Silver Scream: A Bed-And-Breakfast Mystery (19 page)

“Say what?” the woman snapped.

Judith glanced at the name tag on the blue smock. “Perhaps you aren’t aware of her real identity, Wanda. My daughter was brought in today with…” She feigned embarrassment. “A drug reaction.”

Wanda’s expression went from unpleasant to sour. “Oh, yes. One of those.” She scowled at Judith, no doubt blaming her for the daughter’s decadence. “May I see some ID?”

Momentarily flustered, Judith tried to come up with
another tall tale. “Her father and I,” she began, fumbling for her wallet, “were only married for—”

The phone rang on the desk. Wanda held up a hand for Judith to be silent. After tersely answering some questions regarding the status of another patient, the aide hung up.

“Let’s see that ID,” she ordered. “I don’t need your life story.”

Judith handed over the wallet with her driver’s license. Wanda gave it a piercing look, then nodded. “Miss Flynn is in Room 704, back down the hall and on your left.”

With a gulp, Judith nodded and hurried off before Wanda noticed her astonishment at the coincidence.

The door to Room 704 was closed. Judith knocked in a tentative fashion, but when no one responded, she slowly opened the door. Except for the green and red lights on the various monitors, the room was dark.

Nearing the bed, Judith saw that Angela was on her side, turned away from the door. The IVs that trailed from her left hand looked all too familiar.

Judith thought she was asleep. But the actress must have heard someone approach. “What now?” she asked in a disgruntled, if subdued voice.

“It’s Judith Flynn.”

“Who?” Angela didn’t bother to move.

“Judith Flynn, your innkeeper at the B&B. How are you?”

“Awful,” Angela replied, still not moving. “What do you want?”

Judith sat down in the molded plastic visitor’s chair. “You’re my guest. Naturally I’m concerned.”

“Bull,” Angela muttered. “You’re here to pry. Why should you be concerned? Are you afraid I’m going to peg out like Bruno did?”

“Of course not,” Judith said a bit testily. “I’m genuinely concerned about your welfare. You gave us an awful scare today.” She paused, waiting for a response. There was none, except for a restless flutter of the young woman’s hands at the top of the bedsheet. “I also wanted to know,” Judith continued, her voice a bit stern, “why you used my name when you checked into the hospital.”

“I didn’t use it,” Angela said querulously. “Dirk checked me in. Or somebody. I was out of it.”

“But why Flynn?” Judith persisted.

At last Angela turned to look at her visitor, though the movement made her wince. “Why? Because it’s my name, dammit. You don’t really think I was born Angela La Belle?”

“Ah…” Judith hadn’t considered this possibility. “I see. I’m sorry I was impertinent. That is, I didn’t mind you using my name, I just thought it was…odd.”

“It’s not odd,” Angela insisted, her voice a trifle stronger. “I was born Portulaca Purslane Flynn. My mother was into plants and herbs. Even if I hadn’t become an actress, I’d have dumped all three of those names just like my mother dumped me when I was two. Now how about getting out of here? My head hurts like hell.”

“Shall I ring for the nurse to bring you more pain medication?” Judith offered.

“Are you kidding? These sadists are afraid I’ll get addicted to aspirin.”

“I’m sorry, really I am,” Judith said. “I was in the
hospital last January. I know how difficult the medical profession can be when it comes to administering painkillers.”

“Don’t be cute,” Angela snapped. “You know damned well why they won’t give me anything. I’m a coke hound. Now beat it, will you?”

“Of course,” Judith said, standing up. “Really, I feel so sorry for you. Is it possible that you could kick the habit if you went into rehab?”

Angela scowled at Judith. “The goody-goody side of the Quick Fix, huh? Easier said than done, Mrs. Flynn.” Suddenly her eyes widened. “Where are you from?”

Judith was taken aback. “You mean…where was I born?”

“Yes. Where? When?” The queries crackled like scattershot.

“I was born right here,” Judith replied, “about two blocks away, in a hospital that’s been turned into condos. Why do you ask?”

“Are you sure?”

“Certainly I’m sure,” Judith answered, indignant. Then, seeing the disappointment on Angela’s face, she understood the reason for the questions. “I’m sorry. I’ve only had one child, a boy. And I didn’t become Mrs. Flynn until ten years ago.”

Wearily, Angela turned away. “Never mind. I keep hoping someday I’ll find my mother.”

Even when she wasn’t wanted, Judith was too soft-hearted to walk away. She remained standing, gazing down at Angela’s blond hair and twitching hands.

“Do you want to meet your mother for revenge,” Judith asked softly, “or for an explanation?”

Angela didn’t respond immediately. Indeed, her whole body convulsed, then went slack. “I know why she gave me away,” the actress finally replied, her voice muffled by the pillow. “She never really wanted me. My mother was a free spirit, a big-time flower child. I was just a burden in her personal revolution.”

“Your mother sounds selfish and immature,” Judith declared. “Who raised you?”

“An aunt in San Bernardino,” Angela said. “She meant well, but she had four kids of her own. I was much younger than they were. I was always the outsider.” Abruptly, she turned again to face Judith. “This is none of your business. Quit asking so damned many questions.”

“I apologize,” Judith said. “I can’t help myself. I’m interested in people. I care about them.”

“You’re an oddity, then,” Angela said. “Most people only care in terms of what they can get from you. The funny thing is, my mother didn’t want anything from me. She didn’t want me, period.”

“She may be a villain,” Judith said quietly, “but she’s not the one who hooked you on drugs. Who did?”

Angela gaped at Judith. “What a rotten, snoopy question!”

“No, it isn’t,” Judith said reasonably. “Addicts have to start somewhere, and usually because someone coaxed or goaded them into it. You don’t just walk into the supermarket and get cocaine on Aisle B.”

“Why do you care?” Angela’s voice was toneless. “It’s abnormal.”

“I guess,” Judith said, “I’m one of those rare people who
do
care. I must be eccentric. Humor me.”

Angela heaved a deep, shuddering sigh. “Why not? It doesn’t matter now. It was good old Bruno.”

Judith was surprised. “Bruno? Did he do drugs?”

“For years,” Angela said, “right up until he overdosed midway through the making of
The Gasman
.”

“Is that why he was hospitalized?” Judith asked, remembering Vito’s medical notes including the letter
C
. For cocaine, apparently.

“That’s right,” Angela said with a bitter note. “It scared him, so he went into rehab. He’s been clean ever since. Lucky him.”

“Not so lucky since he’s dead,” Judith remarked. “You say he’d been an addict for years?”

“Yes.” Angela looked bitter. “Some people can function forever on coke. Bruno thought so. I did, too. Maybe I still do. As Bruno told me, coke can enhance the creative process. He truly believed it did for him.”

Maybe, Judith thought, that explained
The Gasman
disaster. “It’s more like Russian roulette,” she asserted. “Eventually, you’re going to reach the chamber that takes you out.”

“Sure, sure. Easy for you to say.” Angela made a face at her.

“So who got Bruno hooked?” Judith inquired.

Angela shook her head. “You’re not going to get me to tell you about that.”

“But Bruno’s dead,” Judith said as she heard the faint sound of the doorknob turning. A nurse no doubt, coming to take the endless vital signs. “What difference does it make?”

“Because the person who got him started is still alive,” Angela said. “And if you ask me, very dangerous. You don’t want to know.”

But Judith did want to know. Despite the odds, even the risks, she had to know.

Yet she could get nothing more out of Angela. And to be fair, the young woman seemed not only agitated, but tired. Judith was heading out of the room when another click sounded at the door. She waited for the person in the corridor to come in.

But no one did, and when she turned the knob she discovered that the door was firmly shut.

S
LOWLY
,
SHE OPENED
the door and peered into the hallway. A pair of orderlies had their heads together by the elevators. Wanda was sitting at the reception desk. A doctor in scrubs was talking to a nurse at the far end of the corridor. None of them seemed interested in Room 704.

But someone was. As she’d turned the knob to open the door a few inches, she’d heard footsteps close by. Not the soft, almost noiseless tread of shoes worn by members of the medical profession, but high heels.
Tap-tap-tap
. They’d stopped abruptly just as Judith had looked into the corridor.

The door on the right of Angela’s room was open. Moving as silently as possible, Judith looked inside. It was dark, but she could tell that the single bed was empty. On a whim, she opened the bathroom door and flicked on the light. Nothing. Leaving the light on and the bathroom door open, she went to the closet. Nothing there, either. But just as she was closing the closet door, she heard the
tap-tap-tapping
again. Quickly switching off the bathroom light, she hurried into the corridor. The tableau remained the same, except that the orderlies by the elevators had gone.

Judith walked softly to Room 702, on the other side of Angela’s private room. There a light glowed above the bed, where an old man with paper-thin skin breathed with noisy effort. Judith gave up. She couldn’t search every room. Besides, she reasoned, the high heels might have belonged to a visitor who had tried to get into the wrong room.

But she didn’t quite believe it. Feeling defeated, she headed for the elevators. There was one good thing about her visit, though. As she exited on the main floor, Judith felt a sense of freedom at leaving the hospital under her own power. It hadn’t been that way when she exited Good Cheer on a cold day in January. She’d been wheeled out to a cabulance and had spent the following week learning to walk again.

Fifteen minutes later she was back at Hillside Manor. Joe was sitting in the living room, studying Bill’s chart.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded. “I was about to file a missing-persons report.”

Judith explained everything except the hospital visit. She had a question of her own that wouldn’t wait. “What about Mother? It’s eight o’clock. She must be starving.”

“Your mother is fine,” Joe replied. “Arlene brought her dinner over a couple of hours ago. It seems that none of the Rankers clan showed up. Arlene was furious—right up until she insisted she hadn’t wanted to see any of them in the first place.”

“Dear Arlene.” Judith sighed, collapsing next to Joe on the sofa. “A sea of contradictions. And a heart as big as Alaska.”

“So what good did all your sleuthing at Capri’s do for you?” Joe asked, putting Bill’s chart aside.

“I’m not sure,” Judith said, suddenly hearing her stomach growl. “Goodness, I haven’t eaten in hours. What’s left from the caterers?”

Joe peered at her. “You look beat. Let me fix you a drink and bring you something to eat. How about Winifred’s field greens and Chips’s chicken pot pie?”

“Sounds wonderful,” Judith said, slipping out of her shoes as Sweetums crept up to the sofa. “I should see Mother, but I’ll wait until I get my second wind.”

Joe had gone into the kitchen when the doorbell sounded a minute later. Wearily, Judith trudged to the front door. Eugenia Fleming and Morris Mayne stood on the front porch with three small trick-or-treaters. The youngsters, who had an adult waiting on the sidewalk, chorused their Halloween greeting. Eugenia practically trampled them as she entered the house.

“It’s very damp out there,” she complained. “Did Vito mention that he and I and Morris are staying in your vacant rooms tonight?”

“I’m…not…sure,” Judith replied, scooping candy bars out of a cut-glass bowl in the entry hall. She stepped aside as Morris barged his way inside. Judith scowled at him, then addressed the children. “Two ghosts and a witch,” she said, dropping two chocolate bars into each of the three pillowcases. “Very scary. Don’t get a tummy ache.”

The children said thank you with varying degrees of confidence, then turned around and ran off to join their adult companion. Judith managed to flag down Eugenia before she reached the second landing of the main staircase.

“Excuse me,” Judith said, “but the rooms aren’t made up yet. It’s been a very busy day. Besides, there’s
only one vacant room. Bruno’s,” she added, lowering her voice. “We’ll have to see if Ellie or Winifred or Chips or Dade will consent to share a room.”

“Chips and Dade wouldn’t share a bomb shelter if a nuclear device went off,” Eugenia retorted. “You might have better luck with Win and Ellie. Just tell me which room is mine. I need to lie down. I’m quite fatigued.”

Judith was forced into a quick decision. “Morris will stay in Room Three. You take Room Six. I’ll make it up as soon as I have something to eat.”

Eugenia leaned over the banister, her bust looming like two large water balloons. “Now would be preferable.”

Judith was about to snap back when Joe appeared in the entry hall bearing a tray with a Scotch rocks, a steaming chicken pot pie, a generous salad, and a hot roll.

“Take a seat, Jude-girl,” he said as the doorbell rang again. “Dinner is served.”

Judith shot Eugenia a frigid look and returned to the living room. Morris Mayne was reclining on the sofa, his shirt and tie loosened and his suit jacket covering the coffee table.

Joe stared down at the publicist. “Get the door, will you, Morris? And move that jacket. My wife’s dinner is going there.”

Morris looked affronted. “Pardon? I’m a guest, not a servant.”

With a nimble move, Joe lifted one foot, caught the jacket on the toe of his shoe, and dumped it on the floor. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. Get that door. If you want to lie down, use the stiff’s room. It’s behind Door
Number Three. Move it. I’m not in one of my good moods.”

Morris moved. He scrambled for his jacket, gave Joe a wary glance, and scooted out of the room. Sweet-ums, who had been napping by the sofa, woke up and chased Morris all the way up the stairs.

Judith beamed at her husband. “I always find it exciting when you play bad cop.”

“Maybe we’ll both have a chance to get excited when this crew of loonies gets the hell out of here,” Joe grumbled. “Now sit and stay. And eat. I’ll take care of the trick-or-treaters.”

“How many have we had so far?” Judith asked.

“About thirty,” Joe replied, heading to answer the doorbell on the second ring.

By the time her husband returned, she’d eaten half of the pot pie with its flaky crust and chunks of tender chicken. “Were they cute?” she asked.

“It was some of the Dooleys,” Joe said, referring to their neighbors whose house was across the back fence by the Flynn garage. “I can never tell if it’s their kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews, or just some strays they’ve picked up.”

“Darn. I’d like to have seen them,” Judith said, tackling the field-green salad.

“You wouldn’t have wanted to see some of the bigger ones,” Joe said. “About half an hour ago there was a scarecrow and a cowboy who were as tall as I am. I’d swear they were old enough to vote.”

“Candy hogs,” Judith said with a smile that quickly turned into a frown. “Did you say a scarecrow and a cowboy?”

“Right,” Joe responded. “Why do you ask?”

“A
Wizard of Oz
scarecrow? Was the cowboy wearing snakeskin boots?”

“As a matter of fact he was,” Joe said.

“They were here last night.” Judith took her first sip of Scotch. “Doesn’t that seem odd?”

Joe shrugged. “As you said, candy hogs. That’s the problem with Halloween falling on a Sunday. It becomes a holiday weekend instead of just one night.”

Judith didn’t respond. But she was more than curious. She was alarmed.

Joe had offered to make up the rooms while Judith finished her meal and put her feet up. He’d just come downstairs when Dirk, Ellie, Chips, and Ben returned to Hillside Manor. With a few succinct words, he explained the new room assignments. Ellie didn’t seem pleased.

“Win’s such a fussbudget,” she said with a scowl. “At least Angela didn’t care if my clothes weren’t hung perfectly in the closet.”

Judith apologized for any inconvenience. “I had no idea that Mr. Patricelli, Mr. Mayne, and Ms. Fleming were all going to stay here tonight instead of at the hotel downtown.”

“The Cascadia is in a pickle,” Chips Madigan remarked. “We’ve got about fifty people there who can’t leave town, and some tour group is coming in from Japan tonight. They’re overbooked.”

So, Judith thought, was she. There were other hotels, some high-class motels, and probably even a few B&Bs that were empty on a Sunday night. She had the feeling that it wasn’t a lack of vacancies that had brought the trio to Hillside Manor, but Paradox Stu
dios’ desire to keep certain persons under Vito’s eagle-like eye.

“Is it possible,” she inquired, recalling what she’d overheard the attorney say in the private dining room, “that you’ll all be going back to L.A. tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” Chips replied.

“Let’s hope so,” Ben Carmody put in.

“We’d damned well better be out of here by tomorrow,” Dirk growled, then turned on his heel and stomped upstairs.

A smiling Ellie watched him disappear. “Goody. Now we can watch Ben’s movie on TV.” She turned to Judith. “It’s okay, isn’t it? Chips directed. You might want to see it, Mrs. Flynn.
The Virgin Vessel
. It comes on in five minutes, and it’s really creepy. Perfect for Halloween.”

Judith vacillated. “I’ll watch the first part while I finish my dinner. But then I have some work to do.”

Joe volunteered to turn on the set. Ellie assumed her usual perch on the window seat, even though it meant she had to lean a little to see the screen. Chips sprawled on the sofa across from Judith, and Ben settled into one of the big armchairs.

With the screen coming to life, Joe had just put down the remote when there was a knock at the back door. He went out through the French doors and appeared a few seconds later with Renie.

“I’m bored,” Renie announced as the movie’s opening credits appeared on the screen. “Bill’s exhausted from meeting the future in-laws, so he’s going to bed even earlier than usual. I don’t feel like reading, and there’s nothing on TV,” she continued, stopping in the middle of the room and blocking the screen. “Once the
baseball season is over, there’s not much I want to see on television.”

“Keep it down,” Ben called out.

“Did you pay for your seat?” Renie sneered.

“Get out of the way,” Ellie demanded. “You’re blocking the screen.”

“Read a book,” Renie shot back as she refused to budge. “Improve your mind.”

“Coz?” Judith forced a tense smile. “Our guests are actually watching a movie. Or trying to. Would you mind sitting down?” She patted the empty sofa cushion next to her.

“They are?” Renie shrugged. “What movie? There are some of them that I actually like.”

“The Virgin Vessel,”
Ellie said, no longer annoyed. “It’s really, really scary. We should turn out all the lights.”

“Atmosphere!” Chips exclaimed, jumping up and hurrying around the room to turn off the four lamps that were burning. “How’s that? Fog outside, witches flying on broomsticks, the whole Halloween scene. Could it be more frightening?”

“I hate frightening movies,” Renie declared. “They scare me.”

“They’re supposed to,” Chips replied, resuming his place on the sofa. “It’s more thrill than scare when the picture’s directed properly.”

Judith nudged Renie. “Chips directed this one,” she whispered to her cousin.

“Jeez,” Renie sighed. “I guess I’ll shut up now.”

Joe edged past Renie to collect Judith’s tray. “There’s a preseason NBA game on,” he said quietly. “Care to join me upstairs?”

“If this thing gets too gruesome, I might do that,” Renie responded.

The movie’s opening shot followed a young woman in late-nineteenth-century dress down a dark, winding London street. She was obviously nervous, and stopped periodically to look over her shoulder. As she turned a corner, a light glowed from a narrow timber-fronted building. Expressing relief, she pulled the iron knocker on the door. To the accompaniment of creaking hinges and ominous music, the heavy door opened slowly. The young woman rushed inside. The door slammed shut behind her. Strong, hairy hands swung a big ax. She screamed in terror. The hands and the ax came down again and again as blood spurted, presumably from her unseen body.

“That’s it,” Renie said, getting up. “I’m going to check out the basketball game. If I wanted brutality, I’d watch hockey.”

Judith didn’t much blame her cousin but felt obligated to watch at least the first fifteen minutes of the movie. The scene changed to what appeared to be an interior of Scotland Yard. The policemen were discussing the crime spree that had been taking place in London’s East End. They shook their heads a great deal and muttered “Baffling” several times.

“Wow!” Ellie enthused. “This is sooo good. Watch, Mrs. Flynn, Ben’s coming up in the next scene.”

Sure enough, Ben Carmody, dressed in the garb of a nineteenth-century gentleman, sauntered up the same street where the young woman had presumably been murdered. It was daylight, and Ben carried a cane. He stopped in front of the building where the ax-wielding maniac had done his dirty deed. Ben looked up to the
second story. Then, as a stout woman carrying a wicker basket entered the street, he turned and disappeared around a corner. Judith suddenly realized she’d seen this before.

“Excuse me,” she said, getting up. “It’s after nine, and I’m going to take our jack-o’-lanterns in. The trick-or-treaters should all be home by now.”

As far as Judith could determine, the fog-filled culde-sac was empty. Taking the trio of pumpkins inside, she found Renie in the kitchen.

“I thought you were going to watch the game with Joe,” she said, placing the pumpkins on the counter.

“I’m stealing a Pepsi first,” Renie said, opening the refrigerator. “Did you get scared, too?”

“Sort of,” Judith admitted. “But I think I’ve seen that movie before, though I can’t imagine why. Joe and I don’t like horror films, either.”