Gone With the Win: A Bed-And-Breakfast Mystery (2 page)

Judith dished up beef stew and dumplings to take out to Gertrude, who preferred her “supper” at five, but waited until the guests had dispersed. It was usually after six-thirty before the Flynns sat down to eat, but it gave them time for a cocktail. As Judith entered the toolshed, she was prepared for her mother’s habitual complaints about the tardy arrival of her meal. Surprisingly, the old lady was all smiles.

“Arlene stopped in,” Gertrude said. “She knows how to treat an old lady. We sure had fun while you were gone to Little Bulgaria.”

“Little Bavaria,” Judith murmured, setting Gertrude’s tray on the card table.

“Bavaria, Bulgaria, Bulimia—those foreign countries are all the same to me.” Gertrude stared at her plate. “What are those white things? Golf balls? Where’s the meat? Is that a carrot or did you whack off one of your fingers?”

“It’s beef stew and dumplings,” Judith said wearily. “One of your favorites. I suppose Arlene makes it better than I do.”

Gertrude stabbed at a dumpling. “Hunh. Not as tough as it looks. But then neither are you.”

“You, however, are,” Judith declared, sitting on the arm of the sofa. “Are you sure you don’t have any aches and pains from your crash?”

Her mother shrugged. “No more than I usually have, which is plenty. But unlike you, I still have my own hips.”

“You’re lucky,” Judith said, smiling. “Renie and I didn’t get such sturdy original parts like you and Aunt Deb. She has to be careful with her virtual shoulder replacement, just like I do with my hip.”

“You and Serena got shortchanged in the smarts department, too,” Gertrude said before taking a big bite of beef. “Mmm. Not bad.”

Judith stood up and leaned down to kiss her mother’s wrinkled cheek. “I’m smart enough to make good stew.”

Gertrude patted her daughter’s hand. “You are at that. Dumplings are fluffy, too. Gravy’s not bad. And those
are
carrots after all. Hey—I found a spud!”

“Go for it,” Judith said. “Oh—I forgot the banana cream pie. And no, I didn’t make it. I bought it at Falstaff’s. On special.”

Gertrude shot her daughter a flinty look. “Even so, I’ll bet you paid more than two ninety-nine for it.”

Judith was at the door. “A bit. It
is
the twenty-first century.”

The old lady looked surprised. “It is? When did that happen?”

“When you weren’t looking,” Judith said. She blew her mother a kiss and went back to the house.

N
o Mary Smith yet?” Judith asked Joe, who was making their drinks on the kitchen counter.

“Mary Smith?” Joe frowned. “Oh—the missing guest? Not unless she sneaked in while I was still upstairs. Everybody else is yukking it up in the living room. What’s with the snowshoes in the entry hall?”

Judith sighed. “Probably the Texans who thought this was Alaska. They must have brought them in from the front porch. I missed those.”

Joe chuckled. “Why don’t you send your guests a map before they come here? While you were out of town, a couple of honeymooners from Wichita wondered why Japan looked so close. They thought we were on the ocean, not the Sound.”

“A lot of people confuse the Sound and the ocean,” Judith said, accepting her Scotch from Joe. “Why don’t we take our drinks into the front parlor. That way I’ll be closer to the door when Ms. Smith arrives.”

The Flynns went through the dining room, into the entry hall, and passed the living room, where they could hear the guests visiting amicably. Before going into the parlor, Judith glanced through the front door’s peephole, but there was no sign of a car or taxi in front of Hillside Manor. Joe asked if she wanted him to build a fire, but she said no. They wouldn’t have time to enjoy it before dinner. Later, they’d adjourn to the vacated living room.

The domestic exchange between husband and wife centered on Mike’s new posting. “They’ll be able to come for Thanksgiving,” Judith said with a big smile. “And Christmas, too.”

Joe frowned. “I thought Kristin and Renie were having some kind of disagreement. As in wanting to knock out each other’s lights.”

“Oh, they’ll get over it,” Judith said with her usual optimism. “Renie doesn’t think Kristin shows me enough respect. You know our daughter-in-law likes to deliver a lecture now and then.”

“She shouldn’t deliver it to you,” Joe declared. “How did I miss it?”

“It was a year ago,” Judith said, her smile fading. “It didn’t bother me, but somehow it annoyed Renie, who told her if she ever did it again, she’d . . . react more strongly.”

“Not physically, I hope. Kristin’s built like an Amazon. Renie’s a squirt. She wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“But she’s cunning,” Judith pointed out. “Anyway, Kristin stated that she’d never attend any event under the same roof with Renie.”

Joe took a deep drink and gazed at the ceiling. “Great. How are you going to sort out that one?”

“I’m sure it’s already blown over,” Judith said. “No doubt they’ve both forgotten about it.”

“Are you nuts? Neither of those women would forget something like that. Dammit, Jude-girl, you’ve got your head in the sand—again. Do you want me to intervene?”

“No! I’ll handle it,” Judith asserted. “Yes, Kristin can be overbearing and Renie is feisty, but they’re adults.”

“Adult warriors—the worst kind. Oh,” he said suddenly, “I talked to Woody. He and Sondra can come for dinner Friday.”

“Great,” Judith said. “Maybe I’ll ask Renie and Bill, too. They like the Prices.” She cocked an ear in the direction of the entry hall. “Some of the guests are leaving. I think the first two are the Porcinis.”

A comfortable silence fell between Judith and Joe as they shared the parlor’s cushioned window seat. Raindrops tapped at the glass behind them, a gentle reminder that autumn was well entrenched.

“You know,” Judith said at last, putting her hand on Joe’s shoulder, “there was a time when I never dreamed we’d spend our lives together. All those wasted years with Dan and Vivian. But Fate was kind. Maybe that long dry spell made what we have now even better.”

Joe stared at her face, the gold flecks dancing in his green eyes. “ ‘Dry’ isn’t the right word, given that both our exes drank so much.”

“Sad, but true,” Judith agreed. “If Herself hadn’t gotten you drunk and hijacked you to Vegas to get married, I wouldn’t have been left at the altar with your baby on the way. I do owe Dan a debt of gratitude for taking on Mike and me.”

“Dumbest thing I ever did,” Joe murmured. “At least I got Caitlin out of that mess,” he added, referring to his daughter by his first wife.

Judith smiled. “I’ve been thinking about how happy I am. It’s such a relief to have Ingrid Heffelman off my back since I helped her in Little Bavaria. She doesn’t have to worry anymore about me besmirching her precious state B&B association’s reputation with my penchant for finding dead bodies. I’m getting too old to risk my neck tracking down killers. I just wish I could figure out a way to make my so-called admirers take down their site about my alleged adventures. I hate it when people get mixed up and think the acronym for Female Amateur Sleuth Tracking Offenders isn’t FASTO, but FATSO.”

Joe grinned at Judith. “You’re too sensitive about gaining weight. With your height, you could put on ten, even fifteen pounds and I probably wouldn’t notice. As for the dangers involved in your years of sleuthing, you can’t say I never warned you along the way.”

“I know.” Judith lowered her gaze. “It isn’t as if I went around looking for trouble.” She paused, hearing the other two couples leave. “I suppose we should head for the kitchen. I’ll have to reheat the stew.”

“What’s the rush?” Joe asked, his hand caressing Judith’s thigh. “We’re alone at last. Why not do something else?”

Judith put her arms around Joe. “Why not? We haven’t been impulsive for at least two weeks.”

“That’s too long,” he said softly, his face almost touching hers.

“Hmm,” Judith murmured—just as the doorbell chimed.

“Damn!” Joe cried. “Did one of the guests forget their key?”

Judith edged away from her husband. “I’ll get it. It might be the tardy Mary Smith.”

Joe pulled Judith back on the window seat. “Stay put. I know how to check in a guest. I’ll interrogate her and send her to her room. Then we can take up where we left off.”

Glimpsing the gold flecks in what Judith called his magic eyes, she shrugged. “Why not? I’ll stay out of sight.”

Settling back against the cushions, she heard Joe greet the newcomer. It was a woman, undoubtedly Mary Smith. Idly, Judith wondered if the stew had dried up. If necessary, she’d make fresh dumplings. Maybe she should have let Joe start a fire after all. That would make the parlor even more cozy and romantic. This would be a perfect ending to a very good day. Except, of course, for Gertrude’s collision with the birdbath. But even that, Judith consoled herself, was only a minor irritation.

Her reverie was interrupted by the exchange in the entry hall. Joe’s mellow tone had sharpened; the woman sounded angry.

“So what?” she said. “I’ve got my ID. What more do you need?”

Judith recognized the voice, but couldn’t quite place it.

“How about a credit card?” Joe said, obviously irked. “You didn’t give one on this reservation.”

“That’s because I’m paying cash,” the woman said.

Judith leaned closer, hearing what sounded like rummaging.

“Here,” the newcomer said. “Two hundred bucks. Does that cover it? Or do you want to call the cops?”

“I
am
a cop,” Joe said a bit wearily. “Retired. Okay. Fine. But most people don’t use an alias.”

“I had to,” the woman replied, sounding petulant. “I was afraid Judith wouldn’t want to see me again after Little Bavaria. Fact is, I wouldn’t blame her.”

Judith got off the window seat and hurried out of the parlor. “Ruby Tooms,” she said, offering her hand. “I had no idea it was you!”

Sheepishly, Ruby took her hostess’s hand. “Like I told Mr. Flynn, I figured you might not want to run into me. But I have to talk to you.” She brushed back a strand of pale blond hair and grimaced. “I need your help. I want you to find my mother’s killer.”

Chapter 2

J
udith knew Joe was staring at her and not at Ruby. “Excuse me,” he said, keeping his voice level and low. “Am I missing something here?”

“Not really,” Judith replied, avoiding her husband’s gaze. “But I should speak to Ruby privately. Do you mind? Dinner’s on the stove.”

“Hey,” Ruby said, “if Mr. Flynn’s a cop, why can’t he listen in?”

“
Retired
cop,” Joe repeated. “Mrs. Flynn’s retired, too. From sleuthing, that is.” He grabbed Judith’s arm. “Isn’t that right, my darling?”

“Yes,” Judith replied with a lift of her chin. “That’s true. But the least we can do—both having had experience with homicides—is hear her story. Then we can advise her how to proceed. She has, after all, paid two hundred bucks for the privilege, which is more than her room costs. Unless you’d rather make change or refund the money.”

Joe frowned. “Okay, come into the kitchen,” he said to Ruby. “You’ve paid for dinner, too. That includes a drink, if you want one.”

“I sure do,” Ruby said. “I took the bus from Little Bavaria. It stopped at every little dumpy place along the way. That highway through the mountains is a bitch. There was a big wreck, so we had to wait until the mess was cleared off the road. It was raining like hell until we got close to the city. Make mine Scotch rocks—just like your wife’s.”

Joe glanced at Judith. “Sounds like you do know her.”

“We met when Ruby was working two jobs as a waitress and bartender during Oktoberfest. It turned out that her father used to patronize Dan’s café—or at least the bar.”

Joe looked askance. “Anybody who hung out at The Meat & Mingle must have an interesting résumé—or should I say ‘police record’?” Seeing Judith’s dark eyes snap, he shrugged and led the way toward the kitchen. “You two sit and talk,” he said, opening the swinging half doors leading from the dining room. “I know my way around a stove.”

Ruby sat down across from Judith. “Have all your husbands been able to cook?”

“I’ve only had two,” Judith replied. “Dan’s cooking was a vocation. Joe’s is an avocation.”

“Dan,” Ruby echoed. “He owned The Meat & Mingle, right?” She saw Judith nod. “Big guy?
Really
big guy?”

“Yes,” Judith said. “I thought you told me you were too young to go into the bar to haul out your father.”

“I was. I had to go into the restaurant part. I saw Dan—I guessed he was Dan—behind the serving area giving orders.”

As Joe handed Ruby her drink and topped off his wife’s, a flood of bittersweet memories rushed over Judith. To Dan’s credit, he had been a good cook and a fine bartender. But he’d had no head for business, letting his employees rob him blind. Misplaced loyalty, Judith had called it at the time. Later, after The Meat & Mingle had gone broke, she called it something else.

Ruby raised her glass. “To the bad old days,” she said.

They clinked glasses. “Although I’ve quit sleuthing,” Judith began, “and Joe’s retired from the police force, he does some private investigating.” Seeing a sharp glance of reproach from her husband, she quickly backtracked. “He doesn’t handle homicide cases, but he could recommend investigators who do.”

Ruby didn’t look overly upset. Judith suspected that she was used to rejection and disappointment. Though probably far from forty, the Little Bavaria waitress and barmaid seemed to have spent twice that many years in the school of hard knocks.

“Okay.” Ruby shrugged her narrow shoulders. “I’ll give you the short version. Not long after Dad got fingered for stealing your wallet in the bar, Mom divorced him. He didn’t do time for that caper, but a year or so later—I was still in high school—he held up a convenience store. No gun—he had a knife, but got busted and served three years of a five-year stretch. Mom got a boyfriend a couple of notches up the social ladder from Dad. I mean,” she went on with a droll expression, “he could spell and he had a steady job in construction. They were talking marriage when about a month later, a neighbor found her strangled in our house six blocks from The Meat & Mingle. I don’t know if you were still living in the area at the time.”

Judith frowned. “Maybe not. Dan died a couple of years after the café and bar shut down. By then, I may’ve moved back here with my son, Mike. If I’d still been out in the Thurlow District, I’d probably remember her murder. But offhand, I don’t.”

Joe had turned the stew on to simmer. After topping off his drink, he sat down next to Judith. “Was your mother early forties, currently working at a nearby nursing home, and the neighbor found her when she noticed the mail hadn’t been picked up for a couple of days?”

Even as Ruby nodded, Judith turned to stare at her husband. “You remember the case? Were you on it?”

“No, but I recall it was never solved.” He gave Judith a quirky look. “I remember the case because I knew it happened near Dan’s café. I may’ve married somebody else the first time around, but I never forgot about you. I assumed you still lived in the area. I didn’t know Dan was dead, and my first reaction was it could have been
you
. I panicked. Then the victim was ID’d, but I dreamed about you for a week after that.”

Judith put her hand on Joe’s. “That’s so sweet.”

“Hey,” Ruby said, “break it up, folks. Or so I tell my lovey-dovey couples in the bar before they start coupling on the barroom floor.”

Judith removed her hand and sat up straight. “Suspects?”

Ruby leaned back in the chair. “Not bad old Dad. He and his buddy who hung out with him at The Meat & Mingle were both in the slammer. Mom was working as an aide at a nursing home. Peebles Place, closer to the Sound. Everybody called it Feebles Place. You remember it?”

“Vaguely,” Judith replied.

“It wasn’t top-of-the-line,” Ruby continued, “but it survived the occasional violation. There was one old patient, Hector Sparks, who had the hots for Mom—her first name was Opal, by the way. Not that Hector could put any moves on her, being partially paralyzed and about ninety. Face it, Mom could be a bit of a flirt. She liked men, men liked her. But she was no floozy. In fact, she insisted Hector teased all the women—at least the pretty ones—who worked at Peebles. Anyway, Hector talked about leaving Mom all his money. He didn’t—he outlived her, but his daughter and her family got wind of it, and pitched a five-star fit.” She paused to sip from her drink. “They almost got Mom fired, but before that happened, she was killed.”

“So,” Judith said, “the Sparks family became prime suspects?”

“I made sure of that,” Ruby replied grimly. “But they had solid alibis and there was no proof.”

“No DNA back then,” Joe noted. “How was your mother strangled?”

Ruby’s gaze became steely. “With a strap—the kind they used at Peebles Place to lift patients who can’t move on their own. What do you two sleuths make of that?”

“Suggestive,” Judith remarked.

Joe, however, demurred. “Would your mother have had one of those at home for any reason?”

Ruby sighed. “She could have. Mom knitted. She always carried her knitting with her, and sometimes she’d absentmindedly put something from the nursing home in the bag. One time I found a coffee mug, another time a thermometer. She didn’t steal stuff, she was just kind of ditzy.”

Joe nodded. “What about her current boyfriend?”

Ruby shrugged. “Duke—real first name Darrell—Swisher was okay. He hung out a lot at the racetrack. Dad knew him before Mom did. Dad knew everybody at the track. Whatever he didn’t spend on booze, he spent on the ponies. Anyway, for some reason Duke liked my father, and when he found out Dad was in jail, he stopped by our house to ask if he could do anything for Mom. Turned out there were quite a few things he could do, Dad not exactly being a handyman. One of the things he did for Mom was to sleep with her. After her divorce was final, he proposed. She even had a ring. That was more than she had from Dad. I mean she’d
had
one, but he’d pawned it a long time ago.”

Judith finished her drink. “Had Duke ever been married? I ask that in case there was a jealous ex lurking in the background.”

“Yes,” Ruby replied, “but he’d been divorced for a long time. The ex-wife remarried and moved away. Montana, maybe.”

Joe left the table to dish up dinner. Judith asked if Duke had children.

Ruby nodded. “A couple, I think. I never met them. I don’t know if Mom did or not. They may’ve been grown or gone with their mother.”

“Was Duke ever a suspect?” Joe asked, handing Judith her food.

“He was questioned,” Ruby replied, “but he was cleared.”

Joe pressed on. “What was approximate time of death?”

“It was June sixth—D-day. I always remember that because Grandpa Stone—Mom’s dad—had been at Omaha Beach. Mrs. Crabbe from next door was the one who found Mom two days after she’d been killed. She’d noticed how much mail there was, including a package. I opened it later. It was a dress Mom had ordered from some catalog company. When nobody came to the door, Mrs. Crabbe turned the knob and it was unlocked. She found Mom on the floor by the sofa and almost passed out, but she had sense enough to call 911. The EMTs came, along with the cops and the firefighters. They had to treat Mrs. Crabbe for shock. As for what time Mom was killed, the medical examiner figured somewhere between noon and five o’clock Wednesday afternoon.”

Judith swallowed a bite of beef before posing a question. “Where were you during this time period?”

Ruby laughed. “I was wondering when you’d ask that. It was senior week. All sorts of hoo-ha going on. Class trip to Wild Waves, parties, commencement rehearsal. I often spent a lot of time with my best bud, Freddy Mae. I started doing that back in junior high. Mom sometimes worked nights, and frankly, I liked hanging out with Freddy Mae’s family. By the time Mom was killed, my brother, Ozzie, was in the navy. He joined up right out of high school, two years ahead of me.”

Judith nodded. “Your only sibling?”

“Right. Dad knocked Mom up with Ozzie. They were really young when they got married. Big mistake. Getting married, I mean. Ozzie’s okay, but I haven’t seen him in over a year. He decided to make the navy his career. He’s currently stationed in San Diego. Ozzie can retire in another three, four years. Lucky guy.” Ruby’s expression was rueful.

Joe, who had seemed focused on his food, put down his fork and moved a few inches away from the table. “Okay. Let’s get down to basics. No sign of a break-in?”

Ruby shook her head.

“Any sign of robbery, other injuries to your mother, evidence of a struggle or sexual assault?”

Ruby shook her head again.

“No serious suspects other than the boyfriend, Duke, or the relatives of the old guy in the nursing home?”

“No.” Ruby smiled sheepishly. “Not much to go on, huh?”

Joe grimaced. “No wonder it’s a cold case. I’m guessing—but whoever investigates this for you will have to check it out—there was no evidence at the scene?”

“Not that I heard about,” Ruby replied.

Joe drummed his fingers on the table. “One possibility—it was a mistake. Somebody goes to the wrong house, broad daylight or not. Let’s say it was a man if only because I assume your mother wasn’t frail, being fairly young and able to do some heavy lifting at the retirement home. Mom pitches a five-star fit at the sight of the intruder, who panics. It sounds far-fetched, but it happens. I had a case like that early on in my homicide career. Maybe the killer is drunk or on drugs, assumes the house is empty, and then your mother finds him—or her—and the guy goes wacko. That happens, too. Again, a case of panic.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said, holding a piece of dumpling on her fork. “I guess. But I’d like to know for sure.”

Judith had also finished her dinner. “Is there anything more you can tell us? Sometimes it’s minor things that are important.”

Joe turned to his wife. “Let’s not play trivia, okay?”

“I’m not,” she declared. “It’s the way I work a . . . I mean, how I figure things out. Like around the house. And garden.”

To Judith’s surprise, Joe merely shrugged and turned his gaze back to Ruby.

“Gosh,” she said, a hand to her head, “I don’t remember after all these years. The only weird memory I have about that whole time is that Duke mentioned a horse running the day Mom was killed. The name reminded me of my favorite book. I asked him to put a six-buck combo on it and it won, going off at nine to one. The horse’s name was Gone With The Win. At Mom’s funeral, Duke gave me the forty bucks I’d won.”

Judith smiled. “Did you often send bets to the track?”

“Hardly ever.” Ruby put down her fork. “I worked part-time after school at the old supermarket across from the gas station. Dad was a dud when it came to child support—especially when he was in jail. Besides, I’d turned eighteen, and that ended his noncontribution anyway. Retirement and nursing homes charge big bucks, but they don’t pay them to their employees. Money was tight for Mom and me.”

Joe stood up and began clearing the table. “I’ll check my file and find somebody to take on your case.” He looked at Judith and patted his slight paunch. “No dessert for me. I’m really trying to lose a few pounds.”

“Uh-huh,” Judith said, smiling despite not believing him. After being married to the obese Dan, she didn’t care if Joe had a minor tummy bulge. At least he didn’t look like the Goodyear Blimp.

“I forgot to take Mother’s dessert to her,” she said, wincing. “Joe, would you mind? It’s the last of the banana cream pie.”

Joe looked put-upon, but murmured he’d do it—when he’d finished his other chores.

“My mother has her own apartment out back,” Judith explained to Ruby. “She actually owns this house, but prefers her privacy.” The truth was that Gertrude had refused to live under the same roof as Joe Flynn, but there was no need to offer details. “It’s very cozy,” she went on, seeing the faintly bewildered look in Ruby’s blue eyes. “Besides, she isn’t bothered by the B&B guests coming in and out.”

“She must be kind of old,” Ruby remarked.

“Yes, Mother is getting up there.”
Way
up there, Judith thought, and immediately felt guilty. “She seems . . . ageless.”
As in immortal, eternal, everlasting, and probably will outlive the rest of us.
“She likes her independence.”