All the Pretty Hearses (20 page)

“Two.” Renie made a face. “And a truck. No serious damage and I fled the scene.
Scenes
. I always tell Bill somebody must’ve hit me in the parking lot. You’re right. I have to collect my thoughts. Give me a couple of minutes. Eat.” She ran a hand through her already unruly short chestnut hair. “Or did I say that already?”

Judith munched on some of the now-soggy cornflakes and tried to be patient. At least a couple of minutes passed before Renie seemed to have turned on her brain.

“Okay,” she said, pulling herself closer to the table. “Let’s start with the basketball game.”

It took a couple of seconds for Judith to remember anything about a basketball game. “Oh—you mean the one that Bill and Uncle Al went to but somehow ended up in police custody?”

“Yes,
that
basketball game,” Renie said. “The old chum Uncle Al ran into was Lloyd Volpe. He needed Uncle Al’s help.”

Judith put down her spoon. “Lloyd Volpe? That name’s familiar.”

“Being Arlene’s next-door neighbor, you’d know him as the Silver Fox, former police chief and captor of the dreaded Underwear Thief. It was possibly his greatest achievement while running the department.”

“Not true,” Judith said. “Volpe was a better police chief than some we’ve had. Joe thought he was okay.”

“Whatever,” Renie remarked with a shrug. “All I know is that when he was chief I got a ticket on my way back from dropping our kids off at SOTS school just because I didn’t stop in an unmarked crosswalk. If it wasn’t marked, why was that gimpy old lady walking across the street? I never did figure that one out. The cop who gave me the ticket told me that the next time I saw somebody jaywalking, I could run ’em down without so much as a ‘ha ha, gotcha!’ ”

“Could we get to the point?”

“Oh, sure.” Renie folded her hands on the table. “Lloyd wanted Uncle Al to unload about some of the gambling operations he knew around town. I’d forgotten that although Volpe is ten or fifteen years younger than Uncle Al, he used to coach high school basketball before he joined the force, so they go way back. Thus both Uncle Al and Bill had to go downtown to talk to Woody and Joe and the young guy, Del.”

Judith frowned. “Why wasn’t Lloyd there when we arrived?”

Renie grinned. “He wanted to stay and yak it up with the coaches after the postgame locker room session. That’s why Uncle Al had to take his own car and why Bill had to go with him.”

“So what beans did Uncle Al spill?”

Renie laughed. “You know how he is. Sometimes I call him Uncle Anecdote. He’s got more stories—most of them true, all of them incredible—and he never answers a question directly. But by the time he’s finished, you’re so entertained that you’ve forgotten what you wanted to know in the first place.”

Judith wasn’t amused. “You mean Joe and Woody got zip?”

“No, but Bill had a lot of laughs.”

Judith’s stern gaze fixed on Renie’s humorous expression. “You’re holding back. You as much as told me so on the phone. Give, coz. Was Dan involved in something illegal when he owned the restaurant?”

Renie sobered at once. “Lord, no! Dan didn’t have that much ambition.”

“He also couldn’t say no to his so-called chums, many of whom were on the seedy side.”

“Yeah, right,” Renie agreed, assuming a less cheerful expression. “Uncle Al talked about the Teamsters, not in the past, but more up-to-date stuff, especially truck drivers on city routes. He keeps up with his old buddy Oly Oldstrom, who’s still working at union headquarters.”

“Oly!” Judith said in mild surprise. “Longshoreman, strong as an ox, worked on the docks until he hit eighty. Former college football player.”

Renie nodded. “Also a basketball ref, along with Mr. Locke, my high school geometry teacher, onetime SOTS PE teacher Tony Morelli, husband of Martha, cookbook maven. And, of course, our former sheriff, Sid Flaherty, who’s been out of jail for ten years and lives in Arizona.”

Judith frowned. “Was Sid the sheriff with the cathouse?”

“No, that was Freddy Ferguson, one county up. He was paroled at least ten, fifteen years ago and died about six months later. I don’t think he was ever a basketball ref. Too tired from hustling his hookers up and down Highway 99.”

Judith shook her head. “Why can’t we elect honest public officials around here?”

“We do,” Renie said, “but they’re so boring. We have lots of rain and gray skies. We need something to pep us up during October, November, December, January—”

“Stop! You like the rain and gray as much as I do. Stick to the point.”

“Two points, actually,” Renie said complacently. “Which is one of them, as in college basketball games. No three-point line back in the old days. How many games were fixed, with the refs in on it? If so, who were the fixers who did the fixing? And that brings us back to former sheriff Sid Flaherty, who was convicted of accepting bribes.”

“On basketball games?”

“No, but he may have done. Uncle Al hedged a bit on that one, though he himself insisted he never did such a thing. Uncle Al, I mean. He was always on the square, as he told Joe and Woody. The bribes were of Teamster truck drivers who were given money to keep their mouths shut about illegal cargo and businesses along their routes.”

“How far back?” Judith inquired—and jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Addison! Have you been eavesdropping?”

“Of course,” he replied, moving behind Judith to sit down in the chair next to her. “Serena saw me come in from the dining room.”

“Sorry,” Renie said with an obvious lack of repentance. “I was fixated on answering Coz’s questions. She seems to think I lack focus.”

“Tell me more about illicit deliveries,” Addison said. “We may be onto something.”

Judith swiveled in her chair to look at Addison. “We may be? How? What did you find out about those mixed sales?”

Addison looked pleased with himself. “The scrap of paper refers to a horse sale in this state last September. All very much on the up-and-up. But I made some phone calls and found out that one of the biggest buyers was Reginald Beard-Smythe.”

Judith was aghast. “Reggie? Why? For the hunt club?”

“Hey,” Renie yipped. “What are you talking about?”

“Horses,” Judith said abruptly. “Addison found a scrap of paper in the garage after we discovered the dead horse was gone.”

Renie looked as if she was about to dive across the table.
“What?”

“Never mind,” Judith barked. “I’ll explain later.” She turned back to Addison. “Well?”

“I managed to track somebody on the Eastside who occasionally sends in news items to the paper about the hunt club,” he said, his expression turning grim. “They rarely acquire new horses. The members have their own. In fact, that’s a problem. Once the hunt season is over, the owners often dump their animals. Turns out that one of the dumping grounds is ARBS Food Processing, Incorporated. Guess who owns the company?”

“ARBS . . .” Judith’s dark eyes lit up. “Alicia and Reggie? Are you saying that those horses are . . .” She gulped and couldn’t go on.

Addison nodded. “Yes. Those horses are horse meat.”

Chapter Eighteen

J
udith was horrified. Renie looked disgusted. Addison remained grim. “It gets worse,” he said after a long pause. “ARBS supplies some of the local take-out restaurants on and around Heraldsgate Hill. And while Reggie owns the company, it’s actually run by Andrew Paine. Reggie is an airhead and thus a figurehead.”

Judith was holding her head in her hands. “Wait. I can’t take all this in at once. What does any of this have to do with Zachary Conrad getting murdered?”

Renie slumped in her chair. “Holy crap! You don’t care about anything that isn’t connected to a dead body! Lighten up! Isn’t horse meat of at least some diabolical interest? Would you rather we all turned into cannibals?”

Judith went on the defensive. “You seem to forget Joe has indicated that whatever went on at the condo with the murdered man had some tie to the B&B. How could I
not
believe him or try to make a connection when he’s been set up?”

“Oh.” Renie straightened up in her chair. “Yes, you have a point. But could we please get back to the dead-horse disappearance?”

Before either Judith or Addison could respond, Gertrude burst into the hall, her motorized wheelchair at full speed. “Stop me!” she cried, passing the pantry, the coatrack, and flying into the kitchen. “My brakes are busted!”

Renie leaped up to grab the nearest armrest. One of the wheels banged against a table leg and stopped moving. Gertrude’s gnarled hands were pressed against her breast as she bent over and gasped for breath. Judith slid off her chair, risking her artificial hip as she reached down to put her arms around her mother.

“Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly. “Mother! Stop shaking! You’re safe.” Judith managed to turn the chair’s motor off in the hope that it would ease the old lady’s breathing. “Mother?”

Gertrude slowly lifted her head. To Judith’s shock, the old lady was smiling as the gasps became a cackle. “Dummies!” she croaked, wiping her eyes with a rumpled handkerchief. “Scared you real good, didn’t I?”

Renie was examining the wheelchair. “Aunt Gert, you’re a fraud! You didn’t put the brakes on.” She flipped the switch back and forth. “Why did you try to scare us to death? Doesn’t poor Judith have enough trouble already? Or are you trying to impress Addison with your derring-do so he’ll write you up in the newspaper?”

“Put a sock in it,” Gertrude rasped. “Just because Knucklehead’s in the clink doesn’t mean my little girl can’t have some fun.” She cast her watery eyes at Addison. “That one’s a real improvement. He even makes the furniture look better. But that’s not why I’m here.” She frowned at her daughter. “Stand up, dopey. You’ve got foreigners to see you. Want me to send them in the back way or go around to the front?”

Judith couldn’t help but give her mother a reproachful look before checking the time. It was a few minutes past noon. “The Kentuckians,” she mumbled. “They must not realize check-in isn’t until four. Damn!” Unceremoniously pushing the wheelchair aside, she headed down the hallway to the back door. “If they’re in the yard, they might as well come in this way,” she called over her shoulder.

The door was already open. Judith opened the screen and stared in astonishment at the two people standing by the birdbath.

“Hi,” Geoff Owens said. “We were on our way out of town and wanted to thank you again for your hospitality.”

Foreigners
. Judith never thought of Canadians as
foreigners
. Next-door neighbors was more her style, living closer as she did to Canada than to either of the adjacent states. “That’s very kind of you,” she said with forced enthusiasm. “Won’t you come in?”

“We really shouldn’t,” Cindy Owens said. “There’s snow in the forecast and we want to get back over the border at Sumas before dark. We happened to see your mother coming out of her little cottage.”

“Oh, dear,” Judith said apologetically, “we must not have heard you ring the front doorbell.” She glanced at Renie and Addison who, along with Gertrude, had come out to the porch. “Did either of you hear it?”

“No,” Addison replied.

Renie shook her head. “Shall I go see if it works?”

“Good idea,” Judith said.

“Uh . . . wait.” Geoff looked embarrassed. “We didn’t try the front door. It . . . it seemed wrong when we weren’t official guests, so we decided to come around the other way.”

“That’s right,” Cindy agreed. “We never got a chance to see your garden. It looked so nice in the front, even if it is winter. We wondered what the back was like. It’s charming, with the birdbath and the statue of Saint Franklin.”

“Saint Francis,” Judith said softly.

“Oh!” Cindy exclaimed, pressing her hands against her cheeks. “Of course! I’m Presbyterian. We don’t do saints so much.”

Judith smiled. “He’s the patron saint of animals. I thought you might know of him if you have friends who are into animal rescue.”

The young couple exchanged quick glances. “Well,” Geoff said, “we are, too, in a small way. Your mother told us she’d recently been asked to temporarily keep someone’s horse.”

Gertrude frowned. “I did? Hunh. Oh.” She gazed into her lap and scrunched up her handkerchief. “That was a joke. How could I put a horse in that chicken coop where I live?” She reversed the wheelchair and zipped back into the house.

“It looks very cozy,” Cindy said, taking her husband’s arm. “We should be going now. Thanks again.”

The couple was turning away when Arlene came into the backyard. Seeing the trio on the walk, she stopped. “Oh, Judith, I’m sorry. I was wondering if you had any tomato paste. I’m making a casserole . . .” Her blue eyes widened. “Cindy Rogers!” Arlene rushed forward. “I thought I’d missed you. How wonderful to see you all grown up!” She enveloped the young woman in a smothering embrace.

“Mrs. Rankers?” Cindy said in a muffled voice.

“Of course!” Arlene cried, loosening her hold. “Let me think . . . you were twelve or thirteen when I last saw you at Donner & Blitzen? You’re lovely. But you had promise back then, despite the braces, the orthopedic shoes, and the corrective hat.”

“Thanks,” Cindy said uncertainly. “Do you live around here?”

“Next door,” Arlene replied, keeping her arm around Cindy and drawing her up the porch steps. “Come, sit, tell me about your mother. She mentioned something about foot surgery in her Christmas letter, but I didn’t know if . . .” They disappeared inside.

Geoff looked bewildered. “Who is that?”

“My neighbor,” Judith said. “She worked with your mother-in-law at one of our department stores several years ago. Let’s go in. It’s chilly out here.”

Geoff seemed uneasy, but he trooped after Judith. “We really should be on our way.”

“I already am,” Renie said. “I’ll catch up with you later, coz. Bye, Addison.” She blew Gertrude a kiss. “The next time you pull a stunt like that, I’m going to let you crash and burn, you crazy old coot.”

“Go ahead,” Gertrude muttered. “I need to have some fun once in a while, Toots.”

“Take a seat,” Judith said to Geoff. “Your wife won’t escape from Arlene for at least ten minutes. Now tell me the real reason why you came back here.”

Geoff slipped into the place that Renie had occupied, warily eyeing Judith and Addison. Gertrude edged her wheelchair closer to the table. “This is fun, too,” the old lady declared. “Are we playing grill the suspect? Can I pretend this good-looking foreigner is Lunkhead and give him a hotfoot?”

“Mother . . .” Judith began in a warning tone, “please.”

Gertrude shrugged. “Please yourself.” She adjusted her baggy cardigan around her shoulders and gave Addison her sweetest smile.

“See here, Mrs. Flynn,” Geoff began earnestly, “I can’t tell you why we came back. Word of honor.” He glanced at Gertrude. “As a so-called foreigner, Queen Elizabeth couldn’t make me tell her the reason. I might add that she’d approve wholeheartedly if I could.”

“Off with his head,” Gertrude murmured.

Judith ignored her mother. “Let me take a wild guess. You came to fetch the horse.”

The color drained from Geoff’s face. “I . . . we . . . how did you know?”

“It’s not exactly nuclear physics,” Judith said, trying not to sound impatient. “You’re involved with animal rescue people. Judging from the distance you mentioned between my B&B and where you were headed when you left, I assume you intended to collect the horse that was in our garage and take it to their sanctuary not far from the mountains, Pedro’s Paradise. Someone got here before you could get the poor animal and shot it. Then someone carted it off last night—evening, I should say. The horse’s carcass was gone when we . . . I returned from downtown shortly before midnight.”

Geoff gaped at Judith. “You mean Son of Scarlet’s . . . dead?”

Judith was bewildered. “The horse that was brought here was called Knickers.”

“Oh,” Geoff said, “that was the name the previous owner used, but the horse had been renamed.” His voice was leaden. “This is awful. Son of Scarlet is a Thoroughbred.”

“I’m so sorry,” Judith said. “Do you have any idea who would want to destroy the poor animal?”

Geoff couldn’t seem to answer right away. “No,” he said at last. “Stealing, maybe. But there’s no way anyone who knows anything about horseflesh would kill an animal like that one.”

“Who told you about the horse in the first place?” Judith asked.

Once again, Geoff became reticent. “I won’t say more.” He spread his hands in a pleading gesture. “I can’t involve innocent people. “Not even you and Mr. Flynn.”

“Actually,” Addison began, “I’m not . . .”

Judith dug her nails into Addison’s arm under the table. “My husband and I are involved. Deeply so. But I understand. Go ahead, extract your wife from Mrs. Rankers’s fond clutches and drive safely.”

Geoff’s whole body sagged with apparent relief. “Thank you. After what you just told me about Son of Scarlet, I’m not sure we’ll be heading home after all. In fact, do you have a vacancy for tonight?”

Judith considered the pros and cons of hosting the couple again. “I do. I had a special event last night and couldn’t accept guests who wanted to stay over the weekend. You can take your previous room.”

“Thanks,” Geoff said, getting to his feet. “I’ll talk to Cindy.”

“Good luck,” Judith said.

Geoff went through the swinging doors and almost collided with his wife. “We’re staying here,” he told her. “Mrs. Flynn has room for us because of last night’s auction party.”

“Oh!” Cindy looked uncertain. “Are you sure we should?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Come on, we have work to do. It seems we don’t need that horse trailer after all.” He turned back to Judith. “We’ll see you later. Okay?”

“Of course,” Judith said with a tight little smile.

The Owenses took their leave as Arlene reentered the kitchen. “Well! Such fun catching up with Cindy now that she’s all grown and married,” she said, putting her arm around Gertrude’s sloping shoulders. “Oh, the tomato paste! Judith, do you—”

“In the pantry,” Judith interrupted. “Take two. I’ve got plenty.”

“No, just one. I’ll pay you back,” Arlene insisted, hugging Gertrude before starting toward the back hall. “I always do.” She disappeared into the pantry, but emerged within seconds. “Time for Carl’s back massage.” She paused to gaze at the can of tomato paste. “I wonder if this would help his . . . never mind.” She hurried out of the house.

Gertrude had rolled as far as the fridge. “I should leave you two lovebirds alone. I’m taking my lunch with me—stuff I like, for a change.” As good as her word, she stockpiled cheeses, lunch meats, and dill pickles into her lap. “It’s time for my Saturday TV comedy show. There’s a channel that has a recap of our state legislature not at work.” She flipped the switch on her wheelchair and headed down the hall.

Judith awkwardly stood up. “It’s not yet one o’clock and I slept in and I still feel worn-out.” She poured a glass of water and took two Excedrin for the onset of another headache. “What do you make of the Owenses’ attempted rescue of the dead horse?”

Addison had also risen from his chair. “What am I to make of you clawing me when Geoff Owens thought I was Mr. Flynn?”

“Sorry,” Judith said, draining the water glass. “Did you want to get sidetracked about how and why the real Mr. Flynn is in police custody?”

“I’m not complaining,” Addison said, wandering over to the counter under the cupboard. “You didn’t draw blood. I was flattered.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Judith snapped. “The last thing I need right now is . . . complications.”

“I apologize.” He leaned against the counter, looking embarrassed.

“Never mind,” Judith said. “Did you notice that Geoff mentioned the school auction?”

Addison shrugged. “So?”

“I referred to last night’s disaster as an event. So how did Geoff know it was connected to the SOTS auction?”

“Good point.” Addison turned thoughtful. “I feel like a fool.”

“Why?”

“For embarrassing both of us. I apologize. Widowerhood doesn’t sit well with me.” He gave Judith a crooked smile. “I’m calling Paulina.”

Judith was so disconcerted that she couldn’t immediately remember who Paulina was. “Oh—you mean about the twins and the horse?”

“It’s as good an excuse as any,” he murmured, and left the kitchen via the dining room.

Fine,
Judith thought.
I don’t need an excuse to call Joe
. She picked up the phone and dialed police headquarters. Five minutes later, she finally got through to someone who seemed to know something. “Captain Price and Mr. Flynn have left the building,” the faintly familiar male voice at the other end informed her.

“Del?” Judith said.

“Uh . . . yes?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, this is Joe’s
wife,
Judith
Flynn
. Are you the only one holding down the fort on the condo homicide case?”

“As a matter of fact,” he responded, “I was about to go home. If I can remember where I live at this point.”

“Before you do that,” she said, assuming a less antagonistic tone, “please tell me if you people have tracked down Hannah Conrad.”

“We haven’t,” Del admitted. “We called her parents, but they refused to talk to us. Mrs. Paine was very rude and hung up on me.”