Dead Man Docking (3 page)

Renie sneezed again before she replied. “No. If you tell me tomorrow you're not going, then I'm in a pickle. I couldn't ask anybody else because they'd have less than twenty-four hours' notice.” She paused. “Okay, let's do it this way. You're worn out, you look like bird doo, and you're coming with me.”

“You haven't seen my hair,” Judith countered in a feeble voice.

“I expect to see it on the way to the airport. I'm hanging up now.”

“No! Wait!” Renie was right. Judith desperately needed a break. “At least give me time to tell Joe.”

“Good. Now get organized.”

“I will. I'll call Joe and the Rankerses. I think I've got enough of what might pass for cruise wear. In fact, there's a trunk in the basement with old clothes Mother refuses to let me throw out.” She hesitated, calculating what else needed to be done. “If Carl and Arlene can't take over for me, I'll ask the state B&B association. They have temporary innkeepers on call. And…by the way, where is the cruise going?”

“Atiu.”

“Gesundheit.” Judith repeated the question. “Where are we going?”

“I told you—Atiu, Pukapuka, Rarotonga, several stops in the Cook Islands. Read a map.”

“I'll have to,” Judith said. “I've never heard of any of them—except for the Cook Islands themselves, of course.”

“They're due south of Hawaii,” Renie said. “I wish they were closer to Guam. Then I could rendezvous with Tom and Cathleen.”

The Joneses' elder son and his wife had moved to Guam after their wedding. Cathleen worked as an optician in a Catholic medical clinic and Tom taught European history at the university. Once again, Judith thanked her lucky stars that Mike and his family were so close.

Happily, Arlene and Carl agreed to take over Hillside Manor's operation for the two weeks that Judith would be gone. Not so happily, Joe pitched a fit.

“I thought you and I were going on vacation next month,” he said, raising his usually mellow voice.

“We still can,” Judith insisted. “We could go in May or June. April really isn't such a good time, with Easter being late this year.”

“Is May any better?” Joe shot back. “There's Mother's Day, Memorial Day, and school's out early in the month for some college students. As for June—forget it. Now you're into the B&B's busiest time of year.”

Joe was right. The last week of April, after Easter, would be the best time for them to go together. Judith frowned into the phone. “I don't know what to do. Renie insists I go with her.”

“Renie should cancel. Bill can't go,” Joe argued. “Why doesn't she tell those cruise bigwigs that she prefers another time?”

“She probably figures they'll renege,” Judith replied, “maybe even on the retainer offer. She had to threaten suing them.”

Joe snorted. “And once her mind's made up, hell can't hold her.”

“Well…there's that, too.”

“Got to go,” Joe said abruptly. “Rich Mr. Zipper has just pulled into his inamorata's driveway.”

Judith didn't dare broach the subject to her mother, at least not so late at night. Nor did she want to relay Joe's reaction to Renie. Reeling around in her quandary, she decided to go to bed.

But Judith couldn't sleep. She'd drop off for a few minutes, but weird dreams kept waking her up. A man wearing a slouch hat was playing the piano; when he removed the hat, he had no head. A large white bird in a satin evening gown and long strands of pearls had blood dripping from its claws. Two men in uniforms opened a bank vault to reveal a pile of handguns covered in caviar.

Mother was right,
Judith thought to herself.
It must've been the soup.
She tossed and turned until Joe got home just before two o'clock.

“What's the matter?” Joe asked in an annoyingly innocent voice. “You've got the blankets all messed up.”

“No kidding.” Judith rolled over again, turning her back on Joe.

“Is it your hip?” he inquired.

“It's always my hip,” Judith grumbled. “But that's only part of it. The rest of me doesn't feel so great, either.”

“You mean because you aren't going on the cruise?”

“I haven't told Renie,” Judith said, sounding crankier by the second. “In fact,” she went on, sitting up and looking at her husband, “
you
tell her. Call her first thing in the morning.”

Joe recognized the trap. Waking Renie before 10
A.M
. was hazardous duty. Telling her that Judith couldn't go on the cruise was tantamount to setting off a ton of TNT.

“Renie's
your
cousin,” Joe declared. “It's up to you to tell her.”

“No.” Judith pulled the sheet over her head.

“Sheesh.” Partly undressed, Joe stood in the middle of the bedroom. He'd confronted hardened criminals, accompanied SWAT teams in hostage situations, and gone one-on-one with drug-crazed killers wielding assault weapons. He wasn't afraid of a little squirt like Renie. “Fine,” he said, and finished getting ready for bed.

 

The next morning, Joe called Renie at ten-fifteen. “I'm afraid,” he began in formal tones, “that Judith can't go with you on the cruise.”

“Really?” Renie sounded mildly surprised. “That's a shame.”

Joe was momentarily nonplussed by Renie's reaction. “You see,” he said, compelled to explain further, “the two of us are planning a vacation next month.”

“Yes, she mentioned that.” Renie paused. “I hope it's not too late.”

“Too late for what?” Joe asked.

“For her health,” Renie replied in a concerned voice. “I assume you've made sure she's seeing a doctor.”

“About what?”

Renie made an exasperated noise. “About the fact that she could have a stroke at any minute. For God's sake, Joe, have
you
looked
at her lately? She's thin as a rail, she's pale, she's haggard, she's a train wreck waiting to happen. I can't imagine that her new hairdo helps much.”

“What hairdo?”

“Touché,” Renie murmured. “What's up with you, Joe? You're usually the noticing kind.”

“I haven't seen much of my wife this morning,” Joe said, sounding defensive. “She's been…avoiding me.”

“No wonder.”

Joe expected Renie to say more, but she didn't, which made him feel even worse. “Do you really think she's completely worn out?”

“Yes,” Renie said, “I do. You two should have gone on vacation in January. After the holidays, she started to really go downhill. In fact, it wouldn't hurt her to take two vacations, one with me and one with you. I still can't believe you haven't seen how tired and frazzled she is lately.”

“I know she's tired,” Joe said, conscious of the serious note in Renie's words. “But I've been so damned busy, what with the case I'm on right now and the trial coming up next week. Yeah, it sounds lame, but there it is. I'm not as young as I used to be, either.”

“Who is?” Renie sounded sympathetic. “Think about poor Bill, stuck with that nutcase up at Bayview Hospital. I almost canceled when he told me he couldn't go, but I was afraid I'd lose the Cruz account. I'm sorry you don't want her to go. The decision is yours.”

Guilt.
“You learned this from your mother, didn't you?”

“What?” Renie sounded puzzled.

“The guilt-trip thing. Aunt Deb invented it, didn't she? Or if not, honed it to a fine art.”

“You bet,” Renie retorted. “And think of all the crap I'm going to put up with because I'll be gone for two weeks. It's almost not worth it. But,” she went on, “that's a separate issue. I firmly believe that your wife's health is precarious.”

Joe was silent for a few moments. He'd been caught off guard by Renie's solemn attitude. She'd managed to scare him
about Judith's health. And, he grudgingly admitted to himself, the decision was his wife's, not his. “Okay, she can go.”

“Good,” said Renie. “I'll return her in a much improved condition.” She hung up.

Judith returned to the kitchen as Joe placed the phone back in its cradle. “Were you talking to Renie?” she asked in a despondent voice.

“Wow!” Joe cried. “Your hair looks terrific! This is the first chance I've had to see it in the light. By the time I got up, you were already scurrying around the house.”

Judith was skeptical. “Thanks.” She started loading the dishwasher with the tableware she'd brought in from the dining room.

“Let me do that,” Joe said, nudging her out of the way. “In fact, let me take over for the day. You could use some time to yourself.”

Judith wasn't just skeptical, she was suspicious. Maybe this was Joe's way of making up for vetoing the cruise. “How come?” she asked.

Joe put the last of the teaspoons in the silverware compartment. “Because,” he said, putting his hands on Judith's sagging shoulders, “you have to pack. May I be the first to wish you bon voyage?”

J
UDITH SPENT THE
rest of Wednesday in a frenzy of sorting clothes, going through the old trunk and some other boxes in the basement, and filling her suitcases. In the basement, nostalgia had overcome her. Four generations of Grovers had stored items there: Grandma and Grandpa's first string of Christmas tree lights; Uncle Cliff's fishing-tackle box; her father's business-skills teaching texts; Auntie Vance's movie posters, including
King Kong, The Thin Man,
and
The Wizard of Oz;
photos of Uncle Al taken in the winner's circle at various West Coast and Florida racetracks; Uncle Corky's World War II army cap with its twin silver bars denoting his captain's rank; Aunt Ellen's high school yearbooks; Mike's handprint in plaster from his kindergarten days; the white-and-gold sari Judith had worn for her first wedding. She'd been sorry, all right, for nineteen years.

Judith also exchanged a half-dozen phone calls with Renie, checking on details and schedules. She not only wasn't tired, she couldn't remember when she'd been so excited. Even breaking the news to Gertrude went better than she'd expected.

“You
have
been looking peaked lately,” her mother al
lowed. “Though I don't know why you need to go off on a boat to a bunch of islands where they probably have cannibals who'll make you into a stew. Not that you've got much meat on your bones.”

“I've looked up the Cook Islands,” Judith replied. “They're in the heart of Polynesia and belong to New Zealand. The islands sound lovely—and safe.”

“If you say so,” Gertrude said, then brightened. “With Arlene and Carl taking over, we'll play pinochle and I'll get to eat food I really like.”

The Rankerses were fond of the old girl and indulged her every whim. Besides, Judith knew that Arlene and Carl would keep Gertrude from bedeviling Joe while he tried to focus on the upcoming trial.

That night Judith went to bed right after locking up the B&B at ten. The airport shuttle was due to pick up the cousins at 4
A.M
. for their six-twenty flight to San Francisco. Renie had chosen the early time because she reasoned that she wouldn't be awake until after their arrival, and thus wouldn't be so terrified of flying. A couple of stiff shots of Wild Turkey would also help calm her nerves.

In fact, when Judith got into the shuttle after bidding her husband and her mother farewell, she realized that Renie was drunk as a skunk.

“Hiya, coz!” Renie said in a cheerful voice. “Whazzup?”

“Oh, good grief!” Judith exclaimed under her breath. Swiftly, she scanned the three other passengers: a young couple holding hands in the row behind the cousins and a silver-haired woman sitting ramrod straight next to the driver. They were all avoiding any glances at Renie.

Judith fastened her seat belt. “Just keep your mouth shut,” she whispered to Renie. “And don't pass out. I can't carry you.”

“S'a fine,” Renie said, keeping her voice down. “S'a dark.”

“Of course it's dark,” Judith replied, again whispering. “It's March, it's four in the morning.”

“Ni-ni,” Renie said, and put her head on Judith's shoulder.

Judith didn't know whether she should kick Renie—or herself. Bill had told horror stories about air travel with his inebriated wife, including a flight from Vegas during which she'd spotted a former Olympic decathlon champion and jumped in his lap. It was hard to tell who was more embarrassed—Bill or the decathlete. It certainly hadn't bothered Renie.

The trip to the airport took less than twenty minutes in such light traffic. When the shuttle stopped, Renie jumped up like a jack-in-the-box, hitting her head on the vehicle's roof.

“Ouch!” she cried. “'S building's na' verra tall.”

“Holy Mother.” Somehow—artificial hip and all—Judith managed to haul her cousin out of the van. “Take deep breaths,” she ordered Renie. “Try to stand up straight while we check our luggage.”

Judith had one suitcase and a carry-on bag. Renie had three suitcases, including a fold-over, and a train case. She communicated with the baggage attendant by nodding or shaking her head.

Security was the next hurdle. Judith was thankful that the line hadn't yet grown to the long, snaking proportions that it would later in the day. There was no problem for either cousin. Renie marched through like an automaton. Judith suspected that airport employees were used to the frightened flyers who drank, took tranquilizers, and even used self-hypnosis to survive their ordeal. Indeed, Judith wasn't fond of airplanes, either.

The cousins had more than an hour to wait until their flight boarded. Renie seemed steadier on her feet, and was leading the way to the correct terminal. But halfway there, she stopped.

“Where's the bar?” she inquired, gazing all around her.

“They aren't open this early,” Judith replied.

“Yes,” Renie said in a certain voice. “At least one bar should be open. Passengers who've just flown in from Singapore or Barcelona don't care what time it is here.”

“Why don't we sit so you can go back to sleep?” Judith suggested.

“I need another hit,” Renie declared.

“No, you don't,” Judith shot back as she grabbed Renie's arm. “Slow down. I can't keep up with you.”

“You're as bad as Bill,” Renie grumbled. “Okay, we'll sit. But first, let's get some Moonbeam's coffee. There's a kiosk right over there.”

That sounded harmless to Judith, especially since she could use a caffeine jolt. It should also sober up Renie—except that might not be a good idea.

Renie, however, chose a decaf blend. After stopping at a news shop to pick up a couple of magazines, the cousins proceeded to their designated waiting area. As usual, Judith found the people who were gathering around them more interesting than the magazine articles: a mother coping with twins who were just beginning to walk; a Greek Orthodox priest with a beard as fine as angel hair; an unhappy teenage couple who apparently were going to go separate ways; and a burly man who looked like a lumberjack but was reading
Bon Appétit
.

It wasn't until almost half an hour had passed that Judith noticed Renie humming to herself and sliding around in her chair.

“You haven't finished your coffee,” Judith pointed out as Renie took another sip.

“Sure have,” Renie replied happily.

Judith peered into the paper cup and sniffed. “That's booze!” she snarled at her wayward cousin. “You put booze in your coffee!”

Renie tapped the train case at her side. “Backup,” she murmured. “For spoilsports like you and Bill. Hmm-mmhmm…”

Judith surrendered. “You'll be sorry. You'll be sick on the flight.”

“So? I won't care,” Renie replied.

“It's illegal to bring liquor aboard a plane,” Judith pointed out.

“I'll finish it before we board,” Renie countered. “Then I'll buy more when the beverage cart comes by.”

“No, you won't.” Judith reached down and snatched Renie's wallet out of her big black purse.

“Hey!” Renie cried. “Put that back!”

“No.” Judith put the wallet in her own handbag and zipped it shut. “If you don't stop being a jackass, I'm going to turn in my ticket and go home. I mean it. This is no way to start a vacation.”

Renie focused her eyes and stared at her cousin. “You're serious.”

“Yes.”

Renie continued staring at Judith. Finally she sighed. “Okay. I'll be good. But I'll be terrified.”

“So will I,” Judith said.

“I wonder how Bill and Joe will like being widowers.”

“Shut up.”

“Maybe we should take out that insurance they sell to passengers.”

“Shut up.”

“Maybe I should buy more gum. My ears really pop, especially on landing.
If
we land.”

“Shut up.”

At last, Renie did. She didn't say another word until the boarding call was announced. It was Judith who broke the silence after they got on the plane and were searching for their seats.

“You have the one by the window,” Judith said. “Do you want me to sit there so you don't have to look out?”

“I like to,” Renie replied. “Then I know where I'm crashing.”

“Fine.”

Renie sat down and immediately delved into her purse.
Not more booze,
Judith thought in dread. But her cousin pulled out her rosary and began to murmur prayers. She'd finished the last bead by the time they reached cruising altitude. For the rest of the flight, Renie gazed out the window
in silence. She didn't speak again until they landed on the tarmac at San Francisco.

“We made it!” she exclaimed in an awed voice.

“No kidding,” Judith replied.

“Maybe we can take the train back,” Renie suggested.

Judith, who felt like a nervous wreck, said nothing. It wasn't the worst idea she'd ever heard. Whatever good the cruise might do her, it could be undone by another airline flight with Renie.

The rest of the itinerary went smoothly. A limo sent courtesy of Magglio Cruz transported them from the airport to the St. Francis Hotel on Union Square. Judith immediately felt the thrill of the city by the bay. She and Renie and Cousin Sue had visited San Francisco for the first time over forty years earlier. From the Barbary Coast to the Top of the Mark, they'd sensed history, mystery, sin, and sophistication. They had hills at home, but not like San Francisco's, with handsome old houses built side by side, or views of the Golden Gate Bridge and the bay with Alcatraz Prison as its centerpiece. It was the beatnik era of Jack Kerouac and the City Lights bookstore; the Purple Onion and the Hungry i; Lenny Bruce and Mort Sahl; the Kingston Trio and North Beach; Vesuvio's and Lefty O'Doul's. The three cousins had lapped it up like so much spiked cream.

Now, after having visited San Francisco in the intervening years, Judith realized that she and the city had both aged. There was still beauty and glamour on its steep hills and abrupt coastline, but the contrast between now and then made her think of a happy hooker who had turned into an almost respectable dowager. Despite the change, Judith still loved the place.

Although the official check-in time wasn't until three in the afternoon, Mr. Cruz had seen to it that the cousins could immediately settle into their suite, where a bucket of champagne and various other amenities awaited them. They were invited to attend the VIP cocktail party buffet aboard the
San Rafael
that evening at six o'clock. Another limo would pick them up at five-forty. Thirties wear was requested.

Judith couldn't help but be impressed. “Is all this due to Bub or did you make some of your own threats?”

“I let Bub handle it,” Renie said, gazing out the window at the San Francisco skyline. “We can actually see the city. There's no fog this morning. Let's order lunch.”

“It's only ten o'clock. How about breakfast?”

“Sure. Any meal will do.” Renie picked up a room-service menu that was encased in a leatherette cover. “Pancakes with ham and eggs and fruit and juice—”

“Don't tell me, tell whoever takes food orders,” Judith said. “I want cereal and a slice of fruit.”

“Coz!” Renie was scowling. “How many times have I told you to stop trying to lose weight? I swear I could slip you into an envelope and mail you home. I'll bet you don't weigh ten pounds more than I do, and you're five inches taller.”

“Less weight is easier on my artificial hip,” Judith contended. “Unlike me, you've never had to worry about what you eat.”

“Again, I'm a freak of nature,” Renie said, still with a frown. “I'm going to order for you.”

And she did, requesting waffles, pork sausages, eggs, fruit, juice, coffee—and extra butter. Judith cleaned her plate. “Maybe I
was
hungry,” she admitted.

An afternoon of leisure lay before them. The cousins decided to play tourists. During the next four hours, they visited Fisherman's Wharf, Ghirardelli Square, the Old Cathedral of St. Mary, and finally Chinatown, where they enjoyed a late Dungeness-crab lunch at the R&G Lounge. There was a breeze, scattering the pigeons and swaying the palm trees in Union Square, but not enough to unfurl more than the smallest of whitecaps out in the busy bay.

Judith had balked at riding the cable car, insisting that the hurried starts and stops could imperil her hip and Renie's shoulder. Luckily, some kindly San Franciscans—or other tourists—helped them get on and get off. During the ride, they heard a barrage of languages, just as they had done when walking the streets or standing on corners. French,
Japanese, Russian, German, Chinese—San Francisco was a far more cosmopolitan city than their hometown.

By the time they finished sightseeing, the cousins were both tired. Renie had a headache from drinking so much; Judith had a headache from dealing with Renie. It was a little after three. Back in their suite, they each took a nap.

When the alarm woke them at four-thirty, Judith noticed that a sleek black folder with gold lettering had been slipped under their door. The attached note bore Renie's name.

“Here,” Judith said, kicking the folder toward Renie, who was sitting on the brocade sofa sorting her cosmetics. “It's probably the notification of our checkout tomorrow. The ship sails at ten, right?”

“Right,” Renie replied, bending over to pick up the folder. “This isn't for checkout, though,” she went on, looking inside. “It's the guest list for the party tonight.”

“Oh.” Judith sat down to Renie. “Anybody you know?”

“Not really, except for Magglio Cruz and his assistant, Paul Tanaka. I've never met Mrs. Cruz.” Renie handed the list to her cousin.

Judith scanned the names:

 

Magglio and Consuela Cruz