Here Comes the Bribe (14 page)

“Give it up.” Judith opened the door. “Those quotes are no doubt intended for the rev's preaching.”

Renie reluctantly closed the Bible. “They all seem to be about vanity and acquiring wealth,” she said as they headed for the back stairs. “Do you really think there's no connection to what's going on with the real estate gig?”

“I can't see how,” Judith replied. “Kindred seems as caught up in it as the rest of them.” She paused at the foot of the stairs. “Unless the rev isn't the one who marked those passages. Maybe it was Elsie.”

“You sense dissension in the Kindred marriage?”

“I've no idea,” Judith admitted, “but I can see why a devout Christian woman wouldn't approve of mixing religion and moneymaking. That is, other than in support of her husband's calling. Nor would she be keen on Millie's alleged female improvement program. That might be why those verses were mainly about vanity and wealth.”

“I take it you're convinced Millie was murdered,” Renie said as they entered the kitchen, where Joe was finishing his late lunch.

“Well . . .” Judith began.

Joe turned around to look at his wife. “Go ahead, say it. The autopsy showed that Millie was poisoned. I think you're still batting a thousand when it comes to your homicide average, Jude-girl.”

J
udith wasn't exactly celebrating the news. “That's . . . tragic. Could Millie have committed suicide?”

“Possibly,” Joe allowed. “An accident is always considered, too.”

Judith sat down next to Joe. “Did Woody identify the poison?”

Joe used a napkin to wipe some mayo from his lower lip. “Aconitum. Highly toxic stuff. It works fast and wouldn't take much to be fatal. It's been around forever, going back to the Greeks.”

Renie had also sat down. “The Greeks and the Romans liked taking poison. I assume Millie didn't. Americans prefer guns to do themselves in. More efficient. But louder.”

Joe shrugged. “True. Woody's initial pronouncement is ‘accidental death,' though he isn't ruling out homicide or suicide. You know he's always cautious. He and I agreed we should herd the guests into the parlor and announce his findings to them. Their reactions could be interesting.”

Renie feigned dismay. “And spoil their trip to the zoo? How crass! Hey, why not put a sign on the buffet for the cocktail hour
stating that the appetizers may contain . . . what did you call it? Aconitum? If somebody avoids the cheese puffs or the salmon pâté, you'll have your killer.”

“Not funny,” Judith murmured. “I told you, murder isn't funny.”

Renie made as if to slap Judith's arm. “And I told you it is. Laughter over tears has been the Grover mantra. Loosen up. If you tie yourself in a knot, you won't be able to figure out whodunit.”

Judith glared at her cousin. “I'm thinking about Ingrid Heffelman's reaction. I don't want to lose my innkeeper's license.”

Joe put his arm around Judith. “Relax. Woody's public statement only states that the tragedy occurred at a local hostelry. You're safe.”

Judith wasn't appeased. “Ingrid will immediately suspect Hillside Manor as the hostelry.”

“Get real,” Joe said. “How many people have died or been killed at local hostelries of all kinds since you last had a corpse on the premises?”

“Joe's right,” Renie chimed in. “Think about all the hookers who ply their trade at some of our less savory motels. The AAA on those places stands for Adulterous American Assassination Assignations. Oops! That's four
A
s. You know I'm poor at math.”

“Okay, okay,” Judith said in a reluctant voice. “But it's still upsetting.”

Joe removed his arm from his wife's shoulders. “I'm taking the Subaru to get the oil changed. You two keep out of trouble, okay?”

The phone rang just as he went out through the back door.

“So,” Mavis Lean-Brodie said to Judith, “we've got an autopsy report. What else can you tell me?”

“Nothing,” Judith replied. “The alleged suspects went to the zoo.”

“Voluntarily?” Mavis asked. “Or are they part of an exhibit?”

“They're tourists. At least most of them are.”

“Yes,” Mavis said, sounding amused. “I'm aware that the victim and his wife recently bought a house in Sunset Cliffs. If memory serves, you were involved in a murder investigation there several years ago.”

Judith stiffened, causing Renie to stare at her. “Yes, Mavis, the gated community of Sunset Cliffs,” she said for her cousin's enlightenment. “I hope they didn't buy that gruesome estate known as Creepers. That old mansion lived up to its name.”

“No, they bought a twenty-two-room contemporary for a mere fifteen million. No water or mountain view, though. But it makes a person wonder why they didn't invite their California chums to stay there with them, doesn't it?”

“It does,” Judith agreed. “But if you think I know why they came here instead, I don't.”

“Maybe they didn't want the rest of your guests on their own expensive turf for a reason,” Mavis suggested. “I have friends in high places—such as the owners of KINE-TV, who also live in Sunset Cliffs. I think maybe I'll pay them a call and take a look at the Schmuck property. Perhaps I'll get chummy with a neighbor or two.”

“You
will
report back to me, won't you?”

“Of course. I
am
a TV reporter, thus I report. I may do that this afternoon, unless a big story breaks. Stay tuned.” Mavis rang off.

Renie was looking irked. “Why didn't I listen in on the living room extension? Now you have to pass on whatever Mavis had to say.”

Judith summed up what the anchorwoman had told her. “Oddly enough,” she added, “after I found out that Millie and Rodney had moved here a short time ago, it never occurred to me to wonder why they stayed at Hillside Manor instead of at their own home. I guess I thought they were staying at a residence inn or some such place while they house-hunted.”

“Maybe they hadn't furnished it yet,” Renie said.

“That's possible. With over twenty rooms, that'd take some
time.” She frowned. “Or maybe we're overlooking the obvious. If buying up the cul-de-sac was their aim, then they had to stay here.”

Renie nodded. “Still, the whole thing is kind of theatrical. Has Rodney stopped calling you Mama?”

“I haven't seen him today. He didn't come down for breakfast, but he went to the zoo with the rest of them.” Judith was silent for a moment or two. “I'm curious about that L.A. phone number. I know the area code is 213, but do you remember the prefix?”

“Yes,” Renie replied, digging into her huge purse and getting out her cell phone. “I may not do math, but I'm a wizard with phone numbers. Watch me.”

She tapped in the required eleven digits. Her smug expression changed when the call was answered. “Yes,” she said, “which section have I reached? I wasn't sure of the extension.” Her brown eyes widened. “Oh, I meant to dial the dementia unit. Thanks, but I'll call later. I think I hear a burglar trying to break in.”

“Well?” Judith said after Renie disconnected.

Her cousin's face was bleak. “It's the Los Angeles County Department of Mental Health. That was the extension for public guardians and committing people to asylums. Now I wish I hadn't asked.”

Judith wished the same thing.

J
udith was startled. “Could the rev—or Mrs. Rev—be trying to get a guardianship of Rodney? Or worse yet, to have him committed?”

“Rodney does leap to mind,” Renie replied. “But with this bunch, it could be any of them. Heck, it could be all of them.”

“I wonder . . .” She stopped.

“What?”

“We assume Belle is the Schmucks' only child. What if that's not the case?”

Renie made a face. “Isn't one enough since it's Weedbella?”

“Our parents obviously thought one was enough, since we're both only children,” Judith said. “Granted, it's odd that any siblings wouldn't be included in the wedding party, but maybe there's one in grad school or living abroad or who is estranged from the rest of the family.”

“Maybe such a sibling isn't as strange as the rest of them,” Renie suggested. “But does it matter?”

“It doesn't, I suppose,” Judith conceded. “Damn, coz, I feel as if I don't have a grip on these people or this whole murder investigation. Maybe I
am
too old to sleuth.”

“That's dumb,” Renie declared. “The problem is the people involved. They're kind of unreal.”

“True.” Judith stood up. “I'm antsy. Let's go to the zoo.”

Renie's jaw dropped. “Are you insane?”

“No. I'd like to know if that's where they really went. Even normal guests rarely go to the zoo. There's too much else to see around here.”

“Fine. Take a cab.” Renie crossed her arms and assumed her most mulish expression. “How can you tell if they're at the zoo? Do you know what kind of cars they rented? Could you distinguish them from the animals? Or do you think they're going to make an offer on the entire park area and turn it into one big residential development?”

Judith sank down slowly in her chair. “That's not all that goofy an idea. Not the zoo,” she added hastily, “but that they're trying to find another parcel of land for condos. Property around the zoo isn't as expensive as it is here on the hill.”

Renie uncrossed her arms and smiled. “Your customary logic has reasserted itself.”

“I still feel as if I should be doing something,” Judith said. “Except a phone number to L.A. County Mental Health and some Bible verses, we came up empty.”

“You could check out some of Clayton's blogs,” Renie suggested facetiously.

“Maybe I should,” Judith said. “What would I do? Just put in his name and see what comes up?”

“Oh, good lord, I didn't mean . . .” But Renie knew better than to try to dissuade her cousin when she was in sleuthing mode. “Then do it. I'll take a nap. As for finding whatever bilge he writes, I have no idea how to look up a blogger.”

Judith went over to the computer and typed in
Clayton Ormsby
. “Don't you want to see what showed up?” she asked.

“Not really,” Renie replied. “Condense it for me. Like two, three words.”

“He's got a website,” Judith announced.

“Big deal. Who doesn't? You and I both have websites that I designed. They're necessary for doing business these days.”

“Clayton calls himself ‘A World-Class Act.' What does that mean?”

“That he's an idiot?”

“It's his bio,” Judith said. “He was born in Lompoc, California, the Flower Seed Capital of the World. Where is that?”

“North of Los Angeles, toward the coast. I'm getting bored already.”

“You have the attention span of a gnat,” Judith declared. “Married Sophie Kilmore in 1988. Apparently no children.”

“For that we can be grateful,” Renie said. “Cut to the chase. Find one of his blogs and make it interesting or I'm taking my empty Pepsi can and going home.”

“You are a pill.” Judith clicked on
BLOGS
. “Wow. There are a ton of them. They're listed alphabetically by topic, not date.”

“If you can't find a blog called ‘Poison,' pick one in the middle, starting with
M
. I always do that when I'm confronted with stuff that's alphabetized. Usually what I'm looking for is toward the end of the alphabet, not the beginning. I don't know why.”

Judith decided to humor Renie. “Okay, I've got ‘Manliness,' ‘Monkshood,' and ‘Motor Sports.' You choose.”

“I doubt Clayton knows much about manliness, and motor sports bore me. Go with monkshood.”

“Okay,” Judith said. “The monkshood blog is dated May fourth of this year. I'll print it out. It's a plant, you know.”

“Right.” Renie's boredom seemed to be glazing her eyes.

“It's only one page, single-spaced. Shall I read it to you?” Judith asked as the single sheet began to make its appearance in the printer tray.

“We can both read it at the same time. Jeez, you're making a project out of this. Now I'm getting hungry.”

Judith had already glanced at the lead sentence. “Oh, no!” she cried. “Monkshood is poisonous. It's official name is aconitum.”

Renie's interest was mildly piqued. “Is Clayton confessing all?”

“No,” Judith responded, sitting down at the table. “He's using
it as an example of toxic plants that grow in gardens and can cause serious problems for family pets. I guess Clayton's not worried about children, since he doesn't appear to have any.”

“He's not the kid-friendly type,” Renie said. “You don't have any monkshood in your yard, do you?”

Judith shook her head. “Not that I know of. See the picture? It's kind of a pretty blue flower, though.”

“It's vaguely familiar,” Renie said. “I suppose I've seen it around. A lot of ordinary garden plants are toxic. I wonder why he chose monkshood as an example?”

“Coincidence?” Judith mused. “Did it give someone an idea?”

Renie grinned. “You're assuming Clayton's pals read his blogs?”

“They might. Being his wife, Sophie probably does. Of course she's a doctor and might know about monkshood. You have to admit it's an odd coincidence that Clayton wrote about it only a short time ago.”

“When did the Schmucks make their reservation to come here?”

Judith thought for a moment. “The last week of April. I remember because Easter came late this year and I spent the next week worrying because May wasn't filling up very fast except for the Memorial Day weekend. Then along came the Schmucks with their full-house request. It seemed like the answer to a prayer.”

“A lesson in being careful what you pray for,” Renie said.

Judith rolled her eyes.

A
fter getting into a religious argument with Phyliss about where Noah could find penguins for his ark, Renie left shortly after two. Joe returned home a few minutes later. The repairs on the classic MG wouldn't be finished until Wednesday. Ron the Mechanic had to send away for parts.

“I've got a call in to that inspector,” Joe told Judith as she was thawing spareribs for the barbecue. “I don't expect to hear back from him until close to five if he's on his rounds.”

“Do you think he was bribed?”

“It's possible, I suppose.” Joe grimaced at the spareribs. “It could rain. Maybe we should bake them.”

“It doesn't look like rain to me,” Judith said. “You just don't want to bother starting the barbecue.”

“It takes so long for them to cook over the coals. The first time around is always iffy. I have to regain my knack.” His round face turned puckish. “I can't remember if I filed it under
K
or
N
.”

“Work it out,” Judith said. But she smiled.

M
avis called around four. “Rich people give me a pain,” she declared. “I think I'll do a series on why they're so standoffish with the media. Of course, it might dry up some of my sources.”

“Don't tell me you of all people had trouble getting them to open up? You're more famous around here than most of them are.”

“They don't want to be famous,” Mavis responded. “They just want to be rich. But I'm relentless. I finally got a Mrs. Burnside-Smythe to talk after I made a fool of myself over her stinking little Pekingese, Horatio Alger. She told me she hadn't met the Schmucks, but her bridge partner, Mrs. Worthman, had spoken with Millie Schmuck a couple of times at the mailboxes. The quasi-modern house is mostly furnished except for the saloon—her word, not mine. It's in the basement.”

“Did Mrs. Burnside-Smythe have anything interesting to say about Millie?”

“Not really,” Mavis replied grudgingly. “But her tone indicated that the Schmucks were not One of Them, if you take her meaning.”

“I do and she's probably right,” Judith said. “In fact, I'm not sure the Schmucks and the rest of their crew are one of
us
. Anything else to report?”

“I hate to say it, but no. It really was a waste of my time,” Mavis
complained in a sour tone. “I should have been investigating corruption in city government.”

“There is some?”

“There always is,” Mavis replied wearily. “Got to dash and get ready for the evening news.”

As soon as Judith put the phone down, she heard the front door open and a burst of angry voices. Hurrying into the hall, she found Cynthia Wicks berating Reverend Kindred.

“I don't give a rat's rear end about your stupid church, Georgie boy!” she shouted. “Keep religion out of this! We're on a mission, and don't you forget it!”

Stuart nudged his wife. “Mrs. Flynn,” he said under his breath.

Cynthia turned to look at Judith. “A bit of dissension in the ranks,” she muttered. “We're all still upset about Millie, of course. It makes us nervy. I'm sure you understand.”

“Certainly,” Judith said as Belle, Clark, and the Crumps started up the stairs. “How was the zoo?”

“Fine,” Stuart replied. “There were a lot of animals.” He took his wife's arm and followed the Crumps.

The others were right behind them. Except for one missing person. “Hey,” Judith called after Dr. Sophie and Clayton, “where's Mr. Schmuck?”

Sophie glanced at Judith. “Asleep in the car. He's tired. He'll be fine.” She kept going.

Judith returned to the kitchen to find Joe searching the cupboards. “Where's the lighter fluid for the barbecue?” he asked.

“In the pantry, top shelf,” she informed him. “Do you know what kind of cars the guests rented?”

“No. I don't think they parked in the cul-de-sac. Why do you ask?”

“Because they left Rodney asleep in one of them,” Judith said. “I want to check on him.”

Joe sighed. “I'll go with you.” He grabbed his wife's arm and started out of the kitchen. “Damn, but these people are a pain
in the butt. Can't you evict them? They haven't paid for tonight, have they?”

“No, but I have Rodney's credit card on file and I'll charge their extended stay to that,” Judith said as they went out the front door. “Is Woody insisting they stick around for a while?”

“He can't really do that without any evidence,” Joe replied, gesturing across the street at a silver midsize Nissan sedan. “I think that's one of the rental cars.”

The late afternoon had grown quite warm. As Judith and Joe waited to let a plumbing truck go by, she noticed that all the windows were rolled up in the Nissan. No one appeared to be inside, though.

“Maybe,” she said to Joe as they recrossed the street, “Rodney's in that blue Honda parked just beyond the entrance to the cul-de-sac. I don't recognize it.”

Joe led the way to the Honda. “Rodney's asleep in the backseat. There's an empty bottle of Scotch on the floor.”

“How callous!” Judith cried softly as she peered into the car. “How could they leave him out here with the windows closed?”

“Damn those morons!” Joe pounded on the window. “What's wrong with them? Are they trying to kill off Schmuck now that his wife's dead?”

Rodney didn't stir, despite Joe's vigorous efforts. “He's breathing,” Judith said. “He almost looks as if he's smiling.”

“You'd be smiling, too, if you drank a quart of Old Grisly,” Joe snapped. “I'll go get one of those jackasses to give me the car key. You stay put in case Rodney comes to.”

Joe had barely reached the cul-de-sac when Arlene practically flew from the other side of the giant hedge and across the street. “Judith! Have you found another dead person? Who is it? Not the mailman, I hope. He's extremely late today.”

“It's one of my guests,” Judith said, stepping aside so Arlene could look through the window. “Have you met any of them except Reverend Kindred when he went door-to-door?”

“Not exactly,” Arlene replied. “I did have to shoo that young couple off of our lawn Saturday. They looked as if they were going to take a nap. Was that the bride and groom who didn't get married?”

“Probably,” Judith said, wincing as Arlene pounded on the Honda's window. She shouted Rodney's name, but to no avail.

“I give up,” she said. “Those young people told me they were enjoying our grass. Or was it
their
grass?”

“Both, maybe.” Judith made an impatient gesture with her hand. “What's taking Joe so long?”

“Maybe he's looking for Casper,” Arlene said.

“Casper?”

“The new mailman,” Arlene replied. “He tends to get lost, even in the cul-de-sac. I think he naps in our hedge. That's why he's often late.”

Joe finally came into view. “Hi, Arlene. I had to find out which of the weirdos had the key to this Honda. It was Sophie. She was one of the drivers. I figure her for a real control freak.”

“They're all freaks,” Judith declared as she and Arlene stepped aside. “I wonder if you can wake up Rodney. He's probably in a drunken stupor.”