Major Vices (19 page)

“You're right,” Judith said thoughtfully. “There
were
two odd noises after the pressure cooker blew up. And they didn't sound like shots to me, either. Not exactly. They also didn't sound the same.”

Weed shrugged. “I wonder if it's quiet in the slammer.”

Judith doubted it, but didn't say so. She gave Weed another weak smile, nodded politely to a bemused Officer Foster, and went back upstairs.

In the kitchen, Renie was gleeful. “Look!” she cried, pointing to the thermometer outside the window. “It's up to thirty-three! The fog's all gone! The sun's trying to come out! We may be able to get out of here pretty quick!”

Judith beamed at her cousin. The housekeeper chuckled. “Isn't it great? I'll get rid of all of you, and my old man'll go to jail! Talk about mixed emotions!” She shook her head as she hauled a load of garbage out through the back door.

“Garbage!” Judith gasped, suddenly putting her hands to her face.

Renie stared. “Huh?”

But Judith shook her head, then spoke rapidly in a whisper. “I'm supposed to be looking for my lost Miraculous
Medal. Never mind why, but I just had a brainstorm about where the missing jewels might be. Let's wait for Mrs. Wakefield to come back inside.”

A moment later, the housekeeper reappeared, shivering. “It may be getting warmer, but it's still colder than an Eskimo's nose out there. The steps have thawed, though, and the walk, too, at least close to the house.”

Judith grabbed her green jacket from the peg by the back door. “I could do with some fresh air. Renie and I haven't seen the gardens in daylight.”

“Not much to see this time of year,” Mrs. Wakefield remarked, but she didn't try to stop the cousins from leaving.

“What's up?” Renie asked as they crossed the frosty grass to the gazebo.

Judith filled her cousin in on the autopsy report, Weed Wakefield, and the revelation from Aunt Toadie that Rube Major had been in the OSS. Renie was astounded.

“So Rube was a spy for the Office of Strategic Services,” Renie mused as they poked their heads into the latticed gazebo. Despite the new roof, it had a forlorn air, with tendrils of ivy growing over the wooden seats. “Disguised himself as a German soldier and went behind the lines. That's really dangerous. He's lucky he got out alive.”

“That's for sure,” Judith agreed as they wandered over to the small orchard, which seemed to have two each of pear, apple, cherry, and plum trees. “But we know he spoke German, probably like a native. We also know that he was an adventurer and no doubt relished taking risks. You'd think Dunlop Major would have been proud of his son.”

The cousins paused by the huge stone birdbath. The ice was beginning to break up. On a whim, Judith poked her finger into the chilling water.

Renie regarded Judith curiously. “You thought the jewels were in the birdbath?”

“Not really. But it doesn't hurt to check. That thing's big enough for a buzzard.” In a seemingly aimless manner, Judith meandered under a rose trellis and down a narrow path that led between tall trees and leafy shrubs. The
ground was frozen solid, but the footing was decent. “As long as we have the chance, we might as well check out this whole place. I suspect we'll never come back here.”

“Ha! What about Trixie's wedding reception?”

Judith wrinkled her aquiline nose. “I'm skipping this one. Next time, maybe.”

The path ended at the entrance to the rose garden. It was small but beautifully laid out, with arbors at each end and a stone fountain in the middle. The central path led past a sundial on one side and a statue of a dancing nymph on the other. The rose bushes looked limp with cold, but Judith knew from her own gardening experience that they would recover in time for their March pruning.

“Nice,” she commented, bending over to read one of the metal tags on the nearest bush. “Abraham Lincoln. The ones on each side are Peggy Lee and Bing Crosby. And there's Tropicana and Peace and Brandy and Sterling Silver and—”

“Frozen Cousin on your immediate right,” Renie cut in. “Don't get me wrong, I love roses as much as you do, but my teeth are chattering. I thought we came out here to find the loot.”

“We did,” Judith replied, a bit shame-faced. “But you've got to admit, this is a wonderful property. I think I like the lily pond best.”

“It's great,” Renie agreed as they wound their way back along the dirt path. “By the time the lawyers get through fighting, it'll probably have fallen down.”

They reached the back porch, where Judith gazed around to make sure no one was watching them. The outer steps to the basement, the driveway to the three-car garage, and the grounds appeared to be uninhabited. On the other side of the porch, about a foot above the ground, Judith noticed a metal box with the phone company's bell. Anyone could have gotten at it and clipped the wires, even someone who wasn't familiar with the house. The terminal box was in plain sight, and despite the fog, the porch light would have illuminated it.

Cautiously, Judith approached the nearer of the two recessed garbage cans. The lid stuck. She realized that it
probably hadn't been used in fifteen years, or however long it had been since the city had issued new regulations about curbside collection. She tried the second can. The lid all but sprang up in her grasp. She peered inside.

“Well?” Renie demanded, trying in vain to peer over her cousin's shoulder.

Judith didn't answer at first. Instead, she knelt down on the concrete that surrounded the cans. “Hang onto my jacket,” she urged Renie. “I don't want to fall in.”

“Are your eyes bedazzled by the pile of gems?” Renie inquired, getting a firm grip on Judith's collar.

“They are not,” Judith replied in a strained voice. To Renie's amazement, her cousin had pulled the sleeve of her Rugby shirt down over her right hand. Judith made a final lunge and grunted. “But my eyes are opened. Sort of.”

In triumph, she sat back on her heels and waved her trophy in her covered hand.

It was a gun.

J
UDITH AND
R
ENIE
were arguing, not in the mulish, self-absorbed way of their childhood, but on a higher, less personal plane. They weren't angry, though an eaves-dropper might have mistaken their fervor for antagonism. No one, however, could listen in, for the cousins had shielded themselves from the house by going down to the lily pond. They were seated on one of the stone benches, safely hidden from prying eyes.

“You could get arrested for suppressing evidence,” Renie pointed out for the third time. “You've got to turn that gun over to Buck right away.”

Judith's expression was dogged. “He—or his men—should have found the damned thing by now. They didn't do much of a search, if you ask me. Face it, coz; except for Doerflinger and maybe Foster, these aren't homicide detectives. They're straight off the beat. They don't know the drill.”

“That's no excuse for you,” Renie countered, huddling inside her black hooded jacket. “You know better than anybody how wrong it is to keep something from the cops.”

Judith swung her head from side to side. “I told you, I'm not doing that. As soon as I can, I'm giving it to a cop. My cop. Joe.”

“It's not his case,” Renie protested. “How will he explain it to his superior? Buck will have Joe's rear end in a sling, and you know it.”

“He won't dare,” Judith responded. “How will Buck explain why he didn't find the gun in the first place? Besides, the police will be leaving any minute. The ice is breaking up on the pond. We'll say we found the gun after they took off. What difference does fifteen or twenty minutes make?”

The climbing temperature and the skittish sun might have been melting the ice, but Renie was still cold. With regret, she gave in. “I wish you hadn't put the damned thing in your pocket. If it's still loaded, you'll shoot your butt off.”

Judith smiled, both at her cousin's fears and at her own apparent victory. “The safety's on. It's okay. In fact, I'll put it in the trunk of the car. Let's go.”

As Judith and Renie were about to cross the street, a tow truck slowly turned the corner. The studded snow tires crunched on the pavement, but the vehicle showed no signs of slipping. Judith was further cheered by the realization that freedom was at hand.

“Half an hour, tops,” she said after the tow truck had passed by and they'd crossed over to her blue compact. “Think of it—we'll have a change of clothes, the use of a telephone, the comfort of our own little beds, the company of people who aren't Aunt Toadie and the rest of this wretched crew! Whoopee!”

“I thought you were mad at Joe,” Renie reminded her. “And at your mother.”

Judith made a face. “Well, I am. But no matter how annoying Joe and Mother can be, they don't begin to be as annoying as this bunch.” She lifted the lid of her trunk. “Some of them are better than others, but I don't care if I never see any of them again.”

“They're pretty odious, all right,” Renie agreed, nervously watching Judith extract the gun from her pocket and carefully put it inside the box that held the leftover wine. “What kind of gun did you say that was?”

Judith had memorized the engraved barrel. “Walther P-38. It looks old to me. Joe will know all about it.” She
closed the trunk and gave Renie a dazzling smile. “In case there are fingerprints, notice I didn't touch it in any way, though I suspect the weapon was wiped—”

“
Touch
it?” Renie snapped. “You
stole
it. Now I'll have to testify that you're nuts.”

Renie's criticisms couldn't dampen Judith's spirits. She genuinely could see no difference between handing the automatic over to Joe and giving it to Buck. Both were homicide detectives, and she had a lot more confidence in her husband than in his rival.

Judith all but clicked her heels when they entered the house and found the police contingent gathered in the entry hall. Weed Wakefield stood among them, his lanky frame draped in a black raincoat. Along with the collapsible rain hat, he looked not unlike a scarecrow. His wife and daughter were on the fringes of the group. They both had on warm jackets and appeared to be going downtown, too. Mrs. Wakefield looked angry; Zoe was near tears.

“We'll post bail, no matter what we have to do to get it,” the housekeeper vowed. “This is all so damned dumb!”

Buck Doerflinger gave her a nasty look. “Murder is dumb,” he thundered. “You'll be lucky if the judge allows bail.”

Zoe turned a stricken face to Judith. “Is that true? Can they deny bail?”

Sobered by the little scene, Judith bit her lip. “Yes, they can. But it's usually only when the crime has been particularly brutal.” She thought of the gun in her trunk, of Uncle Boo slumped over the desk, of the gaping hole in his temple. How did you define brutal? How violent did death have to be? How many corpses? Wasn't one enough? Judith shuddered.

Zoe wiped at her cheek with a gloved hand. Huddled in her dark green quilted jacket, she looked very young and vulnerable. “My dad's got his faults, but he's no killer,” she insisted. “What proof have they got? It doesn't make sense! They didn't even let him finish wiring the downstairs stove.”

Buck and his subordinates were ready to go. Weed's
long raincoat flapped around his ankles as he made a detour to hug his wife and daughter.

“I'll see you downtown,” he said. “You be careful driving. Take the Rolls.” He planted a kiss on Mrs. Wakefield's forehead.

“I've never driven that thing,” she replied. “We'll use the Cadillac. At least it's an American car.”

Zoe was now sobbing in earnest. Weed ignored Buck's prodding and embraced his daughter. “I told you, don't get yourself upset. They can't convict an innocent man.”

Zoe pulled away from her father and gazed up into his long, seamed face. “You don't believe that,” she said, the anger showing through her tears. “You've always taught me that it's the little guy who gets screwed!”

Weed was being bodily pulled away by Buck and Officer Rigby. “I also taught you that iron bars can't imprison the spirit. Don't let the bastards get you down. And always root for the underdog! See you in court…” He disappeared through the double doors, his feet bumping over the threshold.

Zoe lifted her chin. “He's right.” She grabbed her mother by the sleeve of her red wool jacket. “Let's go. We're the voice of the people. We have the power; we can do anything. I can even finish that stove. I'm not helpless. I'm like you, Mom, an independent female. It's a red wire, a black wire, and a white one. I watched you do it upstairs once…” The Wakefield women disappeared through the door to the triple garage.

Trixie had been watching from the arched entrance to the living room.
“Finally!”
she said with a huge sigh of relief. “Now we can all go home.”

Renie looked askance. “Mason, too? How are you going to get him out of here?”

Trixie smirked. “A cabulance, how else? I'm calling one right now.” She started for the phone in the alcove.

Judith put out an arm. “It's broken, remember? Somebody cut the wires.” She saw Trixie's face flood with confusion. “Say,” she went on, taking advantage of the other woman's temporary befuddlement, “who did you really
call last night, Trixie? It wasn't Marty. He said he never left the phone after nine o'clock.”

Trixie's eyes flashed as she shook off Judith's hand. “It's none of your beeswax!” she snapped. “I'm going across the street to use the neighbor's phone.”

Aunt Vivvie had materialized from the dining room. “I wouldn't bother if I were you, Trixie, dear. They're snowbirds. In fact, most of the people around here are. They much prefer spending their winters in the sun. You know—Palm Springs, Tucson, Hawaii.”

Briefly, Trixie looked stumped. Then she went to the closet and got out her trench coat. “Somebody's got to be home. I'll just march up and down the street ringing door-bells as if I were a—” Her heavily made-up face brightened. “A Wear-House Dressing rep! And I am! How funny!” She took off through the double doors.

Holly and Derek came down the main staircase together. Derek nodded at his mother. “There's no reason we have to stay on. Let's get our things and go. Where's Jill?”

Jill was in the living room, glaring at the piano keys. “I'm getting this thing tuned,” she announced to no one in particular. “It's a crime to neglect a wonderful instrument like this.”

In the wing-back chair, Toadie coiled like a snake. “If you do, pay for it yourself. I'll sell it along with the rest of the furniture before I put the house on the market.”

Derek's thin face was a mask of impatience. “Never mind the piano, Jill. Let's take our leave. The streets are almost clear.”

Jill played a series of minor chords. “I'm not going,” she said without looking at her father.

Running a hand through his dark hair, Derek uttered a choked laugh. “Now, Jill, I understand your desire to watch over our inheritance, but right now I think it would be better if you came along—”

Jill played one final, emphatic chord. She gazed up at him and offered a cool smile. Judith waited for her explosive announcement.

“I'm staying here,” she repeated. “I'm moving in.” She closed the lid on the keyboard and stood up. Judith saw
Derek's face contort and Holly's shoulders slump. There would be a big argument, no doubt, and Judith preferred not to hear it. Along with Renie, she started to slip out of the living room.

“See here, Jill,” Derek began, straining to keep the rage out of his voice, “we're going to resolve all of this in a legal, orderly—”

“You don't understand,” Jill broke in calmly. “I'm not staying to make sure nobody else takes over. That's not a problem. I'm living here because it's where I belong. I'm Mrs. Bruno Major. Boo and I were married two weeks ago.”

Judith and Renie raced back into the living room.

 

Vivvie had collapsed on the sofa, unfortunately on top of Mason Meade, who howled with pain. Toadie had sprung from the chair like a boa constrictor, wrapping herself around Jill and shaking her. Derek reeled, leaning on the piano for support. Holly burst into tears, then sank into the sea-green armchair.

Jill struggled with Toadie, while the cousins watched with a mixture of horror and fascination. Stunned by Jill's announcement, Judith finally took action, attempting to separate the two women. Renie joined in, obviously taking particular pleasure in putting a hammerlock on Aunt Toadie.

“Knock it off,” Renie panted, dragging Toadie across the Oriental carpet and heaving her into the wing chair. “Can't any of you act like civilized human beings?”

“They can't define ‘human being,'” Judith muttered, letting go of Jill and hurrying over to lift Aunt Vivvie off the groaning Mason Meade.

Vivvie staggered to a chair, holding her backside. “That hurt me, too,” she declared in an aggrieved tone. “I feel as if I've been stabbed.”

“Good,” Toadie snapped, though she, too, was breathing hard. Her narrowed, angry eyes darted to Jill. “Now, what's all this nonsense about marrying Boo?”

Derek, who was torn between comforting his wife, interrogating his daughter, and succoring his mother, made a series of faltering steps in various directions before decid
ing to stay put. “Yes, by all means, Jill, what are you talking about?”

Jill uttered a weary sigh. “Exactly what I said. Boo and I were married two weeks ago, on January twenty-fourth. We went to City Hall—in my Mazda Miata. Don't you recall when I took him for a ride?”

“You certainly did!” Toadie shouted, her breath restored. “In more ways than one!”

Vivvie was clutching at her bosom, eyes closed. “Oh! Oh! I can't believe it! Boo and I were promised to each other! Oh!”

Jill's expression was half disdainful, half pitying. “Grandmother, I'm sorry. Boo didn't intend to marry you. I'm afraid you were misled.”

Vivvie's blue eyes opened wide. “Misled! He led me on, the scoundrel! And all the while two-timing me with my own granddaughter! Thank goodness I never permitted him liberties! Oh! To think of it! Oh!”

Toadie was back on her feet, though a warning look from Renie kept her from advancing on any of the others. “Vivvie, you're an old fool, even if you are my sister.”

“Maybe that's why,” Renie murmured.

Toadie either didn't hear Renie or chose to ignore her. “And, Jill, you're a young fool. Or the biggest opportunist I've ever met.”

“That'd take some doing with this crew,” Renie remarked.

“The marriage will have to be annulled,” Toadie went on doggedly. “It's obvious that Boo wasn't of sound mind when he married you, Jill.”

Jill stared at Toadie, then broke into laughter. “How can you annul a marriage to a man who's dead? And if he was crazy, doesn't that ruin your chances of proving the will he made out in your favor? That one was dated last October, which isn't all that long ago.”

Holly had stopped crying and was tentatively approaching her daughter. “That's true,” she said, blowing her nose in a Kleenex. “The most recent will, which left everything to the little men from Mars, was written last month. It seems to me that the only real will is the one he made just
after Aunt Rosie died—leaving everything to Derek.” She gave her husband a tremulous smile, then put a delicate hand on Jill's arm. “So you see,” Holly continued between sniffles, “it comes out the same. Even if Boo was unbalanced in the last year, we get the estate.”

Jill moved away just enough to break free of her mother. “Not quite,” she said in a wry voice. “Whether he was sane or insane, all those wills aren't worth the paper they're written on. This is a community property state. As Boo's widow, I get everything he had. It's no contest, folks. Shall I see you all out?”