Dead Man Docking (2 page)

Judith didn't mention that she thought both magazines had long ceased publication. “Today's magazines are all about celebrities I've never heard of,” she remarked.

“Then how come they're celebrities and I'm not?” Gertrude demanded. “Nobody's ever heard of me, either.” She tapped the corner of
The Inquisitor,
one of her favorite tabloids. “You mean I'd have to pose in my girdle like these women who run around in their underwear?”

“Well…” Judith paused, listening to what was going on in the dining room. Joe was chatting with the couple from Los Angeles who had lingered over breakfast. They'd been on several African safaris and were bragging about their trophies. Judith wished Joe would suggest taking their coffee into the living room so she could clear the table.

“Let's go out to your apartment,” Judith said, “so I can help you look through those parcels.”

“You can toss 'em in the Dumpster for all I care,” Gertrude responded.

“Maybe I will,” Judith fibbed. But first she'd like to see what was inside the overnight envelopes.

“You could make my lunch,” Gertrude said. “It's going on noon.”

“So I could.” It'd save Judith a trip to the toolshed.

She had started making a BLT for her mother when Joe finally managed to lure the L.A. couple out of the dining room. While the bacon was frying, Judith began clearing the solid oak table that had belonged to her grandparents.

“Blowhards,” Joe murmured, standing in the doorway to the entry hall. “Do I care how they stuffed their dik-diks?”

“Probably not,” Judith whispered. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“Doing my homework on that arson trial,” he replied. “It looks as if I'll have to testify.”

“That's a pain,” Judith said. “When does it start?”

Joe was moving into the entry hall, headed for the front stairs. Apparently, he was avoiding his mother-in-law by not taking his usual backstairs route. “Monday, the twenty-fourth. I don't have much time to prepare. I've got that high-profile divorce surveillance gig this week.”

“Good luck,” Judith said as Joe started up the carpeted steps. Sometimes it seemed that her husband was busier as a private detective than he had been while he was on the police force. But usually he enjoyed his work, and it paid well. Considering the current dearth of B&B reservations, the Flynns could use the money.

“Bacon's burning,” Gertrude announced as Judith returned to the kitchen.

“Oh, dear!” Judith pulled the frying pan off the burner.

“I like it that way,” her mother asserted. “You know that. And I like my toast burned, too. It makes my hair curly.”

“A permanent makes your hair curly,” Judith said, turning on the exhaust fan to clear the smoke. “You used to tell me those old wives' tales when I was a kid.”

“So?” Gertrude shrugged. “Plenty of mayo, remember?”

“And butter,” Judith added. Her mother's cholesterol was
off the charts, but it didn't seem to affect the old girl's health.

Five minutes later, they were in the toolshed. Sweetums had joined them, curling up on Gertrude's small couch. Judith settled her mother into the armchair and put her meal on the cluttered card table.

Four express packages were in a pile behind the chair. The contents of the latest, however, were spread out on the card table. Gertrude set her BLT on top of the revised script and adjusted her dentures.

Cautiously, Judith bent down to collect the unopened parcels. “I'll leave the one you're reading here and take the rest,” she said, noting that they were all about the same size and felt like the previous scripts she'd seen. “Here's your magnifying glass. It was under the packages.”

“Oh. Then you can have yours back.” Gertrude picked up half of the sandwich, ignoring the mayo, butter, grease, and tomato stains she'd left on the script. Sweetums jumped off the couch, yawned, and leaped onto the card table, staring at the BLT with covetous yellow eyes. “Better feed him before you go,” the old lady said. “Otherwise, that cat and I'll end up in a scratching match.”

“He has food in his dish here, food inside the house, and food on the back porch,” Judith said, retrieving her magnifying glass and heading for the door.

“He likes bacon,” Gertrude declared.

Judith didn't argue. She had laundry to do and beds to make and carpets to vacuum. Phyliss didn't work weekends. The previous summer, Judith had hired college students to help out in the cleaning woman's absence, but once school started in the fall, they headed back to campus. Always fearful of dislocating her artificial hip, Judith was at a point where she needed year-round Saturday and Sunday help. Maybe it was time to place an ad in the neighborhood weekly.

When she finished her chores around three-thirty, Judith was too tired to look over the packages from the movie stu
dio. In fact, she fell asleep on one of the two matching sofas in the living room and didn't wake up until almost five. It was time to prepare the guests' appetizers. The scripts could wait. It was Sunday, after all, a day of rest.

Judith could use it.

 

“I'm tired,” Judith announced to Joe over breakfast the next morning. “We haven't gone on a real vacation in ages. If I can get Carl and Arlene Rankers to take over the B&B for a week, why don't we go somewhere next month?”

Joe's round face grew pensive. “I suppose we could, once this trial is over. Where do you want to go?”

“Cancún. Hawaii. Miami. I've never been to any of those places.”

The gold flecks in Joe's green eyes danced. “How about staying with Vivian in her condo on the Gulf?”

Judith bridled. “Don't even think about it. The best part about winter is that your ex-wife's there from October to June instead of living three houses down the street from us the rest of the time.”

“You know I'm kidding,” Joe replied. “Not after all those years with Vivian, watching her decide who her companion of the day would be. It was either Jack Daniel's or Jim Beam. I came in a distant third.”

“How well I understand,” Judith said softly. “With Dan, it was how much blackberry brandy he could down before starting his serious vodka drinking at eleven in the morning.”

Joe grew serious. “Why didn't they marry each other?”

“You know why,” Judith said softly, reaching across the table to caress her husband's hand. “Because we both made terrible mistakes.”

For a few moments, Judith and Joe were lost in thought, recalling the unfortunate series of events that had led to each of them marrying the wrong person.

It was Judith who changed the subject back to a possible vacation. “I think we can afford a getaway. You decide where.”

“The Caribbean appeals to me,” he replied. “Jamaica, maybe. When I get a free minute, I'll do some research.”

Judith nodded. But she had to put aside travel thoughts and tend to her guests, who were assembling in the dining room. It was only after they'd all checked out by eleven that she began to daydream again.

She was picturing herself lying next to a swimming pool with a mai tai when the phone rang.

“Ya-
ha
!” Renie shouted into her cousin's ear. “Bub did it again! I just heard from Magglio Cruz's Suits. They're going to keep me on a retainer as a consultant and send Bill and me on a free cruise!”

“You should take Bub,” Judith said. “But hey, that's wonderful news. You've stopped pouting.”

“You bet. But I don't have any cruise clothes. I must shop
now
. Want to come?”

Judith hesitated. “I can't,” she finally said. “I've got a lot to do, including restocking the larder. Frankly, I'm worn out. In fact, Joe and I were talking about taking a break next month.”

“Gee,” Renie said, “it's too bad I couldn't have gotten a free cruise for you guys, too. I wonder if Bub—”

“Don't pester your poor brother-in-law again,” Judith broke in. “When do you leave?”

“The cruise sails Friday,” Renie replied, “so we have to fly down to San Francisco Thursday morning. That's the part I don't like. You know me—I think flying should be left to our feathered friends.”

“You'll be fine,” Judith assured her cousin. “I hear my fax machine ringing. Maybe it's a reservation. I could use some this time of year. Enjoy your shopping.”

The fax was actually a cancellation for the coming weekend. Judith swore under her breath. The week was starting badly—at least for Judith. As she drove up to Falstaff's Grocery, she began to feel envious of Renie. Why did she get a free trip? Why could she take off almost anytime she wanted to? Judith felt as if she were chained to the B&B. She felt like a drudge, a tired drudge. She could sulk, too.

That night, she actually dreamed of sitting next to a pool. Except that it wasn't a pool—it was an endless body of water. She wasn't wearing a swimsuit, but a ragged coat that made her look like a bum. The mai tai was beside her, but it had been poured into a human skull. In the background, music played loudly—and louder and louder—until Judith awoke in a cold sweat.

But it was only a dream, Judith told herself, and eventually went back to sleep. By morning, she was still sulking when her cousin called to describe the cruise wear she'd purchased.

“The only problem is,” Renie explained, “that the theme of the cruise is the thirties. We have to wear outfits from that era for dinner. I got the basics at Nordquist's, but today I'll have to check out some vintage shops to see what I can find.”

“Poor you.” Judith tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

If Renie noticed, it didn't stop her from nattering on about the five-star San Francisco hotel they'd spend a night in or the VIP cocktail party or their suite of rooms aboard the ship. In fact, Judith managed to tune out the rest of her cousin's gush. She was wandering around the main floor with the cordless phone, noting that the Persian rug in the entry hall was wearing out, the bells-of-Ireland bouquet was wilting, and the St. Patrick's Day decorations would have to be taken down for storage in the basement.

At last, Renie rang off. Judith dragged herself through the rest of the day and slept like a rock that night. She didn't wake up when Joe got home around 2
A.M
. after a long surveillance on the philandering husband in the high-profile divorce case.

“You look like a wraith,” Joe declared when he came down for breakfast shortly after eight. “You're getting too thin.”

“I know,” Judith admitted. It was ironic. All her life she'd battled a weight problem, but since her hip replacement,
she'd tried extra hard to lose pounds. “It's easier on the artificial hip, especially when I have to run up and down three flights of stairs in this house.”

“You don't take time to eat properly,” Joe accused his wife. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No,” she confessed. “I've been preparing the meal for the guests and trying to get things done around here before I go to Chez Steve's Salon. I'll grab a bagel on top of the hill.”

Joe, whose own weight was a few more pounds than it should have been, scowled. “Eat here. I'll make my special scrambled eggs.”

“Don't bother,” Judith began as the phone rang. “I have to feed Mother. I'm already late.” She picked the receiver off of the cradle. To her astonishment, it was Renie.

“What's wrong?” Judith asked in an anxious voice. “Why are you up so early?”

“It's Bill,” a frazzled Renie replied. “He's got a patient on a ledge.”

Bill Jones was a retired professor of psychology from the University who still saw a few of his longtime patients. “What's he doing about it?” Judith asked.

“He's trying to talk the guy off,” Renie answered. “The problem is, the nutcase is on the roof of a twenty-story building downtown, and you know Bill's terrified of heights. He won't go near this guy and has to use a megaphone to make him hear. I told Bill to let him jump, but you know my husband—he's conscientious.”

It wasn't, of course, the first time Bill had had a suicidal patient. It puzzled Judith that Renie had called her about the situation, especially so early in the morning.

“Well,” Judith said, as much for Joe's benefit as for Renie's, “Bill can't let this man jump. So why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Renie said with a big sigh, “if Bill can stop him, he'll have to do some serious counseling, which means he can't go with me on the cruise. That's why I advised Bill to let him take a dive.”

“That's callous,” Judith declared.

“He's getting tired of yelling through that megaphone,” Renie retorted. She uttered an audible sigh. “I know, you're right. But I thought I'd tell you now, because if Bill can't go on the cruise with me, how about taking his place?”

Judith made a face. “You know that isn't going to happen.”

“Probably not,” Renie acknowledged, “but this guy won't talk to anybody but Bill. He never has. Bill's managed to dissuade him from suicide several times. The toughest one was when this patient put weights on his legs and tried to jump into the deep end of the swimming pool at the downtown YMCA. He actually injured himself on that one.”

“How?”

“He was so agitated that he didn't notice the pool had been drained. Just in case, be prepared to come along with me.”

I should be so lucky,
Judith thought to herself after she'd hung up.

Or, as events unfolded,
unlucky
.

J
UDITH STARED IN
the mirror at her new hair color and grimaced. “Did I say I wanted to be a redhead?”

Ginger added a few finishing touches to her client's coiffure. “It's not red, Judith. It's a very deep auburn with gold highlights. I think you look fabulous. The perm will loosen up in a few days, giving you just the right amount of wave. And I think cutting your hair just below your ears does wonders for your face.”

Judith knew what Ginger meant: A long face, especially with a weight loss, made her look older.

“Really,” Ginger said, gazing at Judith's image in the mirror, “your skin tone changes over time. Even if you'd kept your natural color like your cousin Serena has, it wouldn't suit your complexion. Besides, the lighting in here isn't natural. Color is exaggerated. I'm not kidding when I say you look at least five years younger. See what Joe thinks. I'll bet you a free eyebrow waxing that he's going to love it.”

Judith was dubious. When she got home around two, Joe was gone. Phyliss Rackley dropped her mop when she saw Judith come in the back door.

“Jezebel!” she cried. “You've turned into a shameless hussy!”

For Judith, that was a positive reaction. “You think so, Phyliss?”

Phyliss waved a hand in front of her face, as if she could make Judith disappear. “Have you become a temptress? Poor Mr. Flynn!”

Judith's self-confidence was growing by the second. “Really?”

Phyliss nodded so hard that her gray curls bobbed up and down. “He won't let you out of the house, mark my words.”

“Hmm.” Judith forced herself not to smile. Ginger must be right.

For the rest of the afternoon, Judith felt her spirits lift. She was further cheered when a late reservation came in from a couple whose flight to Hong Kong had been canceled. By the time Joe got home around six, she couldn't wait for his reaction.

But there was none. Joe came in the back door, shouted at his wife, who was taking the guests' canapés out of the oven, and announced he had to change and leave immediately for a second shift on his stakeout. He raced up the back stairs without seeing Judith. He left the same way while she was chatting with the couple that hadn't been able to leave for Hong Kong. Her spirits began to slide again.

Renie phoned just as the guests left for their evening rounds. “I tried to call you earlier,” she said, “but you weren't around, and I didn't leave a message. I wanted to let you know that Bill's making progress. He'd talked his patient down to the sixteenth floor. A few minutes ago, Bill got him down to twelve.”

“Super,” Judith said without much enthusiasm. “Is that good news or bad news?”

“Good,” Renie replied, sounding puzzled. “The guy's still alive, and Bill doesn't have to stand on the roof and yell through the megaphone anymore. It was windy and cold up there.”

“Bill must be exhausted,” Judith noted. “Isn't he used to taking an afternoon nap with Oscar?”

“I drove Oscar downtown this afternoon,” Renie replied, referring to the Jones's stuffed dwarf ape that had been a fixture on the family sofa for over a quarter of a century. “Bill and Oscar took a break while the emergency people kept an eye on Lorenzo.”

“Lorenzo?” Judith echoed. “Is that the patient's name?”

“No,” Renie answered. “Even to me, Bill never discloses his patients' names. But that's what we call him. I forget why.”

As the doorbell rang, Judith excused herself and hung up. Two embarrassed old ladies from Springfield, Illinois, had forgotten their keys.

“We're going clubbing after dinner,” the one with the very blue hair said, “so we won't get back until after you lock up at ten.”

Judith went upstairs and found their keys on the Bombay chest in Room One. “Have fun,” she said to her guests.

“We be cool,” the other elderly lady said as they headed back to their waiting taxi.

Just after Judith delivered her mother's “supper”—as Gertrude preferred to call it—Renie phoned again.

“Down to seven,” she announced. “Oops! Got a call on the other line. It may be one of the kids.”

Renie and Bill's three children had all gotten married on the same day almost two years earlier. The newlyweds' careers had taken them to distant places around the globe. After constant griping because their thirtysomething off-spring hadn't moved out of the house, the senior Joneses now complained because they saw their children only once or twice a year. Judith and Joe, meanwhile, were thankful that Mike and his family lived at a ranger station only an hour away.

At last, Judith had some free time to go through the unopened parcels from the toolshed. She started in chronological order, dating back to September. Scanning the script revisions, she saw that less fact and more fiction had been put into the script. Judith wasn't surprised. She—and Gertrude, for that matter—knew that the protagonist had be
come more of a symbol for the Greatest Generation than the real life Gertrude Hoffman Grover. But her first name was the same.

In the movie, Gertrude was a deeply committed women's rights advocate, speaking at rallies and shouting from a soapbox in New York's Times Square. Well, Judith thought, her mother was certainly one for equality, even if she'd never been farther east than Montana. The job as an ambulance driver in France during World War I was a stretch—Gertrude had never left town. She had joined the local Red Cross auxiliary, knitting items for the Doughboys and buying a couple of Liberty bonds. But her involvement in supporting Prohibition and busting up bottles of booze was going too far. Gertrude had never been a serious drinker, but she had been a flapper, rolling her stockings, dancing the black bottom, and drinking bathtub gin.

That, however, was included in the next few scenes covering the twenties. Judith had reached the part about Gertrude meeting Al Capone when the phone rang.

“Lorenzo's down to the third floor,” she said. “Even if he jumps, he'll probably just bounce around and get banged up. You'd better check with the Rankerses to see if they can take over for you at the B&B.”

Hanging up, Judith wondered if she might, in fact, be joining Renie on the cruise. It still seemed like an outside shot, however. She kept going through the script, marveling at the fantasies the writers had concocted for Gertrude's life.

The final scenes involved the doughty heroine in her advanced years, using a high-tech telescope to scan the heavens and wishing she could land on Mars. There were days, Judith thought wryly, when she wished the same for her mother.

But what startled her most was the separate envelope that had gotten stuck to the last page. It was addressed to Gertrude and marked
URGENT
.

Carefully, Judith opened the sealed envelope. Her dark eyes widened when she found a check made out to her
mother. The amount was twenty thousand dollars. A brief note was attached stating that the sum was due to Gertrude on the first day of principal photography, September 10. Quickly, Judith opened the other envelopes. They contained more script revisions, but no checks. She hurried to the toolshed.

“Mother!” she exclaimed. “The producers sent you more money!”

Gertrude snorted. “About time.” She reached to take the check and note from her daughter's outstretched hand. “Hunh. What does it say? Twenty bucks?”

“Use your magnifier,” Judith urged in an excited voice.

Gertrude moved her empty plate and silverware, the jumble puzzle she'd been solving, and a deck of cards. “Ah. Here it is,” she said, taking the magnifying glass out of her still-full soup bowl. “It's kind of messed up. Did you make that soup or did it just grow under the sink?”

“Very funny, Mother,” Judith snapped. “It's from a leftover roast.”

“You should have left it over at Rankers's house,” Gertrude grumbled. “Are you going to clean that magnifier or not?”

Annoyed, Judith went into her mother's kitchenette and washed the glass. “Here,” she said, “now read the damned thing.”

Gertrude's expression slowly changed from testy to pleased. “Well, well! Isn't that nice. Maybe I can buy new corn plasters.”

“Why not?” Judith was searching the card table, trying to see if there had been a check included with the most recent version of the script. “Are you sure there wasn't a separate envelope with this latest batch of revisions?”

Gertrude nodded several times. “'Course I'm sure. I don't get the last check until the moving picture gets shown.”

That made sense to Judith. “Why don't you let me put that check in the bank for you tomorrow?”

Gertrude, however, shook her head. “I'd like to look at it
for a while. Besides, I'm not sure I trust you.” She narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “In fact, with that floozy hairdo, I'm not sure I recognize you. You could be an impostor.”

Frowning, Judith ignored the barb. “Don't you dare mislay that check,” she admonished. “It's already several months old. The bank may not even honor it. Then you'll have to ask for a replacement.”

“Don't fuss,” Gertrude said airily, holding the check up close to her face. “What's today? Tuesday? You can take it in on Friday. Isn't that when you usually go to the bank?”

“Usually,” Judith admitted. “Okay, a couple of days won't hurt, I suppose. But don't you dare—”

“I know, I know,” Gertrude interrupted. “I'll watch it like a hawk.”

Although she didn't say so, Judith still had misgivings.

 

Approaching the back porch, she could hear the phone ringing inside. Judith snatched up the receiver just before the call switched over to Voice Messaging.

“Good news!” Renie cried, then lowered her voice. “Except for poor Bill.”

“What happened?” Judith asked, confused by her cousin's pronouncement.

“Bill convinced Lorenzo that he shouldn't commit suicide again,” Renie began.

“I didn't know you could do it more than once,” Judith put in.

“You know what I mean,” Renie said. “I told you, this guy's tried it at least a half-dozen times before. Anyway, after Lorenzo got down to the third floor and saw Oscar, he asked why Bill had a stuffed monkey. Bill informed him that Oscar wasn't a monkey, he was a dwarf ape. Monkeys have tails, and Oscar doesn't, as I'm sure you've noticed.”

“I haven't, really,” Judith said, sometimes wondering if her cousin and her husband were crazier than some of Bill's patients.

“So Bill and this guy got into a real argument,” Renie
went on. “Lorenzo was convinced Bill was wrong because at one time he'd worked at the zoo. Lorenzo, I mean, not Bill.”

“Define
zoo,
” Judith murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing, coz. I coughed.”

“In fact, when Lorenzo was working there,” Renie continued, “he tried to kill himself by jumping into the lion pit. Unfortunately—or not—it was just after feeding time. Anyway, that was years ago, before they put all the natural habitats in at the zoo.”

Judith picked an apple out of the fruit basket on the kitchen counter and began to munch. “Um.”

“So Lorenzo told Bill that he had a primate book in his apartment, and he could prove that Oscar wasn't an ape. You can imagine how Oscar felt about all this. He was really getting irritated.”

Judith kept munching. “Um-um.”

“Then Lorenzo suddenly got off the ledge—he was sitting on it, facing Bill and Oscar at this point—and came to the office doorway where Bill was standing. Even being three stories off the ground bothers Bill.”

Judith was tempted to ask if it bothered Oscar, but kept quiet and wished her cousin would get to the point. “So what's the bottom line?”

“Well—Bill was tempted to go to Lorenzo's apartment to prove he was right about Oscar, but he realized that wouldn't be proper protocol,” Renie explained. “So he let the medics take over, and now Bill's gone up to Bayview Hospital's psychiatric ward. I imagine Bill and Oscar will go to the cafeteria for something to eat while the MDs check out Lorenzo. The problem is,” she went on, sounding worried, “Oscar hates hospitals. It's too bad I didn't take Archie to Bill, too.”

Judith didn't want Renie to get started on Archie, the small cheerful doll. She had had to put up with that bit of fantasy when the cousins were both in the hospital for sepa
rate surgeries. Archie had a tiny suitcase that accompanied him when he stayed with any member of the Jones family who was hospitalized. The worst of it was that the three Jones children all believed in Oscar, Archie, and another small doll named Cleo who was a foulmouthed Oakland Raiders fan. Judith felt that the entire family had too much imagination—or they really were nuts.

“There must be a reason you're telling me all this,” Judith said.

“Of course!” Renie sounded irked. “I already mentioned I had good news for you. There's no way Bill can leave town with Lorenzo in such a precarious emotional state.” She paused and sneezed a couple of times. “Sorry—it's March, and my allergies are bothering me.”

“Mine, too,” Judith said impatiently. “Are you trying to tell me that I'm supposed to fill in for Bill?”

“Yes! Aren't you excited?”

Judith wasn't. Not yet. It seemed too good to be true. Indeed, panic began to engulf her. “Aren't you—we—scheduled to leave the day after tomorrow?”

“That's right,” Renie agreed. “I told you to be prepared. Have you checked with Carl and Arlene?”

“No,” Judith admitted. “I haven't mentioned the possibility to Joe, and he's not here.” She felt frazzled. The cruise was like a mirage, appearing and disappearing.

“Then get hopping,” Renie commanded. “You'll have to shop, too, and buy some vintage clothes for the thirties theme.”

“Really…I don't know…Oh, dear…” Judith never liked making decisions, especially on the spot. “Can I sleep on it?”