Dead Man Docking (20 page)

Judith nodded. “But I'm also referring to the kind of panic that doesn't show but stays inside and eats away at the person who did do it. Given that Dixie and Émile were the first to discover Mags's body, why then did they become the next victims? I still think they saw something or someone that would've given the killer away. If they didn't name names, then it had to be a
thing,
not a
person
.”

Again, Renie paused before responding. “Did Mags fall or was he pushed into the piano?”

Judith shook her head. “It could have happened either way, though pushed—or should I say stuffed?—seems more
likely. He was a slender man, but it strikes me as peculiar that he would have landed in such a way.”

“On the other hand,” Renie pointed out, “you never saw enough of his body to tell what might have happened.”

“That's true,” Judith admitted. “Biff McDougal must know. So should Rick and Rhoda. Unless Biff's withholding some of the facts even from them.”

“That doesn't seem likely—” Renie stopped as the phone rang on the bedside table. “Now what?” she muttered, picking up the receiver.

Judith watched her cousin's expression become perplexed. “It's kind of late. Can't it wait until tomorrow?” Renie said. “No? Okay, come on up.”

“Who was that?” Judith asked as Renie replaced the receiver.

“Captain Swafford. He says he has to see us immediately,” Renie replied. “Jeez, it's going on eleven o'clock. He called from the lobby. We're going to have to hold court in our bathrobes. What could be so important?”

“Any number of things,” Judith murmured, “but not anything serious that involves us. I mean, if the cruise has been canceled, why not say so over the phone?”

“Because I work for the line as a consultant?” Renie suggested in a dubious tone.

The cousins returned to the sitting room. Judith attempted to open a window to air out the cigarette smoke, but the casements were sealed shut. Unable to sit still, she put the half-empty liter of gin and the bottle of vermouth away in the armoire that held the TV set.

“I was going to watch the news,” Judith said, shutting the armoire's doors. “I guess I won't now. I assume Émile's murder will be one of the big stories.”

“Nobody can keep a lid on a triple murder when they all seem to be connected,” Renie pointed out.

A knock sounded on their door. Both cousins turned at the same time and bumped into each other.

“Sorry,” Judith murmured.

“I'm okay if you're okay,” Renie said, reaching the door first.

Wearing his regulation uniform instead of his much-decorated formal attire, Captain Swafford still managed to look imposing. Indeed, he looked severe. Judith resisted an impulse to salute.

“Come in,” Renie said, though by the time she got the words out, the captain was halfway across the sitting room. He didn't speak right away, but clasped his hands behind his back and gazed first at Renie and then at Judith.

“I have significant news, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Flynn,” he announced in his deep British-accented voice. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

The cousins both sat on the sofa. Swafford remained standing. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “First—and least important—is that the
San Rafael
's maiden voyage has been postponed until an unspecified date in April. The reason we are giving is that certain minor technical adjustments need to be made.”

Like removing the crime scene tape,
Judith thought to herself. But she was too cowed to say anything out loud. The captain was only of average height, but he was broad and bearded, a looming authoritative figure who somehow evoked Holbein's portraits of Henry VIII.

“The other matter,” Swafford continued, “is much more grave. A complete search has been made of the ship during the past two days. Mrs. Giddon's stolen jewels were found this evening.”

“So?” Renie said, her manner indifferent.

The captain glowered at her. “So indeed, as far as you're concerned, madam. They were discovered aboard ship in the safe of your Mae West suite. Biff McDougal should be here any moment to arrest you both.”

“H
OLD IT
!” R
ENIE
cried. “Are you crazy? We didn't steal the old bat's jewels!”

“I'm afraid,” Captain Swafford said solemnly, “that your fingerprints were all over the case as well as on some of the individual pieces. Can you deny that you handled Mrs. Giddon's stolen property?”

Before Renie or Judith could answer, they heard a heavy pounding on the door. Captain Swafford moved briskly to let in Biff McDougal. He was accompanied by a pale young man with a crew cut so blond that it was almost white. Judith assumed that the newcomer must be Buzz Cochran, Biff's temporary partner.

“I see you beat us to the punch, Skipper,” Biff said to the captain before gesturing at Judith and Renie. “Any trouble with these two?”

“They deny having stolen the jewels, of course,” Captain Swafford replied.

“Open-and-shut case,” Biff declared, rolling the ever-present toothpick around his mouth. “Let's go, ladies.”

“Let's not,” Renie retorted, folding her arms across her chest and planting her bare feet firmly on the floor. “This is stupid. Furthermore, I don't go anywhere in a hotel bathrobe. And I'm not responsible for our daughter Anne
shopping at Falstaff's Market in her jammies. We didn't raise her that way.”

“Huh?” Biff looked puzzled.

“My cousin's right,” Judith said, although she got to her feet. “If you're serious about going to headquarters, you'll have to let us change clothes. If you merely want to question us, please sit down so we can have a conversation.” She looked Biff right in the eye. “My husband's a retired policeman. I know the drill, and I doubt that you have any real evidence other than some fingerprints, which we can easily explain.”

“So start by explaining how the jewels got in your safe?” Biff demanded.

“Obviously,” Judith said, keeping her voice calm, “we can't.” She had gone over to the honor bar next to the armoire. “Shall we behave in a civilized manner and have a drink?”

Captain Swafford's expression was stolid. “Certainly not.”

“Not what?” Renie shot back. “Have a drink or behave in a—oh, never mind!” She waved her hands in disgust.

Biff, however, was watching Judith remove the expensive liter of gin from the armoire. “Well…I don't usually drink on duty, but it's kinda late, and I could use a little pick-me-up. How about you, Buzzy?”

Buzz Cochran, who looked as if he'd be more comfortable in the frosh section of a Cal–Stanford football game, shook his head. “You know I don't drink.
Sir,
” he added in a deferential tone.

“That's because you're probably not of legal age yet,” Biff muttered. “You got a lot to learn, kid.”

Biff looked not at Judith but at the gin bottle. “On the rocks,” he said.

The captain let out a heavy sigh. “I daresay I could use a jot of brandy, if you have it.”

“A Coke, please?” Buzz said in a small voice.

“Sure,” Judith responded, opening the honor bar. “Coz?”

“There's Drambuie in there,” Renie said. “Let's split it.”

Judith didn't argue.

“I thought you were gonna change your clothes,” Biff said as Judith poured the drinks into every available clean glass.

“You mean,” Judith said, handing Biff his gin rocks, “we still have to go to the station?”

“It's only three minutes away,” Biff replied, sniffing at his glass. “Hey, this is really good stuff. Go ahead, put on your duds. We won't use the cuffs, but we gotta follow procedure.” He turned to Buzz. “Take a note, kid. This is how a real cop works.”

“You mean,” Buzz said, aghast, “I
have
to drink gin?”

“Nah,” Biff responded with an avuncular expression, “but it sure helps.”

“Good grief,” Judith muttered, warily checking Renie's reaction.

Renie, however, stood up. “Why not? What would a trip to San Francisco be like without getting arrested? In
my
day, it was a badge of honor.” She downed the Drambuie in one swig and sashayed into the bedroom. Judith followed with a less flamboyant gait.

As soon as the bedroom door was closed, Renie began to choke. “My God, that stuff's strong!” she gasped, clutching her throat. “I'd forgotten why you're supposed to sip it!”

“Show-off,” Judith chided. “Honestly, this is ridiculous!”

“Of course it is,” Renie responded. “That's why we're not wearing our new clothes. We'll wear the comfortable yet tasteful outfits we wore on the plane—sweats and slacks. Can you imagine what the central police station is like on a Saturday night?”

“Good Lord,” Judith groaned. “I can. But I don't want to dwell on it.”

Five minutes later, Judith and Renie presented themselves to Biff, Buzz, and the captain. Swafford announced that his responsibilities were done for the time being, but he'd keep in touch with the police. Meanwhile, he had to pay a call on Erma Giddon. Doffing his braided cap, he left the hotel suite.

“Jail,” Renie murmured as they walked to the elevator, “or Erma? Which is worse?”

Judith merely shook her head. “At least we're not in handcuffs,” she said.

Buzz drove the unmarked police car as carefully as if he were pushing a baby buggy. They practically crawled through the Stockton Street Tunnel, even though traffic was comparatively light so close to midnight. The cousins, sitting in the backseat, didn't speak until after they'd reached the station on Vallejo Street. The only sounds inside the vehicle were the frequent belches of Biff McDougal and a couple of fruitless pleas for Buzz to drive faster.

But if the ride had been slow, central booking was a frenzy. Every race, religion, and lifestyle seemed represented in the crowded station. A cacophony of languages assaulted their ears, along with a number of obscenities the cousins understood all too well. The air reeked of booze, marijuana, sweat, and more putrid odors that Judith didn't want to define.

“The best-dressed people here are the transvestites,” Renie noted. “I wonder where the…
person
by the desk got that emerald-green ball gown?”

“Don't ask, don't tell,” Judith murmured. “And watch out for that guy with the dreadlocks and the oversize baseball cap. He's coming right for you.”

“Yo!” cried the young man, who was built like a bull and covered in tattoos, “who you think you are, struttin' aroun' in that damn Sea Auk sweatshirt? This is
Raider
country, mama. Yo' football team sucks soup cans!”

“Yo' mama sucks everything!” Renie shot back. “That's 'cause she got no damn teeth! Like these!” She bared her formidable prominent front fangs. “Yo' don't be givin' me no sass! Are you the homey who boosted my do-rag? Why, yo' mama's so fat that—”

“Hey!” Biff grabbed Renie's arm and hauled her out of the way before the startled young man could react. “Watch it. You can get hurt around here.”

“Raider thug,” Renie muttered.

Buzz coughed slightly as the cousins were whisked down a busy hallway. “Actually,” he said, “that Oakland Raider fan is one of ours. He's an undercover policeman.”

“He's still a Raider fan,” Renie snarled. “Just like Cleo, our foulmouthed doll.”

Judith was relieved when Buzz made no comment. She didn't need any more of Renie's fantasies. Reality was grim enough.

Years ago, when Joe was still working, he'd given Judith a tour of police headquarters. He had shown her the interrogation areas, which looked more spartan than some of the sets she'd seen in movies and on TV. The room into which the cousins were ushered simply looked bleak: a Formica-topped table, straight-backed chairs, a clock, and a window with one-way glass.

“You could do something with this place,” Renie said to Biff. “Some Erté Art Deco posters, an oval rug, maybe a couple of candlesticks. A window that looked outside would be nice.”

Biff grunted. “Funny lady. Take a seat. Buzz, you listen up. See how the big boys do this.”

“You mean like scratching myself in strange places the way you're doing now?” Buzz inquired in a puzzled voice.

Biff scowled and put his hands behind his back. “Don't get smart with me, sonny. I mean, like professional police interrogators.”

“When are they coming?” Renie asked.

“Hey!” Biff glared at Renie. “You've got a big mouth, sister. I'm beginning to think you made up that story about your old man helping me out on that serial-poisoning case.”

Renie glared right back. “Did you check your case files?”

Biff yanked off his hat and slammed it down on the table. “Hell, no! When do you think I have time to do stuff like that? Now sit down and shut up, both of you.”

“Yes,” Buzz said in a small voice. “Please.”

Judith and Renie sat. The chair was hard, a sure sign that
Judith's back and hip would begin to ache momentarily. Buzz remained standing, looking distinctly ill at ease.

“Okay,” Biff said, dropping his voice while keeping the toothpick in place. The chair creaked under him as he rocked back and forth. “How'd your fingerprints get on Mrs. Giddon's jewelry and the case?”

Judith began to speak before Renie could say anything that might further exacerbate the situation. “It happened after Mr. Cruz's murder when we went to see how the Giddons were doing,” she said. In a few brief sentences, she recounted how Erma had put them to work, and in the process, the cousins had seen the jewelry and taken a peek.

“That's it,” she concluded. “As to how the stolen goods ended up in our suite's safe, I've no idea. We never used it.”

Biff didn't look convinced. He glanced at Buzz. “You hear that? What do you make of it?”

“Um…” Buzz fidgeted with the ballpoint pen he'd been holding. “I guess I don't see why they'd hide the jewels in their own safe. I mean, there must be all sorts of other places they could've put them. That is, if they knew they had to leave the ship, why would…er…ah…” He grimaced and dropped the pen.

“Because,” Biff barked, “that's what they want us to think! Holy moley, it's a trick!”

“Some trick,” Renie said. “Why didn't we just wear them and parade around Union Square like the rest of the nuts?”

“Hey!” Biff shouted. “Lay off the locals! Aren't you the creeps who got all the serial killers?”

“Not quite all,” Judith said. “With three murders in three days, you seem to have one of your own.”

“Yeah, well, maybe,” Biff mumbled. “How do we know you two didn't do those jobs yourself?”

Renie held up a finger. “Motive, anyone?”

“Not to mention,” Judith put in, “why would we steal Mrs. Giddon's jewelry? I assume you've checked to see if either of us has a rap sheet.”

“Don't mean a thing,” Biff declared. “You could have
stolen somebody else's identity. Happens all the time these days. You're the perfect types for a jewel heist—muddle-headed middle-aged dames who may
seem
harmless, but are really a pair of smart crooks, fooling your victims with the old housewife-and-mother act. Besides, you don't fit in with the rest of the snooty crowd who were at the boat party. I figure you finagled your way into that bunch to get at the jewels.” Biff pointed his stubby thumb at Renie. “The original invite was for a Mr. and Mrs. William Jones. If that's not a phony name, I don't know what is.” He swung his thumb in Judith's direction. “And you don't look like
Mister
Jones to me. Though,” he added, more to himself than to the cousins, “around this place, sometimes it's hard to tell.”

Renie sighed. “We've been through this before. My husband couldn't come on the cruise. My cousin came instead. And I work—worked—for Mr. Cruz. Mrs. Cruz and Paul Tanaka can vouch for me.”

“Sez you.” A tap on the window caused Biff to give a start. “Buzzy, see who that is.”

Buzz went to the door, immediately admitting Rick St. George.

“Good Lord,” Rick said to Biff, “can I ever leave you alone for five minutes? What are you doing here with poor Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Flynn?”

Biff struggled to his feet. “The loot was in their safe on the ship. Their fingerprints were all over the—”

“Calm down, old son,” Rick urged. “I think you jumped the gun. I can assure you, these ladies are above reproach.” He turned just enough to smile reassuringly at Judith and Renie.

Biff's face was getting very red. “Yeah, well, maybe, but evidence is evidence. And if they didn't stash the jewels in the safe, who did?”

“An excellent question,” Rick responded, “and one, I might add, that perhaps I can answer for you quite soon.” He chuckled and tapped his temple. “I have a hunch who really stole Mrs. Giddon's glittering glory.”

“No kidding!” Biff exclaimed. “Who?”

“Not yet, not yet,” Rick replied with a wink. “We'll get together for a drink in a day or so. For now, let me escort Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Flynn back to their hotel. They must be very tired. First, though, I'm sure you want to apologize to them for the inconvenience.”

“Uh…” Warily, Biff peered at the cousins, who were already on their feet. “Sorry. Anybody can make a mistake. In fact,” he continued, raising his voice and looking over to the place where Buzz had been standing, “this goes to show that good police work requires you to eliminate suspects before—hey! Where's Buzz?”

Judith had noticed that Buzz had left as soon as Rick entered.

“I believe,” Rick said in his casual manner, “your partner departed.”

“Oh.” Biff shrugged, obviously relieved that the junior officer hadn't witnessed the recent turn of events. “Just as well.”

“Shall we?” Rick said to Judith and Renie.

“We shall,” Judith said. “Good night, Detective.”