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Authors: Mary Daheim

All the Pretty Hearses (11 page)

BOOK: All the Pretty Hearses
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Addison was leaning against one of the open half doors, coffee mug in hand. “Could that have been the B-S couple in Room Three?”

“ ‘BS’ is right,” she raged. “I’ll get stiffed for their room
and
the one they let the dog sleep in. Not to mention the cost of fixing the antique registry stand. I bet Mayo knocked their suitcase down the stairs.”

“No Christian charity involved, I gather?”

The mild tone of Addison’s voice didn’t belie what may have been an unintentional barb. “Oh—I
thought
I was doing them a favor, but I never considered they might not pay me. It was implied that they would when I talked to Norma Paine.”

Addison strolled into the kitchen. “And who is this Paine?”

“Another parishioner, whose entire family is staying here tonight—for free.” Judith grimaced. “It was my school auction donation. Now we’re really broke. Joe can’t work while he’s in jail, and I’m getting screwed by what seems like half of my fellow Catholics.”

Addison chuckled. “Thank God I was raised Methodist. I haven’t been to church in forty years. Except,” he added wistfully, “for Joan’s funeral. She was Episcopalian.”

“Episcopalians pray for good manners,” Judith stated. “We should adopt that concept. Not to mention more of the other virtues.”

“Sounds like I’m going to have to stick around unless you can vouch for all those Paines.”

“I don’t know them,” Judith said. “Norma and her husband, Wilbur, are old-timers, but since their kids grew up, I haven’t a clue about them. You can’t stay the night. They’re taking up all the rooms.”

“I could sleep with your mother.”

“Addison!” In spite of herself, Judith laughed. “Are you serious?”

He nodded. “I want to check out Joe’s office. Okay?”

“Sure.” She was standing eyeball to eyeball with Addison, hoping he was as trustworthy as he seemed. “Do you think I’ll hear from Joe?”

“Don’t ask me. I may go down to City Hall later.”

“I’m going to call Arlene,” Judith said. “Early to bed, early to rise. She may be able to answer some of your questions. And mine.”

Amid much laughter, Judith could hear Geoff and Cindy Owens coming downstairs.

“I’m on,” Addison said, putting his coffee mug down on the kitchen counter. “Pretend I’m your waiter.”

“Quick, check to make sure everything’s still warm on the buffet. I’ll be right there.” Judith reheated the griddle to make fresh pancakes.

If the British Columbia couple were surprised to see a bearded man welcoming them to breakfast, they didn’t show it. Addison indicated the coffee urn, then asked if they’d prefer tea.

“Coffee,” Geoff responded. “We’re caffeine fiends.”

“Got it,” Addison said as Judith entered the dining room.

“How many eggs,” she inquired, “and how do you like them?”

Geoff wanted two, sunny-side up; Cindy requested one, over easy. Judith went back to the kitchen, flipped the pancakes, and started frying eggs. Then she dialed the Rankerses’ number and asked Arlene if she could stop in for a few minutes around nine-thirty.

“Of course,” Arlene replied. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” Judith admitted. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

A pause followed at the other end of the phone. “Judith,” Arlene said in an uncharacteristically stern tone, “have you taken a lover?”

“Huh? Oh! No, of course not. I’ll explain that, too. It has to do with . . . several strange things.”

“Ah. ‘Strange’ can be enjoyable. See you as soon as I can get Carl out from under the dining room table.” She hung up.

Addison had come into the kitchen. “Connecting to ABS for the morning report?” he asked Judith.

“It’s due at nine-thirty. You never gave me the report on Mother. Is she still alive and reciting Molière in the original French?”

Addison grinned. “She’s reverting to type,” he said quietly. “She wanted to know if I was making unwanted advances on you. I told her I only advanced as far as Room One. She asked if that was like getting to first base. I told her it was more like going to sleep. She sort of snorted and told me that was more than the Seafarers have done the last couple of baseball seasons.” He sobered. “I’ll admit that the baseball team hasn’t been the same since Joaquin Somoza was murdered at Good Cheer Hospital.” His eyes closed briefly. “Neither have I.”

“I know.” Judith flipped Cindy’s egg before placing half a dozen pancakes on a plate. She offered a sympathetic smile. “Over the years, I sometimes forget about the aftermath of the horrific carnage I’ve encountered. If I stopped to think about it for very long, I’d go crazy.”

Addison bit his lip. “Wouldn’t we all.”

He took the plate into the dining room. Judith followed with the eggs and more butter. “Is everything okay?” she inquired of her guests.

“Great,” Geoff replied.

“Yummy,” Cindy declared. “Any chance we can stay tonight?”

“Oh,” Judith said with regret, “I wish you could, but I have a charity event. I’m booked solid.”

The couple exchanged glances. “Maybe it’s just as well,” Geoff said. “We’re supposed to meet with some animal-rescue people later today, and they’re located about thirty miles from the city. They offered to put us up for the night at some friends’ farmhouse nearby.”

Judith nodded. “Coming back this way in Friday commuter traffic would be a problem. I’m sorry, though. Next time you come to the city, don’t forget Hillside Manor.”

“We won’t,” Cindy vowed. “We may be here again in the early spring. We’re working on a project for an animal safe haven outside of Kamloops. That’s why we’re taking this trip instead of going skiing. There’s not a lot of snow yet this year, so we made this a working holiday. We’ve got ski slopes outside of Kamloops anyway.”

“The haven sounds like a worthwhile project,” Judith said, noticing that Sweetums had entered the dining room. “Would you take in cats?”

“Maybe,” Cindy answered with an uncertain look at Geoff. “We’ve been trying to decide the best way to go. Geoff wants to focus on larger animals, not just wild ones, but horses and other domesticated creatures. Small farms are disappearing and livestock owners can’t afford feed. Or are you referring to feral cats?”

Sweetums appeared to be stalking Addison, who had moved away from the buffet to Grandma Grover’s breakfront. Judith was about to answer when the cat rubbed his big yellow-and-white furry body against Addison’s leg. “Um . . . never mind,” she said, hearing Sweetums purr like a small-bore drill.
Traitor,
she thought as Addison reached down to pet the cat.
The perverse animal must’ve sensed I was having an evil fantasy
. She excused herself and returned to the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes after she’d started the first load of dishes for the day, Phyliss Rackley arrived. “I thought people eloped
before
they came here to honeymoon,” she declared, removing her plastic rain bonnet. “Or are you painting the house in this wet weather?”

Judith stared at her cleaning woman. “What do you mean?”

“The ladder out in the driveway,” Phyliss replied, bending over to remove her galoshes. “It’s outside of Room Three. A dog is on it. The Hound of Hell, I figure.”

“Oh no!” Judith cried. She started down the hallway past Phyliss, but before she could open the back door, a commotion erupted nearby.

“Told you so!” Phyliss called after Judith. “Satan’s chasing the elopers! That’s what happens to sinners who have carnal knowledge before they tie the knot!”

Turning the corner of the house, Judith heard angry voices and barking dogs. Almost slipping on the wet pavement, she grabbed a recycling bin to steady herself. Arlene was by the ladder, shouting at Alicia Beard-Smythe, who was four rungs up from the ground. Tulip, the Rankerses’ Boston terrier, was chasing Mayo down the driveway. Reggie’s rear end could be seen emerging from the second-floor window.

“Shame on you!” Arlene yelled, trying to shake the ladder. “You’re frauds! Are you trying to sneak out without paying poor Judith?”

Alicia held on for dear life. “Go away, you busybody! We’re trying to escape with our lives! This B&B is a house of horrors!”

“Nonsense!” Arlene retorted before noticing Judith. “Call the police!” She did a double take. “Wait—where’s Joe?”

“Never mind,” Judith said. “Let them go. I never want to see that pair again.”

Arlene backed off. “I don’t blame you. But what’s going on here? They told Carl on the phone they were locked in their room and wanted to come down for breakfast.”

“I’ll explain later,” Judith said under her breath, motioning for Arlene to step away from the ladder. “Go ahead, Alicia. Move your butt and take Reggie with you.”

“I can’t,” she said, slowly descending to the ground. “Reggie’s stuck in the window with the suitcase.”

Judith felt like gnashing her teeth. “Okay, I’ll get someone to fetch the damned suitcase so he can come down.”

Arlene backed away as Alicia stepped onto the driveway. Reggie apparently hadn’t heard that help was on the way. His legs were flailing away as his midsection writhed on the windowsill. Out of the corner of her eye, Judith saw Tulip still chasing Mayo around the cul-de-sac.

“Shall I get Carl?” Arlene whispered to Judith.

“No, I’ll get Addison,” she replied, watching Alicia stomp off to the Humvee. “I thought Carl was stuck under the dining room table.”

“He is, but . . .” Arlene stared at Judith. “Addison?”

“Never mind,” Judith said, heading for the rear of the house. “Come inside. You’re getting wet.”

Addison was at the back door. “What’s going on out there?”

Judith explained as concisely as possible. “So please get that idiot out of the window and throw the damned suitcase after him.”

“Will do.” Addison nodded vaguely at a wide-eyed Arlene and went up the back stairs.

“Who,” Arlene demanded, “is that?”

“He’s a newspaper reporter,” Judith replied. “And stop looking at me as if I’m Jezebel. Remember the actress Joan Fremont?”

“Yes, but . . . oh!” Arlene put a hand over her mouth.

Judith nodded, aware of what Arlene was thinking. “He’s helping me sort through what’s going on with Joe.”

Before Arlene could respond, Geoff and Cindy Owens entered the kitchen. “Is something wrong?” Geoff inquired.

Judith tried to maintain a calm demeanor. “One of our guests had a problem with the window in Room Three. He’s a fresh-air fiend.”

“Can we help?” Cindy asked, tugging at Geoff’s hand as if to offer her husband as a sacrificial lamb.

“No,” Judith said, “we’ve got everything—”

A loud crash from outside interrupted her words of reassurance.

Startled, Geoff dropped his wife’s hand. “What was that?”

“Probably Carl,” Arlene said, unperturbed. “He’ll be fine. He always is. He should never have brought the ladder over here for the Beard-Smythes to use.”

Judith played along with Arlene’s deception. “Carl’s so good-hearted.”

“It’s those Christmas lights,” Arlene said. “He usually takes them down right after New Year’s, but he kept putting it off because of his war injury. He was in Tasmania.”

The young couple glanced at each other. “Tasmania?” Geoff finally said. “That’s . . . unusual.”

Arlene waved a hand. “Tasmania, Romania, Albania—I always get those manias mixed up. I was never good at geography. It wasn’t really a war kind of war, it was business, but things got out of hand.” She turned around as Phyliss entered the kitchen from the hallway. “Oh, here’s dear Mrs. Rackley! Excuse us, it’s our Bible study time.” Grabbing a goggle-eyed Phyliss by the wrist, Arlene hauled the cleaning woman back down the hall and into the pantry.
Good move,
Judith thought. The last thing she needed was Phyliss to further muddy the already murky waters.

“Maybe,” Geoff said, “Cindy and I should go meet the animal-shelter people.”

Figuring that the B.C. couple probably already thought they were at the zoo, Judith nodded. “It’s wise to get a head start. The drive’s almost an hour if there’s traffic.”

“We have directions,” Cindy said hurriedly, following Geoff out of the kitchen. “Thanks again. It’s been . . .” Her voice trailed off, apparently stumped for the right word.

Addison came down the back stairs just as a squawking Phyliss flew out of the pantry. “Don’t try to tell
me
about Moses,” she cried. “He never rejected anyone who worshipped the Golden Cat!”

Arlene entered the hall. “He didn’t? I thought that would please you. You always say unkind things about Sweetums.”

Phyliss paused at the top of the basement stairs. “It was the Golden
Calf
!”

“Oh.” Arlene was unfazed. “Cat, calf, cart, whatever. Catholics prefer the Bible’s sequel. The first part has so many peculiar names, and if you think I have trouble with Romania and—” She stopped as the cleaning woman flounced back down to the basement. “Really,” she said, putting out a hand to Addison, “that woman is very peculiar. You must be from the newspaper. I’m next door.”

“Arlene.” Addison smiled and shook her hand. “You are the font of all knowledge.”

“Not according to Phyliss,” Arlene responded. “The Old Testament is so
long
. Isn’t there a short version? You know—like the wrap-ups you do after a tiresome city council meeting. Those people go on and on.”

“They do indeed,” he agreed, accompanying Arlene into the kitchen. “Gasbags, most of them.”

Judith kept going to the front door to make sure the Humvee had left. She caught only the rear end of the big vehicle as it turned out of the cul-de-sac, but that was enough. “Good riddance,” she muttered, heading back to the kitchen.

Arlene had already begun to tell Addison what she knew about the Beard-Smythes. “He runs Smythe’s Suppliers. Reggie inherited his father’s business.”

Judith was surprised. “I didn’t know he was born into money.”

“He wasn’t,” Arlene said. “Mr. Smythe owned a pawnshop.”

“Indeed,” Addison remarked. “Reggie parlayed it into a fortune?”

“In a way,” Arlene said, accepting a mug of coffee from Judith. “It was a fluke, really. After Mr. Smythe died of drink, Reggie’s mother had to sell the shop. But first she wanted to make sure she got her money’s worth, so she asked a friend who was some sort of appraiser to go through the inventory. He—I think it was a he—discovered a first edition of Mark Twain’s . . .” She made a face. “I forget which book, not
Huckleberry Finn
or
Tom Sawyer,
but something less well known. Anyway, it was still worth a great deal of money. Mrs. Smythe sold it for a huge sum. Then she went to the track, put it all on a long shot in a big race, and won over five million dollars.”

BOOK: All the Pretty Hearses
11.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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