Here Comes the Bribe (12 page)

C
an we go back to your house now?” Renie asked, sounding like a whiny six-year-old. “My feet hurt.”

Judith looked down at her cousin's flimsy flats. “I'm wearing sturdy shoes. You are not. It's your own fault if you're in pain.”

Renie's piteous brown eyes veered off beyond Judith. “I'm about to be saved. Here come the husbands. Bill, call me a taxi!”

“You're a taxi,” her spouse shot back.

“Ha!” Renie cried. “Walking has dulled your wits. Your usual sharp intellect has vanished. Haven't I warned you that any kind of exercise is a bad idea?”

Bill made no comment as he and a bemused Joe walked over to the other side of the street and kept on going.

“What does he know?” Renie mumbled, kicking at a dry leaf. “I'm going back to get my car so I can drive home. Why are those goofy men we married still walking? Did Joe forget where he lives?”

“I think Joe's stopping across from the cul-de-sac,” Judith said. “He probably wants to find out if Woody has called. Okay, we'll head for home, too. I want to find out what else Woody has to say besides what he revealed about Millie's wealth.”

Sure enough, Joe and Bill parted company. Their wives picked up the pace while Renie's husband kept going.

“Hey,” Joe called as he reached their side of the street by the cul-de-sac, “how come you two decided to go for a walk? Did the guests drive you out?”

“I was forced into it,” Renie declared. “If we'd gone any farther, your wife would've had to carry me.”

Joe laughed. “I'd like to see that.” He turned to Judith. “Any word from Woody?”

The trio entered the cul-de-sac before Judith spoke. “Yes. I told him you'd call back. He says he found out something about the money . . . Oh, no! Rodney's climbing out the window in Room One!”

“Damn!” Joe cried. “He'll fall and break something and then sue us!” He trotted toward Hillside Manor.

“I'm leaving,” Renie declared. “I'm taking my callused feet home.” She stomped off to the Joneses' Camry in the driveway without so much as a glance at Rodney, who was now straddling the windowsill.

“Mama!” he called in a frantic voice. “Help me! They want to send me away!”

Judith had followed Joe as far as the walkway, where he'd paused before hurrying on into the house. “Away where?” Judith asked Rodney.

“Somewhere I won't like,” he replied, wiping what appeared to be perspiration from his brow. “A home for . . . people like me.”

Judith wanted to say she'd never known anyone quite like Rodney, at least no one who had thought she was his mother. Instead, she invoked her usual compassion and smiled up at the distraught man. “That would be difficult for them to do,” she said calmly. “They'd have to have proof that you were . . . unbalanced.”

It was the wrong word to use. Rodney teetered on the windowsill. “I'm running away,” he declared. “They'll never find me.”

“Who are ‘they'?” she asked, stalling for time and hoping Room One's door was unlocked.

Rodney's expression grew miserable. “My biggest enemies are Cynthia and Stuart Wicks,” he said. “And,” he added after a pause, “Belle, my sweet little girl! How could she betray her old man?”

“There must be some mistake,” Judith said, wishing Rodney wouldn't keep shifting around on the sill and wondering what was taking Joe so long. “How does Dr. Kilmore feel about your . . . situation?”

“Sophie? Bah!” Rodney swung an arm in disgust, causing him to almost lose his grip. He righted himself and glared down at Judith. “She's on their side, I'll bet my boots. If I had any boots.” He frowned at his stockinged feet. “'Course, Sophie chimes in with Clark. He's going to college to learn to be a shrink. Thinks he can read my mind. Ha!”

“I wouldn't worry about what these people are . . .” Judith shut up as she finally saw Joe at the window. Apparently Rodney hadn't heard him come into the room.

Judith could hardly bear to watch, but Joe put Rodney in a headlock, and despite his prey's yelps of protests, the distressed guest was hauled inside. Feeling limp from the ordeal, Judith took her time to get into Hillside Manor. The house was eerily quiet. After collapsing on the sofa, she read the reverend's flyer that had been left at the Flaherty house.

“SAVE YOUR SOUL!” the headline read, with a subhead in smaller print that said “Do What Smart Folks Do—Stick with Stone.”

After the first paragraph preached about Kindred's successful methods of bringing people to his Church of the Holy Free Spirit, the rev segued somewhat awkwardly into his pitch to buy the recipient's house.
I can make an offer that even the Good Lord Himself couldn't refuse,
he boasted.
If I could buy Heaven, God would jump at my offer! Call me or my associate Clark Stone at Stonehaven. The number is . . .

Judith held her head. She didn't look up until Joe came into the living room, his ruddy complexion redder than usual.

“I'm out of shape,” he declared, flopping onto the sofa next to Judith. “Rodney's no small thing. And the door was locked from the outside, so I had to go back downstairs to get the master key.”

“Has he calmed down?” Judith asked.

“He's sort of weepy,” Joe replied. “I told him to stay put. The rest of the gang seems to have gone somewhere. With any luck, they checked out. Are you going to call Woody?”

“Yes. Are you going to call him now?”

Joe sighed. “Yes. Hell, it's his case, so I feel obligated to do everything I can to help him.” He turned to look at Judith. “I'd rather you kept your distance.”

Judith smiled wanly. “You know I can't.”

“Right.” He nodded faintly. “That doesn't mean I have to like it, though.” With another sigh, he got up and went to get the phone from the cherrywood table.

“Wouldn't it be easier if I listen in on the kitchen phone?” Judith suggested. “That way you won't have to repeat everything.”

“Nice try, Jude-girl,” her husband said. “Don't even think about it.” He picked up the receiver and went into the front parlor.

Miffed, Judith sat on the sofa wondering what could be such a big secret about Woody's background information. The grandfather clock chimed four. Maybe, she thought, she should start making the guests' hors d'oeuvres and figure out what to have for dinner. Glaring at the closed door to the parlor, she got up and headed for the kitchen.

There was still a strange quiet inside the house. Granted, guests staying through the weekend usually spent Sunday afternoons enjoying the city sights or visiting people they knew. If there were incoming visitors, they didn't check in until five o'clock. Focusing on her current, troublesome batch of guests, Judith refused to spend a lot of time and effort on elaborate appetizers. She went down the hall to the pantry in search of canned smoked salmon. The only other items she needed were cheese and crackers. For all she cared, the Schmuck clan could graze in the backyard. Except,
she realized with a guilty pang, that was where Millie had died. Attending Mass hadn't filled Judith with much Christian charity.

She was cautiously bending down to find the salmon when a voice startled her. She straightened up, turning to see Belle in the doorway. The young woman looked a bit dazed, but Judith figured she'd probably been smoking pot.

“Wow,” Belle said softly. “We had the most amazing séance. You wouldn't believe the things my mom told us.”

“Oh?” Judith felt strangely trapped in the small room. “That sounds fascinating,” she said, joining her guest in the hall. “Come into the kitchen and tell me about it.”

Belle traipsed after her, settling into a chair. “Your mother is marvelous,” she declared in a voice filled with awe. “You should have told us she was a medium.”

Luckily, Judith was opening the refrigerator and had her back turned so that Belle couldn't see her startled expression. “I . . . try not to advertise Mrs. Grover's powers. Some people misuse them. That is, they don't always correctly interpret what she has to say. How,” she inquired, turning around, “did you find out about her . . . gift?”

“She told us,” Belle replied. “Clark and I were smoking a joint in the backyard. Mrs. G opened the door and wanted to know why her apartment smelled funny. We told her we had no idea. Maybe it was because of that big orange-and-white cat. She said it was her familiar, so I asked if she was a witch. That's when she told us she was a medium. But a happy medium, she insisted. Clark and I thought that was deep. I mean, I figure most mediums must be way too serious.”

Judith sat down, too. “I see. Did she—”

Belle spoke as if she hadn't heard her hostess. “I asked if we could have a séance and she seemed intrigued, so I told her it'd be amazing if everybody else could sit in on it because wasn't that the way a séance worked? I mean, a lot of people sitting around a table. She said she only had a card table, so it wouldn't work in
her place. That's when we came inside and sat at the dining room table. I guess you and Mr. Flynn had gone somewhere, right?”

“Right,” Judith murmured. “What did she tell you during the séance? I mean what did your mother tell you through . . . my mother?”

Belle gave Judith a loopy smile. “Mom was so happy! She hasn't been like that in months. I don't think she liked moving here from L.A. Too rainy and gray. She said it was really nice where she was, with lots of sun and warm weather. She has her own cloud. It's mauve.”

“That sounds lovely,” Judith murmured, always amazed at the many guises her own mother could come up with to sucker gullible people. “Did she mention anything about . . . ah . . . what happened before she got to her cloud?”

“Um . . .” Belle screwed up her face in the effort of recollection. “Not exactly. Except that her cloud never rains. It just floats. Like soap.”

“That was it?” Judith asked.

“Pretty much.” Belle frowned. “That was when the medium—I mean, Mrs. G—said she'd lost the connection.”

“Yes,” Judith murmured. “I'm sure she had. By the way, I didn't realize that Clark was involved with Reverend Kindred in real estate.”

Belle nodded. “Oh, sure, we're all involved in that, really. But Clark's a brainiac, so he comes up with mega-ideas, especially for the rev. Preachers don't have much imagination, I guess.” Her piquant face suddenly looked troubled. “Why did Mom have to die?”

Judith was taken aback. “Everyone dies eventually,” she hedged. “It could've been an allergic reaction. It happens.”

“No.” Belle shook her head and stood up. “Mom didn't have allergies. She was still fairly young, she was looking forward to starting her spa project, she had megabucks, and Dad worshiped her. Mom had so much to live for. It makes no sense for her not to
be around anymore even if she does like her cloud. It's . . .” She stared up at the high ceiling. “It's a mistake. It has to be.”

Shaking her head, the befuddled Belle wandered out of the kitchen and down the hall to the back stairs.

J
oe showed up a few minutes later while Judith was putting the appetizers on a tray. “Woody really didn't have a lot to tell me about the guests—or suspects, if you will—that we don't already know. They all seem to be who and what they say they are. Nobody has an arrest record.” He put a hand on Judith's shoulder. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Judith pressed her cheek against her husband's before looking him in the eye. “Be candid. Do you think Millie was murdered?”

Joe held up both hands. “I honestly don't know. We have to wait for the autopsy. The EMTs are fairly sharp. If they detected poisonous residue in Millie's mouth, I have to believe that she ingested or at least tasted something harmful. But I also have to point out that poison is only fatal in sufficient doses, and even then it depends upon the victim—age, health, the whole nine yards.”

Judith looked bleak. “That's not very reassuring, one way or the other.”

Joe shrugged. “Sorry. It's the best I can do.”

Judith hoped it wasn't the worst that could happen. And then realized it already had. There was nothing worse than murder.

T
he rest of Sunday passed without incident. Judith set the cocktail items on the buffet, but didn't mingle with the guests. She was tired, sensing one of her migraines in the offing. From what little she could tell, the guests had seemed subdued. Maybe Millie's death had finally sunk in. Or perhaps the séance had given them food for thought. She couldn't detect Rodney's voice, so maybe he'd remained upstairs. If it was true that one or all of the others had locked him in Room One, he probably wasn't anxious to spend the social hour with them.

Shortly after six, the others left, presumably to go out for dinner. Judith assumed they'd called a cab—or cabs, given that there were too many for one car. She went upstairs to see if Rodney was hungry. He didn't answer her knock, so she quietly opened the door. He was sound asleep, snoring softly. An empty whiskey bottle lay on the floor by the bed. Judith decided that if he was hungry when he woke up, he could come downstairs and let her know.

When she went outside with Gertrude's “supper,” she quizzed her mother about the séance.

“Saps,” Gertrude declared. “I was bored. There wasn't much in the paper today, just a lot of bunk about people killing each other in the Middle East. Why can't those bozos get along after
five thousand years? You'd think they'd all be worn out by now. Why don't they play cards to pass the time like I do? Or don't their religions believe in cards? No wonder they've got so many problems.”

“It's all about religion and turf,” Judith said. “It usually is mostly about turf when it comes to war.”

“Turf?” Gertrude looked disgusted. “Isn't most of the Middle East a bunch of sand? Who fights over
sand
? That just shows how crazy they all really are.”

Judith didn't want to argue with her mother, let alone go to war with her. She kissed the old lady's wrinkled cheek and bade her a good night.

Gertrude harrumphed. “There better not be another dead body out by my so-called apartment in the morning. It gets my day off to a bad start.”

Judith didn't comment.

O
n a drizzly Monday morning, the guests still seemed unwontedly quiet when they gathered for breakfast. Cynthia Wicks informed Joe that she and Stuart had decided to stay on to help Rodney make arrangements for his wife's body. Stuart had asked one of his underlings to request a postponement of his case in Los Angeles County Court. The entire party planned to stay on at Hillside Manor.

Hearing the news, Judith groaned. “I'll have to ask Ingrid Heffelman to find other accommodations for the guests who had reservations for tonight,” she whispered to Joe as he piled pancakes on a warming plate. “I hope she hasn't heard about our latest disaster. She could threaten to pull my innkeeper's license again.”

“Don't worry about it,” Joe said. “As far as I can tell, Millie's demise hasn't made it into the media. I assume that's thanks to your KINE-TV buddy, Mavis.”

“I guess,” Judith murmured glumly. “I hope the guests don't
plan to hang out around here during the day. Phyliss will be cleaning and she'll insist on changing the beds and straightening up the rooms.”

Joe shrugged. “No big deal. I'll tell them all to take a hike. If they balk, I'll say the cops have to search their rooms.” He paused before taking the pancakes to the dining room. “Maybe Woody should have his crew do just that.”

An hour later, Joe returned from upstairs, where he had changed into slacks and a sport coat. “I'm off to find the missing person. Call me if you have any problems.”

“Where do you start looking for this guy?” Judith asked.

“City Hall,” Joe replied. “That's where he was last seen.” He kissed Judith and headed out the back door, but stopped. “Damn! I don't have the MG. I'll have to take the Subaru.”

“Okay,” Judith said. “If I need to go anywhere, I'll call Renie.”

A few minutes after Joe left, Clayton Ormsby came into the kitchen, where Judith was cleaning up from the guests' breakfast. “We've rented cars and are going to the zoo,” he announced. “Reverend Kindred feels as if the Spirit is not active in this neighborhood. The zoo will bring us back in touch with the primal world and salve our souls. My blog for the day will be on hyenas.”

“I'm not sure if they have hyenas at our zoo,” Judith said.

“That doesn't matter,” Clayton declared with an airy wave of his hand. “It's the topic that makes the difference. My thought process is what's important. I'm extremely thought provoking. By the way, hyenas don't really laugh, you know. They have no sense of humor.” He pivoted on his heel and made his exit.

Judith felt as if she'd lost
her
sense of humor. The Schmuck party was the grimmest, most arrogant group she'd hosted in years. With a sigh, she started loading the dishwasher. Five minutes later, Phyliss arrived in a dither.

“I saw your mother!” she exclaimed. “She told me somebody died in the backyard. Praise the Lord, at least it wasn't in the house.”

“I don't think that was of importance to the deceased,” Judith said. And wondered if in fact that was where Millie had breathed her last. “Mrs. Schmuck's family members and friends are still here and will be until the autopsy is finished.”

Phyliss shuddered, her gaunt figure shaking as if a high wind had blown in through the back door. “Autopsies! Grisly ungodly things!”

Judith didn't want to get into a religious discussion. Maybe her cleaning woman would bond with the Reverend Kindred. She gave Phyliss instructions to start with the laundry, but not to change the beds, since the current guests were all staying on.

“Not all, I hope,” Phyliss said, her gray eyes rolling like marbles. “The deceased must've been hauled off for decency's sake.”

Judith assured her that the dead woman was in the morgue.

“The morgue,” Phyliss muttered, stalking off down the hall. “Gruesome. Oh, well. They kept Grandpa Rackley in the attic for three weeks. Good thing it was winter.” She disappeared up the back stairs.

Just after ten, Judith went outside with the garbage. The air felt fresh, with no hint of rain in the white clouds that moved lazily toward the west. To her surprise, Tyler Dooley was coming along the driveway with Farley at his heels.

“Why aren't you in school?” she asked.

“The power went out,” Tyler replied. “They sent us home. I thought I should stop by to give my surveillance report.”

Judith smiled. “Which is?”

“I hear you found the purse,” he replied. “But this morning I looked out of my bedroom window . . . well, it's not
my
bedroom, since I share it with three other kids. Anyway, I saw a guy burning something in your barbecue. I thought that was weird.”

Judith agreed. “What did he look like?”

“I never did see his face,” Tyler said. “As for height, it's hard to judge, looking down from a distance. I figure he's middle-aged, kind of tall or at least average, and more skinny than fat. What
ever he was burning took him a couple of minutes. He kept looking around, maybe to make sure nobody was watching. I think it was paper, but one of my cousins . . .” He paused, frowning. “Or is he my uncle? He could be, I guess, even if he's five years younger than I am. Oh, well. Anyway, he—Kenny—busted my telescope. But O.P. can fix it when he comes home from college. He's getting an advanced degree in astronomy.”

“I haven't seen O.P. or any of your . . . uncles in quite a while,” Judith said. Two of the older Dooley boys had also been her neighborhood junior sleuths in their younger years. “What time was that?” she inquired.

“Eight-oh-three,” Tyler replied. “I logged it. It's eight-oh-five when I always leave for school. I hang out with my choir buddies before class starts. Got to go, Mrs. F. I'm supposed to watch Aunt Cecelia's twins. She has to get a root canal. I wish somebody in the family would take up dentistry. Gran and Gramp are always griping about dental bills.” He sauntered off, the faithful Farley pausing only to sniff the recycling bin.

After Tyler left, Judith went into the backyard and opened the barbecue. Sure enough, there was a considerable amount of what looked like paper ashes on top of the briquettes that had survived the winter. Unfortunately, there was nothing left to tell what had been burned.

When she went back inside, Clark Stone was in the kitchen, looking disconsolate. “Have you seen my wallet?” he asked.

“No,” Judith replied. “I gather you lost it?”

Clark nodded faintly. “I guess. I didn't use it yesterday, but I know I had it Saturday, for sure. I used my Visa card to buy some . . . stuff when Belle and I were shopping up on the top of the hill.”

“Did you have cash in it?” Judith inquired.

Clark shook his head. “Not much. Twenty bucks and change, I think. I card most stuff. But my credit cards are in the wallet.”

“Have you called the stores where you made purchases?”

He shook his head again. “I'm not sure what they were called.”

“Then,” Judith said, trying not to sound severe, “you and Belle should go back to the business district and figure out where you might've lost your wallet.”

“Can't,” Clark replied, sounding doleful. “We're going to the zoo.”

“That won't take all day,” Judith pointed out. “You'd better have your party drop off you and Belle up there on the way back from the zoo. By the way, how are all of you getting there?” In her mind's eye, she saw a circus train with the guests peering from the caged cars.

“My stepdad paid to have two rentals driven here,” Clark explained. “They're parked out on the street. Stuart didn't think we should take up space from the neighbors here in the cul-de-sac. He's a lawyer, so he's always afraid of getting sued.”

“Yes,” Judith murmured. “I suppose he would be. Is Mr. Schmuck going with you?”

“I guess.” Clark made a face. “He's kind of a drag.”

“His wife just died,” Judith said, forcing herself to remain cordial. “He's taken her death very hard.”

“Yeah, right, it's a shame.” Clark jammed his hands into the pockets of his designer jeans. “I guess I should cut him some slack.”

“By the way,” Judith said as Clark started to turn away, “did I hear or see something about you studying to become a minister?”

“Huh?” Clark looked mystified.

“I saw one of Reverend Kindred's flyers,” Judith explained. “There was a mention of your name.”

Clark laughed in a discordant manner. “Heck, no! I'm getting my Ph.D. in astrophysics. I only help out Kindred with his writing stuff for his sales and church pitches. He not only can't write, I don't think he can even spell. The rev dropped out of school in
ninth grade. I better find Belle. We're supposed to leave for the zoo in a few.”

Judith felt as if she were already there.

I
won't survive another half hour if you don't come over here and save my sanity,” she told Renie over the phone. “Even if the guests have left for a few hours, I'm getting by only on fumes.”

“From what Belle and Clark are smoking?” Renie asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I might feel better if I smoked some funny stuff. Are you free to spend some time with me?”

“I just ate breakfast,” Renie replied, “but I'm starting to wake up. Bill's got a patient coming by at noon, so he won't need the car.” She paused. “I wonder if I'm supposed to be working on something?”

“It can wait,” Judith declared. “I can't. But don't start out if you're still half asleep. I don't want to have to rescue you.”

“Don't we always rescue each other?” Renie didn't wait for an answer, but hung up.

Judith was setting the phone on the counter when Charlie Crump peered over the half doors. “May I beg a favor?” he asked in a deep, yet uncertain voice that fit his rotund physique.

“Of course. Come into the kitchen,” Judith said. “How can I help you, Mr. Crump?”

Charlie opened the half doors to reveal that he was bundled up for a winter day in Nome. Judith tried not to stare at the heavy black overcoat, the beige wool muffler or the thick hand-knit gloves.

“Would you happen to have any herbal tea?” he inquired. “I've run out of my own and didn't think to buy any when we were out yesterday.”

Judith grimaced. “I'm sorry, I don't have any on hand.” Seeing the obvious disappointment on Charlie's round face, she hastened
to continue. “My cousin is stopping by shortly. I could ask her to pick up some at Falstaff's Market. Do you have a cold?”

The question may have seemed obvious, since Charlie had so obviously bundled himself. But he looked surprised. “Why, no. I find your climate here very damp. The air itself seems . . . moist.”

“We do have quite a bit of drizzle,” Judith said. “It rarely rains very hard, really. When are you leaving for the zoo?”

It was Charlie's turn for a pained expression. “In about fifteen minutes, I believe.” He glanced at the schoolhouse clock. “Cynthia set eleven as our time of departure. Much of the zoo is outside, I assume?”

“I believe so,” Judith replied, though she hadn't been to the zoo for twenty years. “Natural habitats for the animals, when it's possible.”

Charlie shuddered. Or Judith thought he did, though it was hard to tell with all his heavy clothing. “Not the lions, I hope,” he said. “I must join Agnes. She'll be worrying about me.” He plodded out of the kitchen.

Judith picked up the phone and called Renie. “How soon are you leaving?” she asked her cousin.

“In about half an hour, I guess,” Renie said. “Why? Are you that desperate for my company?”

Judith explained about Charlie Crump's request. Could her cousin come sooner?