Wed and Buried (22 page)

Judith was puzzled. “Why should your wife care about the Belmont's demolition?”

Edging toward the elevators, TNT's attention seemed to be wandering from Judith. “Huh? Oh, because she owns it. See you around.” He hurried off as two sets of elevator doors opened.

Judith realized that she should have known. Chuck Rawls had mentioned that Esperanza Highcastle seemed to be in the business of tearing things down. The hot dog plant couldn't have been the only edifice that was doomed to the wrecking ball.

Anxiously, Judith checked her purse. The emeralds were still in place, tucked into the flimsy sandwich bag. She was about to resume her vigil when Joe and Woody stepped out from one of the elevators.

They had Bascombe de Tourville with them, and he was wearing handcuffs.

J
UDITH DIDN'T KNOW
what to do. She could hardly wave the emeralds at her husband while he had the alleged owner in custody. Besides, Joe looked grim and very businesslike. Both he and Woody appeared not to notice her, but walked briskly by the row of visitors' chairs. A moment later, they had disappeared behind the reception desk and down the hall that led to the booking and interrogation rooms.

She supposed she could wait some more, but one pair of B&B guests had announced their intention of arriving before the usual check-in time. Judith felt she should get home.

Approaching the reception desk, she smiled at the uniformed young woman whose nameplate indicated that she was Officer Mariana Reyes. “I've an unusual request,” Judith said after identifying herself as Joe Flynn's wife. “I think I have some evidence concerning a case my husband is working on.”

Mariana Reyes's brown eyes flickered. “Is that so?” she said in a smooth, calm voice. “May I see your identification, please?”

“My…?” Judith gaped at the officer, then fumbled in her purse. The sandwich bag fell to the floor. One of the emeralds rolled out, heading toward the
Grecian-sandaled feet of an oncoming visitor. “Look out!” Judith cried, diving after the stone. Her arm darted between trim ankles, upsetting the newcomer who fell on top of Judith.

“My leg!” the victim cried. “My arm! My back! I'll sue!”

Immobilized, Judith could see only one sandaled foot and the soft pleats of a Grecian chiton. “Ooof!” Judith exclaimed, trying to maneuver just enough to breathe. “Uhnh…”

Apparently Officer Reyes had come around to the other side of the reception counter. “Let me help you,” she offered, still sounding calm. At last, amid protests and warnings from her victim, Judith felt the other woman's weight being removed.

“Do you know who I am?” Esperanza Highcastle demanded, straightening the pleats of her diaphanous gown.

“Athena?” Officer Reyes suggested.

“Saucy! I'll have your badge!” Esperanza glared down at Judith who had miraculously recovered the stray emerald and was trying to get up. “And you! I'll see that…” She stopped. “
You
! This isn't the first time you've tried to kill me! A week or two ago, at the radio station…” She stopped again, narrowing her eyes at Judith's struggling figure. “The bed and breakfast! You were the one harboring TNT! Why are you stalking me?” Esperanza whirled on Officer Reyes. “Arrest this woman! I want to file a complaint!”

The minor fracas had drawn a small crowd. City workers, private citizens, and perhaps a crook or two had gathered between the elevators and the reception desk, creating a bottleneck. Now on her feet, but feeling wobbly, Judith surreptitiously counted the emeralds. Though her fingers shook, the stones were all accounted for. Anxiously, Judith looked at Officer Reyes.

“Excuse me,” the policewoman said in that same calm voice, “but I saw what happened. Mrs.…” She glanced
at Judith for confirmation. “Flynn? Mrs. Flynn didn't intend to trip you. She's here to see her husband, who she claims is a homicide detective.”

Judith didn't care for the word “claims.” Did Officer Reyes mean that Judith “claimed” to be Joe's wife, or that Joe “claimed” to be a homicide detective? Neither boded well for Judith.

But Mariana Reyes wasn't through with Esperanza Highcastle. “How may I help you?” The calm manner discouraged further nonsense and somehow conveyed to the onlookers that they should disperse.

Esperanza seemed taken aback. “Well! Now that you mention it, I was summoned here to press charges.” The disheveled curls tumbled around Esperanza's shoulders as she turned to glower at Judith. “Not with regard to
her
, but some juvenile delinquents who tried to blow up my radio stations.”

Officer Reyes checked her computer screen. “Yes, I believe they've been IDed by passersby at the scene. Lucky for you. Someone actually got a partial on the license plate. I'll get a bomb squad officer to assist you.”

To Judith's relief, Esperanza now seemed completely caught up in seeking justice for the damage done to the Heraldsgate 400 building. Indeed, she looked both worried and distracted. Perhaps she thought the perpetrators still had a bomb or two on their persons.

After Esperanza had departed with a member of the bomb squad, Officer Reyes returned her attention to Judith. “You were about to show me your driver's license?” Still the same even, unflappable tone. Judith wondered if a large bomb going off in the reception area might cause the young woman to bat an eye.

Her credentials having proved acceptable, Judith was informed that Detective Flynn was in the interrogation room. There was no telling when he might be free. Would Mrs. Flynn care to wait?

Judith already had waited half an hour. She hemmed
and hawed, and was about to leave when Woody Price appeared. This time he noticed Judith and smiled warmly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in his mellifluous baritone. “Joe's tied up right now.”

“I know,” Judith said, so relieved to see a friendly face that she kissed Woody twice. “I have something for him. And for you. Here.” Again fumbling in her purse, she brought out the emeralds. “I found this one on the Belmont balcony—remember? The others were in a cigar.”

Woody frowned at the stones. “They're not…glass?”

Judith shook her head. “No,” she said in hushed tones. “They're honest-to-God uncut emeralds. I had them checked by a certified gemologist.”

Woody let out a low whistle. “This is incredible,” he murmured. “Where did you get the cigar?”

Judith wrestled with the truth, and, for once, fell victim to virtue. “My cleaning woman, Phyliss Rackley, found the cigar at Bascombe de Tourville's condo. She works for him, too.”

By reflex, Woody turned back toward what Judith assumed was the interrogation room. “I'll be darned,” he said mildly. “So de Tourville
is
mixed up in all this.”

“Of course.” Judith couldn't help but feel a bit smug. Then Woody's meaning dawned on her. “You knew that, though—I mean, why else would you and Joe bring de Tourville here in handcuffs?”

“You saw that?” Woody's smile tensed a bit as he leaned closer to Judith and lowered his voice. “Actually, de Tourville may be guilty of several crimes, including immigration fraud. He's been using a phony passport to avoid extradition, but the original charges didn't involve theft or smuggling. He's a con artist, though, specializing in bilking wealthy tourists.” Woody now held the emeralds in his hand and eyed them appreciatively.

“Really.” Judith tried to look ingenuous. “Goodness, how did he do that?”

Woody, however, remained discreet. “Let's just say
he's a real pro. The fact is, we don't know all the details, which is why Joe and I are questioning him. Excuse me, but I'd better get that coffee I promised your husband. We may be in for a long haul.”

Judith pointed to the emeralds. “What will you do with them? I'm told they're worth a small fortune.”

“Don't worry. We'll put them in the evidence room. They'll be safe.” Woody grinned. “We have a stash of coke in there that would buy these emeralds and much, much more.”

As Woody walked away, Judith's shoulders slumped. The emeralds were in good hands, proper hands. She needn't fuss about them any more. “Thank you,” she called to Officer Reyes. With a lightened step, she headed for the elevators.

It took almost three full minutes before a down elevator arrived. It was jammed, and Judith had to wedge herself in between two burly city workers who grumbled at the inconvenience. The doors began to close just as Esperanza Highcastle rushed through the reception area.

“Hold, please!” she commanded in her imperious voice.

Amazingly, someone hit the right button and the doors reopened. There were no protests when Esperanza squeezed into the elevator. Apparently her manner, which was accustomed to sacrifice on the part of others, had negated any complaints. She and Judith stood so close that their shoulders were pressing against each other. Judith felt compelled to say something to mitigate the awkwardness.

“Did everything go well for you?” she asked in an undertone.

Esperanza, apparently not used to being addressed so casually, gave a little start. “Yes. Certainly.”

“Good.” The elevator stopped and the burly men got out, easing the crush. “Let's hope those youngsters learn a lesson.”

“Oh, no!” Esperanza sounded shocked. “They didn't do it. I spoke with them, and they're quite innocent. I insisted they be released.”

The elevator had arrived on the main floor. Judith kept step with Esperanza in her flowing Grecian chiton. “But I thought they were IDed and that somebody caught part of the license…”

“A mistake,” Esperanza responded. “People make very poor observers.”

Judith felt like asking
as opposed to what
? but Esperanza was already out the door and headed for her pearl-gray Lexus. With a sigh, Judith trudged into the small parking area to seek out her blue Subaru.

The car was gone.

 

Not having enough cash on her, Judith was forced to take the bus home. Not familiar with the schedule, she had to walk three blocks uphill to find the stop for the Heraldsgate Hill numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, and 13. Not feeling terribly lucky at this point, it was only natural that the 13 would be the first to come along. Judith got on, only to discover that the 13 didn't go all the way up the hill. She had to walk the last six blocks under a sweltering sun.

“Hey, nitwit,” called Gertrude from the door of the toolshed, “where've you been? I didn't get my lunch.”

Frazzled, Judith paused to catch her breath and check her temper. “I'm sorry, Mother,” she finally said in measured tones. “I had to go downtown. Would you like a tuna sandwich?”

“I had tuna yesterday,” Gertrude replied. “I'm in the mood for tongue.”

“I don't have any tongue,” Judith answered, still clutching at her patience. “What about egg salad?”

“Ugh.” Gertrude made a face. “The last egg salad you made was all squishy and slimy and icky and there were shells in it. I practically puked. Why can't you make
good
egg salad, like I used to?”

Judith didn't recall ever having made an egg salad sandwich the way her mother so loathsomely described. “Baloney?”

“The same to you,” Gertrude said, flipping Judith off. “Boy, are you ornery!” She leaned on her walker and clumped back into the toolshed.

“Mother…” The cry was weary, and Judith started to follow Gertrude but thought better of it. Instead, she went inside and opened a can of Spam. It was the closest thing to tongue that she had on hand.

Five minutes later, she was at the toolshed door, carrying a tray which included a Spam sandwich, three kinds of sliced fresh fruit, a mound of potato chips, and a glass of lemonade. “Here's your lunch,” she called when there was no response to her knock. “Mother?”

Nothing but silence met Judith's ears. “Mother?” she repeated, as a note of worry crept into her voice. “Mother?”

“Go away,” Gertrude rasped. “I already ate.”

Judith clenched her teeth. “You told me you had no lunch.”

“No, I didn't,” came the muffled response. “I said you didn't bring me my lunch.”

Trying to calm herself under the hot sun, Judith forced herself to reflect. “You did not. You said
you didn't get your lunch
.”

There was a pause while Gertrude presumably thought through her daughter's words. “Right, I didn't
get it from you
. So I got it myself.”

“What did you have?” Judith inquired, fully expecting the Spam to start sizzling on the plate.

“Candy,” Gertrude replied. “Lots of candy. It filled me up.”

“Swell.” Judith sighed. Gertrude always kept a large stash of sweets in her apartment. She nibbled constantly on an assortment of chocolate-covered peanuts, chocolate creams, chocolate truffles, and chocolate bars. Her
mother's sweet tooth drove Judith crazy. “That's not wholesome. You need something more nourishing. Open the door and let me give you this tray.”

“Nope. I'm full.” Gertrude let out an artificial belch to prove the point.

Argument was useless. Judith started back for the house. She was putting the fruit and the Spam away when her early visitors arrived. They had started out at 4
A
.
M
. to beat the heat, and had driven all the way from southern Oregon. Both husband and wife, who were about Judith's age, were in a cantankerous mood.

“This place isn't air-conditioned?” the wife asked in shocked tones. “We're from Chula Vista where everything is air-conditioned. What's wrong with you people?”

“Stairs?” the husband gasped, gazing up to the second landing. “How come you don't put in an elevator? Do you expect us to haul these bags to our rooms?”

The bags included three large suitcases and two sets of golf clubs. With an inward groan, Judith offered to help. The guests responded by going upstairs empty-handed. It took Judith three trips to deliver their luggage.

At last, she sat down to call about her car. The name of the towing company had been posted in the city hall lot. Yes, they had Judith's Subaru. It would cost her eighty-five dollars to claim it. The parking fine was extra. To add insult to injury, their holding area was located clear across town in a slightly seedy neighborhood.

Judith called Renie, who was not in a charitable mood. “I found six bums, but Morris doesn't like any of them. ‘Too prosaic,' ‘too nondescript,' ‘no visible character.' What does he want, some USC film grad out of central casting? I told him to go hustle his own damned bums. It's too hot to be combing the streets for people who are even more miserable than I am.”