Here Comes the Bribe (23 page)

Mavis nodded. “Gate guards can be bribed for information, if not for access onto the sacred grounds. By the way, I ordered tartines for both of us. Duck confit, Brie, fig preserves. If you don't like it, you're out of luck. They only offer three different tartines at lunch, but the chef—Maurice—is in one of his moods and only did duck.”

“I'm sure it'll be fine,” Judith said meekly.

Picking up the bottle of rosé, Mavis announced that she'd already sampled the wine and it was adequate. “I'll pour. Move your glass a bit closer. What's the latest?”

“Not much, really,” Judith replied. “Rodney and Belle have moved to a downtown hotel. The rest of them seem to be in a holding pattern.”

“That's it?” Mavis looked incredulous. “What's wrong with you?”

Judith shrugged. “I suppose they're waiting for Millie's body to be released. I gather she'll be buried here, not in L.A.”

Mavis grew thoughtful as she sipped her wine. “I guess that makes sense. I wonder if some of the Sunset Cliffs residents are buried somewhere on the grounds. They have their own chapel, as you know. Very High Church, very WASP. Of course.” She sipped more rosé.

“A very handsome chapel,” Judith remarked.

“What's with the autopsy report?” Mavis asked. “It's taking a long time, isn't it?”

“Not according to Joe,” Judith said.

“Can't he get his old pal Woody to hurry up the process?”

“My husband isn't inclined to put pressure on his former partner,” Judith replied. “Really, I don't know much more than you do. How about your own investigation?”

The tartines arrived. “I had one of my peons do deep background on the people involved. Unfortunately, nothing much turned up. Those hangers-on are all who and what they say they are. Very discouraging. I'm beginning to wonder why I'm following this story in the first place.”

Judith nodded vaguely. The duck confit was delicious, but she wouldn't admit she'd never eaten one before. “I don't suppose any of your spies mentioned seeing the Schmucks with a large chest.”

“A couple of the Schmucks have a large chest—or stomach,” Mavis said. “Why do you ask?”

“I mean a big box type of chest,” Judith clarified. “They were
seen carrying it out of the house and putting it in a car before they all drove off somewhere in the woods.”

Mavis narrowed her eyes. “Hmm. That's rather intriguing. But those guards wouldn't have seen that happen. I wonder . . .” She looked beyond Judith out toward the Avenue.

“Yes?” Judith coaxed.

“If someone could search the grounds . . .” Mavis began. “Say, I heard they hired some gardeners. I wonder if they could be bribed? The guards would know the name of the firm that sent them.”

Judith grimaced. “It was Carl and Arlene Rankers—my neighbors. You may remember them.”

Mavis laughed. “I do. I liked them. They have a lot of moxie. Well? Can they get back inside?”

“That's the problem,” Judith confessed. “They can't get outside. It seems they're being held against their will. Or not,” she added, suddenly feeling very Arlene-like. “I mean, I was worried about them, but they seem rather . . . complacent about the whole situation. I suspect it's quite an adventure for them, really. Arlene, especially, has boundless curiosity.”

“Interesting,” Mavis mused. “And yet Joe won't ask Woody to help?”

“No. In fact . . .” Judith sighed. “He's grounded me.”

“Really.” Mavis's tone was dry. “Lance was often penalized for intentional grounding when he played pro football. My husband was always afraid of getting tackled. That's also why his nickname was Out-of-Bounds Brodie. And speaking of beyond borders, there's one other possibly intriguing thing I found out about your current suspects. Rodney and Millie flew to Switzerland in February for a week.”

“Skiing?” Judith asked.

“Dubious. They stayed in Zürich the entire time. The trip struck me as odd, but I don't know why. There wasn't anything special going on in the city that would have a big appeal for American tourists.”

“Maybe they have friends there,” Judith suggested.

“It's possible.” Mavis checked her watch. “I should be getting back to the station. Is there anything else I should know?”

Judith shook her head. “Nothing I can think of. I'd like to avoid any publicity linked to my B&B. As you mentioned, Millie's death was probably an accident. We've heard nothing to indicate otherwise. That makes your news story a dead end. So to speak.” And wished she hadn't said it in the first place.

B
ack at Hillside Manor, Judith checked her Friday list of incoming guests for the Memorial Day weekend: a family from Rapid City, South Dakota, with two teenage daughters; two older couples from Appleton, Wisconsin, traveling together; a pair of Lewiston, Idaho, brothers who were checking out West Coast graduate schools; and a baseball scout and his wife from Dallas. They all sounded benign to Judith. But she reminded herself that so had the Schmucks.

Joe had left to do some shopping, mainly at the hardware store. Around three o'clock, Judith called Renie. “What do you know about Zürich?” she asked her cousin.

“As much as you do,” Renie replied. “
Z
for Zürich,
Z
for zilch. When we were in Switzerland, you may recall our only stop was Lucerne. Nice lake, creepy covered bridge, good food, and a friendly piano player in whichever bar we were hanging out in that night. Why do you ask?”

Judith explained what Mavis had told her about the Schmucks' February trip. “She thought it was odd.”

“The Schmucks are odd,” Renie said. “Why do you care if they went to Zürich?”

“I looked up the city on the Internet,” Judith replied. “It's famous for its medical clinics.”

“You feel sick?”

“Hardly. But it
is
suggestive, don't you think?”

Renie didn't respond right away. “Well, I suppose it could be. You found that list of drugs, right? Maybe one of them was ill.”

“That's what crossed my mind,” Judith said. “Millie, I figure. Unless . . . let's face it, Rodney is a mental and emotional mess. I wonder if he was like that before his wife died. His obsession about me being his mother might indicate that.”

“Didn't you think it was a ruse to butter you up so they could get their paws on your property and the rest of the cul-de-sac?”

“Yes, and I still think that's part of it. I never saw the birth certificate, though Rodney claimed to have it. I wonder if he was lying.” Judith sighed. “I'm frustrated. Joe told me to butt out. Maybe I should.”

“You know you can't,” Renie said quietly. “Even if no crime has been committed, you still feel responsible in some way for Rodney. Don't argue. You've got a kind heart and you know he's being railroaded by his so-called friends. I don't care what Mavis found out about their backgrounds, I still think they're a bunch of con artists.”

The doorbell sounded. “Somebody's here,” Judith said. “I'll call you back, okay?” She hung up.

When she opened the front door, a gray-haired woman of about sixty stood at almost military attention. Judith expected her to salute. She wasn't carrying a purse, but what appeared to be a large briefcase. “Mrs. Flynn?” the stranger queried in a deep, rich voice.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Perhaps.” The woman looked to her left, right, and behind her. “Yes, I'll come in, if you don't mind.”

Judith ushered her into the living room, indicating the newcomer should sit on one of the blue sofas. “I'm Judith Flynn, the owner of this B&B. Are you interested in reserving a room?” she asked, sitting down on the other sofa.

“I know who you are,” the woman replied, shaking out the pleats in her long, plain skirt. She cleared her throat. “My name is Judith Grover.”

J
udith thought she hadn't heard correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

The other woman's thin mouth hinted at a smile. “I'm Judith Grover,” she repeated. “Yes, I understand that was your maiden name as well. I've never married, but I've borne a son. I immediately put him up for adoption. His new parents called him Rodney Schmuck. I've been trying to find him for some time.”

Judith leaned back against the sofa cushions. “I see. Yes, of course. He was staying here at the B&B, but he's gone now. I mean, he's still in town, but not here.” She paused, watching the other Judith's face react with only a slight twitch. “Did you hire a detective to find him?”

“I did.” She gazed up at the high ceiling before looking again at Judith. “I swore I'd never do that. You see, I wasn't married when I gave birth to Rodney. I was only seventeen and his father was much older. He was out of the picture as soon as I discovered I was
enceinte
. And please call me Jude. I was never a Judy type of person and I feel Judith is rather stilted.”

Despite thinking the formal version fit her visitor more accurately, Judith smiled. “Of course, Jude. But you changed your mind about finding Rodney?”

“I turned sixty-two in March,” Jude responded. “I retired from my government job at the end of April and I decided it was time
to review my life. In retrospect, it seemed right that I should try to find the only real legacy that I have. By that, I mean my son.”

“That's understandable,” Judith said.

Jude offered a slight nod of agreement. “The detective traced him to an exclusive neighborhood north of the city, but when I called there, I was told he'd left. Are you certain you don't know where he is now?”

“Rodney and his daughter—your granddaughter—moved into a downtown hotel,” Judith replied.

“Granddaughter?” Jude showed a hint of curiosity. “What is her name?”

“Belle,” Judith said. “Actually, it's Arabella.”

“That's . . . that's rather nice.” Rodney's mother actually looked pleased. “I suppose I could start calling the hotels.”

“You could,” Judith responded, then reluctantly added, “but they may be registered under assumed names.”

Jude frowned. “Why would they do such a thing?”

“Ah . . .” Judith hesitated. “There was friction between them and their traveling companions over a business venture. It seems the main reason they came here was to buy up property and build condos.”

“How odd. I was told Rodney is a motivational speaker. My informant turned up nothing about any involvement in real estate.”

“All I know is what I learned while they were here.” Judith paused again, wondering how candid she could be with the woman who called herself Rodney's birth mother. “Did you keep his birth certificate?”

“Of course,” Jude replied. “I brought it with me. Would you like to see it?”

“If you don't mind,” Judith said.

Jude opened the case and removed a slightly wrinkled sheet of blue paper. “I moved away from here not long after I gave birth to Rodney. I've been living in Denver for many years,” she said, handing over the certificate. “I worked for the U.S. Mint there.”

Judith smiled as she scanned the information. “Your son was born in the same hospital as mine. My Mike is several years younger, though. He works for the forest service and is currently in Maine.”

“A commendable type of job,” Jude remarked, taking the certificate from Judith. “You're certain you have no idea where Rodney is?”

“I'm afraid I don't,” Judith said as they both got up from the sofas. “Where are you staying?”

“At one of those residence inns not far from here,” Jude replied as they went into the hall. She bit her lip. “Please don't think me fanciful. Over the years, I did something rather foolish.” She stopped, looking uncertain.

“Don't we all do foolish things from time to time?” Judith asked softly.

“I suppose.” Jude stared at the Persian carpet before looking again at Judith. “While working at the mint for almost forty years, I saved the new coins that were made there. Be assured, I paid for them and acquired a great many. I have no idea what the amount totaled.” She paused once more. “The coins were for my son, should I find him. When I found out he was living in a wealthy community, I realized he probably had money of his own. All the same, I anonymously shipped the coins to him in a large wooden chest. Do you think that was folly on my part?”

Judith tried not to show her surprise. “Of course I don't. You intended that he should have them. It was very thoughtful of you.”

Another faint smile touched Jude's thin lips. “You're quite a sympathetic person. I must go now. Thank you.” She opened the door and marched down the steps.

Judith half expected to hear a drumroll.

F
ive minutes later, Renie came through the back door, announcing that lunch with the dweeb had been so tiresome that she'd had
to cheer herself up by buying a new handbag at the local accessories store. After ten more minutes and another futile attempt by her cousin to raid the cookie jar, Judith had unloaded her account of Jude's visit to the B&B.

“Well,” Renie said after one last resentful glare at the sheep-shaped cookie jar, “you solved the part about the chest. That's a big house with tons of storage room, so why would they bury the chest in the woods?”

“Who knows?” Judith responded. “It might have been some goofy idea of Rodney's. He wouldn't know where it came from, and unfortunately, I never asked him about it. When I deal with that poor guy, I feel as if I'm going from one debacle to the next.”

Renie laughed. “Being grounded by Joe isn't hampering your style. Just stay put and see who shows up next.”

“You did,” Judith said.

“Don't sound so disappointed,” Renie retorted. “As long as you have to stick around here, why don't you make some cookies?”

Judith glanced at the clock. “It's after four. I still haven't figured out what kind of appetizers to fix for the guests.”

“Are any of this group suspicious?” Renie asked.

“No, just ordinary folks, and more to come for the holiday weekend.” Judith got up from the kitchen chair. “I could make salmon pâté. Where's the new purse you bought?”

“I left it in the car,” Renie said. “It's puce, with silver studs. I haven't got a thing to go with it. Oh, well. Where's Joe? I didn't see the MG in the drive.”

“He went to the hardware store,” Judith replied. “You know how men can take forever at a hardware store. It's like kids in a toy shop.”

“Boys and their toys,” Renie murmured. “How come Joe isn't working much this week?”

“Good question. Of course he had to wait to get the car fixed and then deal with that, but we could use the money.”

“Who couldn't? Bill hasn't seen any clients the last few days. I
asked him why and he told me they were all nuts. I refrained from mentioning that's what brings in the big bucks. I still think he should have a sit-down with Rodney.”

“I'd like to listen in on that one,” Judith said as she went down the hall to fetch a can of smoked salmon from the pantry. When she returned to the kitchen, Renie asked if she'd heard from Arlene.

“No,” Judith replied, opening the can. “That bothers me. I wonder if their kids have any idea that they're still at Heaven's Gate.”

“They've actually only been gone for a full day,” Renie pointed out.

“True, but the Rankerses' offspring stop by fairly often for one reason or . . .” The doorbell rang again. “I hope that's not guests arriving early,” she said, heading out of the kitchen.

“Let me come with you,” Renie volunteered. “If they're early birds, I'll shoo them away.”

“No, you won't,” Judith asserted. “It does happen once in a while.”

To both the cousins' surprise, a grim-faced Reverend Kindred stood on the porch. “We need to talk,” he said.

Judith stepped aside. Kindred moved purposefully into the living room, but didn't sit down. He cleared his throat and spoke in his most formal manner. “In the name of our Lord, where is Rodney?”

“Not here,” Judith replied. “Go ahead, search the house.”

Kindred shook his head. “I believe you. But I think you know where he is. The Lord despises subterfuge. Tell me where I can find him.”

“I don't know,” Judith said. “That's the truth. Why did he run away from his own home in the first place?”

“Because he's unwell up here,” the rev replied, tapping his temple. “Demon rum. It ruins the brain cells along with the disposition.”

“Really?” Renie said. “Is that what happened to you? I'm so sorry! No wonder you got religion.”

Kindred's long face darkened. “Of course not! Lips that touch liquor will never touch mine!”

“Good,” Renie retorted. “Then I'm safe from any lecherous advances you might make.” On that note, she flounced out of the living room.

Judith ground her teeth before she spoke. “My cousin sometimes speaks without thinking. I apologize.”

“She's very rude,” Kindred declared. “But I forgive her, as the Lord commands me. Maybe, like poor Rodney, she suffers from her own demons. We're trying to find him so he can get help.”

“What kind of help?”

The rev suddenly seemed fascinated with the view from the bay window. “You know—a place where he could improve his mental health.”

“Do you think that's his only problem?” Judith asked, wishing Kindred would look her in the eye—or at least sit down.

“We all have problems,” he murmured, now studying the grandfather clock.

Though tact was always preferable, Judith opted for candor. “Has Rodney always been a heavy drinker?”

“Anyone who imbibes liquor has a problem,” the rev replied as the clock struck the quarter hour. He flinched before finally looking at Judith. “Doesn't that hellacious noise drive you insane?”

“No. I like it.” Judith's patience was fraying. “I thought you might consider sending Rodney to a place that treats alcoholics.”

“His problems go deeper than that,” Kindred said. “The soul, you know. It's for his own good, and should be done as soon as possible.”

“Would he consent?”

The rev shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But the Lord—and the law—make provisions if he doesn't agree.”

“Then I gather someone in your group has a power of attorney.”

Kindred flinched again. “I believe Stuart Wicks, being a lawyer, may have that. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Judith said. “Excuse me, I have to get ready for my guests. I'll see you to the door.”

If the rebuff bothered the rev, it didn't show. “Bless you, my dear Mrs. Flipp. I'll keep you in my prayers and see myself out.”

Judith stayed in the living room until she heard the door shut.

“What a jackass,” Renie declared when Judith returned to the kitchen. “How did you keep from telling him to stick it?”

“It wasn't easy. I assume you were listening from the hall.”

“Of course.”

Judith opened her recipe book. “Hey—what happened to the smoked salmon? The can's empty!”

“The cat,” Renie said with a shrug.

Sweetums, however, was entering the hall through his little door. “
You
ate it!” Judith cried. “How could you? Did you take it with you to pig out while you were eavesdropping?”

“No, I scooted back to the kitchen and grabbed it. I'm quick.”

It was useless to get mad at Renie. Judith started for the pantry, but the phone rang again. “You answer it,” she said, and kept going.

When she returned, Renie handed her the receiver. “It's Cathy Rankers. She wants to know where her parents are. She says there's two days' worth of stuff in their mailbox.”

“Damn,” Judith said under her breath, but took the receiver from Renie. “Hi, Cathy. Your folks are still working at Heaven's Gate. It's a big job, big yard, big—”

“Judith,” Cathy broke in, “I don't get it. Dad and Mom aren't professional gardeners. Why did they go out there in the first place?”

“It's kind of a long story,” Judith began. “You know how curious your mother is. The guests who stayed here over the weekend are now living out there, but they canceled my payment for the B&B. Your parents, being so goodhearted, decided to—”

“Stop.” Cathy's tone carried authority. She was, after all, a successful Realtor. “This isn't some kind of dangerous setup, is it? Don't take me in the wrong way, but I know your history, Judith. You have a way of finding serious trouble even if you don't go looking for it.”

Judith didn't waste time defending herself. “Have you tried calling your parents?”

“Yes, of course,” Cathy replied. “But the cell battery must've run down. She left the charger here. I'm picking up Dick and we're going out to Sunset Hills to see what's going on.”

“How will you and your brother get through the gate?” Judith asked, noting that Renie had left the kitchen. No doubt she was going to listen in on the phone in the living room.

“One of my former clients lives there and Dick's done repair work for them in the last year or so. Don't worry, we know how to handle this.”

Judith didn't doubt that claim. “Okay, but keep me posted.”

“Me, too,” Renie said.

“Who's there?” Cathy demanded. “Is that Serena?”

“Who else?” Judith retorted. “She's on the living room phone. Please be careful, Cathy. These people may be . . . sketchy.”

“Ha!” Cathy exclaimed. “I've been in real estate for almost thirty years. You think I don't know sketchy? Talk to you later.” She hung up.