Vi Agra Falls (13 page)

“I was. I am.” Gertrude scowled. “What's a l-a-t-h?”

Judith frowned. “I think a lath is a wood strip.”

Gertrude snorted. “Showing off because you used to be a librarian. Okay, I'll take your word for it.”

“You should open at least one window,” Judith advised. “It's going to be very hot later on this afternoon.”

Gertrude, who was wearing a sweater over her housecoat, cast a withering glance in her daughter's direction. “Hot?” She tapped her pencil on the card table. “It doesn't feel hot to—Oops!” The lead broke off. “Drat! This needs sharpening.” She tossed the pencil to Judith, but the old lady's aim was short; the pencil fell on the floor and rolled under the divan. “Well?” Gertrude said. “Can't you pick it up?”

“You know I can't bend that way with my artificial hip,” Judith retorted. “I'll get your broom.” She went into the kitchenette and grabbed an old broom that looked as if a goat had chewed off half of the straw. “You need a new one,” Judith said. “This thing's a wreck.”

“So am I,” Gertrude snapped. “Don't spend money on some fancy new thingamabob with wheels or whatever they put on brooms nowadays. It works just fine. Ask your loony cleaning woman.”

“No,” Judith said, angling the broom under the divan, “Phyliss brings a decent broom from the house.” After several swipes, the pencil rolled into sight. To Judith's astonishment, so did three pink rose petals. “Where'd these come from?” she asked her mother.

Gertrude stared at the floor. “I don't know.” She kept staring.

With great care, Judith retrieved the pencil—and the rose petals. “Where's your little sharpener?” she inquired, putting the petals into her pocket along with the first two she'd found by Vivian's gate.

Gertrude fumbled through the clutter of magazines, playing cards, the morning newspaper, and the other items on the card table, including a dish of candy and the tray with her lunch
dishes. The old lady's hands seemed to shake more than usual. “It's by the icebox,” she murmured.

“Okay.” Judith went back into the kitchenette. The pencil sharpener was nowhere in sight. But there were three empty juice glasses in the small sink. Judith picked one of them up and sniffed. She immediately recognized the odor of whisky.

Judith returned to the sitting room. “The sharpener must be here somewhere,” she said, gesturing at the card table.

“I don't see it,” Gertrude responded somewhat truculently.

“Did you and Vivian have a drink?” Judith asked, sorting through her mother's muddle.

“She did. I didn't.” Gertrude removed a cigarette from the pack she kept in her housecoat pocket. “So what?”

“How come there are three glasses in the sink?”

Gertrude was having trouble lighting her cigarette. She finally put the slim lighter down and took the cigarette out of her mouth. “How do I know? That goofy Phyliss probably drank some of my juice.”

“If she did, she'd wash the glass,” Judith pointed out. “You know she always leaves everything spick-and-span.”

“So she forgot.” Gertrude kept her eyes on her lap.

“I don't think so,” Judith snapped. “Mother, why won't you tell me who came to see you today? Besides Vivian, I mean.”

Gertrude glared at her daughter. “You don't need to know everything I do around here. Beat it.” Her fingers still shaking, she knocked over the candy bowl. Several pieces of candy scattered all over the card table—along with the pencil sharpener. “Ha! There it is! I knew I put it someplace.”

With a resigned sigh, Judith picked up the sharpener and whittled the pencil into a fine point. “Here. Finish your puzzle. I can't believe you won't tell me who visited you. What's the big secret?”

None too steadily, Gertrude unwrapped some kind of
chocolate ball. “I'm too old to do a lot of things,” she rasped, “but I can still keep a secret. Now go away and forget about what I do when you're not watching me like a hawk.”

Judith had no choice. She left the toolshed and walked out into the bright sunlight. It wasn't unbearably hot, but the rose petals felt as if they were burning a hole in her pocket.

J
oe was in the kitchen when Judith came back into the house. “Got to leave town,” he announced, turning away from the phone directory he'd been studying.

Judith hoped he was kidding. “Why? Are you afraid of being hounded by the paparazzi now that you're a media star?”

“No,” Joe responded in a calm voice. “Wirehoser Timber wants me to talk to some of the people who've worked with one of their CFO candidates. This guy lives and works in Atlanta.” He shot his wife a mocking glance. “You really think I
want
to go to Atlanta in August?”

“Well…no,” Judith said, “but the timing seems peculiar.”

Joe set down the can of beer he'd been drinking. “Earning big bucks is peculiar this time of year?”

“How long will you be gone?” Judith asked.

“That's what I'm trying to figure out by checking airline and hotel reservations,” he murmured. “Two-three days, probably. Got to figure out where this BOD is located.”

“Bod?” Judith echoed. “What do you mean?”

“Bank of Dixie, where this guy works now.” He moved to the computer and started a search. “Ah, perfect. There's a non-stop Delta flight leaving this evening at nine-fifty. I'll see if the
shuttle can pick me up around seven.” He hurried out of the kitchen and went back upstairs.

The phone rang. “This,” Renie said, “is Bill Jones's underpaid and underappreciated secretary making a call for He Who Wishes Alexander Graham Bell Had Never Been Born. Ask Joe if he wants to go to the ocean tomorrow and fish for salmon. My phonophobic husband just found out the Kings are in.”

“King Joe here is going to Atlanta tonight,” Judith said in a resigned voice.

“King Joe, or are you Joe King?” Renie uttered a lame little laugh. “Sorry. Couldn't resist. How come he's going south?”

“Business,” Judith replied. “Something to do with a potential CFO for Wirehoser.”

“That beats having him stay out all night on surveillance waiting for Mr. Cheater to leave the motel after making whoopee with Mrs. Slut,” Renie said. “It pays better, too, I'll bet. I've designed quite a few things for Wirehoser. They don't stint on spending money for consultants.”

“I suppose that's a consolation,” Judith said, pacing back and forth from the dining room's half-door to the hallway off the kitchen. “I just wish he didn't have to go away now with a murderer on the loose.”

“Do you want me to stay with you while he's away?” Renie asked. “Bill's going tomorrow and won't get back until Friday. Of course I wouldn't want to leave Clarence by himself. Or Oscar. He gets agitated when Bill's not around to watch that X-rated TV channel with him.”

“Coz,” Judith said in a warning voice, “no more nonsense about your stupid stuffed animal. At least Clarence is a real bunny.”

“And oh so soft,” Renie murmured. “You should see him in his new swim trunks.”

“Good grief. I'm hanging up now. Stay home. I'm fine. It isn't as if the house will be empty.”

After disconnecting, Judith removed Herself's guest list from the drawer. A second reading of the invitees brought no further enlightenment. But there was something familiar about two of the three names listed under “HH”: Barry Henckel and Doug Campbell. What, she wondered, did “HH” stand for? And why did she care?

Judith jumped when the doorbell rang. She assumed it might be the young men from Virginia, but Adelita Vasquez stood on the front porch, smiling brightly. “Señora Buss wishes to speak with Señor Flynn,” she said. “It is very important.”

“Mr. Flynn is about to leave town,” Judith replied. “Tell Mrs. Buss to check in with him when he gets back.”

Adelita's smile fled. “But he must talk to Señora Buss! She is very upset! She requires his…how do you say? Counsel?”

Judith glanced at her watch. It was almost three-thirty. Joe had plenty of time to prepare for his trip, but Judith was reluctant to give Vivian the satisfaction of having her ex do her bidding. “I'll see if he has time before he leaves for the airport, okay?”

Adelita looked downcast. “Oh, I so hope he can help! Señora Buss wishes to leave town, too.”

“She does?” Judith stared at the young woman. “Why?”

“So much tragedy,” Adelita replied, wringing her hands. “The man in the tree.
Pobre hombre!
Señora Buss thinks it is a warning.”

“I'm sorry,” Judith said, “I don't get it. I thought she didn't know the man. Why would she consider his murder a warning for her?”

“Fate,” Adelita replied somberly. “Karma, she calls it. Maybe because of her plans to build the condominiums. She has received threats. And Señora Rankers tried to kill her.”

“No, she didn't,” Judith asserted. “Mrs. Rankers was just…upset. That's her way of expressing strong emotion.”

“It is a very frightening way,” Adelita said, her dark eyes narrowing. “Could she not simply say how she feels instead of hitting Señor Buss over the head?”

“Mrs. Rankers only whacked Mr. Buss after he tackled her,” Judith stated firmly.

Adelita stood her ground. “It is still a very bad thing for her to do.” Before Judith could further defend her neighbor, the young woman shifted gears, her expression humble. “Please, please. Ask Señor Flynn to call on Señora Buss as soon as possible. She is in much distress.”

“Maybe she's sober,” Judith muttered under her breath.

Adelita looked puzzled. “Pardon?”

“Ah…I said that…may bees see over.” Judith forced a smile. “It's an old family saying. About bees in the garden, going from flower to…never mind. I'll tell Mr. Flynn that Mrs. Buss wants to see him. I can't promise he'll have time before he leaves, though.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Adelita made a little bow and left.

Judith went into the kitchen to use the intercom and pass on the request. Joe's response was a reluctant grunt.

“Does that mean you will or you won't?” Judith asked.

“I'll do it after I finish making the travel arrangements,” Joe answered after a pause. “It's too late to take the shuttle—they're all booked. Can you drive me to the airport?”

Annoyed, Judith leaned against the wall and fought the urge to say no. “I can if you don't mind waiting until after the social hour. I'm not abandoning the guests. If you're only going to be gone for two or three days, why can't you take your car and leave it at the airport?”

Joe was aghast. “Leave my classic MG in a public garage? Are you nuts?”

“Okay,” Judith said, “but don't blame me if I can't get you there on time. Why don't you call a cab?”

“A cab?” Joe practically shouted into the intercom. “Do you know what that'd cost?”

“I thought this Wirehoser job was bringing us great wealth,” Judith said quietly. “Won't they pay for a cab?”

“Not until I submit my expenses,” Joe replied. “Hey, I can't argue right now. I've still got some loose ends to tie up.” He switched off just as the doorbell rang again.

This time it was the guests from Virginia, two polite young men in their mid-twenties. One wore a blue tee that read virginia; the other wore a white tee that read cavaliers. It didn't require Judith's sleuthing skills to figure out that they were students from the University of Virginia.

“I see you're from Charlottesville,” she said, smiling. “Welcome to Hillside Manor.”

The two young men turned out to be fraternal twins, Jesse and Jason Manning, both seeking graduate degrees in chemical engineering. They seemed pleasant, normal, and straightforward. Judith wondered how they'd react if—and when—they discovered that a murder had occurred two doors away from the B&B.

After checking in the Manning brothers and showing them to their room, Judith went into the kitchen to prepare the appetizers for the social hour. She had just opened a package of cream cheese for her crab dip when Vivian rushed in through the open back door.

“Where's Joe?” she asked, her voice quivering with distress. “Didn't Adelita tell him to come see me right away?”

“Joe's busy,” Judith said calmly. “He's going away for a few days.”

“He can't!” Vivian stamped her foot, showing off the gold sandals under her scarlet, green, and yellow caftan. “I need him!”

“Sorry,” Judith said, removing the lid from a plastic container of Dungeness crab. “It's business.”

“Where is he?” She gazed around the kitchen as if she expected Joe to pop out of the fridge like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

Judith dumped the crab into a bowl with the cream cheese. “Making arrangements to leave town. I wouldn't bother him if I were you. He's not in a good mood.”

Vivian scowled at Judith. “You think I don't know how to handle his moods?”

“If you did, you'd still be Mrs. Flynn,” Judith snapped. “What's so important that you have to pester him when he's busy?”

“Why should I tell you?” Vivian looked indignant. “You haven't been married to him as long as I was. Are you playing control freak?”

“I'm not playing anything,” Judith retorted angrily. “I'm simply trying to keep him from being bothered by your latest disaster. He has other things on his mind.”

To Judith's amazement, Herself burst into tears. “Oh, everyone's against me! Nobody knows what I've suffered! Nobody understands I have feelings, too!”

“Oh, dear,” Judith said under her breath as she tried to fight off her natural compassion—and failed. “Vivian, it's nothing personal.”
The hell it isn't,
her voice of conscience asserted. “I'm sorry.”
No, you're not
. “I realize how upset you must be about finding a body.”
I ought to know—get used to it.
“Tell me what's bothering you, and I'll pass it on to Joe to see if he can help.”

Vivian stopped crying. She tried unsuccessfully to wipe away the eyeliner and mascara streaks from her cheeks. “Well…it's awkward.”

Judith indicated the nearest chair. “Sit. You're a little wobbly.”

Vivian's glance was sharp. “Nonsense! I'm in excellent shape. I'm just…upset.”

It was fruitless to argue. Judith sat down on the other side of the table. Vivian hesitated, but finally eased herself into a chair. “That dead man was misidentified,” she began. “The real Charles Brooks lost his wallet at a Vegas casino a few weeks ago. The police found that out when they tried to reach his home in Henderson, Nevada. Mr. Brooks answered the phone. The detectives checked his story with the local authorities. The missing wallet was reported July eighteenth.”

“Was the wallet reported as lost or stolen?”

Vivian made a disparaging gesture. “I don't know. It sounded as if Mr. Brooks wasn't sure. What difference does it make? Charles Brooks isn't the man I found in the tree.”

“So what do you want Joe to do?”

“I want to hire him as a bodyguard. If some stranger was killed on our property, he was probably mistaken for someone else. Billy, maybe, or one of the guests. I also want Joe to use his clout with the police to get them to close this case as soon as possible. I feel as if we're living with a death threat over our heads,” Vivian said, sitting up very straight and looking self-righteous.

Judith grimaced. “He can't do anything about it until he gets back from Atlanta. Why do you think the police have to be pressured to move the investigation along? They'll want to close it as quickly as you do.”

Vivian sighed impatiently. “It'll take them forever. I know. It's always a slow process, so much foot-dragging and ongoing cases and playing games with superiors. Have you forgotten that I was married to a cop for eighteen years?”

Oh, no
, Judith thought,
I'm not likely to forget how miserable those years were for me
.
You stole a huge chunk of my life
. She shrugged. “It'll have to wait. Joe's leaving this evening.”

“No!” Vivian slammed her hand on the table and stood up so fast that the sheep-shaped cookie jar rattled. “He can't do this to me!”

Judith leaned back in the chair, unable to resist enjoying her rival's distress. “He can, and he will. Talk to the cops. Or hire another P.I.”

“You—and Joe—haven't heard the last of this!” Herself shouted, wagging a finger at Judith. “You'll both be sorry by the time I finish with the two of you!” She yanked her flowing skirt away from the chair and flounced out of the house.

Twenty minutes later, Joe came downstairs. “I'm all set,” he declared, rubbing his hands together. “What's the deal with Vivian?”

“Forget it,” Judith snapped. “She seems to think you're her errand boy. She came over after Adelita had failed to get you to jump on command. You're supposed to drop everything and help her.”

“Help her do what?” Joe asked, puzzled.

“Be her bodyguard.” Judith's tone was scathing. “She also wants you to exert your influence with the cops and make the case go away.”

Joe frowned. “She lacks confidence in the detectives?”

“I guess so.” Judith cocked an ear as she heard someone enter through the front door. The California foursome, she thought, hearing their voices on their way upstairs to the guest rooms. “By the way, Joe,” she said softly, “I should be able to drive you to the airport. I'm sorry I was so crabby. It was a short night, and it seems like a long day.”

“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “I'm not crazy about leaving you here with this mess.”

Judith shrugged. “I promise not to get involved.”

“Good.” He smiled at his wife.

She smiled back.

Neither of them believed Judith could keep her word.