Clam Wake (23 page)

The lieutenant shook his head. “I didn't. It's almost impossible to find anybody with the weather so socked in.”

“What,” Judith inquired, “did you mean about a ghost getting her?”

“Betsy has talked to her family about a ghost she's seen on the beach late at night. That's why she always comes back home by nine. She told them the ghost doesn't walk until much later.” He shrugged again. “That's not a great deal of help in trying to find her.”

“But,” Judith said, “it does mean she sees someone in the late evening. Not that it couldn't be just another person.”

Jacobson stood up. “It's hard enough to get straight answers out of sane people, let alone the mentally unbalanced. I'd better see if the patrol is here. We have to search for Betsy.”

Judith followed him to the door. “If we hear or see anything, we'll let you know. Is there another number where we can reach you directly?”

“Yes.” He waited for Judith to grab a pen and a notepad off the counter before giving her his cell phone information. “I'll be in touch,” he said as he went out the door.

Judith clenched her fists. “Darn! Now Jacobson knows about my annoying habit of finding dead bodies!”

“But you finally stopped biting your nails,” Renie said.

“True.” Judith retrieved the Scrabble game and put it on the kitchen table. “Let's compete with mere words. I need to clear my brain. If you get the
Q
, you can't spell out ‘Quimby.' It's not in the dictionary.”

“Fair enough. I've got a total of thirteen points on my tiles. Unlucky, I'm sure. How many have you got?”

“Fourteen,” Judith replied. “I go first.”

Shortly before eleven, Renie had won by eighteen points. Judith asked if her cousin really was going to bed early.

“I need to settle down for a bit,” Renie replied. “Have you managed to rid your brain of murder for the rest of the night?”

“I might have if you hadn't used the words ‘corpses' and ‘knifed.'”

“You put in ‘coins,' ‘surf,' and ‘tides,'” Renie countered.

Judith sighed. “Tomorrow we're going to call on the Quimbys if only to find out if Betsy has been found. I'd worry if I didn't think that somewhere in her scrambled brain she has a survival instinct.”

“Maybe she's watching football with the Bendarek males,” Renie suggested. “Do you know which house belongs to the Quimbys?”

“I can find it on the development map. It can't be anything lavish. Everything here is fairly modest, at least by city standards. I assume that's due to Quimby's restrictions on lot sizes and view obstructions. I won't criticize him about any of that.”

“I
have
noticed a few ultramodern places sprinkled around,” Renie said, putting the game pieces in the box. I wonder if there are any undeveloped lots left. It's hard to tell from the beach because of the surrounding trees. Quimby may own some of the forest land.”

Judith stood up. “I noticed what could be an empty lot right above the beach off to the right. Maybe that's one of the lots where potential buyers discovered the ground didn't perc. I'm going in the bathroom to get ready for bed. I hate to turn off the heat. It feels kind of cold and drafty in here. Have you noticed that in the last half hour?”

“No,” Renie replied, “but you've been sitting by the hall door. That might make a difference.”

“True,” Judith agreed as she headed out of the kitchen area.

Fifteen minutes later, she returned to the living room, where Renie was reading a copy of
National Geographic
. She grinned when she saw Judith. “This issue has a space exploration article in it,” Renie said. “Uncle Vince must love it. You know how keen he's always been on ‘little green men from outer space.'”

Judith laughed. “Oh, yes. He's convinced they exist. I'll let you turn the heat down. It still felt drafty in the hall. I'll wake you at nine. I'm aware that you're clueless when it comes to setting an alarm clock.”

“You're right about that,” Renie conceded. “Sleep well.”

Judith bade her cousin good night and headed into the master bedroom. As soon as she turned on the light, she gasped—and raced back into the living room.

“Coz!” she gasped, trying to keep her voice down. “Betsy's asleep on Auntie Vance and Uncle Vince's bed!”

Renie's jaw dropped. “You're kidding! No,” she went on quickly, “of course you're not. Are you sure she's asleep and not . . . ah . . .”

“She's breathing,” Judith said. “I turned on the lamp just inside the door so I could see movement. Come look. I wonder how she got in.”

The cousins tiptoed to the bedroom door. Renie paused before quietly walking past the bed. Judith watched as her cousin approached the curtained window by the dressing table. Renie pushed the curtains aside—and closed the window before rejoining Judith.

“No wonder you felt a draft,” Renie whispered. “Better check your meds to see if she pinched any of them. Now what do we do?”

“Call Jacobson. We'll let him tell the Quimbys. Unless we—”

“No!” Renie interrupted without raising her voice. “We're not going out in this fog. Let the law handle it. It does, alas, give you a perfect opening to visit the Quimbys tomorrow.”

The cousins returned to the kitchen, where Judith had left the deputy's cell number. “I suppose,” she said, dialing the phone, “he may be home by now. I wouldn't blame . . . Lieutenant? This is Judith Flynn. Betsy's sleeping in the Webers' bed. Where are you?”

A heavy sigh was heard at the other end. “Halfway home, but I'll turn around. It'll only take ten minutes.” He rang off.

Judith passed the message on to Renie. “Maybe we should keep an eye on Betsy. She obviously can move quietly, like a—”

“Ghost?” Renie broke in. “You take watch duty. Maybe you can change into your bedclothes without waking her up. I'll go into the bathroom, but keep the door open, okay?”

Judith returned to the hall, but hesitated before entering the bedroom. Betsy was still sound asleep. Approaching quietly, Judith noted she had a faint smile on her thin lips and she was clutching the canvas bag to her breast. It appeared to be empty. Judith checked the three bottles of meds on the little side table. They seemed untouched. Turning around, she saw Renie in the doorway, attired in her tiger-striped nighttime ensemble.

“Good grief,” Judith whispered after going back into the hall, “did you have to put on your . . . animalwear?”

Renie looked affronted. “You prefer me to show up in my underwear?”

“Of course not,” Judith retorted, “but couldn't you have waited?”

“For what? Tigers don't change their stripes and Renies don't bring spare sets of nightclothes on a weekend trip.”

“You're lucky if Jacobson doesn't call the World Wildlife Federation,” Judith said, returning to the kitchen.

A knock sounded at the door. Renie rushed over to do the unlocking honors. The deputy's usually impassive face looked startled.

“What's wrong?” Renie asked with a scowl. “You got something against cats?”

“Only the ones who walk on two feet,” he replied stoically. “Which way is the bedroom?”

To avoid a flippant remark from Renie, Judith answered the question. The deputy kept going. Judith followed Jacobson at a discreet distance. He walked to the bed, stood for a moment with fists on hips, then leaned down to softly call Betsy's name. She shifted slightly under the comforter, but didn't react. The deputy returned to the hall.

“She's really out of it,” he said. “I've only seen her once before, two or three years ago, when she climbed a utility pole and wouldn't come down. Betsy may not remember me, but I don't want to scare her.”

“You're not in uniform,” Judith pointed out. “If she's like most people—even normal people—she may not recognize you in regular clothes.”

“Hey, Lieutenant,” Renie said from the kitchen doorway, “want to put on my peignoir?”

“No thanks,” he replied quietly, barely glancing at her before heading out of the hall via the door to the living room. “Here's the thing,” he went on in his normal voice. “If she's on medication, she probably should be allowed to sleep until she wakes up on her own. Disturbing her now could have some ugly results.”

Renie had also entered the living room. “Uglier than coz having to sleep on the sofa?”

Judith made a face at her cousin. “The spare room has a double bed. I can sleep with you. Can you try
not
to chew gum?”

“I doubt it,” Renie replied. “That's what puts me to sleep. Maybe Uncle Vince has some earplugs. He could use them when Auntie Vance gets mad.” She looked at Jacobson. “Do the Quimbys know she's here? What happens if she wakes up and leaves?”

The officer nodded. “Quincy—the son—advised against startling Betsy. In fact, he thinks she can be dangerous.”

“Oh, great!” Renie twirled around in a flurry of stripes. “You're going to leave us alone with a violent crazy person?”

“No,” he said in a weary voice. “I'll sleep on the sofa.”

Judith looked at Renie. “I don't see that we have much choice, coz.” Her gaze shifted to Jacobson. “Do you think I'll wake her up if I grab my own nightgown and robe?”

He shook his head. “She seems to be in a fairly deep sleep.”

“Okay,” Judith said. “I'll do that now. Help yourself to whatever you need, Lieutenant. One of those pillows on the sofa ought to be okay. I'll grab a couple of blankets from the hall linen closet. Oh—there's the afghan, too.” She headed back to the master bedroom.

Renie gave the deputy a bleak glance, mumbled “good night,” and went off toward the spare room. Judith joined her a few minutes later.

“At least,” she said as Renie burrowed under the covers, “we have police protection tonight.”

“You have that every night,” Renie responded. “You're married to a cop. Where does Joe keep his weapon at night?”

“Under the mattress,” Judith replied. “Just like your father did despite your mother worrying it'd go off and shoot her in the rear end.”

“You know how Mom fusses,” Renie said, reaching for a package of Big Red chewing gum. “It's a wonder she ever slept at night.”

Judith narrowed her eyes at Renie. “You're not really going to chew that gum, are you?”

Renie hesitated. “How about a three-piece limit?”

“None.”

“Two?”

“No.”

“One?”

Judith pondered the offer. “Okay. Good night.” She rolled over and turned off the lamp on the nightstand. To her surprise, Renie kept her word. Judith fell asleep almost immediately.

S
he wasn't sure what awakened her in the dead of night. Maybe it was a sound, but as her sleepy eyes focused on the illuminated clock, she saw it was 5:10. Judith wondered if Jacobson and Betsy were still on the premises. And suddenly she remembered that she'd forgotten to take her nighttime pills. She slipped out of bed and tiptoed into the hall. Passing the bathroom, she saw a form just outside the master bedroom.
It has to be Betsy
, she thought, backpedaling to reach the bathroom light switch.

The sudden brightness made Judith blink. When she focused her eyes to look straight ahead, she saw Betsy standing four feet away. Her right hand held a very sharp knife.

J
udith sucked in her breath. “Betsy,” she said, hoping her voice sounded calmer than she felt, “are you hungry?”

Betsy's fingers tightened around the knife's black handle. She stared at Judith for what seemed like a very long time.

“Yes,” she finally said. “I want some soup. Please.” Betsy looked at Judith as if she expected something that might have been hope.

“Okay,” Judith said. “Let me get my robe. You can sit down at the kitchen table. I'll turn on the light for you.”

Betsy put the knife inside her jacket. Judith hurried into the spare bedroom, where Renie apparently was still asleep. She grabbed her robe, put it on, and returned to the kitchen. She could hear Jacobson stirring on the sofa.

“I have a friend sleeping here tonight,” Judith said, going to the cupboard to find some soup. “Maybe he's hungry, too.”

“Who is it?” Betsy asked in a guileless voice.

“His name is Erik. He's a very kind man.” Judith took out a can of beef vegetable soup, found a small kettle, and turned on the stove. “You may know him. He's been here before,” she continued as she opened the can and poured its contents into the kettle.

“Erik.” Betsy mused on the name. “Kind man. Is he married to . . . Suzie?”

“No,” Judith replied, getting out some soda crackers, a bowl, and a soup spoon. “Suzie is married to Kent.”

Betsy was silent for a moment. “My brother likes Kent.” She frowned. “Maybe Vince lost the knife when he took a nap. But why?”

Judith was puzzled, but before she could question Betsy further, Jacobson strolled into the kitchen. He looked less than his usual alert self and his clothes were somewhat rumpled. “Hi, Betsy. How are you?”

“Hungry,” she replied. “Vance is making me soup.” She frowned. “No, not Vance. But she's like Vance.”

“I see,” Jacobson said, sitting down at the table. “Maybe I'll have some soup, too. Would you mind?”

Betsy shook her head. “Vance always has enough to go around. She tells me that every time I come here.” She nodded three times.

Judith placed another bowl and soup spoon on the table. “Why don't you show Erik your knife, Betsy?”

She scowled at Judith. “Why should I? Finders, keepers.”

“Where did you find it?” Judith asked.

Betsy shut her eyes, apparently in an attempt to remember. “In Vince's boat. The one that Vance laughed about.”