Here Comes the Bribe (22 page)

Judith was still flummoxed. “We were worried. That's why we're here. I was in such a rush that I got an eighty-seven-dollar speeding ticket.”

“Add it to the Schmucks' bill,” Arlene advised.

“That's another thing,” Judith said. “They stiffed me for the B&B charges.”

Arlene looked shocked. “No! That's criminal. Can't Joe have them arrested?”

“That's a bit extreme,” Judith murmured. “But I should talk to them about it as long as I'm here.”

Arlene nodded. “Of course. In fact, they want to talk to you.”

“They do?” Judith asked in surprise. “Who? Or all of the above?”

“I'm not sure,” Arlene replied. “It was the woman with the unruly gray hair who said ‘they' wanted to speak with you. She claims to be a doctor. I wonder what kind. For birds, perhaps. They could roost in her straggly hair while recovering. I suppose one of them will talk to you. One of the people, I mean. I haven't seen any birds in the house.”

Renie, who was slouched in a leather club chair, finally spoke. “I'd like to talk to
somebody
. I wouldn't even mind somebody talking to
me
. My puppet strings are kind of frayed.”

Judith glared at her cousin. “Stop being a brat. Try to remember you're a grown-up. Good grief, you've been on Social Security for over a year.”

“So what?” Renie shot back. “I still work, so I'm still paying into the system. Wait two years until you get to be my age.”

A man's voice interrupted before Judith could respond. “Mrs. Flynn?”

Judith turned to see Charlie Crump in the doorway. “Yes. Please join us. I was making sure everything was going well with you and your friends. Somehow I still feel responsible for the tragedy you all experienced while staying at my B&B.”

Charlie eased his bulk into a green-and-gold-striped armchair. “Terrible thing, of course,” he murmured. “Poor dear Millie. Poor old Rodney. Damned shame.” He shook his balding head.

“How is Rodney?” Judith inquired, wondering if Charlie or any of the others realized that the Schmuck father and daughter had fled the premises.

“Oh . . .” Charlie gazed at the ceiling. “He's coming along. Takes time, of course. Heals all wounds, as they say. Which reminds me,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his argyle sweater, “I've got an insurance form here I'd like you to sign. I'm in the business, you know.”

“Yes,” Judith said. “Agnes mentioned that. Why do you want me to sign this form?”

Arlene waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Mr. Crump's
probably selling you a policy you don't need. Really, Judith, he's a
salesman
.” Her tone suggested the word was an obscenity.

Judith smiled faintly. “I'm sure he can explain what this is all about.” The smile stayed in place, but became coaxing. “Can't you, Mr. Crump?”

“Of course! Of course!” he asserted, looking offended. “I'm not pulling a fast one here. It's for the purpose of Rodney filing a claim on Millie's life insurance. I want to avoid any blame on Mrs. Flynn's part for the poor woman's tragic demise.”

Arlene's face was set, but she didn't comment. Renie looked bemused. But Judith shook her head as she accepted the form from Charlie.

“I'll have to take it with me so Bub—I mean, my attorney, can see it,” she said pleasantly. “I'm sure you understand.”

Charlie chuckled. “Now, Mrs. Flynn, just sign it now. It's a simple disclaimer.”

“But I'm not a simple person,” Judith responded, still in a pleasant tone. “I'm a businesswoman. I always run any legal document past my lawyer.”

Charlie's jowly face hardened. “Maybe I should make you an offer you can't refuse. For your property, that is. How does a million bucks sound to you?”

Judith drew back on the sofa. “Are you kidding? Do you have any idea what property costs on Heraldsgate Hill's south slope?” She glanced at Arlene. “What's your house worth?”

Arlene gazed off into space. “According to my daughter, Cathy, who's in the real estate business . . .” She paused to gave Charlie a hard stare. “We could ask two million for our property. Our lot is larger than the Flynns'. No offense, Judith,” she murmured, “but you know it's true.”

“Okay, okay,” Charlie said to Judith, “then sign the gol-darned form and be done with it.”

Judith got to her feet. “No. We're leaving now. I'll get back to you in a day or so. You'll still be here, I assume?”

The color rose in Charlie's face as he clumsily stood up. “Yeah, we've got some unfinished business. You better not be trying to wiggle out of what happened at your place, Mrs. Flynn, you hear that?”

“I heard,” Judith declared with a lift of her strong chin. “Arlene, are you and Carl leaving, too?”

“Oh, no,” she replied. “I told you, they want us to stay overnight to make breakfast. Then we can finish the front part of the garden. Don't worry, we'll be fine.” She shot Charlie a warning look.

Judith hesitated, but Renie was already heading for the hall. “Okay. Call if you need anything.”

Arlene nodded—and glared again at Charlie Crump.

W
ell?” Renie said after the cousins were back in the Subaru. “Are the Rankerses being held against their will?”

Judith sighed. “Their so-called employers may think so, but I think Arlene and Carl are having the time of their lives. Well, maybe not quite, but they
are
in the thick of things. That's not all bad.”

“Do you think Rodney and Belle have come back here?” Renie asked as they headed along the dark, narrow road.

“I doubt it. I still think they went somewhere for dinner. We should find out when we get back to Hillside Manor.”

“Are you really going to ask Bill's brother to look over that insurance form?”

“Probably not,” Judith replied, slowing for the gate that had swung open at their approach. “It can't be very complex. What I want to know is why Charlie asked me to sign it in the first place. I didn't poison Millie.”

“So who did?”

“That,” Judith said, “is what I'm still trying to find out.”

W
here have you been?” Joe demanded when Judith came in the back door. “Bill went home twenty minutes ago.”

“I dropped Renie at her house. She figured Bill might've taken off. He keeps to a rather rigid schedule, you know.”

Joe still looked irked. “Just answer the question,” he growled, following his wife through the kitchen.

Judith kept on going. She didn't reply until they'd sat down on the living room's matching sofas. “I was worried about Arlene and Carl. They seem fine, but they're staying overnight at Heaven's Gate.”

Joe looked skeptical. “Of their own volition?”

Judith winced. “Not exactly. It's kind of hard to explain.”

“Damn!” Joe leaned his head back on the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. “Now you've got our favorite neighbors putting themselves at risk. What next? You send Tyler Dooley out to Sunset Cliffs on his bicycle to make sure Arlene and Carl are still alive?”

“I hadn't thought of that,” Judith admitted—and immediately rued her words. “I mean, I wouldn't do that. It's a long bike ride.”

Joe sat up straight and peered at his wife. “Okay, what happened when you got to the gated community's House of Horrors?”

Judith recounted their adventures, though she left out the
part about her speeding ticket. That could wait until Joe's mood improved.

“Damn,” he said when she'd finished. “I wonder if Woody could get a cop inside Sunset Cliffs to keep an eye on the house.”

“That's sort of what Arlene and Carl are doing,” Judith pointed out. “Undercover, as it were.”

Joe made a face. “That's not the same.”

“But . . . never mind. Hey, what happened to Rodney and Belle? Did they ever come back from dinner?”

“No. Do you want them to?”

“Joe . . .” Judith paused to collect her thoughts. The entire Schmuck group had been a big pain, but she felt sorry for Rodney. And being kindhearted by nature, she even spared some pity for Belle. “They're sort of pathetic. They may also be in danger.”

Joe rubbed at the back of his head. “Who isn't in the Schmuck lash-up, including the Rankerses? Save your sympathy for them and not a bunch of screwballs you'd never met until last Friday.”

Judith didn't speak for a few moments. “I know a way you could put a cop in Sunset Cliffs,” she finally said. “Arlene and Carl could give permission for a plainclothes officer to get through the gate.”

“And how would you go about arranging that?” Joe asked, his skepticism returning.

“I could call them,” Judith replied. “I don't have the cell's number because it belongs to one of their boys, but their daughter, Cathy, could give it to me.” She rose from the sofa to check her telephone listings. But before she reached the hall, the phone rang. “Drat,” she muttered, hurrying to the cherrywood table, “I'll get that.”

“Judith?” Mavis Lean-Brodie all but barked into the phone. “I've been banned from Sunset Cliffs. What's going on out there?”

“Nothing newsworthy,” Judith hedged. “How could you, of all people, get banned? Everybody knows you.”

“That's the problem,” Mavis replied grimly. “I was recognized and someone with clout—of which there is plenty in that gated community—put my name on the Do Not Pass Go list. Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow? Go ahead, bring your lippy cousin along. But this time let's meet at Chez Fred on the Avenue.”

“Okay,” Judith said. “Shall I make a reservation?”

“No. I can do that. I still have clout with restaurants. I'll see you at noon.” She rang off.

Judith glanced at Joe, who had picked up the latest issue of
Sports Illustrated
from the coffee table. While he seemed engrossed, she suspected otherwise, but she took a chance and called Renie.

“I can't go,” Renie said on a reluctant note. “I'm meeting with some dweeb from a software company with a name I can't remember. Heck, I can't remember the contact's name either. I'll just ask for Mr. Dweeb when I get there. The maître d' will know who I mean. Unless they've got more than one computer type coming for lunch.”

“Darn. I'd hoped you could come along. Oh, well—I guess I can deal with Mavis by myself.”

“Coz,” Renie said, sounding serious, “you could deal with King Kong. Your knack for connecting with other people is an art form.”

Judith was touched. “That's . . . really kind of you to say.”

“It was. But I don't do ‘kind' very often, so I'm out of practice. And I just ran out of ‘kind.' I'm hanging up now to prove it.”

Renie was as good as her word. The phone rang again before Judith could replace the receiver.

“Mrs. Flynn?”

“Yes?” Judith replied, noticing that Joe had dozed off.

“This is Belle Schmuck,” the young woman said in a low voice. “Dad and I've checked into a hotel downtown. We want to be
incognito for a while. I'm hanging up now, but we thought you should know we're okay. So far.”

Judith heard the disconnect before she could say anything.

W
hy,” Renie asked, “are you calling me at eleven o'clock?”

“All the guests have come back to the B&B and Joe just went to bed,” Judith replied. “You stay up late. My husband's being a pill.”

“Husbands do that,” Renie conceded.

“I know, and I even understand why this time,” Judith said, and went on to tell her cousin about Belle's phone call.

“So you don't know which hotel. Do you think they registered under assumed names?”

“I gather they did,” Judith responded. “They're on the run from the rest of their so-called chums. Not that I blame them.”

“No.”

“I knew you'd agree with—”

“I mean,” Renie broke in, “I'm not going downtown with you tonight to check out hotels and look for frightened Schmucks.”

“I did not intend to do that!” Judith cried. “Honest!”

“You're such a good liar,” Renie remarked. “But this time I think I believe you. Maybe you can get Mavis to speculate on all of this when you lunch with her tomorrow.”

“I don't know how good she is at speculating,” Judith said. “She's a news type, she deals in facts and—oh, good grief! I forgot to look at that insurance form! Can you hold on while I get it out of my purse?”

“Sure,” Renie replied. “It's after eleven, my husband's sound asleep, my lop-eared bunny's in his cage in the basement. What else have I got to do?”

Judith took the phone into the kitchen where she'd left her purse. “Let me see . . .” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table and flipping through the pages. “The policy is in Millie's name . . . The first part goes on and on with standard life insur
ance information . . . Oh, yes, it's definitely for twenty million dollars. I wonder what the monthly premiums are for that much.”

“How would I know?” Renie said, sounding bored. “Hurry up. I suddenly need a snack.”

“Hey, it takes time to—ah! There's a rider or whatever they call it. Ohmigod! The policy doesn't cover—and I quote—‘death by misadventure.' So
that's
why they want me to sign off on this thing!”

“Of course.” Renie yawned. “What do I crave? A BLT or a vat of vanilla ice cream with caramel-butterscotch topping?”

“Coz! Stop being a twit. If I'd signed this, I could've perjured myself.”

“But you didn't sign it,” Renie said in a reasonable tone. “Tear up the damned thing and go to bed.”

“No. I'm saving it. It's evidence.”

“Of what?”

“I don't know yet,” Judith admitted. “That is, I suppose they want the insurance. But I wonder who the beneficiary is . . .” She leafed through the few pages and gasped. “It's Agnes Crump!”

“Agnes?” Renie sounded mildly surprised. “Why Agnes?”

“Charlie Crump is the one who probably sold this policy to Millie,” Judith said. “Who knows what he told Millie? Or maybe she never knew. The policy is dated September tenth of last year. I wonder if Rodney—or Belle—even knew about it.”

“Ice cream,” Renie said. “That appeals to me more than a BLT.”

Judith started to speak, but thought better of it. Instead, she hung up on her cousin. There were times when Serena Marie Grover Jones could try even Judith's almost limitless patience. But she did take Renie's advice and went up to bed.

Unfortunately, she couldn't get to sleep. Her brain refused to shut down. All she could think of was Charlie Crump's insistence that she sign the insurance waiver to exonerate herself of any liability. The rider specified foul play. Judith knew she hadn't caused Millie's death. But did the request imply that someone else
had? Of course she'd assumed it was possible that Millie had been murdered. Judith had grown accustomed to being associated with homicide victims. Maybe she was wrong this time. Given that most deaths were caused by natural causes, maybe that was how Millie had died.

Yet Judith's history with dead people strongly suggested otherwise.

C
louds hung over Heraldsgate Hill Thursday morning when Judith came downstairs. “Say,” she said to Joe, who was cracking eggs into a big bowl, “I thought the autopsy report was due by now.”

“I told you it might be later in the week,” he responded. “The more people who move to this city, the more deaths we get. Haven't you noticed how many obits are in the newspaper these days? That means more autopsies.”

“Not every death requires an autopsy,” Judith pointed out.

“Right.” Joe turned on the mixer, obviously not interested in discussing postmortem procedures.

Judith took two pounds of bacon out of the refrigerator. Before she could open the first package, Sweetums scrunched his big, furry body through the cat door and strolled down the hall. “Mother must be up early,” she murmured. “I'll try to make her breakfast now. Oww!” She glared at the cat, who had just raked her leg with his claws. “You ornery pest! Didn't Mother feed you this morning?” She started down the hall to check his dish. “Claws!” she exclaimed. “That's what Clark meant.”

Joe turned off the mixer. “What?”

“Some notes Clark had in their room,” Judith explained, moving away from Sweetums, who was poised for a second attack. “It looked like ‘claws,' but I'll bet it was
clause
. Clark may not be a very good speller.”

Joe turned the mixer back on. Judith shook her head and went
to the pantry to get more cat food. Her husband didn't seem interested in what might be possible clues.

It wasn't until she'd taken Gertrude's breakfast out to the toolshed and the current guests were seated in the dining room that Judith asked Joe why he seemed so grumpy.

“It's simple,” Joe said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I love my wife. I tense up when I think she's putting herself in harm's way.” The green eyes flashed. “Is that so hard to understand?”

“No,” Judith mumbled. “But when it happens under our roof, it's hard for me to avoid wondering how and why.”

“But we don't really know what happened,” Joe asserted. “How about this? Until Millie's death is ruled a homicide, you butt out. Okay?”

Judith frowned. “Um . . . I suppose I could do that. I'm having lunch with Mavis Lean-Brodie today. She's been following what . . . happened here as a possible TV news story.”

Joe's hands fell away from Judith's shoulders. “Oh, hell! That means you and the B&B will be broadcast all over the region. Do you really want that kind of publicity? What will Ingrid Heffelman think?”

“Maybe Ingrid's too busy running the state B&B association to watch TV.”

“Ingrid'll hear about it one way or another,” Joe said, lowering his voice to keep from being overheard by the guests in the dining room. “She'll be on your case again and you know it.”

Judith's temper finally came to the fore. “You want me to interfere with freedom of information?”

“I want you to use common sense. When you see Mavis today, tell her you don't want publicity. It's bad for business. Maybe she can understand that.”

“I doubt it.” Judith paused. “I can give it a shot, though.”

“You do that,” Joe said, picking up the bowl of eggs.

Judith decided to shut up and check on the guests. The current
group seemed more congenial than her husband on this cloudy May morning. And at least none of them had been murdered.

Yet.

J
udith had never been to Chez Fred before. It was a relatively new restaurant on the hill, but had received good reviews. Mavis was already seated when she arrived a couple of minutes after noon.

“They have a very fine rosé from Provence here,” Mavis said in greeting. “I ordered a bottle. I hope you like it.”

“I don't drink wine very often,” Judith admitted. “I serve it to my guests during the social hour, though. I tend to buy whatever's on sale.”

Mavis raised her eyebrows, but refrained from sneering. “Really, Judith, I thought you were a woman of some culture.”

“You and your family stayed at my B&B years ago,” Judith said. “I don't remember you complaining about what I served.”

“I was probably too busy complaining about my family,” Mavis replied. “As it turned out, I was justified in one instance.”

Judith thought back to what had been her first encounter with a dead body. Like the currently deceased Millie, the victim had died on the premises. “Let's skip the old history,” she said. “What do you know that I don't about the Schmucks?”

“Probably not as much as you do,” Mavis admitted. “My spies tell me you were at Sunset Cliffs last night.”

“Your spies?”