Clam Wake (25 page)

“What?” Renie asked when her cousin didn't continue.

Judith shook her head. “Never mind. Let me brood awhile.”

Renie knew better than to prod. Before reaching the gate, they heard dogs barking. A moment later, Quincy Quimby came into view, leading two Rottweilers on leashes.

“Hi,” Judith called out to the spare, slightly stooped man. “You have a couple of handsome pooches.”

He paused at the gate, the dogs reduced to snarling. “Hansel and Gretel,” he said, straining to open the gate and keep the dogs under control. “Are you from the county? If so, you'll have to talk to my father.”

“We already did,” Judith replied. She and Renie stepped aside to let Quincy and the Rottweilers go by. “We're house-sitting for the Webers.”

Judith thought a relieved expression passed over Quincy's deeply lined face. “Oh.” He frowned. “The Webers are gone?”

“Just for a few days,” Judith said. “I'm sorry to say that your father apparently doesn't like visitors.”

“No.” Quincy kept moving. “He's elderly. My father finds it difficult to entertain.” He paused by the porch. “Say, didn't I see you somewhere before? Maybe at the clubhouse?”

“Yes,” Judith responded. “We had the Webers' proxy vote.”

Renie spoke up. “We also were sitting by you at the café in the Sun Store. Your old man's a real pain in the butt, frankly. I came very close to dumping his lunch over his head.”

Quincy looked shocked. “That's a very unkind thing to say. I told you—he's elderly. Please go away. You probably hurt his feelings.” He yanked on the leashes with one hand while unlocking the door with the other. Before either Judith or Renie could respond, Quincy and the dogs disappeared inside.

“You really didn't have to say all that,” Judith chided as they exited through the gate.

“Yes, I did,” Renie countered. “I don't care what the Quimbys think because I don't have to. Somebody needs to tell them they're a bunch of weirdos. Maybe I'm lacking in Christian charity because I missed Mass this morning, but truth is also a virtue. Bullying is wrong. I tried to tell you that when you were married to Dan, but you ignored me. If he hadn't eaten and drunk himself to death, you'd still be stuck out in the Thurlow District and we wouldn't have had all these homicide adventures during the last sixteen years.”

Judith rolled her eyes. “You think I like finding dead people?”

“You seemed to like living with a man who was intent on killing himself.” Renie laughed. “Just think how many unsolved murder cases there'd be if Dan hadn't died at forty-nine.”

“You're terrible,” Judith murmured, though she couldn't help smiling. Renie sometimes had a way of putting things in perspective.

By the time they reached the beach steps, a woman in a mauve hooded coat was coming up the stairs carrying a plastic grocery bag.

“Hi,” Judith said in greeting. “Lovely change in weather today.”

The newcomer wore an inquiring expression on her plain face. “I ignore the weather,” she remarked. “You can't change it. Have we met?”

Judith repeated the Weber connection. “And you're . . . ?”

“Hilda Hilderschmidt,” she replied. “Are you going to the beach?”

“Yes,” Judith said, judging Hank's wife to be barely fifty. “It looks as if several people are there already. We might dig clams later on.”

Hilda wrinkled her nose. “I don't like clams. They're icky. I'm from South Dakota. I moved out here with my parents when I was fifteen. I never saw a clam when I was growing up.”

“Really?” Renie said in feigned surprise. “I thought those Black Hills were full of them.”

“Hardly,” Hilda responded. “You should get out more often.” Her emerald eyes veered away from the cousins. “Oh, damn! Here comes Tank. What's he up to now? Excuse me.” She hurried off up the hill.

Judith spotted a dark green van turning onto the road halfway down from the Weber house. “Maybe Tank's here to get the skinny on the sewer vote—or lack thereof. Eventually, they'll have to resolve the issue.”

“After all this nightmare, the sewer proponents may give up,” Renie said as they headed down the steps. “Did we ever figure out where the Hilderschmidts live?”

“I don't think so,” Judith said. “Hilda must have been very young when she married Hank if they had a son old enough to be a cop.” Looking out to the bay, she noticed that most of the half-dozen boats were heading into shore. “I'll bet if those are fishermen, the orcas showed up. That means they ate all the fish.”

Renie nodded. “I remember that happened last year on the Christmas cruise when I went with you and Kristin and your grandsons. The ship went off course so we could watch the orcas play.”

Judith laughed. “We adults were more agog than the boys were.” She lowered her voice. “I see people we haven't met. Let's get acquainted.”

Renie groaned, but trudged along beside Judith in the direction away from the boathouse. “Two men and a woman,” she murmured. “Another triangle?”

“Digging clams together?” Judith responded. “That's fairly tame.”

The plump, pretty dark-haired woman and the two middle-aged men looked up when the cousins approached. The shorter of the two men doffed his snap-brimmed cap. “Hi there,” he said. “Don't mind me or my brother. We belong to Gina. She'll vouch for us. We're visiting her and Frank for the day. Sis won't let us stay very long because one time my bro ate three pizzas including the boxes they came in.”

Gina's brown eyes were wary, but she offered her hand to Judith. “I'm Frank Leonetti's wife. And you are . . . ?”

Judith kept her smile in place as she shook Gina's hand. “We're related to Vance and Vince Weber. They're out of town for a few days, so we're staying at their place.”

Gina nodded. “Frank did mention they had house-sitters. These two are my brothers, Pauly and Pete.”

“We're freeloading,” the taller man said, his long face beaming. “I'm Pete, so you can probably figure out this other rascal is Pauly.”

Gina shot Pete a disparaging glance. “Cut the clowning. We're not far from where Ernie Glover was murdered. I'm in no mood for jokes.”

“Hey, sis,” Pauly said in a deep voice that belied his short if bulky stature, “lighten up. I thought you didn't like that Glover guy.”

Gina's olive skin turned pale. “That's not true. It's his bitchy wife I can't stand.” She tossed aside the shovel she'd been holding and hurried toward the steps.

The brothers exchanged puzzled glances. “What's up with Gina now?” Pete muttered.

“Hell, bro,” Pauly said, “you know Gina's touchy. Let sis go. She's Frank's problem, not ours. He's had enough lousy stuff happen to him the last year or so. Cut both of them some slack.”

“Yeah, right, fine,” Pete muttered. “Seems like a lot of people up here are carrying heavy loads.” He gave Judith and Renie a sheepish look. “Ignore us, even when we talk smack about our sister. Gina's a fine woman, but she feels marooned up here on what they call The Rock.”

“I gather you all grew up in the city,” Judith said.

Pete nodded. “Seven of us. Gina's the only one who moved away. Pauly and I keep the family business going. You ever buy Melba's Toast?”

Renie blinked a couple of times. “You mean the baked goods line? Yes, I do. So does my husband.”

“Good for you,” Pauly said in his deep voice. “We've never sold out our operation to a big faceless company like some people have.” His dark eyes moved up to the houses on the hill. “Greedy, and that's that.”

Judith forced herself to look innocent. “Surely you don't mean anyone around here?”

Pauly started to speak, but Pete put a hand on his shoulder. “Let's not cause trouble. There's enough of that here already. We'd better finish filling these buckets so we have something to take home to Mama.”

“Right,” Pauly said, doffing his cap again. “Pleased to meet you.”

The cousins wandered down closer to the water. Renie spoke first when they were out of earshot. “Competition from Ben's Buns, huh?”

“I guess so,” Judith agreed. “But then the victim should be Brose Bennett or a member of Gina Leonetti's family. Does anybody get murdered over baked goods?”

Renie made a face. “That depends how long I have to wait for my number to be called at Donner & Blitzen's bakery department downtown. Some of those old bats take forever to make up their minds. Five minutes to choose between raised or cake doughnuts? Really?”

“Ah . . . right,” Judith murmured. “Maybe we can cross off Gina's brothers as suspects. They can probably prove they weren't here Friday. As for any rumors about Gina's alleged amorous adventures, she
is
good-looking.”

“Suitable for being Ernie's paramour? It crossed my mind,” Renie said, kicking at an empty clamshell. “
If
he had one.”

Judith shrugged. “Too much gossip. It's Gina's reaction to the mention of Ernie's death that caught my attention.”

Renie looked bemused. “You're thinking it isn't that she dislikes Edna as much as she liked Ernie?”

“Exactly.” Judith stopped a few feet away from the outgoing tide. “I'm wondering about a lot of things. I was so tired last night while I was dealing with Betsy and Jacobson that I almost forgot about the treasure comment. Did you catch that?”

Renie grimaced. “No. That went right by me. Who said it?”

“Betsy. She was talking about her father's treasure and mentioned that it was safely buried. Where? I wonder.”

“Why does Betsy say most of what she babbles about?”

“Is it babbling?” Judith gave a shake of her head. “I'm trying to figure out if there's a method to Betsy's madness, but I can't.”

“If you can't, I sure can't,” Renie said. “You're better at reading people than I am. I assume you're not implying Betsy isn't really nuts.”

“I'm not. It's more like
how
nuts she is,” Judith replied. “It's possible that some of her eccentric behavior is a shield against reality.”

Renie shuddered. “That house and old Quimby are enough to make
me
a bit peculiar. Both Quincy and Nan look like wrecks. Ginger's right—no amount of money is worth putting up with a virtual dictator.”

Judith's expression grew wistful. “It can happen. It's what you're used to. ‘Normal' to one person isn't ‘normal' to somebody else.” She turned away from Renie to look out over the bay, but her dark eyes didn't see the sparkling Sound or the Peninsula's mountains. Instead, she saw herself working two jobs to make ends meet and coming home to a lazy, drunken, verbally abusive husband. It wasn't money that had kept her a prisoner for nineteen years. It was fear.

“Why,” she said out loud, “didn't somebody kill him?”

“I guess,” Renie said, “everybody figures he's eventually bound to die of old age.”

Judith turned sharply to stare at Renie. “I didn't mean Quimby,” she blurted. And understood how a so-called normal person could be tempted to snuff out someone else's life.

J
udith silently blessed Renie for her innate understanding. Her cousin had merely shrugged—and kicked at another empty clamshell. They continued walking away from the steps. Some of the clam diggers had moved farther out as the tide continued to expose more wet beach. A couple with two young children had just given up for the day and were coming toward the cousins. Judith recognized Katie Glover Blomquist and the two boys, but wondered if the man was her brother or her husband. Brad suddenly stopped in his tracks and started to cry.

“Mine!” he screamed. “Mine money! Josh took it!”

“Please don't be so loud,” Katie admonished. “He'll give it back when we get to Grandmom's house. You have to learn to share. Josh already promised to give you some of the shells he found.” She suddenly focused on Judith and Renie, who were some ten feet away. “Oh! Hi, Mrs. Flynn . . . and Mrs. Jones,” she added warily.

Renie held up her hands. “I confess! I didn't give your kids Valium.” She paused. “It was Xanax.”

Judith shot her cousin a dirty look. “Mrs. Jones didn't give them anything. She likes to make inappropriate jokes now and then.”

The tall man with the shaved head frowned at Renie as he picked up the now-whimpering Brad. “Some joke. I was about to pay you a call. I don't take well to anybody messing with my children.”

“The Wobble-Dobble made me do it,” Renie declared, wide-eyed. “I plead temporary insanity.”

A glint of humor showed up in Greg's brown eyes. “You might make that work in court. Or you could sue the toy maker.”

Judith felt it was time to change the subject. “Have you been digging for buried treasure?” she asked with a smile.

Katie smiled back. “Oh, yes! Very special.” She tapped Josh's head. “Show the nice ladies what you and Brad found in the big hole.”

Josh hesitated, but moved closer. “See?” he said, opening a grubby hand. “It's old money from an old ship. From pirates, maybe.”

Judith leaned down cautiously to study three grimy coins. “Canadian pennies with Queen Elizabeth. That's fantastic, Josh!”

Katie patted her older son's head. “There's been a lot of talk about coins being found around here lately. Someone mentioned a stash of old French coins. Greg doesn't think that's likely. He teaches American history and knows the subject really well.”

Her husband shrugged. “French explorers didn't have a big presence in this part of the country.”

“True,” Judith agreed, turning to Katie. “Is your brother here yet?”

Kate shook her head. “Denver's still snowed in. Maybe tomorrow. Mom told him not to miss work, so he might wait until the funeral. She doesn't see any point in him making two trips in such a short time.”