Dune to Death (4 page)

Judith gave Jake a thin smile, then turned her attention back to Joe. “You'll be fine in a few weeks. I talked to Dr. Scott this morning. Really, Joe, he strikes me as quite competent. And that intern, Dr. Lundgren, seems very dedicated.” She kissed him again. “Renie and I'll be back this afternoon.”

“Promise?” Joe was growing more wan by the minute.

“Sure. I love you.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

“Me, too,” said Joe, and closed his eyes.

 

“Honestly,” said Renie when they were out in the parking lot, “men make the most dismal patients. I told Bill the next time he got a cold I was getting him a Do-It-Yourself-Last-Rites-Kit. Did I ever tell you about the time he hyperventilated in the middle of the night and I woke up to find him sitting there in bed with a paper bag over his head?”

“Dan did that once,” said Judith, “but it was a grocery bag. He'd eaten all the groceries first. For the week.” She sighed and got into the car. “By the way, ditch those cards, will you? I'm not going to spend the week playing pinochle with Joe and that crazy old coot, Beezle. I was married too long to one semi-invalid to put up with that.”

Renie jumped a little as Judith banged the car door shut. “I don't know about that,” said Renie as Judith revved the engine with a vengeance.

“About what?” Judith's strong features were set.

“It seems to me,” Renie said lightly, but with meaning, “that maybe you've been single too long. Could it be that you've forgotten what marriage—a real marriage—is all about?”

Judith didn't answer. But as they drove down 101, she was thinking very hard.

 

The kite-flying was not a success. The cousins discovered that it took more than a good wind and a lot of strong string to fly the sophisticated kites of Buccaneer Beach. They wouldn't give up, however, and decided that next time they'd find somebody who would teach them. Not, Judith noted, the curly-haired young man from the motel who still couldn't get his green dragon off the ground. A more likely prospect was a ten-year-old boy with a kite shaped like a giant black and gold butterfly. His kite had soared, dipped, swooped, and circled with all the grace of a ballet dancer. Judith and Renie were duly impressed.

“A lot of them are practicing for the annual kite-flying contest,” Judith explained over dinner on the bay at Chuck's Chowder House. “It's part of the July Fourth Freebooters' Festival. That's what all the banners are for along the main drag.”

“That's a week away,” said Renie in mild surprise. “We could still be here for that if Joe's not out of the hospital.”

Judith grimaced. “We're only paid up through Saturday night. If we have to stay on, we'll have to rent one of those cardboard boxes in the carport. I can't afford another seven hundred bucks.”

Renie was watching the waves and looking wistful. “I could pitch in. It wouldn't be for a whole week, anyway. Unless I succumb to an attack of guilt over my neglected clients, we could be here for all the festivities.” She crumbled a handful of crackers into her chowder. “It might be fun. There I was, feeling sorry for myself, with Bill gone, and Tom and Tony running off on a sailboat, and Anne flying down to L.A. for the holiday. Buccaneer Beach would sure beat lighting sparklers for our mothers and letting them spell out insulting names for each other.”

“Let's just be thankful all four of our kids have jobs for the summer,” said Judith, referring to Mike and the three Jones offspring. “Joe's daughter, Caitlin, may be coming back from Switzerland for Christmas.”

“That'll be nice,” agreed Renie as their waiter brought them each a shrimp Caesar salad. They waited for him to perform with the giant pepper mill. Chuck's Chowder House was crowded, a large, noisy eatery where customers sat family style on benches. Judith and Renie, having returned from another round of pinochle at the hospital, had arrived shortly before seven. The line at Chuck's had reached far into the jammed parking lot. The cousins had not been seated until just before eight, or, as Renie put it, about two minutes short of her demise from famine.

But the wait was worth it. The salad was crisp, the creamy chowder lived up to its reputation, and the sockeye salmon steaks almost brought tears to Renie's eyes.

“Much better than green Spam, huh, coz?” grinned Judith over a Coffee Nudge.

“You bet.” Renie smacked her lips. “And don't you feel virtuous for entertaining Joe and Jake this afternoon?”

Judith dropped her eyes. “I guess.” She paused, making circles with her forefinger on the smooth tabletop. “Maybe you're right. In over four years, I got used to being single.”

Renie inclined her head. “Joe was smart. He figured you needed time to know your own mind.” She regarded Judith with what her cousin called her serious Boardroom Face. “Even with Joe, it won't be easy, coz.”

“True.” Judith gave Renie a crooked smile. “We're not exactly off to a carefree start.”

“Maybe that's just as well.” Above the rim of her Spanish coffee, Renie gave Judith a fond look. “You get through this honeymoon, and the rest will be easy.”

Judith laughed. Renie was right. Nothing was ever easy. The combination of Renie's company and the excellent meal soothed her soul. She gazed out over the bay where half a dozen pleasure boats headed for home in the gathering darkness. There was no sunset, for rain clouds had blown in with the afternoon breeze. Directly below the windowsill a little creek tumbled through large boulders, making its way to the sea. Several children, and almost as many dogs, scampered on the sands. Smoke from a beach fire curled up into the twilight. Judith watched the waves and felt at peace.

A soft mist had settled in on the MG's windshield when Judith and Renie reached the parking lot. The air was cool and damp, but the wind had died down. It was almost ten by the time they returned to Pirate's Lair. To Judith's relief, the house was dark, but she had remembered to leave a light on in the garage. The faint sound of music could be heard drifting from the We See Sea Resort next door. Judith decided they should build a fire in the cottage's stone fireplace. The cousins gathered wood and kindling to bring inside. Judith noticed that more boxes seemed to be missing from the garage. She gave a mental shrug—if Mrs. Hoke were moving her belongings, that was fine—as long as she didn't keep popping into the house itself. Maybe, Judith thought with a wry smile, she'd taken home a crate of dulcimers.

Renie was already in the kitchen, flipping on the lights. “Have you opened the damper yet?” she asked, heading for the living room.

“No,” replied Judith as Renie switched on a table lamp by the beige sofa that sat across from the fireplace. “Let's make sure we do it right. I wouldn't want to set off the smoke alarm.”

The words were hardly out of her mouth when Renie set
off her own alarm. A piercing scream brought Judith vaulting around the sofa and across the floor. Renie stood frozen, the kindling clutched in her arms like a newborn baby. At her feet was Mrs. Hoke, long arms and legs at awkward angles. At her side was the bright pink kite the cousins had tried to fly in vain that afternoon.

And around her neck was the long, strong string. Her face was a ghastly shade of purple and the gray eyes bulged up at the cousins.

Judith and Renie knew she was dead.

M
RS
. H
OKE, ALAS
, was not the first body the cousins had encountered. After their initial shock, Judith volunteered to summon help. Unable to figure out if the area had 911 emergency service, she called both the Buccaneer Beach police and the Juniper County Sheriff. Still dazed, Judith replaced the phone and immediately questioned her own judgment.

“Drat,” she groaned, slumping onto a kitchen chair. “Now we'll have both the police
and
the sheriff here. What a mess!”

“Let them sort it out,” said Renie, rummaging in the cabinets for brandy or some other calming source. “Jeez, coz, how could we possibly end up with another dead body?”

Judith gave Renie a gimlet eye. “We live in violent times,” she murmured. Leaning so far back in the chair that she almost tipped it over, Judith swore in frustration. “Having Joe break a leg was bad enough, but now this! Why couldn't that goofy woman get herself killed some place else?”

Having failed to find anything stronger than orange
juice, Renie poured them each a glass and collapsed at the table. “That's a good question. Why here?”

Judith blinked. “It's also a callous one. I think marriage has turned me into a miserable crank.” She took a sip of orange juice and shook her head. “Poor soul. Here I'm carping about my honeymoon and she's dead. Why don't I just go rent a broom instead of a kite and fly back to Heraldsgate Hill?”

Renie couldn't sit still. She was pacing the kitchen, glancing out toward the cul-de-sac every time she went by the window. “Where's her car?” asked Renie.

“I didn't see it.” In her mind's eye, Judith pictured the scene as they approached the cottage. A van, a pickup, a beater, and a couple of compact cars had been parked along the road. But no Buick. “You're right,” said Judith. “Why did she come here to get herself killed?”

Renie stopped pacing and leaned on the back of a chair. “Maybe she was meeting the boyfriend here again.”

Judith considered, then shook her head. “Unless Mrs. Hoke reserved this place for her assignations—and for all I know, she might—it seems pretty odd that she'd show up two evenings in a row when she knows we might be here or coming along at any moment. It would also be risky for whoever killed her. If we hadn't had to wait so long at Chuck's Chowder House, we might have been here an hour ago. Oh, dear!” Judith shuddered. “If we had, maybe we would have been in time to stop the murderer!”

“Well, we weren't here,” Renie declared. “You can't beat yourself over the head for that.” She stiffened as sirens sounded in the distance. Then more sirens, coming from another direction. Renie grimaced. “Shoot, where will they all park?”

“That,” said Judith, getting up, “is their problem. At least they aren't pulling up in front of Hillside Manor and scaring off the clientele.”

Through the window, the lights from the emergency vehicles flashed around the kitchen. Renie started for the back door but Judith heard a vigorous rapping at the front.
Avoiding Mrs. Hoke's body, Judith raced out of the kitchen to let in half a dozen police and firemen.

“Sheriff,” said a tall, lean man in his late forties, barging past Judith.

“Chief of Police,” said a short, stocky man about the same age rushing with Renie from the kitchen area.

“Where's the body?” The two law enforcement officers made a duet of the question, but it wasn't music to anybody's ears. Indeed, they had both stopped in back of the sofa, glaring at each other.

“Who called
you
?” demanded the police chief, bristling.

“What's it to
you
?” snapped the sheriff. “Take a hike, Clooney.”

“The hell I will!” retorted the police chief, fists on hips. “We got called over here. This is my jurisdiction. You're out of your league, Eldritch. As usual.”

The sheriff loomed menacingly over the police chief. Eldritch had sunken blue eyes with deep hollows and a lantern jaw. “When was the last time you caught a perp, Clooney?”

The police chief shoved his stomach at the sheriff. “The last time you let one slip through your knock-knees, Eldritch. I always get my perp, you twerp.”

Judith and Renie exchanged dazed looks while the various emergency personnel milled around as if they were looking for canapés at a cocktail party. “Excuse me…” Judith shouted, but nobody heard her except Renie.

“Hey!” yelled one of the firemen from the middle of the living room. “There's a dead woman on the rug!”

The argument between the sheriff and the police chief ceased. Grimly, the two men marched toward the corpse.

“Hell's bells!” breathed Chief Clooney. “She's dead, huh?”

“As a dodo,” agreed Sheriff Eldritch. “What color is that anyway?”

“Puce,” snapped Judith, coming up behind the sheriff. “This isn't an art exhibit; it's a murder victim. Would you people please do your duty?”

The two men turned surprised faces toward Judith. Eldritch seemed bemused; Clooney bristled a bit. “You the one who called me in?” the chief asked, hitching his belt over his paunch.

“I called both of you,” Judith replied, her gaze avoiding the corpse. “I wasn't sure who had authority in a small town. That's why there's such confusion. I'm sorry about that, but you're lucky I didn't call the State Police, too.”

Chief Clooney didn't look as if he felt so lucky, but at least he stopped bristling. His square face was flushed and he ran a beefy hand through the sparse brown hairs atop his head. “Okay, let's get on with it. Looks to me like the lady's been strangled.” He glanced quickly at his rival law enforcement official. “Well?”

Eldritch had turned back to the body. “Is that kite string?” He saw the pink kite next to Mrs. Hoke and straightened up to glower at Clooney. “Kite string! Now that's real ugly!”

“So are you,” snarled the police chief. He gave a start as he bent down to examine the victim. “So who
is
this?” He stared hard at Judith with small hazel eyes.

“Ha!” crowed Eldritch. “You don't even know your own citizens! Some police chief! I'll bet you wouldn't recognize the mayor!”

Judith was trying not to gnash her teeth. “It's Alice Hoke and she owns this house. My husband and I rented it from her for the week.” She had wedged herself between the warring police chief and sheriff, standing with her arms folded across her breast and her chin thrust out. “My cousin and I came home shortly before ten o'clock and found her like that. Dead.”

Clooney and Eldritch both gazed down at the grotesque form of Mrs. Hoke. The time that had passed since Renie's grisly discovery had not improved the landlady's appearance. Judith looked away, her knees shaky and her lower back aching.

“Bull,” said Clooney, hauling a bent notebook from his back pants pocket. “Maybe you found her like this, maybe you didn't.” He smirked at Judith. “But I'll tell you one
thing.” He smirked some more, now looking at Eldritch, then across the room at Renie who had climbed up on a stool for a better view. “Oh, yeah, sure, you came in and fell over a body all right. But it's not Alice Hoke. It looks sort of like her, but it's not. And I ought to know—Alice and I are going steady.”

 

An hour later, the cottage was cleared of everybody but Sheriff Josh Eldritch and Police Chief Neil Clooney. The scene of the crime had been photographed, measurements taken, floors vacuumed for evidence, surfaces dusted for prints, and the corpse taken away. The pink kite was removed, too.

Judith and Renie, who had been relegated to the spare bedroom at the rear of the cottage, waited for permission to emerge. Renie, who was staying in the guest room anyway, changed into her purple velour bathrobe and smeared brown cream on much of her face. Judith was tempted to tell her she didn't look a heck of a lot better than the putative Mrs. Hoke.

During their interval of seclusion, the cousins didn't go too far beyond expressing their amazement over Chief Clooney's startling announcement. Renie had asked if the victim had actually claimed to be Alice Hoke. Judith had thought back to their meeting the previous morning. The woman who had shown up in the Buick hadn't introduced herself, but she'd certainly answered to the name of Mrs. Hoke and had definitely acted as if she owned the place.

“She even told me about her family's cheese factory,” Judith told Renie. “Ogilvie's Cheese, remember?”

Renie cocked her head. “I think so. Big chunks of cheddar, right? They put out a Colby later but it wasn't as good.”

Judith was sitting on the edge of the bed in her stocking feet. There was sand in the durable carpeting, sand on the flowered bedspread, sand just about everywhere, including between the cousins' teeth. Beach living had its draw-backs, the ubiquitous sand being one of them. Now, it seemed, a corpse was another. Judith surveyed the cozy
room with its bleached pine furniture and green voile curtains. Murder seemed incongruous. But then it usually did. In the brief silence, Judith could hear the roar of the ocean coming through the open windows.

“Whoever she was,” said Judith, “she had a reason for pretending she was Mrs. Hoke. I just hope she didn't make off with my rental money.”

“I thought you sent a check,” said Renie, putting on a pair of mules.

Judith nodded. “I did. I sent it to a different address. The family farm or whatever, I suppose. This woman had a receipt for it.” She stood up, running a hand through her waves of frosted hair. “I wonder where I put it? My purse, I suppose. The address should be on it some place.”

Before Judith could speculate further, the cousins heard a rap on the door. Sheriff Eldritch asked them to come back into the living room. Judith winced at the disorder caused by the law enforcement people, but decided that any housekeeping tasks could wait until tomorrow.

Chief Clooney was sitting in the big blue rocker while Sheriff Eldritch draped his lanky frame over a high-back chair. Judith and Renie sat across from them on the sofa. The two men were still exchanging hostile glances, but at least they seemed temporarily inclined to put personal differences aside and tend to business. Both now had notebooks and pens at the ready. Judith couldn't help but wonder if the absence of any assistants was the result of an argument, like a pair of duelists disputing the reputations of their seconds.

For openers, Eldritch deferred to Clooney. “You say you rented this place?” the police chief asked.

Judith nodded. “My husband and I did. I'm Judith Flynn, Mrs. Joseph,” she added with a note of pride, “and this is my cousin, Serena Jones.”

“Mrs. William,” put in Renie and yawned.

After noting hometown addresses and phone numbers, Clooney asked where Mr. Flynn might be. Judith didn't see the need to explain that they were on their honeymoon.
She wasn't anxious for any more smirks from Chief Clooney.

“He wrecked our dune buggy and broke his leg,” said Judith. “He's in the local hospital for a few days. That's why I asked Renie—my cousin—to come down and stay with me. It seemed a shame to rent the house and then have to stay here alone.” She paused, allowing time for both men to make notes. Clooney wrote very fast; Eldritch took his time. Renie stood up and offered to make tea.

“I'd rather have coffee,” said Clooney.

“You got any seltzer?” inquired Eldritch.

“We don't even have root beer,” said Renie in an aggrieved voice. “I'll make tea
and
coffee.” She headed for the kitchen, looking like a purple grape in her big velour bathrobe.

“So,” said the sheriff, apparently taking his turn as interrogator, “how did you meet the victim?”

Judith explained how the ersatz Mrs. Hoke had shown up the previous day with household supplies and the receipt. “She was here again last night,” Judith continued. “She had a man with her.”

“Who?” interjected Clooney, edging forward in the rocker and making the springs creak.

“I don't know.” Judith gave a little lift of her wide shoulders. “According to you people, I don't even know Mrs. Hoke. Who was that woman?” She gestured at the outline of the body on the carpet. “Did either of you recognize her?”

Clooney's eyebrows twitched. “We're asking the questions here, Mrs. Flynn. Why did
you
think she was Alice Hoke?”

Renie had returned, carrying the rest of her orange juice. Judith told the lawmen how the woman had acted as if she was Mrs. Hoke and had even talked about the family cheese factory. “I've got the receipt in my purse,” she said, getting up. “I'll show it to you.”

Her brown suede handbag was still on the kitchen table where she'd left it upon returning from dinner. Judith flipped through her belongings, but couldn't find the yel
low slip of paper. She dug into her wallet, then the zippered inner pocket. The receipt wasn't there. Biting her lip, she tried to remember if she'd put it somewhere in the house. It wasn't on the counter or in the drawer by the phone.

The teakettle whistled and Judith went through the motions of making tea and instant coffee, but her mind was on the receipt. She must have mislaid it. Perhaps it was in the bedroom or the living room. But the police or the sheriff's men would have come across it. Judith made an exasperated face. She hadn't really looked at the yellow paper; she'd just dropped it into her purse. Maybe it had fallen out. Then again, maybe it had been taken out…But by whom? And why?

She was still looking vexed when she returned to the living room. “I can't find it,” she said, setting four mugs, a ceramic teapot, and a carafe of coffee on the table next to the couch. Renie went out to fetch cream, sugar, spoons, and napkins. “Your people didn't pick it up, I suppose?”

Eldritch glanced inquiringly at Clooney who shrugged his burly shoulders. “We'll find out. When was the last time you saw this woman alive?”