Gone With the Win: A Bed-And-Breakfast Mystery (5 page)

“She must’ve been a bitch,” Ruby remarked.

“She was a very unhappy woman.” Judith got up from the chair to pick up the phone. “What does your purse look like? I forget.”

“It’s faux brown leather with a big faux gold clasp and a couple of pockets on the outside. They’re not faux, they’re real, but I hardly ever use them.”

Judith nodded and dialed the restaurant. Unfortunately, she reached a recording, giving The Persian Cat’s hours and that reservations were necessary only for dinner. She could call back during business hours to make a reservation. “I wonder . . .” she murmured, trying an old trick of redialing the number but changing the last digit by one. A deep male voice answered on the second ring.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, “but my niece lost her purse today when she was at your restaurant. Did you find it by any chance?”

“No purse,” the accented voice answered. “She must’ve lost it ’nother place. Sorry.”

“Oh, dear,” Judith said in a woeful voice, quickly offering a concise description of Ruby. “I wonder if the man who approached her took it. Did you notice him with her? He acted rather oddly.”

“Then how did she pay?” the man responded. “She must’ve lost it after she was here.”

“Maybe the man paid her bill,” Judith said.

“He steals purse and pays for her meal? That’s craziness. We’re closed. I’m busy.” He hung up.

Judith sighed. “I should’ve let Joe call. That was a washout. I’m not at the top of my game tonight.”

Ruby shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. They were busy. Maybe he wouldn’t remember the guy who talked to me. I sure don’t.”

Judith heard the front door open. Judging from the voices, it was the Porcinis from New Jersey. They headed upstairs to Room Five.

“Don’t worry about it anymore tonight,” Judith said. “You should get to bed. I’ll come up with you. The guests can let themselves in after we lock up at ten.”

“You don’t have to—” Ruby was interrupted by the doorbell. “Guess somebody forgot their key.”

“No,” Judith said. “It’s not yet ten. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

A quick look through the peephole revealed Corinne Dooley, who lived on the other side of the fence from the Flynns’ double garage.

“Hi,” Judith said, opening the door and noticing that Corinne was holding a brown purse. “Come in. You’re all wet.”

Corinne crossed the threshold, running a hand through her disheveled graying blond locks. Never quite sure how many children the prolific Dooleys had, Judith was amazed that her neighbor’s hair hadn’t fallen out in clumps by now. But Corinne was always an amazing sea of calm amid utter chaos. Grandchildren as well as nieces and nephews added to the lively mix.

“Tyler found this in our garbage can,” Corinne said, handing over the purse. “It had one of your brochures inside. Do you think it belongs to a guest?”

“It just might,” Judith said, gingerly holding the purse. “It was in your garbage can? How did he happen to find it?”

Corinne waved a hand. “One of the other kids threw out Tyler’s trumpet. They get tired of hearing him practice. Being the baby of the family, sometimes they pick on him. He found the purse just now when he was looking for the trumpet.”

“Thanks, Corinne,” Judith said. “I’m not sure I know which one Tyler is—unless he’s our paper boy.”

“He is,” Corinne replied. “He has been, since a year ago last summer. You probably never see him. He does the route around five-thirty and starts in the cul-de-sac.” She smiled conspiratorially and lowered her voice. “I don’t suppose you have any mysteries you’d like solved. He’s taking after his older brothers when it comes to playing detective. Tyler thought he saw a cop car in your driveway earlier.”

“Ah . . . well, it had to do with the loss of this purse,” Judith said, unwilling to reveal too much. “My guest thought it might’ve been stolen. Maybe she dropped it coming from . . . the bus.”

“In our garbage can?” Corinne laughed. “What did she do, climb over the fence? We aren’t exactly on the route from the bus stop to your house unless she was out for an evening stroll.”

“It’s a long story,” Judith said. “Tell Tyler that if I ever have a mystery—even a small mystery—I’ll let him know. His brothers were always a big help in my former sleuthing days.”

Corinne’s blue eyes widened. “You quit?”

“Yes,” Judith said, ruing the lack of conviction in her voice. “I’m getting too old for that sort of thing.”

“But you’re so good at it,” Corinne asserted. “And it does make the neighborhood more interesting. Not that I enjoy murders, but the mystery part is a good topic of dinnertime conversation. At least when we can hear each other over all the noise and breaking of crockery.”

“Hard on the nerves, though,” Judith said. “The murders, I mean.”

“So’s dinnertime,” Corinne said, her hand on the doorknob. “But I go with the flow. Glad Tyler found the purse. Good night, Judith.”

Judith closed the door behind her neighbor. When she turned around, she saw Ruby leaning out of the dining room doorway.

“My purse?” she said in relief. “Wow!”

“I didn’t open it. I wondered about fingerprints, but I suspect if there are any, they’d be smudged after going through various Dooley hands.” Judith handed the purse to Ruby. “Go ahead, open it in the living room, where we can be more comfortable.”

They sat down opposite each other on the matching sofas. “Sorry there’s no fire,” Judith said. “Joe never got around to making one.”

Ruby’s gaze roamed around the long living room with its plate rail, bay window, bookshelves, comfortable furniture, and grandfather clock. Her gaze rested on the baby grand piano at the far end of the room by the French doors. “Do you play?”

“Not very well,” Judith admitted. “Somebody gave that piano to my grandparents. This was originally their home. The house was built a hundred years ago. They raised six children in it, including my father.”

“I took piano lessons,” Ruby said wistfully. “They were free if Ozzie and I did chores around the teacher’s house. She was a widow.”

“A nice arrangement for everyone.” Judith pointed at Ruby’s purse. “Aren’t you going to open that?”

“I’m almost afraid to. It feels lighter.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“Right.” Ruby slowly opened the purse. “My wallet’s here! But I’ll bet the . . . no, they didn’t take my money. Or my credit cards. Wow!” Excitedly, she rummaged through the rest of the contents—and finally her expression sobered. “My cell’s gone.”

Judith wasn’t surprised. “Whoever took your cell—and your journal—is looking for something. I wonder if it pertains to your mother’s murder.” Her expression turned bleak. “Let’s hope it’s not her killer.”

Chapter 5

J
udging from Ruby’s obvious alarm, Judith wished she could take back her words. “Look,” she said, “I may be crazy. I don’t see how anyone could know you were on a mission. Maybe whoever took your purse and then came here is an old boyfriend. In the morning you may remember what happened. Meanwhile, let’s go upstairs so you can get some rest.”

Ruby didn’t argue. If the return of her purse had elated her, Judith’s comment deflated her. When they reached Room Two, Ruby insisted on straightening up everything before she collapsed and fell into a vegetable-like state.

“I understand,” Judith said before heading downstairs, “but if you want anything, feel free to let me know. I’ll be up until at least eleven.”

Coming into the entry hall, she almost collided with the Epsteins from L.A., who had just returned from dinner on the ship canal. They seemed most intrigued by the opening and closing of a nearby bridge to allow ships to make their passage through the city. The pair had headed upstairs when the Sutcliffes arrived, musing over why they hadn’t seen any igloos or Eskimos in fur-lined parkas. Judith left them to their confusion and went into the living room, where Joe was on the sofa reading a spy novel.

“Well?” he said, looking up.

Judith sat down next to him. “I’ll fill you in on what you missed.”

Joe listened without interruption. “Okay, that’s about what I figured. Except for the purse getting returned. That’s puzzling.”

“I agree. Somebody breaks into our house but gets rid of a stolen purse less than fifty yards away?”

Joe shook his head. “Maybe the purse was put in the Dooleys’ garbage before whoever it was came here. But if it was stolen in the Thurlow District—and we don’t know that for sure—why haul it to Heraldsgate Hill? Apparently the alleged thief only wanted the cell phone . . . and the journal. Damn, this is bizarre. Maybe I should go to The Persian Cat tomorrow and see if I can get more out of the staff.”

Judith stared at Joe. “You’re taking on the case?”

He winced. “It’s getting personal, given the intruder.”

Judith was briefly speechless. “I thought you were starting another assignment.”

Joe shook his head. “Turns out the subject—another one of those damned insurance frauds—is in the hospital. He broke his leg in three places skateboarding. That should prove he’s not helplessly crippled, but the SANECO people are hedging their bets until he’s released.”

“So you’ve got some free time,” Judith remarked, gazing across the room and keeping her tone casual.

Joe wasn’t making eye contact either. “I feel duty-bound to follow through with our home being broken into by some weirdo.”

“Yes, of course. It makes perfect sense.”

But Judith wondered about Joe’s real intentions. He might not own up to it, but she knew he’d caught a cold case of homicide.

T
he rain had let up by Thursday morning. Ruby was the last of the guests to come down for breakfast a little before ten-thirty. She’d used the back stairs and looked more clear-eyed, but claimed she still felt fuzzy-headed.

“I had some really wacko dreams,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “Dancing dudes in turbans, cats in garbage cans, old folks racing wheelchairs, and a trumpet that played like a piano. Or was it a piano that . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind. My head’s still woolly.”

“Does it ache?” Judith asked, having just finished clearing away the other guests’ breakfast dishes.

“Not really. It just feels foggy.”

Judith poured coffee for Ruby. “Nothing’s come back to you yet?”

“Not exactly.” Ruby grimaced. “I hear a man’s voice. He’s saying something like, ‘Hi, there. New in town?’ Weird, huh? I mean, that’s not exactly a twenty-first-century come-on.”

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t say it.”

Ruby laughed. “I guess not. But it’s dumb.” She gazed around the kitchen. “Where is everybody?”

“Mother’s gone off to play bridge, Joe had some errands to run, and all the guests have checked out. Only the Porcinis are staying over. It looks like I’ll have at least one vacancy tonight, but the weekend’s full.”

Ruby looked alarmed. “Including my room?”

“Yes, but if you want to stay, we have a spare room in the family quarters on the third floor.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” Ruby said in a wan voice. “I have to be back Monday anyway.”

Judith leaned on the table. “You’re welcome here. We haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of what happened to your mother.”

“ ‘We’?” Ruby repeated. “I thought you and Mr. Flynn weren’t getting involved.”

“That’s
Joe
to you. He feels obligated to find out who broke into our house. Besides, he’s got some free time right now.”

Ruby put her hand on Judith’s. “I can’t believe you guys are so nice. I mean, I—”

The sound of a siren interrupted. Both women listened as it came closer to the cul-de-sac. “Now what?” Judith murmured, heading for the entry hall.

Ruby followed her. “Maybe it’s a fire.”

Judith opened the front door, looking out into the overcast morning. A moment later a fire engine pulled into the cul-de-sac and stopped in front of Herself’s rental. More sirens could be heard close by. The EMTs and the police—Judith knew the drill all too well.

“I don’t see any smoke,” Ruby said.

Judith shook her head. “I don’t either. But here comes Arlene. And Naomi Stein, from the house on the other corner. I’m guessing a medical emergency.”

Ruby made a face. “Do you know the people who live there?”

“Only by sight,” Judith said. “The Frosches aren’t very friendly.” She gave a start as a young man met the firefighters on the porch. “I’ve never seen him before. I think they have a son, but he lives . . . I forget.”

“In Idaho,” Arlene called from the middle of the cul-de-sac. “His name is Brick. I saw him once this summer.”

Naomi had joined Arlene. “I didn’t know they had a son,” she said.

Judith and Ruby left the porch to watch with the other women. “Arlene, I thought you told me Mr. and Mrs. Frosch both worked.”

“They do,” Arlene said. “But they can’t work if they’re dying.”

“True,” Judith agreed under her breath.

The police and the EMTs pulled in. Judith glanced at the Porters’ house between the Rankerses’ and the Steins’. Both Gabe and Rochelle Porter worked, too, so they were probably gone for the day, as were the Ericsons, who lived on the other side of the rental.

The firefighters and the young man had gone back inside. Ruby grabbed Judith’s arm. “I recognize . . . no, I must be wrong,” she said, shaking herself and letting her hand fall away.

“What?” Judith asked.

“Never mind,” Ruby replied. “I’m still fuzzy.”

Judith didn’t recognize the two patrol officers. They were male, one black, one Hispanic, and both very young. Rookies, Judith figured. She did know the lead EMT—Kinsella, who had been an all-too-frequent visitor over the years. He glanced at the B&B, but quickly turned away as if reliving a bad dream. Judith felt like making an obscene gesture, but decided that would be a really bad idea.

Naomi had turned to Arlene. “Have you met the new people who live in the corner house next to the rental?”

“Only once,” Arlene replied. “Bhumi Bhatt works for a national investment firm. Bhandra Bhatt tutors children in math, shops exclusively at Nordquist’s, and reads only nonfiction. Two children, nine-year-old boy, Bhupa, and six-year-old girl, Bhopad. They go to Pastoral Day School on the other side of the hill. The family has moved three times in the past seven years, living most recently in Denver. Oh—their cat died last week. He was fourteen, and didn’t want to leave Colorado. His name was Rocky. For the mountains, I suppose.”

Naomi’s expression was blasé, accustomed as she was to Arlene’s knowledge about people she claimed to be utter strangers. “I’ve only seen the Bhatts from across the cul-de-sac. Very good-looking people.” She gestured at the rental. “If that was the Frosches’ son, the sick person must be . . . ?”

“Elma or Herbert,” Arlene said. “He prefers being called Herb.”

“Working for Boring,” Judith suggested. “Herb may be on the night shift. If Elma cooks at the public schools, she’s probably at work.”

Arlene gestured at the vehicles in front of the Frosch house. “Elma’s VW is there and the midsize sedan belongs to Herb. He does work odd hours.” She took a few steps forward, studying the rear of a black Ford Explorer Sport Trac. “Idaho plates,” she said. “The son,” she added ominously.

“Dare I ask,” Judith began, “if you know anything about him—” She broke off as a gurney was rolled out of the rental.

“Nothing to see here,” Medic Kinsella shouted at the four women. “Not one of yours,” he added, looking directly at Judith.

“Fine,” Judith murmured, but was startled to see the young man and an older version of him she vaguely recognized. “It must be Elma.”

“There go the firefighters,” Naomi said. “And police.” She turned to Judith. “Why don’t you ask those officers. You must know them.”

“I don’t,” Judith replied through taut lips. “They’re new.”

The younger and the older Frosches got into the Ford Explorer.

Arlene threw up her hands. “That’s disgusting! Nobody lingered long enough to answer any questions. What’s wrong with people? Don’t they think we care about our neighbors?”

Naomi patted Arlene’s arm. “Don’t fuss. You’ll find out soon enough. Bad news travels fast.”

“Not fast enough.” Arlene took a few steps across the cul-de-sac. “But maybe sooner than I expected. The front door isn’t closed shut.”

“Arlene!” Naomi cried. “You wouldn’t!”

Arlene scowled at Naomi. “We can’t leave their door open.” Her blue-eyed gaze veered to Judith. “Especially with burglars breaking into houses around here. Isn’t that what the block watch and neighbors are for? I’ll make sure everything is secure.” As if marching to a regimental drumbeat, she headed for the rental.

Naomi laughed and shook her head, but followed Arlene. Ruby stared at Judith. “Are you going with them?”

“No.” Resolutely, Judith turned her back on the rental and led the way to the B&B. “They’re harmless. Really,” she said after they got inside. “Naomi might protest, but she’s curious, too. It’s . . . ah . . . natural. The Frosches aren’t neighborly and . . . um . . . well . . . I’ve got a key.”

Ruby was wide-eyed. “You do? How come?”

“My husband’s ex-wife owns that house. She lives in Florida, so we keep a key if any problems come up. Until now, the rental agency has handled everything, but Herself—I mean, Vivian—feels better if Joe and I have access in case . . . just in case.”

“That’s . . . good of you. No hard feelings between you and his ex?”

“Not anymore,” Judith said, heading for the kitchen. “It’s all in the past.” She picked up the pace as the phone rang. To her dismay, it was her cleaning woman, Phyliss Rackley. “Where are you?” Judith asked, trying to hide her irritation. “You were supposed to be here by ten.”

“The good Lord had other plans for me,” Phyliss said in a sulky voice. “My dentist had an emergency he had to take first. Then the bus broke down. I’m standing on a corner waiting for the next one. In fact, I’m outside of a little grocery store and . . . oh, no! The bus went by without stopping! The Lord must have it in for me today. I can’t think why. I haven’t sinned that much except for being annoyed by having to wait so long for the dentist. Evil thoughts—that’ll do it every time.”

“The Lord probably doesn’t have it in for you, Phyliss, but I will if you don’t get over here in half an hour. The morning is almost gone.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I’ll pray on it. It’s starting to rain again. Oh, no! I left my bumbershoot at the dentist’s! Satan’s ruining my life. He’s tempting me to anger.”

Judith ignored the remark. “I keep an extra umbrella here,” she said, also trying to keep her temper. “Stay under the store overhang and don’t miss the next bus.” She hung up before Phyliss could say another exasperating word.

Ruby had taken it upon herself to clean the dining room coffee urn. “Just trying to be useful. You got a Bible-thumper working for you?”

Judith nodded once. “My cleaning woman. She’s very good, but very . . . pious. Or something like that. She also has a lot of health and dental problems. Fortunately, none of them are serious.”

“Want me to start in on some of her chores?” Ruby offered. “She won’t be able to catch up.”

Judith was surprised. “You’re not going to continue your quest?”

Ruby slumped into a kitchen chair. “I feel like a dork. I make one crummy try at it and end up losing my purse and getting amnesia. Maybe it’s not worth it. What can I really do on my own?”

“It’s probably just as well you don’t overtax yourself,” Judith said. “Did you think you recognized someone in the cul-de-sac?”

Ruby shook her head, but didn’t meet Judith’s gaze. “Not really. You know how some people are a type. I mean, they’re the same height, build, coloring, age group.” She shrugged. “They look familiar until you get up close.”

“True,” Judith agreed as Joe entered through the back door.

“I’ve got some news,” he announced, hanging up his jacket in the hallway. “It’s raining.”

Judith made a face at her husband as he came into the kitchen. “Funny Joe. That’s not news around here.”

“No,” he responded, taking a diet soda out of the fridge, “but I stopped to see Woody at the precinct station. He’s going to pull his old files.” Joe sat down next to Judith and looked at Ruby. “He’s intrigued, of course. Being a captain, he may not get to it until tomorrow, but he’ll bring them when he comes to dinner. You’re sticking around, right?”

Ruby looked surprised. “Yeah, well, I guess I better. I was about to give it up. I feel guilty for causing everybody so much trouble.”

Joe shook his head. “Don’t. Look, I’m doing this for my old partner as much as for you. This case has bothered him for years.” He nudged Judith. “So what was that 911 call to Herself’s house about? It came in while I was talking to Woody, but I had to leave before I could find out.”