Fowl Prey (26 page)

“Got it,” Judith said, finding a ruled notepad on top of some kitchen appliance manuals. “By the way, who's the old guy we saw being pushed by a couple on the way up here?”

“Quentin Quimby,” Jane replied. “He's in his midnineties, but he can still walk. He'd rather ride, though, so his son and daughter-in-law have to push him around.” She paused and laughed. “Wrong term. Nobody pushes that old guy around. He's ornery, but he may be on our side against the sewer line. Unless he changes his mind, of course. His wife died a few years ago. Frankly, we thought she'd finally run away.”

“Gosh,” Judith said, “maybe my mother would like to date him. They'd make a good pair. They could have an ornery competition.”

Jane smiled. “As I recall, your mother is a character. I like her.”

“So do I,” Judith agreed as Jane handed her two steaming mugs. “But she sometimes frustrates me.”

“Understood.” Jane's expression was bemused. “Sort of like being married a long time.”

Going back into the nook, Judith and Jane joined Renie and Dick, who were talking about his former career in construction for a regional company specializing in skyscrapers.

“Never did like heights,” Dick was saying. “They had to make me a foreman because I wouldn't get off the ground.”

After handing out the steaming mugs, Jane called for attention. “Let's get back down to earth, Dick,” she said, sitting in a wicker-back chair. “As in what should go
in
the ground around here. Friedmans against.” She glanced at the cousins. “You know them, right?”

Judith nodded. “Are they around this afternoon?”

“No,” Jane said. “They went into town to see Mel's doctor. He has to have elbow surgery.”

Dick held up a finger. “The Logans, Kent and Suzie. Dark green house one up from the beach and four over from this road on your left. He's an attorney, still practicing part-time. She's a pianist, still practicing the damned thing. She'll never get it right. I can't think how she made any kind of living off that when it sounds like she's wearing boxing gloves.”

“The Johnsons, Charles and May,” Jane put in. “Older than God, but still sharp. You remember them? They're four doors past your aunt and uncle with about twenty hummingbird feeders around their house.”

Judith frowned. “Um ... not offhand, but I might know them when I see them.” She looked at Renie. “How about you, coz?”

“I'm blank,” Renie replied.

“No problem,” Dick said. “In fact, maybe the best way is for you two to sit with us tonight and we'll clue you in as we go along.”

“Probably,” Judith agreed after tasting her toddy. “This is delicious,” she added, smiling at Jane.

Her hostess shrugged. “I still had some mix left over from the holidays. We might as well use it up. It doesn't keep forever.”

Renie held out her mug. “I already finished mine. How about a refill? I wouldn't want what you have left to go to waste.”

“It won't go to
your
waist,” Judith asserted, then turned to her hosts. “She eats like a hog and never gains an ounce. It drives me nuts.”

The Sedgewicks both laughed while Renie curled her lip at Judith. “Go get it,” Jane said. “There's just enough left for a refill.”

“I'll do that,” Renie said, and exited the nook.

Judith glanced at a note she'd made on the tablet. “I'd like to know about one pro-sewer couple—the Crowleys. Auntie Vance mentioned them in particular. What's their story?”

Dick made a face. “They're younger, late thirties, got two kids—a boy and a girl—who go to the grade school. They live next door to Mel and Sarah Friedman. Big on the environment, which I guess is why they want sewers. I don't know how that makes a difference, but it does to them.”

Judith nodded once. “The Bennetts? Pro or con?”

“Not sure. Kind of an odd couple. Been here a long time, but I don't know their take on this deal.”

Renie returned to the nook. “Hey, coz,” she said, “ask about the guy we recognized from the ferry.”

Judith paused before offering a description. “Older man, average size, glasses, and his name was something like Eddie or Edgar.”

Jane was quick to answer. “Ernie Glover. He and Edna used to be summer people before he retired from the state working as an auditor. He's on our side, so his wife probably is, too.”

Judith made another note. “Is there one person who seems to be leading the charge for the sewer line?”

Jane and Dick exchanged inquiring glances. He held up a hand, indicating his wife should answer the question.

“It's hard to tell,” Jane admitted. “The most vocal—or maybe the loudest—is Zach Bendarek. Kind of goofy, but likable.”

“Ex-football player,” Dick said. “Probably didn't remember to put on his helmet before he got off the bench and into the game. Went on from the University to play in the pros for a few years before his knees went south. Wife's a little squirt of a thing.” He glanced at Renie. “Even littler than you, but cute.”

“I'm not cute?” Renie shot back. “Watch it.”

Dick chuckled. “Hell, you always had a mouth on you, right? Not as bad as Vance, though. She's a damned hoot.”

“She certainly is,” Judith asserted, looking out the window. “As long as the Friedmans aren't home, Renie and I should get our beach walk in now. It looks like it's going to pour fairly soon.”

“It's that time of year,” Jane said. “But then it can rain up here almost any time of the year except July and August.”

The Sedgewicks saw the cousins out the door. “If you run low on food,” Jane called out as they went down the steps, “come to dinner while you're here. But knowing Vance, you're well stocked.”

“We definitely are,” Judith shouted back. “See you at the meeting.”

“Nice people,” Renie commented as they walked down the road to the beach. “They're holding up quite well.”

“They enjoy sparring with each other.” Judith glanced at Renie. “Kind of reminds me of you and Bill.”

“We don't spar, we viciously attack. Verbally, I mean.”

“No, you don't. You two just have bigger vocabularies.” Judith glanced at both sides of the road. “It's quiet around here. Everybody seems to be hunkering down. Maybe they know a big storm is coming.”

“You're used to being up here in the summer when the weather's good,” Renie said. “Careful with the steps to the beach.”

“Right. You go first so that if I fall I'll land on—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Renie shot back. “I'm the human buffer.”

Judith held on to the railing and made short work of the ten steps. “The wind's come up,” she noted. “Shall we see if we can find Uncle Vince's boat?”

“Why not? He always tied it up over there by that big log. In fact, I can see it from here. Barely. Maybe nothing's left but the prow. No loss. Watch your step. There's always a lot of junk that washes up on the beach. Or what slobs leave after they've frolicked here. Unfortunately, it's not a private beach. Anybody can access it without coming through the development if they're willing to walk a bit.”

“There's nobody out here now that I can see,” Judith said. “At least the sand isn't very wet this close to dry land. Have you noticed all the new construction on the north side of the bay by Scratchit Head?”

“Yes, growth everywhere you look.” Renie kicked at a discarded beer can. “If I hadn't been raised by My Mother the Germaphobe, I'd pick that up and take it back to the garbage. Look over there,” she said, pointing to a bundle of clothes. “Somebody must have left their laundry by that big piece of driftwood.”

Judith peered at what looked like a pile of rags. “Now, why would ...” She paused as they got within twenty feet of the large bundle. “Oh, coz ... I have an awful feeling.”

“About what?” Renie stared at Judith, then quickly walked closer. “Good Lord!” she exclaimed. “It's a person!”

Judith picked up her pace. “Is it a man?”

Renie nodded. “He must've passed out.” She rummaged in her purse to take out her cell.

Judith moved closer to the man, who was facedown in the wet sand. A horrible yet all-too-familiar feeling overcame her. She tried to figure out if he was breathing. “Can you take his pulse?” she asked Renie. “I shouldn't try to bend down that far.”

But Renie had moved a few feet behind her, apparently calling 911. After disconnecting, she moved to Judith's side. “I can, I guess,” she said in a tremulous voice, “but I don't think he's got a pulse. If he's facedown, he can't be breathing. Damn! Coz, I think you just found another freaking corpse!”

 

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