Major Vices (23 page)

“Like what? Why I married Joe Flynn?” she blurted out. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I'm not so sure. I enjoyed being a widow. Maybe I'll try it again.” She took a deep pull on her scotch.

Althaus appeared jarred by her comment. “I'd like to leave personalities out of this,” he said, concentrating on removing a notebook from the inner pocket of his jacket. “Let's start with names.”

“How about jerk, creep, and insensitive boob?” Judith shot back. “When we get through with Joe, we can move on to Bill.”

“Bill?” the young detective echoed in a faint voice.

Judith sighed. “Never mind. I'm Judith McMonigle Flynn. Mrs.—excuse the expression—Joseph.” She went on to give her address, phone number, and occupation as a B&B hostess and a caterer. “Or so I was, until today. Now, because of my husband and my mother, I'm going on food stamps and will have to get into a work-study program at a community college so that I can reeducate myself and—”

Renie did her best to jab Judith in the ribs without spilling her drink. She failed. Scotch splashed onto the sofa. Renie winced, then smiled at Jack Althaus.

“You'll have to forgive my cousin. She hasn't been married as long as I have. At least not to the same man.”
Renie frowned, aware that her explanation hadn't come out exactly right.

Eventually, Althaus extracted the information he needed, which involved the discovery of the body in the lily pond and any knowledge of the victim's presence at Major Manor.

“We didn't get here until late yesterday afternoon,” Renie explained, taking over for the still-fuming Judith. “Nobody mentioned anything to us about a building inspector. You might try contacting the masons who were working on the house.”

“Which firm is it?” he asked, grateful for Renie's cooperation.

She had no idea. “They were fired Friday by Mrs. Grover. Mrs.
Theodora
Grover,” she added, to avoid any confusion with the rest of the family. “The housekeeper would know, too, but she's not here because her husband…” Renie made a vague gesture with her hands.

“Is that Wakefield?” Althaus asked.

Renie nodded. “It's probably a mistake. Weed's arrest, I mean. Since Buck Doerflinger hauled him away, we've found—”

“The liquor cabinet,” Judith interrupted, suddenly back on an even keel. Noting the plainclothesman's puzzled reaction, she gave him her most engaging smile. “We needed a stiff drink. Two bodies in two days, you know. Very stressful.”

“I see,” responded Althaus, though his uncertain tone indicated he didn't. Flipping through his notebook, he asked if there was anyone else in the house. The cousins said there wasn't, though the housekeeper and the maid should be returning shortly.

Satisfied, he left the living room, presumably to make a search of Major Manor and have a last look at the sunken garden.

“Well?” Renie arched her eyebrows at Judith.

“It was best to quit while we were ahead,” Judith replied with a sheepish expression.

“How come? Don't you want to help Joe?” Recalling her cousin's anger with her husband, Renie bit her tongue.

But Judith didn't jump on the remark. “Of course, though he doesn't deserve it. The problem is, I forgot to give him the gun.”

“Oh!” Renie slapped a hand over her mouth.

Judith nodded. “That's right, it's still in the trunk of my car. I was so mad at him that it slipped my mind.”

Renie let the blunder slide. The door chimes rang, signaling the arrival of Althaus's backup. Judith and Renie saw them go through the entry hall. Althaus apparently was leading them out via the back door.

Judith sprang off the sofa. “Let's go check on that exterior wall of the den. We can watch for the tow truck from there, too.”

The cousins slipped out through the garage. The sun was going down, and the air had again grown chilly. Clouds were gathering, coming in from the north. Anxiously, Judith scanned the street in both directions. There was no sign of the AAA.

A flower bed about three feet wide separated the lawn from the house. It was empty, except for a few low-lying evergreens and an azalea. Judith stood on the grass, searching for footprints. There were plenty of them, no doubt from the workmen, and probably from the murderer as well.

“I hate to walk on the dirt, just in case the police might get a print,” Judith fussed. “What do you think, coz?”

Renie stared at the ground. “It looks pretty chewed up to me. And what would it prove? Anybody could have come out here and stomped around by the den.”

“Anybody could, but I don't think everybody did, except the bricklayers—and the killer. You're right, though—the impressions are too muddled.” She plunged into the flower bed, then began to gauge the level of the bookcase inside.

“We should have turned the lights on in the den,” Judith said, vexed with herself for not thinking of it beforehand. “What little sun is left is on the western side of the house.”

But to her surprise, the first brick she touched felt loose. She jiggled it repeatedly. At last she freed it enough to be
able to pull it away from the wall of the house. The surrounding bricks, four in all, also came out without much effort. Judith peered through the opening. She couldn't see a thing.

“I'll have to feel my way,” she murmured, reaching through the wall.

She only had to go as far as her elbow. Her fingers touched the spine of a book, which moved easily. She pushed. The volume fell off the shelf and, presumably, onto the floor behind Uncle Boo's chair. The light from the den allowed Judith to see the opening in the den's wall and the bookcase itself.

“Look, coz,” she said excitedly as she stood aside to make room for Renie. “Somebody's cut a hole about four inches in diameter. It must be at eye level with Boo's head. Can you see the chair?”

“No,” Renie answered, straightening up. “All I see is the door to the den. But that would figure, wouldn't it? If we could see the chair, it would've blocked the killer's view.” She shivered as she stepped back onto the grass. “Ugh, it's awful thinking about somebody going to all this trouble to shoot poor old Uncle Boo.”

Judith, however, wore a calculating expression. “It's not so much work. The inner wall and insulation had been removed already. It was just a matter of taking out a few bricks and cutting a hole in the den and the bookcase. The only problem would be making sure the shot was in line with Boo's head.” Abruptly, she shook herself. “You're right, it
is
awful. But it's pretty darned clever.”

To Renie's surprise, Judith went back to inspecting the opening in the wall. “We need a flashlight,” she said, then changed her mind. “Nix. We need a mason. I don't think we can use a flashlight at that angle.” She patted the remaining bricks. “The bottom part of this wall is going to have to come out.”

“Why?” asked Renie, looking puzzled.

“Because that's where the casing is. Maybe the silencer, too.” Judith started back for the garage. “Let's check the den and see where that book landed.”

The Rolls and the Ford looked lonely without the
Cadillac to keep them company. On the opposite wall, the safe still stood open, like a naked wound. Judith paused in mid-step, causing Renie to stumble.

“What now?” Renie inquired in a resigned voice.

Judith continued to stare at the safe. “I'm not sure,” she replied slowly. “But I think I may have figured out who took the jewels and where they're hidden.”

“Oh, jeez!” Renie exclaimed. “Dare I ask how?”

Judith was smiling, albeit a bit tensely. “It's a guess, you understand.”

“Sure, sure.” Renie followed her cousin into the house. “My only consolation is that sometime your guesses are a crock of bull.”

In the entry hall, Judith glanced at Renie over her shoulder. Her black eyes danced. “Not a crock—a gator. Think about it, coz. And remember Auntie Vance.”

T
HE
W
ILL
R
OGERS
biography had fallen directly behind Uncle Boo's chair. The cousins couldn't be sure, but they seemed to recall Derek picking it up from approximately the same place.

“Now,” said Judith, dusting off her hands, which had become grimy from working with the wall, “we need to distinguish the gunshot with the silencer from the exploding cigar.”

“We've been over all that,” Renie said, growing impatient. “I want to hear more about Auntie Vance and the alligator.”

But Judith waved a hand. “In a minute. This part is really important. Think, coz. It could tell us who killed Uncle Boo. And the Mayor's cousin.”

“I'll tell you one thing,” Renie said, moving restlessly around the den. “If the building inspector disappeared on Thursday, that limits the suspects. Were any of them here that day?”

Judith sat on the edge of the desk. “I've thought about that. I really don't know, but I'd guess Toadie came by to get things ready for the party. Maybe Trixie, too. Jill was in and out quite a bit, as we now know. Vivvie was keeping her hooks into Boo. Derek might have stopped by to arrange for the delivery of the big
TV set. And if there were errands to run, Holly would have been sent to fetch and carry. The only unlikely suspect is Mason Meade. I can't see any reason for him being here—unless he came with Trixie.”

“We can check on all of that with Mrs. Wakefield,” Renie said, beginning to relax a little. “She must have seen the building inspector, too.”

“Yes,” Judith said thoughtfully. “So she must. I wonder when she'll be back.”

Voices could be heard in the entry hall. Judith dashed to the door. Jack Althaus and the other two policemen were about to leave. Wearing her most appealing expression, Judith approached Althaus.

“If you'd do me a big favor, I'll show you something interesting.” She almost gagged at the coy sound of her own voice.

He looked puzzled. “Like what, Mrs. Flynn?”

She explained about the necessity of reaching Hillside Manor. To her amazement, he readily agreed to contact the B&B and relay her urgent message. Encouraged by his response, she also asked if he'd check in with the AAA and find out what was causing the delay in the arrival of the tow truck. Again the young detective said he'd be glad to comply.

Keeping up her end of the bargain, Judith led Althaus and the others outside to her car. She opened the trunk and presented the Walther P-38. Althaus was amazed.

“That's excellent,” he enthused, then gave orders to one of the other men to get an evidence bag. “Where did you find it?”

She explained about searching in the recessed garbage cans. “I intended to hand it over to my husband, but he…ah…left in such a hurry that I forgot.”

He gave her a dubious look, but made no comment. The evidence bag arrived and the handgun was duly placed inside. Judith was about to reveal her most recent discovery in the wall of the house when Althaus uttered another command to his subordinates:

“Make sure Detective Doerflinger gets the weapon as
soon as possible. In fact, call in and tell him you're on the way.”

“But,” Judith began in confusion, “what about Detective Flynn?”

Althaus frowned. “Flynn? But this isn't his case. Not officially. He's on the missing-persons investigation.”

“But the missing-person isn't missing—he's dead and probably shot with that gun,” she protested.

The plainclothesman shrugged and offered her a lame smile. “Let's talk turf, Mrs. Flynn. Originally, this was Doerflinger's case. It still is. It's just a really strange coincidence that both investigations dovetailed. Oh, we'll get it sorted out down at headquarters. Meantime, I'll make those calls for you. So long.”

Althaus and the others left. Angrily, Judith slammed the trunk of her car. “Damn! Now Joe will really be furious! But it's his own fault, for being such a pill!” She marched back across the street, going straight to the wall of the den. “I'm putting these damned bricks back until we get somebody to go inside and find the rest of the evidence.”

“The silencer and the casing? Or a stray alligator?” Renie inquired, watching Judith replace the missing bricks. Her tone indicated she thought her cousin might be taking things for granted.

“Not just that,” Judith replied, again brushing off her hands. “Trace evidence. You know, hair, fiber, anything that can identify the killer. There should be some residue on the bricks and maybe the holes in the wall and the bookcase. Everybody wore long sleeves last night, right?”

Renie allowed that that was so. The cousins trooped back into the house, and as before, Judith went straight to the den. From her pocket she removed the key ring that they had borrowed to get back into the house.

“I think I know which sound came first,” she said, sorting through at least two dozen keys of various sizes and styles. “It was the gun. It had to be. The killer put a load in Uncle Boo's cigar to confuse the time of the real shot and to provide an alibi. It takes a while for a cigar to burn down, especially if the smoker isn't puffing on it. Boo puts the cigar in the ashtray, gets shot, and a few minutes later,
the cigar explodes. Two noises, right? If the cigar had blown up first, even Uncle Boo wouldn't sit there like a stuffed duck. He'd have yelled in surprise or maybe even come out of the den. Thus, he must have been dead when the thing exploded.”

Renie acknowledged her cousin's logic with a grin. “I like it. Now all we have to do is try to figure out who was where when that first noise sounded.”

Judith was trying keys in the locked bookcase on their left. “No easy task, either. Except for Jill's fairly accurate account of time, you and I have no idea of who went where when. And you can bet the rest of them won't remember—or won't tell.”

“Not even Derek?” asked Renie, then finally gave in to her curiosity. “What are you doing? Are the jewels in that bookcase?”

“No,” Judith answered, finally making a match of key and lock. “The jewels are in Mason Meade's bandages. The bookcase is sheer guesswork. Here, coz,” she said, handing a large volume to a startled Renie, “brush up your Shakespeare.”

 

The familiar printed-will form was found at the beginning of
The Merchant of Venice
. “Will,” Judith said as Renie unfolded the legal-sized document. “The one Will we overlooked was Shakespeare, because he was in the classics section. I should have thought of it sooner, since Shakespeare's own will has been a subject of controversy for centuries.”

“Ever the librarian,” murmured Renie, scanning the first of two pages. “Who did Shakespeare leave everything to?”

Judith grinned as she looked over Renie's shoulder. “Mainly his daughter, Judith. That's how I remember it so well.”

In this version, the formal passage that identified family members did not include any in-laws. According to the handwritten portion, Bruno Major's family consisted of his late brother's daughter, Ruth Helga Major, and any heirs of her body. It also included Jill Andrea Rush Major, his lawful wife. Under disposition of the estate, Boo did give, de
vise and bequeath unto Jill Andrea Rush Major the sum of one million dollars. The remainder of the estate was left to Ruth Helga Major. The document was dated February 6. It was witnessed by Arthur L. Peterson and Patrick J. O'Brien.

“Wow!” breathed Renie. “This was made the day before yesterday! Who do you suppose these witnesses are?”

Judith was still frowning at the document. “The masons?” She stared at the addresses, which were handwritten below the signatures. “If only we had a phone, we could call and ask them about this.”

“Now they'll have to find Ruth Major,” Renie said, a note of excitement in her voice. “Imagine inheriting all this money from out of nowhere! Won't she be thrilled?”

Judith, however, wasn't joining in her cousin's excitement. “I wonder,” she muttered under her breath.

“What do you mean?” asked Renie.

Judith gave an impatient shake of her head. “I don't know what I mean. This final will—and it has to be final unless Boo came into the den last night to make out yet another—bothers me. Why leave everything to the niece and a measly million to Jill?”

“A million isn't measly to me,” Renie remarked.

“You know what I'm saying.” Judith glanced out the small window next to the open bookcase. The street was quiet. Shadows were inching across the lawn, as the sun disappeared behind dark clouds. “This strikes me as odd,” she declared, slapping the will with her hand. Disconsolately, she sank into one of the side chairs.

Renie sat down in its mate. “Well, odd or not, there it is. Why not tell me about the stolen jewels instead?”

Judith didn't seem very interested in the theft. “It had to be Mason Meade. Vivvie probably had blabbed to the rest of the family and Trixie told him about the jewels. Who else would bother to steal them? The family members all thought they were going to get everything anyway. But Mason was an outsider. How would you like to count on Trixie for your bread and butter?”

“So he's a crook?” Renie grimaced. “I thought he was into concrete.”

“He is,” Judith replied, gathering momentum. “But maybe his business is in a hole. It was started by his father, but he died, and now Mason and his sister have taken over. I don't know about the sister, but does Mason strike you as bright?”

Briefly, Renie considered. “Not really. But he could still count on Trixie and her expectations.”

“Maybe,” Judith allowed. “But Trixie isn't exactly a work in fidelity. She says she was making a phone call last night, supposedly to Marty. But we know she wasn't. Now, who do you suppose she was trying to reach?”

“Oh, good heavens,” cried Renie in exasperation, “I have no idea! Her cosmetic surgeon?”

Judith smiled feebly. “Not a bad guess. But I'm voting for that offensive lineman, Biff Kowoski. He was tall, dark and dumbsome, which is how Trixie likes them. Never mind his wife, Myra—Biff probably doesn't mind her, either. We know all about Trixie's track record, which reads like a handicap sheet for Sluts R Us.”

Renie chortled. “So Trixie was making a late date. Or something. Maybe Mason wasn't too stupid to figure it out.”

“Could be. In any event, he managed to crack the safe, the combination of which I'll bet was indeed Uncle Boo's birth date. Mason would know that, of course, because of the party. It's what I was going to try first. He grabs the jewels and takes off in Trixie's Lexus. Unfortunately, along the way he meets a lamppost.”

Renie was looking bemused. “So how do you figure he managed to hide the loot in his bandages?”

Judith gave a shake of her head. “I don't know how he did it, but when Aunt Vivvie accidentally sat down on him, she felt something poke her in the rear end. ‘Stabbed,' was the word she used. It went right by me at the time, but then we got to talking about Auntie Vance and Marty's alligator. I was reminded of Vivvie. Bandages shouldn't ‘stab' anybody. So what was under them? A tiara?”

“No wonder Mason didn't want to stay in the hospital.”
Renie chuckled. “And he didn't want Zoe changing his dressings.”

“Right.” Judith got up and went to the window again. “Drat. Still no sign of that damned tow truck. They must be hauling cars all over town. I suppose a lot of people got stuck on the freeway last night. I sure hope Althaus called the B&B. It's past five o'clock.” Judith rubbed anxiously at her forehead, then tensed. “Here comes the Cadillac.”

Renie got out of the chair to join Judith at the window. “There's only one person in it. Can you see who it is?”

“No,” Judith answered. “But we'll find out soon enough.”

The big car stopped briefly in the drive to wait for the automatic garage door to open. Then the Cadillac slipped inside. The middle door closed. Judith turned to Renie, an odd expression on her face.

“Think back on your love life, coz. Who was the girl in the Cascadia Hotel elevator with Cousin Denny?”

 

The cousins had moved into the living room. They were freshening their drinks when Zoe Wakefield walked through the arched doorway. Her auburn hair had come undone from its copper clips and her skin was pale. She seemed surprised to see Judith and Renie sitting side by side on the long sofa.

“Hi,” Judith said with forced cheer. “We're still waiting for a start. Or a tow.”

“You can borrow the Cadillac,” Zoe said, taking off her jacket. “I don't need three cars.”

“That's okay,” Judith answered in an agreeable voice. “We've waited this long. Another few minutes won't hurt.”

Noting the cousins' highball glasses, Zoe uttered a mirthless laugh. “I could use a drink. Maybe I'll get myself some wine.” She headed out for the kitchen.

Renie poked Judith. “All I remember is that she had freckles,” Renie whispered. “Curves, too. Egad, it's been nearly forty years! I'll bet Denny doesn't remember!”

Judith didn't respond. She sat on the sofa, rocking
slightly and waiting expectantly. Zoe reappeared, a glass of white wine in one slim hand.

“Where are your parents?” Judith asked in a conversational voice.

Zoe sat down in the sea-green armchair. “They released Dad on a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bond. It took forever to raise the ten percent. My mother must have spent an hour on the phone, but she did it.” Zoe took a deep sip from her glass.

Judith had stopped rocking and had edged forward on the sofa. “Where are they now?”

Zoe's expression was wary. “Dad wanted to chill out. But not here. I dropped them off uptown. Maybe they'll check into a hotel for the night.”

“They can't go far,” Judith said, a note of warning in her voice. “Your father is under arrest. Surely you must know where they'll be staying. The police will have to be notified.”