help me instead of asking a bunch of dopey questions about shoot-outs by the birdbath.”

Renie slid off the couch and shook her head. “You’re a fraud, Aunt Gert. If you didn’t hear those shots, I’ll bring you a can of Sweetums’ Toxic Tuna Treat for your supper.”

Gertrude gestured at the TV, which had been muted. “How could I
not
hear a bunch of shots? I’m watching the news. All those wacky Eye-Rackies and Afghaniacs or whatever they call themselves are always shooting everybody. Why don’t they just shoot each other and get it over with? President Truman wouldn’t have put up with all those cuckoos.” She made a fist and shook it at Renie. “Give ’em hell, Harry! That’s what we’d say in
my
day—and he’d do it.”

Addison had exchanged places with Renie. “You have a wonderful sense of history, Mrs. G. Tell me more about Truman. I was only a boy when he was in the White House.”

Seeing that Addison was settling in, Judith and Renie made their exit and hurried into the house. “So Mother really didn’t hear anything?”

Renie shook her head. “Of course the blasted TV was blaring—as usual. But no sign of anybody around outside. Maybe it
was
fireworks.”

“Maybe,” Judith conceded as they went inside. “Your lighting-department exec is sick.”

“Aren’t they all,” Renie remarked. “It comes from hiding in their fancy offices. Out of contact with the real world.”

“I mean sick as in ill,” Judith said, taking the lasagna pans from the oven. “He had to be practically carried inside to the parlor.”

“Sick?” Renie’s brown eyes sparkled. “As in near death?”

Judith grimaced. “Don’t say that. Not at my B&B anyway.”

“Gosh,” Renie said innocently, “I was so hoping that his arrival here would up the odds that he’d croak.”

“Stop! You’re making me even more nervous. See how the guests are doing and ask when those twins are supposed to arrive. We’re ten minutes away from serving dinner. I’ll check on Hannah and Zachary. I hope he’s not contagious. That flu’s going around, you know.”

Renie swigged down more of her cocktail before leaving the kitchen. Judith made sure the asparagus wasn’t overdone, then returned to the parlor, where Hannah was trying to get Zachary to drink some water.

“Is he feeling any better?” Judith inquired from the doorway.

“No,” Hannah snapped. “But at least he’s not throwing up.”

“That’s . . . good,” Judith said. “Should we get some help to put him in bed?”

Hannah shook her head. “I’m not going to let him spoil my evening. He picked a poor time to be ill.” She paused to glare at her ashen-faced spouse. “Mama went to a great deal of trouble and expense to buy this event at the auction.” She shook a finger at her husband. “Try to pull yourself together. I’m going to have
fun
for a change.”

Zachary groaned, but closed his eyes. He looked so uncomfortable that Judith felt sorry for him. “We should put him to bed.”

“Nonsense,” Hannah said sharply. She looked toward the other side of the parlor. “Where does that second door go? Somebody left it ajar, but I’ve been too busy being a nursemaid to check it out.”

“Into the living room,” Judith replied.

Without another word, Hannah tromped out of the parlor.

Frustrated, Judith moved closer to the settee. “I’m worried about you, Mr. Conrad. Is there anyone in the family with medical expertise?”

Zachary made an effort to get more comfortable, but shook his head. “Only . . .” He winced. Judith grabbed a pillow that had fallen off the settee and put it behind his head. “Thanks.” A very faint smile appeared on his thin face. “Zoë’s studying to be a vet.”

“Walter and Sonya’s daughter?” She saw Zachary nod. “Do you think she could help you?”

He shook his head again. “Only first year. On winter break now.”

“Do you need to be seen by a doctor?”

Zachary didn’t answer right away. “Just flu.” He sighed. “I guess.”

“You should be in a bed. Do you want to go home?”

Before Zachary could reply, Judith heard a faint rap at the open door to the hall. Turning, she saw Addison looking grim. She motioned for him to come into the parlor, but he shook his head. Suddenly feeling uneasy, Judith joined him at the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

Addison stepped back beyond the parlor door and the living room archway. “We’ve got a problem,” he said in a low voice. “After chatting up your mother, I noticed the garage door was open. I didn’t see any sign of those twins, so I went over to take a look. I assumed the horse was tethered, but it seemed odd that the twins had left without closing the door behind them.” His expression grew distressed. “I hate to tell you this, but you’ve got a dead horse in the garage.”

J
udith leaned against the dining room doorjamb. It took her a few seconds to find her voice. “How could a horse die that suddenly?”

Addison led her to the dining room table. “Sit. You look pale.”

“I feel pale.” Judith sat in the captain’s chair where her grandfather had exerted his benevolent rule over four generations of Grovers. “So?”

“I assume he was shot,” Addison said, also sitting down. “I closed the door. A dead animal is never a pleasant sight.”

Judith felt uncharacteristically helpless. “What should we do?”

Addison shrugged. “Nothing right now. We’ll deal with it after the guests leave tomorrow. You were right about hearing gunshots. I must’ve been at the front of the house with the luggage at the time.”

Fleetingly, Judith wondered what else Addison had been doing upstairs while in the company of Paulina Paine. But that was none of her business and certainly not a priority. With some difficulty, she stood up. “I can’t lose focus. Maybe once the guests sit down to eat, I can sort through some of the other things that are driving me insane.”

Addison was also on his feet. “Did the twins show up for dinner?”

“I assume they had to change,” Judith replied, going into the kitchen. “Meanwhile, I’ve got a sick man in the front parlor. I wish his wife would take him home.”

“Do you want me to offer?” Addison asked.

“No,” Judith said, watching Renie sprinkle bread crumbs on the asparagus. “I’m not giving advice to the Paines. That ill-bred bunch would resent it. They’re very strong-minded.”

Renie snorted. “They haven’t got minds at all, if you ask me. Which one’s the vegan? Maybe he or she shot the damned horse.”

Judith sighed. “A vegan would never hurt an animal.”

Renie shook her head. “That’s all a front. Vegans hate animals. That’s why they don’t eat them. They believe animals were put here to eat humans—which is true. It’s nature in its rawest form—eat or be eaten. I’m not fooled by their hypocrisy. They eat vegetables and fruit, don’t they? So do animals, which means vegans are robbing the flora to feed the fauna. Or something like that.” She blinked several times. “Where’d I put my drink? I just poured another one . . .”

“Good grief, coz,” Judith cried, “you’re drunk!”

“Pretty much,” Renie agreed, “but I’ve still got a ways to go.”

Judith held her head. “Oh God! Can we get through this evening without any more disasters?”

“No,” Renie said, still scanning the cluttered kitchen for any sign of her drink. “Ha ha. I spy a Paine.”

Judith turned around. “Hannah!” she exclaimed as the big woman loomed over the swinging half doors. “Can I help you?”

“I’m taking that wretched man home after all,” Hannah said. “Don’t set out dinner until I come back. I despise cold food.”

“But—” Judith stopped. It was pointless to argue. She’d serve the food and warm up Hannah’s portion. “How far away do you live?”

“We live over on the bluff. We always have.” She turned around so fast that her large rear bumped the swinging doors, making them creak on their hinges.

“Good,” Judith said. “I hope she never comes back.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Renie said. “If I could find my damned drink. Now I can stop hiding from Zachary.”

Judith sipped more Scotch. “We aren’t twaiting for the wins. I mean
waiting for the twins
.” She shook herself before getting her tofu concoction ready to serve.

Five minutes later, Judith heard the front door open and voices in the hall. She wiped off her hands on a towel, went to the dining room, and peeked into the hall. Hannah had somehow managed to get Zachary on his feet and was half carrying him out of the house. “Good riddance,” Judith said under her breath. Waiting for the door to close behind the departing couple, she continued into the living room.

“Ahem,” she said in a loud voice.

The guests, who had been engaged in what sounded like contentious conversation, turned in her direction. The only exception was Zoë Paine, who was sitting alone on the window seat and appeared to be brooding. Whatever had made her giggle upon her arrival apparently was no longer amusing.

“Dinner will be ready in less than five minutes,” Judith announced. “Everything will be on the sideboard or the table. I’ve marked all the dishes to indicate the ones that are nonallergenic, vegetarian, lactose- or gluten-tolerant. Or intolerant.” She grimaced. “You know what I mean. I hope.”

Her announcement was met with less than enthusiasm. Apparently liquor hadn’t improved the Paines’ dispositions. Judith hadn’t seen so many surly drinkers since the Meat & Mingle’s Wednesday Whopper Whiskey Nights.

“Screw it,” she muttered under her breath as she went down the hall. And immediately felt a twinge of guilt. It was followed by a voice in her head saying,
Hey—you have a right to be upset with these jerks. Your husband is AWOL, someone apparently has broken into his safe, you got stiffed by the Beard-Smythes, you’ve worked your butt off preparing for this event, there’s a dead horse in your garage, and it’s possible that one of your current guests may be involved in something shady. Give yourself a break.