Authors: Mary Daheim

All the Pretty Hearses (25 page)

“Walter’s not so bad, I guess,” Judith remarked.

“Walter? Oh—the government agent. Maybe not, but he apparently carries out his jolly-good-fellow act too far.”

“You know about Walter?”

“It’s not a state secret to other law enforcement officers. He’s been helping with the ARBS horsemeat violations. That whole family is screwed up. No love lost between the brothers Paine. Andy is going down. I’m guessing, but I figure he caused the so-called accident to Sidney at the food factory.” Joe leaned forward to pick up his coffee mug. “No doubt about it, some of those truck drivers who had ARBS on their route were taking bribes to tote dead horses to Andy and that dink from the parish who owns the plant. Yes, a few of our uniforms were turning a blind eye—or worse.”

“ ‘Our’?”

Joe’s ruddy complexion darkened as he lowered his gaze. “Okay, so I’ve spent the last few days playing cop. It’s a hard habit to break.”

“You never will break it,” Judith said. “It’s your nature. How long did it take you to figure out you’d been set up?”

Slowly, he raised his eyes to look at Judith. “I knew from the start, as soon as Zachary Conrad insisted on setting a trap with himself as bait so he could be a hero. It also gave him a chance to find evidence that his wife was having an affair at the condo.”

“You mean there was never any insurance fraud?”

Joe shook his head. “Only poor Sidney’s so-called accident. But it gave Chief Stuart a chance to try a sting operation, figuring that it might bring out one of the departmental bad apples or at least somebody from ARBS. Maybe offering a payoff to the supposed victim. SANECO was told about it on the q.t., which is how we got to use the houseboat as a surveillance site. Then Zachary muddied the waters by volunteering to replace Sidney. Chief Stuart liked that idea, just in case whoever contacted the supposed victim wouldn’t actually be incapacitated in case things got ugly. Zachary was a big, strong former athlete. Besides, the chief likes to keep the other city divisions happy. It just didn’t work out so well for the would-be hero.”

Judith was flummoxed. “That’s . . . that’s infuriating! I was worried sick! What about the gun? Who stole it?”

Joe winced. “Nobody. I had it all along. But it was the only way I could warn you that danger might be lurking somewhere. I knew my so-called arrest would send you into a sleuthing tizzy. I figured that if I sent you off on a false trail, you’d stay out of trouble. Or at least be on guard.” A faint smile played at his mouth. “After all, it’s your nature.”

“Touché,” Judith muttered. “But why did you leave the safe open when there were still guns in there? Wasn’t that dangerous?”

Joe looked puzzled. “I didn’t. I locked it, knowing you’d be able to figure out the combination, and even if you didn’t, you’d be on your guard.”

Judith grimaced. “I think I understand. I’m not the only person who can get into a safe without the combination. A crafty guest may have the same skills. She turned out to be an industrial spy and was probably trying to figure out what was going on with ARBS and the horses and the Paines coming for the auction event. But that’s up to the Department of the Interior to resolve.”

Joe was looking flummoxed. “The Department of the—”

“Skip it,” Judith urged. “It’s a long story and I’ll save it for another time. The main thing about the safe is that my search for the gun offered clues about those initials so that I realized Sidney Foxe was involved.”

Joe frowned. “Huh?”

“That slip of paper with ‘LA OR SF’ on it. Sidney Foxe or Larry Appel, the mayor.”

Joe scratched his head. “I don’t know what you’re . . . oh!” He grinned at Judith. “That was a year ago when I was trying to figure out where we’d go on our vacation—Los Angeles, San Francisco, the Oregon Coast. Then I got the idea for the Scotland trip.”

“Oooh . . .” Judith leaned her head against the back of the sofa. “I feel like an idiot!”

“But you’re a live idiot,” Joe pointed out, getting up from the sofa. “How much do you hurt?”

“I took some Excedrin,” Judith said as he hovered over her. “I . . .” She saw the magic gold flecks in his eyes. “I feel great.”

Joe slipped his hand inside her sweater. “Yes, you do.”

The grandfather clock struck two before Judith remembered that Gertrude hadn’t had lunch.

H
ey,” Renie said on the phone later that afternoon, “Bill and I just heard about what happened at your house last night. It was on the news, which we never listen to, but it came on after the ball game Bill was watching. I feel terrible. I should’ve kept talking to you on the phone or stayed with you.”

“It all worked out,” Judith said. “Come for dinner. I’m making stew and dumplings as penance for Mother missing lunch.”

“Oh. Bill likes stew and dumplings. Maybe we will. Speaking of dump,” Renie continued, “Bill dumped that client who was being stalked. I can tell you now who it was.”

“Who?”

“Reggie Beard-Smythe. He stiffed Bill on his bill, and it sounds as if Reggie’s in big trouble. He’s been taking discarded animals from the hunt club and turning them into hamburger, which is why those kids at SOTS school got sick. Somebody at the club was onto him. The carnations were pinks, as in the colors of the coats, the leather belt was a horsehide reference, and . . . I forget the rest, but Bill can tell you at dinner. See you.”

Judith had barely hung up when the phone rang again. “Big headlines,” Uncle Al said. “Hey, kiddo, you’ve got to work harder at staying out of trouble. Why don’t you take up another hobby, like toxic waste sites or getting shot out of a cannon? Nobody’s luck lasts forever.”

“I know,” Judith said. “But you played a part in this one. What makes me sad is that this crazy man who tried to kill me was someone you helped. I guess that wasn’t so lucky after all.”

“No good deed goes unrewarded,” Uncle Al said. “Sure, you can’t win ’em all, but I made a bundle off that guy. Two days after I fed him, I made a Trifecta bet on three long shots at a California track and won over fifteen grand—I wheeled ’em. Foxy Loxy, Café Au Lait, and Downandout. Hey—got to go. Here comes a newspaper reporter to interview me. Whoa—he’s got a looker with him. Talk to you . . .”

“What newspaper guy?”

“That Addison Kirby. You read his work?”

“I know
him,
” Judith said. “What does the woman look like?”

“Hang on,” Uncle Al said. “I have to let them in.”

Judith heard the door being opened, followed by her uncle’s greeting. Addison said something she couldn’t quite hear. The woman’s voice came through more clearly, but it was Uncle Al who made the positive ID. “Pleased to meet you, Paulina. Have a seat while I say good-bye to my niece.”

Joe sauntered into the kitchen just as Judith hung up the phone. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

She put her arms around his neck. “Earlier, I was thinking of how much pain the Paines had brought to so many people, themselves included. But I just realized that sometimes a Paine can be a pleasure.”

Joe pulled back slightly, staring at his wife. “Huh? Have you been in the brandy again?”

“It’s a long story,” she replied, still smiling. “Move. I have to peel some potatoes.”

“I can do that,” Joe said, opening the utensil drawer. “I figure you may have a lot of stories to tell me about what happened while I was gone.” He took out the vegetable peeler and suddenly clapped his hand on the counter. “Oh—I forgot to give you this.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper. “One of your guests left this for you.”

Judith unfolded the handwritten message.
Mrs. Flynn—those men from Kentucky didn’t want Son of Scarlet for their buyer in Dubai. Said the price was too cheap!!! The contact, Zoë something-or-other, is willing to
give
us the horse, so we’re making arrangements to take it to Kamloops. We’ll be coming back here in February to get SOS (!!!) and to meet again with the animal shelter people. Is it possible we could stay the weekend of Feb. 18–20? Thanks again for everything!!!

The note was signed
Cindy Owens,
complete with a Happy Face.

“Well?” Joe said. “You’re still smiling. What’s that all about?”

“A horse.”

Joe paused. “A horse?”

Judith nodded. “Of course.”

Shrimp Dump

1 tbsp. butter

1 tbsp. flour

½ cup chicken broth (I recommend using Watkins Chicken Soup and Gravy Base, but any basic chicken bouillon will do)

Salt and white pepper to taste

½ cup milk

1 hard-boiled egg, cut up

3 cups small shrimp

Melt the butter and stir in flour in a quart-size pot over low heat. Blend in the broth, salt and white pepper, and milk. Turn up the heat just to boiling, while continuing to stir. Add the egg and shrimp.

Turn down the heat and simmer 3–5 minutes. If you’re too impatient to wait, go ahead and pig out—I do recommend, however, removing it from the pot first.

Pour the mixture over toast or Pepperidge Farm Puff Pastry Shells. Toast takes only a minute or so; pastry puffs take much longer and should be heated in the oven before preparing the filling.

Serves one, but then that’s just me—I really love this as a late-night snack.

About the Author

M
ARY
R
ICHARDSON
D
AHEIM
is a Seattle native with a degree in communications from the University of
Washington. Realizing at an early age that getting published in books with real
covers might elude her for years, she worked on daily newspapers and in public
relations to help avoid her creditors. She lives in her hometown in a
century-old house not unlike Hillside Manor, except for the body count. Daheim
is also the author of the Alpine mystery series and the mother of three
daughters.

www.authormarydaheim.com

Visit
www.AuthorTracker.com
for
exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

Also by Mary Daheim

Just Desserts

Fowl Prey

Holy Terrors

Dune to Death

Bantam of the Opera

A Fit of Tempera

Major Vices

Murder, My Suite

Auntie Mayhem

Nutty as a Fruitcake

September Mourn

Wed and Buried

Snow Place to Die

Legs Benedict

Creeps Suzette

A Streetcar Named Expire

Suture Self

Silver Scream

Hocus Croakus

This Old Souse

Dead Man Docking

Saks & Violins

Scots on the Rocks

Vi Agra Falls

Loco Motive

Credits

Cover design by Richard L. Aquan

Cover illustration by Bill Mayer

This book is a work of fiction. The
characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and
are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ALL THE PRETTY
HEARSES
. Copyright © 2011 by Mary Daheim. All rights reserved under
International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required
fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access
and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be
reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored
in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form
or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter
invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

FIRST EDITION

EPub Edition August 2011 ISBN:
9780062092403

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication
Data

Daheim, Mary.

All the pretty hearses : a
bed-and-breakfast mystery / Mary Daheim.—1st ed.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-06-135158-7

1. Flynn, Judith McMonigle (Fictitious
Character)—Fiction. 2. Bed and breakfast accommodations—Fiction. 3. Insurance
crimes—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3554.A264A76 2011

813’.54—dc22

2011010566

11 12 13 14 15
OV
/
RRD
10 9 8 7 6
5 4 3 2 1