Clam Wake (36 page)

“Well?” Renie said, seeing Judith holding one of the letters but obviously reluctant to open it. “Are you scared to find out what erotic messages Blanche sent to Uncle Donald?”

“You've shed your tiger stripes,” Judith noted. “It didn't take you long to get ready for the day.”

“I took a bath last night,” Renie replied, pouring coffee into a mug inscribed with the words
KEEP CLAM
. “You know I prefer doing that. I'm afraid if I wait until morning, I might drown, not being fully conscious.”

“Smart,” Judith murmured. “I'm about to read the first of Blanche's letters.”

“Read it out loud. I'm going to get some cereal.”

Judith winced. “If they're too gushy, I might get nauseous.” But she unsealed the first of the ecru envelopes. “Drat! It's all in French.”

“Did your father speak French?” Renie asked, bringing a bowl of cornflakes to the table.

“French and Spanish,” Judith replied. “I only took a year of Spanish. I wasn't good at languages. You know French. I remember that from when we were in Europe.”

“I studied Spanish a lot more than French,” Renie said. “I'm really rusty at both languages, though I can usually read some of it better than I speak it. Let me take a look.” In between spoonfuls of cereal, she frowned at the elegant yet not entirely legible handwriting. “Rough—
really
rough—translation is that she finds your father handsome, debonair, intelligent, gallant, and proposes a tryst.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“The word she uses is
rendezvous
. Even you can figure that out.”

Judith handed over the second letter. “I'm not sure I want to hear more of her drivel.”

Renie opened another envelope. “More gack-making stuff. Written the next day, grand passion,
mon seul et unique amour
. Her only love. Blah blah. Cut to the chase and give me the last letter. That might be more revealing about Blanche's state of mind.”

A full minute passed before a scowling Renie finally spoke again. “Her heart or her flask is broken. I can't tell if the word is
coeur
or
cruet
. She's dying of unreturned love. I suppose she got that way from getting the returned letters.”

“It's kind of pathetic,” Judith said. “I can't help feeling pity for her.”

“You would. I don't,” Renie declared. “She's middle-aged before she actually falls in love? I wonder what she looked like.”

“Not very good when I saw her,” Judith said, making a face. “I must confess,” she went on with a smile, “you're back to being you.”

“Right. Renie rhymes with Meanie. At least we resemble our mothers in looks. I guess that's not the worst thing that could happen.”

Judith didn't comment. Her mind had wandered off on a tangent. “I'm thinking about heading home after the fog lifts, but I'd like to find out what happens when Jacobson confronts the Quimby clan. Maybe we should walk up that way. It's almost eleven. The fog should start to lift.”

“You're sure you want to leave?” Renie inquired after polishing off her cornflakes. “Auntie Vance might be disappointed.”

Judith had gone to the window, where she didn't notice much change in the weather. “She can ask the Sedgewicks or the Friedmans.”

Renie took her bowl and spoon over to the dishwasher. “Did you see any of them at the vacant lot last night?”

“No,” Judith said. “It was so dark. When I was trying to avoid hitting the people along the road, I was focused on my driving.”

The phone rang. Thinking it might be Jacobson, Judith hurried to pick up the receiver. “Vance?” a vaguely familiar voice said at the other end. “We're going to do it.”

“Do what?” Judith blurted, too curious to bother mentioning she wasn't her aunt.

“Confront . . . is this Vance?”

Judith recognized Becca Bendarek. “No, it's Judith, her niece. The Webers are still gone.”

“Oh. I thought they might be back today. Sorry.” She hung up.

“Now, what's that all about?” Judith murmured.

Renie was pouring more coffee. “Who was it?”

Judith repeated the brief conversation with Becca. Her cousin looked stumped. “Something about not digging up Blanche or valuable French coins?”

“I don't know.” Judith picked up her car coat. “Let's visit the Sedgewicks. We can brave the heavy fog.”

Renie scowled at her cousin. “I'm still in a fog. I need more coffee. What do you think happened to those coins?”

“I bet they're still in the Quimby house, maybe with Blanche and her box. I'd love to see Mr. Moffitt get hold of those. Payback for losing his family home to the Quimbys. Maybe after we get home I'll call the old dear and put a flea in his ear.”

“Good idea,” Renie said. “I wonder if Mr. Moffitt would find me comely in my tiger stripes?”

“How about terrifying?” Judith shrugged into her car coat. “To quote your husband, ‘Let's boppin'!'”

Renie growled. But five minutes later, the cousins were calling on the Sedgewicks. To Judith's bewilderment, the couple's welcome lacked its usual warmth.

“We're about to take off for the grocery store,” Jane said. “The fog's starting to lift.”

Dick's usually jovial expression seemed forced. “This area's always the last to clear up. The fog gets trapped in the bay. We should expect sunshine once we get out on the main roads.”

“Are the Bendareks going with you?” Judith asked.

Jane's hazel eyes were wary. “What do you mean?”

“Something's up,” Judith asserted. “Becca let it slip. Does it have to do with Ernie's murder?”

Judith thought both Sedgewicks looked relieved. “No,” Dick stated in a firm voice. “That's up to the sheriff's department.” He looked at his wife. “What the hell, Jane. Vance will end up telling them.”

Jane hesitated, then shrugged. “Come into the kitchen. It's after eleven thirty. Almost time for a prelunch cocktail. What'll it be?”

“Got any of that hot toddy mix left?” Renie asked.

Jane laughed. “Maybe enough for you two. That's about it. Dick and I will settle for a shot of Scotch. You do the honors, lover boy.”

Dick busied himself with the drinks. The three women sat at the kitchen table. “The whole thing started with Vance,” Jane said. “A while ago, Quincy Quimby engaged Kent Logan to represent the family in a lawsuit against Tank Hilderschmidt, Hank's brother.”

“The boathouse remodel?” Judith asked.

“Right,” Jane said. “Did Vance tell you about it?”

Judith shook her head. “We did some research. Tank was liable and it was settled out of court.”

“Yes. But,” Jane went on, “Kent had looked deeper into some of the Quimbys' property sales and how they'd been conducted. Vance helped him because she was savvy about real estate, since both she and Ellen worked for that big law firm after the war. In fact, one of the senior partners was elected governor, as I recall.”

“True,” Renie said. “He and his wife came to Aunt Ellen and Uncle Win's wedding. Uncle Corky took home movies of the future governor imbibing strong punch at the reception. Aunt Gert wanted to give the film to the local newspapers because the guy was running as a Republican and had publicly announced he was a teetotaler.”

Jane shook her head. “Your family. They're a caution. Naturally, Vance was able to point out some of the irregularities in the real estate contracts, especially the freehold section. She also consulted Ernie Glover, who had been an auditor for the state. He agreed that there were irregularities in the agreements that didn't conform to Revised Code of Washington requirements. Kent wasn't as knowledgeable as your aunt when it came to that kind of expertise. His practice was confined to other fields.”

Judith was puzzled. “Why hadn't Auntie Vance figured that out when they bought in here?”

“She had,” Jane said with a wry smile. “That's why the Webers—and us—are the only ones in the development to
not
sign such a contract.”

Renie rocked in her chair. “Only she could pull that off.”

Dick set the hot toddy mugs in front of the cousins and sat down. “Sheer brass on her part. But with that mouth of hers—not to mention her brain—she can get away with it. The only thing bigger than her bazooms is the heart that beats under them.”

“So what happens now?” Judith asked, still in awe of her aunt.

Jane frowned. “Kent called a special meeting a week ago Friday night at the grade school outside of Cliffton. They didn't dare hold it here. Vance and Vince were there. In fact, Vince stayed awake for almost the whole thing. At first, some of the younger people like the Crowleys thought it was all a distraction to avoid discussing the sewer issue. But they caved, especially since they were leaving town this weekend.”

“You mean,” Judith said, “the Friday meeting was a setup?”

“Right.” Dick chuckled. “Originally, it was to be the real deal because Quimby and his family knew the sewer question had to come to a vote. That's why Vance wanted you two on hand to cast your ballots for them. But that afternoon Ernie got killed.” Dick's voice dragged a bit and he took a sip of Scotch. “We all lost heart. Frankly, we were scared.”

Jane put her hand on his arm. “We still are. But Kent has put everything together for the confrontation with old Quimby and his offspring. We're waiting for the rest of the information Kent has ordered from the county courthouse. Then we'll sound the alarm.”

“Literally?” Renie asked.

“Of course,” Jane replied. “It's the one we ring during the summer to announce the cocktail hour.”

Judith thought the bell sounded like it should have been a death knell.

I
feel like a dupe,” Judith declared after she and Renie had taken their leave.

“A dupe or a dope?” Renie asked.

“Both, maybe. No wonder I felt we were watching a play.”

“What about the hidden treasure and the French coins and the phony ones Brose collected? Fact or fiction?”

“French coins, probably real,” Judith replied, stopping at the road's edge. “The other coins seem like a scam Brose dreamed up. Maybe it's a ploy to get Fou-fou back.”

Renie looked skeptical. “Why? She's a real twit.”

“So's he. They make a good pair. Hey, if it gives these folks something to do, why not?” Judith sniffed at the damp, foggy air. “The fog's lifted enough so that I can see almost to the Quimby house, but I can't tell if Jacobson's arrived. Let's find out.”

Renie groaned. “Why do I think more sleuthing is a bad idea? You were talking earlier about leaving. Worse yet, we had prelunch cocktails, but no lunch. Those cornflakes weren't very filling. I'm hungry.”

“You had breakfast less than an hour ago,” Judith reminded her. “Come on, let's go.”

“You really are annoying sometimes,” Renie grumbled.

“And you really like to complain,” Judith retorted as the outline of the grim old house loomed up ahead of them. “No cruiser in sight. Maybe he's come and gone.”

“We could be gone if we turned around,” Renie muttered.

Judith stopped near the Quimbys' fence. “I wonder if . . .” She grew silent, seeing Betsy step out from behind the house.

“Hello,” Betsy chirped in greeting as she approached the cousins. “How are you? I am fine.”

“That's good,” Judith said with a smile. “Are you going for a walk?”

Betsy grimaced. “I'm not sure. I have to take some pills.”

“Well,” Judith responded, “you could take the pills now and then go for a walk.”

“No, no, no!” Betsy looked annoyed and stamped her foot. “I have to
take
them first. Then
you
can take them. Like before.”

“You mean when I took the other pills for you?” Judith asked.

Betsy brightened and nodded. “Yes. Please. I hate pills. People shouldn't have to swallow them. They aren't at all tasty. Sometimes they make my tummy hurt and I get
so
sleepy.” She whirled around, pointing toward the house. “
Maman
is leaving. I'm glad.”

Judith frowned.
“Mam—”

Renie interrupted. “Your mother is going away?”

Betsy nodded. “I'm glad.” She wrinkled her snub nose. “Do you want to say good-bye to her? I mean, adieu.”

“No,” Judith said in what she hoped was a kindly tone. “We don't want to intrude. We've never been farther than your front door.”
A bit of a
stretch
, she thought,
but does the basement really count?

“I see,” Betsy said, tapping a finger against her cheek. “I'll let you in the back door. Then I'll start taking the pills. Come through the gate.” She scampered away, heading for the opposite side of the house.

“We,” Renie announced, “are not following her.”

“I am,” Judith declared. “Betsy's harmless. This is our big chance.” She moved quickly to the gate.

“Coz . . .” Renie shut up, knowing that arguing was futile. She followed her cousin into the yard and around to the side of the house, where Betsy was standing by two sagging wooden steps that led to an entrance behind a battered screen door.

“The back door's not in back,” Betsy said. She laughed merrily, then paused after opening the screen door. “Where did Hansel and Gretel go? I thought Quincy let them out. Oh, well.” She tugged at the doorknob. “Stupid thing.” Betsy launched a big kick. The door creaked open. “Come in, come in,” she called to the cousins. “Let's play hide-the-pills.”

Judith went up the two steps. Betsy ran off down the gloomy hall, calling to the Rottweilers before disappearing out of view.

“Are you coming?” Judith asked Renie.