Here Comes the Bribe (26 page)

“But . . . ,” Agnes snuffled, “she's still dead!”

“You spared her a lot of misery,” Judith asserted. “Think of what you did as a blessing. Where was Rodney when this happened?”

Agnes sniffed some more and wiped her eyes with a rumpled handkerchief. “In the bathroom, I guess. He wasn't in the room.”

“I thought the juice was for Rodney,” Judith said. “I don't know why Millie drank it. If the amount was lethal, then either Rodney refused . . .” She stopped. “Any way you look at it, it was an accident.”

“I should go to confession,” Agnes declared, still dabbing at her eyes. “In fact, I thought maybe there'd be a priest hearing confessions at your church last Sunday.”

“No,” Judith replied. “With the priest shortage, we only have our pastor, Father Hoyle, at the rectory. But there's a parish a mile north of here. Tomorrow's Saturday, so they'll probably have confessions.”

Agnes looked bleak. “We're leaving tonight. What if the plane crashes and I die with this sin on my soul?”

Renie, who had grown restless in the armchair, waved a hand. “It's not a sin to make a mistake. Get over it. If you're worried about flying, get loaded like I do.”

“Coz!” Judith cried. “Don't offer bad advice. It's embarrassing when you stagger onto an airplane and cackle like a chicken.” She turned back to Agnes. “Why are you all leaving now?” she asked.

“I don't know. Charlie told me it was time to go home. He said we were finished here.” She blew her nose before tucking the handkerchief back in her pocket. “I suppose I should pack.”

“Do that, Agnes,” Judith advised, standing up. “Keep busy. My cousin's right, if a bit blunt. You performed a merciful act, so you have to stop feeling guilty. Please.”

Agnes didn't say anything. Realizing there was nothing more she could add, Judith started out of the room with Renie right behind her.

“Poor woman,” Judith murmured when they were out in the hall.

“Cut it,” Renie snapped. “She's one of those gloomy Catholics who enjoys wallowing in guilt. You're right to tell her to go to confession. The priest will be bored and half asleep. He'll give her some prayers to say as penance and send her on her way. Maybe then she'll feel better. Or not.”

“Now
you
sound like Arlene,” Judith chided.

“Arlene's contagious,” Renie said. “In a good way, of course.”

“Right.” She grinned at Renie. “Or not.”

Renie laughed. “Now who do we confront?”

“Whoever we see first. I wonder where the rest of them are?”

She'd barely gotten the words out when Elsie Kindred appeared from a room off to their right. “What are you doing here?” she asked in an anxious voice.

Judith chose candor. “Your group reneged on the payment to the B&B. I'd like to get a cashier's check. I'm not leaving without being paid. Where's Stuart Wicks?”

Elsie's dark eyes darted in every direction. “He . . . he left a few minutes ago. With some of the others. They had some business to do.”

“What kind of business?” Judith asked.

“Outside.” Elsie frowned and bit her lip.

“You mean in the garden?”

“Well . . . in a way. But they went somewhere else first.”

“How come?”

The color rose in Elsie's face. “To get some equipment.”

“Equipment?” Judith glanced at Renie.

Her cousin took the cue. “What kind of equipment?”

“I don't know for sure,” she replied. “Clayton mentioned renting a truck—a pickup truck, I think.” Elsie grimaced. “As the Good Lord is my witness, I'm not sure what they're doing.”

Judith nodded faintly. “Who else is here now?”

“My husband, George; Sophie, along with Agnes,” Elsie replied.

“Yes, we talked to Agnes,” Judith said. “You're a nurse, Elsie. I'm curious about Rodney's drinking. It bothers me. Has he been addicted to alcohol for a long time or were his current bouts with the bottle triggered by Millie's death?”

Elsie frowned. “I haven't really known the Schmucks for all that long,” she said, nervously rubbing her upper arms. “Of course George and I rarely imbibe except for a glass of wine on social occasions. Now that I think about it, I don't believe I've ever seen Rodney take more than one drink of any kind.”

“So,” Judith suggested, “his recent drinking is an aberration.”

“I guess so,” Elsie allowed. “When I mentioned it to Sophie—since she's a doctor—she told me it was good for him, given his
grief. A temporary release from reality, is the way she put it. In fact, Sophie seemed to encourage him, now that I look back on the last few days.”

“Sophie's another self-serving twit,” Renie declared. “You all used both Millie and Rodney in your real estate schemes.”

Elsie's face crumpled. “That's harsh,” she asserted in a tremulous voice. “Despite what you may think, George does try to be a good Christian. He discovered that Rodney still had the Swiss clinic's findings in his luggage. None of us wanted Millie to realize she was so ill. My husband destroyed the official diagnosis and removed what was left from the premises.”

Judith thought back to the residue Carl and Arlene had found in their garbage. “I wondered what had been . . .” she began, but stopped as she heard a commotion outside.

The front door flew open. A dozen men, half of them armed and in uniform, charged into the house. “Police!” they shouted. “Please stand against the wall.”

Renie moved closer to Judith. “Does that mean us?” she whispered.

“I guess,” Judith said—and followed instructions.

The uniformed cops began opening doors. Judith realized they were state patrol officers. Two men in plainclothes asked Elsie to identify herself and if she was a resident of the house. In a nervous voice, she told them she was a visitor. The men moved on to the cousins.

“And you?” the taller of the two men said to Judith.

“Judith Flynn,” she said. “I'm also visiting.”

“Me, too,” Renie chimed in, at her most ingenuous. “I'm Serena Jones and I reserve the right to talk as much as I want. But not right now.” She gave the officer her cheesiest grin.

“Idiot,” Judith growled at Renie out of the corner of her mouth as the duo kept going down the hall.

Elsie turned to the cousins. “Where
is
Agnes?” she asked in a worried voice.

Judith gestured at the study. “In there. Maybe you should get her to come out.”

Elsie looked at the half-dozen cops who were by the front door. “Dare I move?”

Judith shrugged. “I don't see why not. We've identified ourselves. Do you know why they're here?”

“I don't want to know,” the preacher's wife said grimly. “I'd better see to Agnes. She's been rather upset lately.” Elsie headed for the study,

Renie stared at Judith. “Well? What's next on your battle plan?”

Judith smiled. “I think our work here is done.”

“What grounds are they busted on?”

“
The
grounds,” Judith replied. “As in digging up that chest of coins, for one thing. I hope they catch them in the act. I'm guessing that's why they rented a truck. But there may be other, more serious charges. Extortion, maybe fraud.”

“You mean trying to inveigle people out of their property for unfair prices?”

“That's my other guess,” Judith said. “I suppose we could ask.”

Renie looked skeptical, but she followed her cousin to the front door. Judith approached one of the state patrolmen.

“What's the problem here?” she inquired.

“Sorry,” the dark-skinned young man replied. “We're not allowed to give out information.”

Judith nodded, noting that the officer's nameplate identified him as L. B. Hermanson. “I understand. But would you call Captain Woodrow Price in the city's first precinct? I can give you his direct number.”

Hermanson seemed taken aback. “Captain Price? You know him?”

“Yes,” Judith said. “He used to be my husband's partner when they worked as homicide detectives.”

“Excuse me,” the officer murmured. “I have to check with
someone.” He walked over to another state patrolman who, judging from his brass, slashes, and the two bars on his uniform, was his superior. The senior officer stared at Judith, then spoke into his cell. After a brief exchange, he motioned for the cousins to come down from the porch.

“You're free to leave,” he said. “We've been in touch with Captain Price as well as the chief of police.”

Judith smiled. “Thank you.” She started down the steps.

The captain turned as she walked past him. “Are you really FATSO?” he inquired under his breath.

“No,” she answered—and kept on going. Sometimes, Judith thought, the usually reticent Woody Price talked too much.

A
fter a stop for lunch to shut up a suddenly hungry Renie, Judith got home a little after three. She immediately checked phone messages. The first was for a reservation in late June. The second was from Belle.

“Dad and I checked out of the hotel,” she said. “I tried to call Clark, but I got a recording. Then I phoned Heaven's Gate. Nobody answered. Oh, well. I'm taking Dad back there anyway. It
is
his home and we have to plan Mom's services. They'll be private, though. I don't want to see any of those other people ever again, not even Clark. Hey, you were really nice to both of us. Dad misses you and told me to give Mama his love.”

Judith had barely hung up the phone when Joe came through the back door. “What on earth . . . ?” she cried. “Did the MG break down?”

“No,” he replied, putting his arms around her and grinning. “You're in one piece. I'm only semisurprised.”

Judith assumed an innocent expression. “I told you I wouldn't do anything that might upset you. Renie and I had lunch at . . .” She saw the glint in Joe's green eyes. “Magic eyes,” she'd always called them. “What?”

“I went to see Woody,” Joe said. “How were things at Heaven's Gate?”

Judith stepped away from her husband and glared at him. “You didn't go to the state capital.”

“I didn't have to,” he replied airily. “Woody called them, along with some other law enforcement types. The California cops and the feds have been onto your former guests for some time. They make a nasty habit of trying to scam people out of their property all over the West.”

Judith slumped onto a kitchen chair. “But their backgrounds were checked.”

Joe sat down on the other side of the table. “That's right. They're who they say they are. But that doesn't mean they aren't a bunch of crooks. Ever hear of white-collar crime?”

“Of course I have,” Judith retorted. “I thought you'd disassociated yourself from what was going on, especially after you told me to butt out. How long have you been working this case behind my back?”

“Oh . . .” Joe ran a hand over his high forehead. “Only since Monday, really. That is, after I talked to Woody. He'd heard something about the gang's operations. This was the first time they tried to pull anything around here, though.”

Judith was still annoyed. “How come you didn't start interviewing them while they were still here? I mean, in a casual way.”

Joe shrugged. “I hadn't been really chummy with that bunch from the start. Switching gears and chatting with them might've made them suspicious. Besides, they were gone by Tuesday morning.”

“Were Millie and Rodney part of the scam?” Judith asked, beginning to simmer down.

Joe shook his head. “They always pick a pair of local pigeons as a front. Maybe they had to wait until somebody they knew who had money moved here from L.A. The Schmucks suited their purposes to a T.”

“
T
for Traitors,” Judith murmured. “Belle didn't know, did she?”

“No,” Joe said, “but she was still in L.A. finishing up her last college semester down there. Belle was their link to the Schmucks.”

Arlene burst through the back door. “I'm furious! I took the Wickses' check to the bank. I asked the teller to make sure it was good. But it wasn't.”

Judith forced herself not to laugh. “They suckered you, too?”

“Yes,” Arlene said. “Imagine! All that hard work we put in out there! They even wanted me to polish the heirloom sterling silverware.”

“Did you?”

“No,” Arlene replied indignantly. Her blue eyes suddenly sparked. “I decided to bring it with us instead.”

Judith couldn't hide her surprise. “To clean it?”

Arlene shook her head. “To keep it.” She glanced at Joe. “Of course you might call that stealing.” She paused. “Or not.”

J
ust before the guests started arriving, the phone rang. “Mama!” Rodney shouted. “Guess what? Everybody's gone from our house! What happened? Never mind, you probably don't know. But I wanted to tell you that it's really great to be living so close to you, Mama, and I hope we can see a lot of—hold on, Belle's calling to me . . .”

Judith took a deep breath and shook her head. Would she never get rid of Rodney and his misconception about her identity? She could hear faint voices in the background, and after a couple of minutes, she was tempted to hang up. Or have her phone number changed. But that would be bad for business. She was still mulling over her options when Rodney came back on the line.

“The dangedest thing just happened,” he said in a wondering voice. “Somebody who calls herself Judith Grover just showed up and says she can prove she's my mother. How can that be? Wait, she's got a birth certificate . . . Well, I'll be a . . . Hold it . . .”

He turned away from the phone. “Coins? . . . No kidding! For me, Mama? Oh, wow! Hey,” he said into Judith's ear, “gotta go! But I'll always remember you, even if I'm not your little boy!”