Hocus Croakus (24 page)

Judith was taken aback. “Your world war bravery? Mother, you didn't serve during either of the wars.”

“What are you talking about, dopey?” Gertrude huffed. “I served in the Red Cross during both wars. Not to mention that your father was an air-raid warden. And I suppose you were too little to remember how Auntie Vance and I chased the burglar out of Deb and Cliff's basement when we heard him trip over the sandbags they kept down there. Your Uncle Cliff was an air raid warden, too.” She glanced at Deb. “Am I right?”

“Yes, dear,” Aunt Deb replied. “You and Vanessa were very brave. That awful crook might have stolen all my canned goods.”

Judith decided to change the subject. She pointed to her aunt's copy of the
Journal
. “Does this mean you've decided to take on the job as a consultant?”

Aunt Deb did her best to look embarrassed. “Well, yes. In fact, Wirehoser has already offered me a handsome sum just because I came up with a little slogan for them.”

“That's wonderful!” Judith exclaimed, with a pat for her aunt.

Gertrude harrumphed. “It's not as much as I'll get for my movie story.”

“No,” Deb agreed complacently, “but it's a start. After all, Gert, you only have one story to tell.”

“What?” Gertrude shouted. “I've got a million of 'em! What about sequels? And prequels?”

“Dear me.” Deb sighed. “I hadn't considered that. I guess,” she went on with a sharp look at Gertrude, “that means I'll just have to add a few other large firms to my consultant's file.”

“I think I'll be going now,” Judith broke in before her mother could come back at Deb. “I'm off to bed.”

She kissed each of the old ladies in turn, then scampered for the door. As she made her exit, she heard Deb say in her normal voice, “What about airlines, Gert?”

“They're in the toilet,” Gertrude replied.

“Yes, but buy low, sell high,” Deb responded. “We might think about that…”

It was wonderful, Judith thought, as she went into her own room, that two old women could be so optimistic about planning for the future. Maybe that was why Gertrude and Aunt Deb had survived so long. They wouldn't give up. And each of them was determined to outlast the other.

Judith, however, was giving in. She could hardly keep her eyes open as she took off the amethyst necklace and earrings. Unfortunately, fatigue made her hands unsteady. She dropped one of the earrings, which bounced inside the open closet. Cautiously, she bent down to see where it had gone. The stone caught the light from the hallway and winked at her as if it knew she'd dislocate her hip if she got down on the floor to retrieve it.

“Damn!” Judith swore, looking around the room for something that she might use to reach the stray bauble. Nothing seemed available. She glanced in the bathroom. There wasn't even a bath brush. Finally, she searched the closet itself. Sure enough, there was a broom just inside the near wall. Judith used the stick end to go after the earring. Still winking, it rolled farther away. She swore again. Bending carefully, she used the other end of the broom to sweep out the earring. On the first try, it moved even more, bouncing up
against something solid. Judith pushed aside some of the garments that blocked her view.

The earring was resting next to a laundry bag. With one mighty thrust, she swept at the bag, which in turn propelled the earring where Judith could pick it up.

“Gotcha!” she said in triumph, holding her prey in her hand. Then, because she was curious as to why the laundry bag had been shoved so far back into the closet instead of in the room by the luggage stand, she peeked inside.

Renie's taffeta skirt lay before her. Joe hadn't given it to the cops.

Judith wondered why.

 

Voices and laughter in the corridor woke Judith up.
Thoughtless morons. I'm still tired. I want to get back to sleep
. Turning over, she glimpsed the digital clock on the nightstand. The red numbers showed 11:04. Judith blinked. Had she just gone to bed? With the heavy draperies covering the windows, she couldn't be sure whether it was night or morning. She blinked again and focused on the clock. It was now 11:05
A
.
M
. Judith couldn't believe she'd slept for over twelve hours. She hadn't done that since…She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been out for so long and awakened so late.

The people in the hall had moved on. Joe obviously had, too. Judith staggered into the bathroom where she found a Post-it note stuck to the mirror.

“Went to B&B. Furnace trouble. Back this afternoon.”

“Oh, no!” Judith sighed. The phone must have rung earlier in the morning, but she'd slept through it. Joe must have taken the call. He'd be furious at having to deal with Bart Bednarik.

Still, Judith was secretly relieved. She couldn't bear to make yet another trip into the city. It had become a daily commute. No wonder she was tired.

Breakfast in bed—or at least in the room—sounded blissfully comforting to Judith. After showering and shampooing her hair, she perused the menu. Belgian waffles sounded good to her; so did eggs and link sausages. The room service operator informed her that breakfast would arrive in less than thirty minutes.

On a whim, she dialed Renie's room number. Her cousin always slept in when she had a chance. It was no surprise that Renie answered on the third ring.

“I finished eating half an hour ago,” Renie said a bit ruefully after Judith explained her late rising. “I got up early to stagger out before Mom left for the morning conference session. I had to let her know I was still alive.”

“I assume she was convinced,” Judith replied.

“Yes, but I wasn't. It was nine-thirty. Good Lord, the things I do for my parent.”

“So you're headed for the casino?” Judith inquired.

“I was. Do you want company?”

“Well…It'd be nice.”

Renie paused. “Okay. I'll drop in. See you in a minute.”

Judith left the door ajar, then started to get dressed. Renie was as good as her word. “Hi,” she called. “I brought the rest of my coffee. I can't believe you slept so late.”

“Neither can I,” Judith said, stepping into a pair of navy slacks.

“It's a good thing you did,” Renie remarked. “Otherwise, you'd be the one heading down the road to Hillside Manor.”

“I know,” Judith agreed. “I feel guilty, though. But maybe Joe can be more forceful with Bart.”

“As in threatening him at gunpoint?”

“Something like that,” Judith said, pulling a red, white, and blue cotton sweater over her head. “However—and don't say anything until I finish—I think we should drive down to the cabin and try to figure out what's going on there with Bart's cohort Dale Armstrong.”

Renie raised her eyebrows. “‘We'?”

“Yes.”

“Gee,” Renie responded, “I don't know…”

“Are you up or down overall?” Judith asked.

“Uh…down.”

“Then you should ease up, so you don't get further down,” Judith advised. Seeing Renie start to open her mouth, Judith held up a hand. “I'm not done. Look outside.” Her hand swept in the direction of the floor-to-ceiling windows where the drapes had been opened to reveal a beautiful March day. “Have you even been outside since you got here? Have you gone down to the lake or the river? Have you walked the woodland trails?
Have you breathed fresh air?
”

“What fresh air?” Renie's voice was a bit of a squeak.

“Come with me or I won't be your cousin anymore,” Judith asserted.

Renie made a face. “Okay. I'll admit I'd kind of like to see for myself what they're doing. Or not doing.”

While waiting for the Joneses' Cammy, Judith confided in her cousin about the bet with Joe.

“I don't know who to root for,” Renie finally said. “But my money's on you.”

“That,” Judith said wryly, “isn't necessarily a good sign.”

It was shortly after noon when the cousins left the casino. The sun was high in the sky, its shafts filtering through the tall evergreens that grew along the winding road that led to the family property. The river played hide-and-seek with the highway, its deep-green waters spilling over big boulders and forming quiet pools near the sandy verge. Though the river had changed course over the years, the cousins still recognized some of the family's favorite fishing holes. The Big Bend. The Deer-Fly Curve. Roy's Riffle.

Pulling off the road at the entrance to the cabin site, Renie came to an abrupt stop. “The gate's closed,” she said. “Look, it's been padlocked.”

“That's odd,” Judith remarked. “What day is it? I've lost track. Thursday?”

“Right.” Renie fingered her short chin. “It doesn't look like anybody's around.”

“That's not surprising,” Judith said, getting out of the car. “It's lunchtime. Maybe they all went up to the Green Mountain Inn or even into Glacier Falls.”

The cousins went around the big wooden gate with its “No Trespassing” sign. On their left, they saw the so-called quicksand bog. Or what was left of it. The hole was fifteen feet wide and ten feet deep, large enough that it almost reached the slight bend in the highway.

“Good grief,” Judith breathed. “They've certainly been digging. But to what purpose?” Suddenly, she whirled around. Something was missing. Everything, in fact. “The equipment's gone! They've pulled out!”

“You're right!” Renie was aghast.
“What the hell is going on around here?”

T
HIS IS AN
outrage!” Renie exclaimed. “We should call the sheriff!”

Judith looked askance at Renie. “Are you kidding? That would be Abbott N. Costello.”

“Oh.” Renie winced. “You're right. He's a boob.”

The cousins stared at each other, then began tromping up the dirt track toward the site of the proposed construction. Excavation had begun on the old cabin spot, with another, bigger hole dug far into the ground. But there was no sign of a foundation.

“They've been on the job for a couple of months,” Judith said in an angry voice. “What have they got to show for it? They've cleared away a bunch of trees and dug two big holes.”

Renie was studying the excavation. “You must admit, there's been snow up here until recently.”

“Not as much as usual,” Judith pointed out. “This has been a mild winter.” She looked up at Mount Woodchuck where the snow line was higher than in winters past. “It's been a bad year for the ski business.”

“True.” Renie walked over to the river's edge. “I miss this place.”

Judith felt defensive. “What was left was falling
down. Something had to be done with the property. I couldn't bear to sell it.”

Renie stood quietly, apparently lost in memory. When she turned around, all traces of sentimentality were gone. “We have to take action. If not the sheriff, call Bub, Bill's brother, and have him sue the pants off old Armbuster. Bub represents builders, so he knows both sides.”

“I'm in a pickle,” Judith confessed. “With Dale and Bart related, I'm afraid to do anything to stop Bart's work on the B&B. Bart might get mad and walk off the job. The house is supposed to be finished by this weekend. If I stall a few days, I won't jeopardize the Hillside Manor project. That's my priority.” Yet she couldn't turn away from the present dilemma. “What if there really is gold around here?”

“Get an assayer or some other expert up here,” Renie said. “One thing's for sure—we're not doing any good standing around looking at a couple of holes in the ground.”

Renie was right about that. With a big sigh, Judith started back to the car.

“I have to sleuth this afternoon,” Judith said in a grim tone. “I have just five hours to figure out who did it or I'll lose the bet with Joe.”

“You're under the gun,” Renie remarked after the cousins were inside the Camry.

“I know.” Judith sighed again as Renie turned onto the highway. “By the way, are you going to Mandolini's show tonight?”

“I'll see what Bill wants to do,” Renie said, “though I'll admit I'm curious about how Freddy can manage an entire performance. With the bands so busted up, who'll open for the illusion act?”

“How about our mothers?” Judith said dryly. “They're as amazing as any magician.”

“Yes, they are,” Renie conceded, passing the entrance to Mount Woodchuck's ski area. “Oh—I forgot to tell you. The conference awards banquet and closing ceremonies are tonight, and Mom can bring a guest. She's taking Aunt Gert.”

“Oh, my goodness.” Judith shook her head. “If I could wangle an invitation, I'd almost rather see that than poor Freddy floundering around the stage.”

“So you and Joe are going to watch the act?” Renie asked as they followed the curving course of the river for almost a mile.

“Yes. Pancho can get us comps. We'll get more if you and Bill go.”

“I'll let you know,” Renie said. “What kind of sleuthing do you plan to do this afternoon? You seem to have covered just about everybody.”

“Then it's time to see Marta Ormond Flax,” Judith said, opening her window just enough to let in the evergreen-scented air. “In fact, I'd like to take Bill with me. He can judge her mental state better than I can.”

Renie slowed behind a large white truck. “I'll see what Bill's up to. He'll probably take a walk after lunch. Maybe we can catch him before he goes out.”

Having Bill's casino routine down flat, Renie had no trouble finding her husband. He was in the sports book, finishing a bratwurst sandwich and studying the MLB futures for the upcoming baseball season.

“The Cubs,” he said when Renie and Judith showed up. “They look good up the middle. I think they have a chance this year.”

Renie kept a straight face. “Why not? That's what everybody says. Every year. Every decade. Every century.”

Bill ignored the comment. He also dismissed Judith's request, though with reluctance. “She's not a patient and she hasn't consulted me. It would be unethical,” he explained, “to barge in on Marta Ormond Flax. But frankly, I'd like to study her. She's an unusual subject.”

Judith understood Bill's dilemma. Thanking him anyway, she tugged at Renie's sleeve. “We'd better be on our way.”

“Huh?” Renie stared at Judith. “Oh—sure, Bill's going to take his walk.” She kissed the top of her husband's head. “Good luck with those Cubbies. Maybe they're having spring training in Mexico this year. They could go to the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe and pray for a miracle.”

Bill didn't respond.

“Now what?” Renie inquired after they left the sports book.

Judith was moving through the casino at a brisk pace. “Just follow me, Dr. Jones.”

“What do you mean, ‘Dr. Jones'?”

“I mean you and Bill share a practice. You know all the jargon, you can pretend. If nothing else, you can report back to Bill and see what he thinks.”

“But,” Renie began, hurrying to catch up with Judith's longer strides, “I only parrot what Bill says. I'm not a psychologist, I'm a graphic designer.”

“Not here you're not,” Judith said with a smug expression. She picked up a house phone by the elevators. “Do you want me to blow your cover?”

“Aaargh,” Renie groaned, putting both hands around her neck and feigning self-strangulation. “Never mind. Do with me what you will.”

Judith asked the hotel operator to connect her to Mrs. Flax's room.

“Would you spell that, please?” the operator asked after a pause.

Judith complied.

“I'm sorry,” the operator apologized. “We have no one registered under that name.”

“You must,” Judith insisted. “She was in the hotel this morning.” A sudden thought occurred. “I can't imagine why she'd register under an assumed name.”

“Unless you know what it is,” the operator said, still polite and with a hint of regret, “I can't help you. Oh! Here she is—Mrs. Flax checked out shortly before noon. That's why I couldn't find her on the current hotel register.”

“Really? Thanks.” Judith replaced the receiver. “The bird has flown. So, I imagine, has the Fou-Fou.”

“Does that mean I can gamble?” Renie asked.

Judith looked exasperated. “Can't you give it a rest for a few hours?” She tapped her watch. “It's almost two. I have only four hours before I have to come up with the name of the killer. I need your help.”

“I have mixed emotions,” Renie said, concern etched on her face. “If I'm an accomplice and you win, I'm helping you to continue risking your neck. And maybe mine.”

“Don't be silly,” Judith admonished. “Even if I figure it out and win the bet, that doesn't mean I have to be reckless if I ever get involved in another murder investigation. I'll take this as a lesson. No more chances, no more danger. Okay?”

Renie looked bleak. “I don't believe you.”

“Please?”

Renie sighed. “I don't see what good I can do.” She stopped suddenly. “Shoot—I forgot to ask about tonight's performance.”

“That's okay,” Judith said, poking the elevator button. “We might as well get the extra set of comps. Plus, I'd like to see how the meeting in Pancho's office is going this afternoon. I haven't seen Joe all day.”

Emily was again behind the desk. She had three textbooks in front of her, and was taking notes.

“I'm working toward a master's degree in law enforcement,” she explained, sweeping a hand over the texts. “How can I help you?”

Judith stated her request for more comps, then added that she'd like to speak to Joe if he was available.

The extra tickets were no problem, but when it came to Joe, Emily shook her head. “They've all gone to the sheriff's office. I gather they're involved in getting some lab results. They should be back by five.”

Judith tried to hide her disappointment. Indeed, she should have been pleased that the lab work was finally under way. “It's a half-hour drive from here to the county seat,” Judith pointed out. “What time did my husband get back from the city?”

Emily considered. “It must have been around one. He was here when they all left together.”

Maybe,
Judith thought,
that meant that things had gone well at Hillside Manor. A quick trip might equal a successful trip.

“You struck out on that one,” Renie said after they left the office.

“Don't sound so gleeful,” Judith snapped as she punched the elevator's up button.

“Hey, where are we going?” Renie inquired. “The opportunity for vast riches is down, not up.”

“I want to know if G. D. Fromm really got fired by Inga,” Judith replied. “We're going to the Wild Ginger Suite.”

Renie shook her head in a hopeless manner. “To what purpose?”

“I don't know,” Judith replied as they stepped aside for a couple who were getting out of the elevator. “I follow my instincts. Maybe we'll find out why Marta Flax suddenly checked out.”

“At least we assume she didn't check out permanently,” Renie noted as they began to ascend to the top floor.

“I hope not,” Judith responded.

The elevator stopped three times to let guests on and off. When the cousins reached the Polson suite, Griselda answered their knock.

“What now?” she asked in her usual no-nonsense manner.

“Is it inappropriate to wish Freddy good luck for tonight's performance?” Judith asked.

“It's unacceptable,” Grisly retorted. “First, you never wish a performer good luck. Second, he's in his room, trying to focus. This is going to be very difficult for him.”

Judith and Renie had managed to inch their way inside the suite. Lloyd Watts was sitting at a desk, intent on what looked like a set of matchboxes. A pugnacious Inga Polson was standing by the window.

“You shouldn't be here,” Inga declared. “These rooms are off-limits to everybody but the troupe.”

“There's not much of it left these days, is there?” Renie shot back.

Inga recoiled. “What a dreadful thing to say!”

Renie shrugged. “It's true, isn't it? Who'll be Freddy's assistant?”

Inga turned to Judith. “Who
is
this person? Where did she come from and why?”

It dawned on Judith that Renie hadn't met all the Mandolini stage-family members. Quickly, she introduced the two women to her cousin. Inga looked affronted; Grisly was indifferent.

“Freddy doesn't need a female assistant,” Grisly put in. “Lloyd can do it.” She gestured at the young man behind the desk. “He conceived of the trick. It's utterly amazing. Which means,” she continued, advancing on the cousins, “neither of you should be up here spying on us.”

“Hey,” Renie said, holding up her hands to fend off Grisly, “from the looks of it, Lloyd could be building a farm. All he needs are some pigs, chickens, and a lot of horse poop.”

With a wave of her arm, Judith intervened before Grisly could verbally or physically attack Renie. “It was Inga I really wanted to see. Could she spare me a moment in her own room?”

Grisly scowled at Judith. “Why?”

Inga, however, seemed curious. “Can you be brief?”

“Oh, yes,” Judith assured the other woman. “I can.”

Inga nodded once. “Very well. Come along.” She started to cross the room in the direction opposite to Freddy's lair. Judith followed, but Renie remained in place.

“Inga!” Grisly shouted. “If you're going to talk to Mrs. Flynn, take this other thing with you. In case she can't keep her big mouth shut, I don't want to have to rough her up. Lloyd's trying to concentrate.”

Walking past Grisly, Renie smirked. “Want to take this out into the parking lot later?”

“Love to,” Grisly retorted.

Inga's bedroom was a smaller version of Freddy's, but, with its wild ginger motif, just as elegantly appointed. The cousins were not invited to sit. Inga paced in front of the white-pine armoire, rubbing the backs of her hands.

“Well, what is it?” she demanded.

Judith took a deep breath. “Is it true that you fired G. D. Fromm?”

From the surprised look on Inga's face, it was obvious that this was not the question she'd expected. “Why is it any of your business?”

“Because,” Judith said quietly, “I think he's making you sick.”

Inga had stopped pacing and put her hands behind her. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Your hands,” Judith replied. “And other parts of your body that have a rash.”

With a curious look at Judith, Inga flopped down on the bed and examined her hands. “They're better.”

“I'd expect so,” Judith remarked. “What is it about him that you're allergic to? Or does he give you a nervous rash because he's difficult?”

Inga looked bewildered. “That's what Doc Engelman said, but when I went into Glacier Falls the other day to see a dermatologist, she thought it was a contact allergy. There's no allergist around here, so I'll have to wait until we move on to make an appointment.”

“I've noticed you don't wear jewelry,” Judith said, leaning on a wild flower–covered chair. “Your watch is pinned to your bodice. Is that because you're allergic to gold?”