Hocus Croakus (3 page)

A feeling of unease overcame her. Had Joe been foolish enough to play in a high-stakes game? Maybe the three-dollar tables were on the other side of the pit. As she turned the corner, she spotted Joe, talking to a
barrel-chested man with a handlebar mustache and wearing what looked like an expensive suit.

“Joe!” she exclaimed. “I've been looking for you.”

“Hey, Jude-girl, meet Pancho Green, the casino manager. He used to work in Vegas at Caligula's Palazzo.”

Although Judith put out her hand, her face froze for just an instant. Caligula's Palazzo was where Joe had married his first wife, Vivian, while he was in a drunken stupor.

“Hello, Mr. Green,” Judith said, forcing a smile.

“Mrs. Flynn,” Pancho said with a grin that revealed dazzling white teeth. “Joe's been telling me all about you.”

“Really.” Judith tried not to sound skeptical. Had Joe told Pancho how he'd broken Judith's heart thirty years ago, leaving her pregnant? Had Joe mentioned that the woman he'd married in Vegas had virtually shanghaied him onto an airplane? Had Joe revealed how both he and Judith had ended up married to a couple of alcoholics and suffered through their first marriages until finally meeting again more than twenty years later?

“Yes,” Pancho replied. “He told me that if he didn't win a dime here, he was still the luckiest man in the world.”

“Oh.” Judith wondered if that was the truth or if Pancho was merely a smooth talker. He looked like it, with his custom-tailored suit, impeccably cut silver hair, and flashing smile. But maybe that was part of his role as a casino manager.

Joe's own smile was unusually wide. “Pancho's given us four complimentary tickets to the dinner show for the Great Mandolini tonight. We won't have to wait
in line. Our table's reserved. I'll tell Bill if I see him; you let Renie know.”

“Oh,” Judith repeated. “Yes, I know where Renie is. But what about our…”

“Mothers?” Joe finished for her, then looked at Pancho. “We have Judith's mother and aunt with us. They're both in wheelchairs. Would that be a problem? They wouldn't have to sit with us, of course.”

“Not at all,” Pancho replied, digging into a pocket inside his suit jacket. “I'll make sure their table is wheelchair accessible.” He handed Joe two more comps. “I've got to go back to work. Great to see you, Joe. Wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Flynn.” The casino manager moved smoothly away.

“Nice guy,” Joe observed. “I haven't seen him in twelve years.”

Judith looked surprised. “Twelve years? Are you sure it hasn't been more like thirty?”

Joe's expression turned serious. “That was the first time I met him. He…sort of took me under his wing. Then, just before we were married, Woody and I had to fly to Vegas to confer on a homicide case there that was linked to one of ours.”

Woody was Woodrow Wilson Price, Joe's longtime partner in the homicide division of the city's police department. But it wasn't Woody's name that had caught Judith's attention.

“What do you mean by Pancho taking you under his wing?” she asked as they moved toward the craps tables.

“Well,” Joe responded carefully, “Pancho stood up for me at the quickie wedding to Vivian. Not that I remember much about it. But when I sobered up, I told him I'd made a terrible mistake. He advised me to call you right away, explain everything, and try to get the
marriage annulled.” Joe shrugged. “You know the rest of the story.”

Judith knew it all too well. Joe had called her several times, but Gertrude had answered the phone. She'd informed Joe that Judith never wanted to speak to him again and didn't care if he were in Vegas or on Venus. It wasn't true, of course, but Gertrude's interference had cost Joe and Judith dearly. Despondent, Joe hadn't gotten the annulment. Abandoned, Judith had married Dan McMonigle on the rebound, not because she loved him, but because she wanted a father for her unborn baby. The story didn't have a happy ending for over two decades.

“You never mentioned Pancho before,” Judith said. “How come?”

“That time in Vegas wasn't exactly a highlight of my life,” Joe replied with a sour expression. “I've always tried to forget it, even while I was married to Vivian.” He brightened suddenly. “Hey, there's Bill at one of the craps tables. I'm going to see how he's doing.”

“He's studying,” Judith said. “That's part of his system.”

But Joe didn't hear his wife finish speaking. He was already hurrying over to the busy craps table. Sure enough, Bill was standing just behind the players, hands in pockets, a look of deep concentration on his face.

Judith started back to the quarter slots. But she'd gone so far afield that she was confused. She seemed to be in the Summer section. There were quarter slots there, too, including a large rectangular platform with a sleek red Corvette displayed above the machines. “Who Needs a Jet?” the banner on the car read. “Win This 'Vette!” Judith smiled at the handsome car, which
featured a blond mannequin seated behind the wheel, her wig blown by an unseen fan.

Judith was tempted to try for the car. Joe's beloved MG was forty years old, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to get parts for it. The MG was also red. But for now, she had to find Renie.

It took over five minutes to get back to the Spring section. Sure enough, Renie was at the same machine, engrossed in the spin of the barrels.

“Your soda's right here,” she said without looking up. “This is the darnedest machine. I keep getting three chickens and three lambs, but I never get the barns. That's the big payoff. Still, I've got enough credits to keep me going.”

Judith sat down and took a sip from her glass of diet 7-UP. “You never told me about the cabin.”

“Oh.” Renie frowned as the machine showed a lamb, a pig, and a bale of hay. “They're about to pour the foundation.”

“They were going to do that three weeks ago,” Judith pointed out.

“Armbuster or whatever his name is said there was still snow on the ground then.” Renie smiled slightly as she got another trio of chickens. “What is he, a brother or a cousin of the contractor who's working on the B&B?”

“A brother-in-law,” Judith replied. “His name is Dale Armstrong. The B&B contractor is Bart Bednarik.”

“I knew that,” Renie said, pausing to drink some Pepsi. “Did you find Joe?”

“Yes.” Judith explained about the long-ago connection between Joe and Pancho.

“Does that mean,” Renie asked, “we'll have to see the Great Mandolini with our mothers?”

“They may not want to go,” Judith said. “Anyway, I'm looking forward to it.”

Renie tapped her chin. “It would also mean I could skip the social hour that officially opens the conference. Okay, we'll do it. Was Joe winning at blackjack?”

“I didn't get a chance to ask,” Judith admitted. “But he seemed upbeat. We saw Bill studying craps.”

“Good, good.” Renie turned her attention back to the slot machine. “Aha! Three bales of hay. That's twenty bucks.”

“Maybe I should try this,” Judith allowed. “But frankly, it makes me tense.”

“Don't be silly.” Renie waved a hand to take in all of her surroundings. “This is a wonderland of opportunity. All things are possible. It's complete escapism from the rest of the world. Wrap yourself up in the excitement, the suspense, the drama, the wonder of What-If-I-Win-a-Million-Bucks? Why did you come here, if not to—” Renie stopped, pricking up her ears. “Did you hear that announcement?”

Judith shook her head. “They make announcements all the time. I don't see how anybody hears anything with all the noise.”

“I thought it was a page for Judith Flynn,” Renie said, still listening.

“Really?” Judith made a face. “Could it be Mother?”

“You know she doesn't like the phone. Unless she keeled over and my mother is trying to reach you.”

“Don't say that!”

“They'll announce it again unless it was for somebody else and they've already responded.” Renie poked the Credit button again.

“I'd better check, to be sure.” Judith stood up. “Where should I go? The front desk?”

“There ought to be a house phone over by that wall,” Renie said, gesturing with her elbow. “Ah. More lambs.”

Judith hurried off to find the phone. Renie was right. There was a house phone between the security desk and the change cage. She picked up the receiver and asked if there was a message for her.

“Judith Flynn?” the soft female voice repeated. “Yes, a Mr. Bednarik called. I'll give you his number.”

“Damn!” Judith swore under her breath. “Did he say it was an emergency?”

“Yes, I believe he did,” the voice responded. “The phone memo is marked ASAP.”

Annoyed by the contractor's call, Judith remembered the pay phones by the registration desk. Unfortunately, they were on the other side of the casino. But the rest rooms were just beyond the change booth, and beyond that was a row of six public phones.

After getting out her credit card and Bart Bednarik's cell-phone number, Judith went through the lengthy dialing process. Bart answered on the second ring.

“What's wrong?” Judith asked without preamble.

“It's that countertop stove you ordered,” Bart answered in his lackadaisical voice. “It's an odd size, and they can't get it in stock for another two weeks. We could get the standard size right away.”

“I don't want that,” Judith said firmly. “I need the biggest countertop that's available.”

“It's not,” Bart said. “I tried a couple of other places in town. Nobody has them in their warehouses.”

Judith was rubbing her high forehead, trying to determine how she could cook for the family during the
week after their return to Hillside Manor. “Have you pulled the old stove already?”

“We did that yesterday,” Bart replied. “It's long gone.”

There was always the microwave oven,
Judith thought. “How much did you get done this afternoon?”

“The fridge is out of here now,” Bart said. “We should have the new one delivered tomorrow. In fact, we're knocking off for the day. There's no point in starting something right before my guys go off at five.”

Judith winced. If Skjoval Tolvang had been doing the job, he'd have started before dawn and stayed until after dusk. But the octogenarian handyman wasn't on the insurance company's approved list, and was, as he put it, “Damn' glad of it, ya sure youbetcha.” Furthermore, Mr. Tolvang didn't like tying himself down to big jobs, and despised subcontractors. Judith was stuck with Bednarik Builders. It didn't help that Bart Bednarik seemed to embrace obstacles, not to conquer them, merely observing, as if they were a spectator sport.

“So what will you work on tomorrow?” Judith inquired, holding her head.

“The plumbing,” Bart said. “It's going to be a bitch. Some of it's pretty old.”

“I had the kitchen replumbed before I opened the B&B,” Judith asserted. “That was only thirteen years ago.”

“Have you listened to those pipes lately?” Bart sounded disgusted. “Man, you must have done the job on the cheap.”

“That's not true,” Judith declared. “Is the plumbing included in your original quote?”

“Only for the hookups,” Bart said. “Do you realize
you've got steel pipes under the sink? Nobody uses steel anymore in a house. At least one of yours might have a leak. That's a problem.”

More problems, more obstacles. Bart must feel as if he'd been awarded the Super Bowl of home renovation. It had all begun in early November, one problem after another. Too much rain to repair the roof. Too much wind to replace the gutters. Too much fog, too much frost, too little sun. Since it had been a fairly typical Pacific Northwest fall and winter, Judith wondered how Bednarik Builders ever worked on anything between October and April. When an earthquake had occurred at the end of February, she was certain that Bart would tell her the house was about to fall down and they'd have to start from scratch.

“Fix the leak,” Judith said. “Frankly, I never noticed one.”

“It's a slow leak. You'd be better off with new pipes, especially since you're redoing the whole kitchen.”

“How much?”

“I'll have to figure out an estimate.”

“You do that. Let me know tomorrow morning. Please,” Judith remembered to add.

“Will do. Don't worry, we're getting along just fine.”

Judith felt like saying she didn't care if they got along, they could fight like savages as far as she was concerned, just so they got the job done by the oft-postponed deadline.

By the time she got back to Renie, her cousin had moved to the other side of the console.

“Some old bat about the size of Godzilla tried to swipe my chair when I stood up to get a bucket for my coins,” Renie said. “I had to step on her foot to get her to let go.”

“That's why you moved?” Judith asked.

Renie shook her head. “The Farmer in the Dell finally pooped out on me, but I didn't lose all my credits, which is why I needed the bucket. I cashed out with over ten bucks. Here, play one of these baseball slots. The jackpot's three grand slams. The joker is the umpire.”

“I can't afford it,” Judith grumbled. “That call was from Bart Bednarik.”

“Call?” Renie looked blank. “Oh, the page? What did Bart want now?”

“They can't get the countertop for two weeks,” Judith began, then noticed that Renie was back at it, pressing buttons. “The plumbing's shot in the kitchen, according to Bart, and…” Judith was almost certain that Renie wasn't listening. “…and the roof flew off and is being converted into a superferry out in the bay.”

“That's a shame,” Renie murmured. “Ah! Three catchers' masks. I got eight bucks.”