Legs Benedict (14 page)

Blanche came back on the line. “The dust jacket's been removed. You know how it is—even with plastic coverings, they get badly worn after a couple of years.”

“Yes,” Judith said, then asked another question. “Is there an author blurb inside the book?”

“I'm afraid not,” Blanche said, the wispy voice tinged with regret. “It must have been on the jacket, too.”

Thanking Blanche profusely, Judith hung up the phone. “Maybe we can eliminate Roland or Ronald or Orlando or whatever his real name may be. He's a writer, doing research.”

Renie was walking aimlessly back and forth in front of the large linen closet between Rooms Four and Five. “That sounds harmless enough.”

Judith started to nod, then bit her lip. “Does it?” She looked up from the settee. “What motivated Roland—let's keep that name to avoid confusion—what motivated him
to write organized crime books in the first place? Academic interest? Some kind of personal involvement? Or a vendetta? The pen, I've heard, is mightier than the sword.”

“So they say,” Renie conceded. “But Roland seems so…pleasant. I can't imagine him shooting anybody.”

“But he had a gun,” Judith reminded her cousin. “It may have been for self-protection, but Joe says you shouldn't carry a weapon unless you're prepared to use it. And don't forget, someone notified him about Legs coming here. Who? Why? And did you notice the Amtrak tag on his satchel? It was from Oakland. Roland must have come here from the Bay Area, not Kansas City.”

“A fairly short trip,” Renie remarked. “Less than twenty-four hours. Roland wouldn't have needed much advance warning.”

“But someone knew how to get hold of him,” Judith pointed out. “Was it one of the other guests? Or someone…”

She was interrupted by a voice calling from the stairway. “Yoo-hoo! Yoo-hoo! Are you up there, Judith?” Vivian Flynn's platinum coiffure appeared through the banister railings.

“Hi,” Judith said weakly. “Renie and I were cleaning the guest rooms. Phyliss is sick today.”

Attired in magenta silk lounging pajamas and matching wedgies, Herself grabbed the dust mop that was leaning against the settee. “I'll take that.” She paused, staring at the dust mop. “What is it?”

Judith, who knew from Joe that Herself considered housework a step below digging ditches on a Georgia chain gang, started to reply. Vivian, however, waved a hand that featured long, crimson nails. “Never mind, I'll figure it out. Judith, you've been ill. You should still be in bed. I told you,” she went on in a scolding tone, “to let me know if you need help. Now you go rest your poor self while I finish up here. Shoo, shoo. You look positively ghastly.”

Judith and Renie exchanged irked glances. “We're almost done,” Judith said, getting up from the settee.
“Renie's been helping me. Really, Vivian, you needn't bother. Don't you have a house guest?”

Herself was running the dust mop on the sections of bare floor not covered by a colorful pink, green, and yellow runner. “DeeDee's sleeping in. We talked far into the night, and she's worn out, poor darling. Maybe this evening you and Joe could stop in and meet her. If you're up to it, of course.” Herself paused and eyed Judith critically. “If I were you, I wouldn't push it. Your color is perfectly dreadful and those bags under your eyes could hold a week's worth of groceries.”

“Thanks,” Judith said faintly, then started to protest Vivian's endeavors once more. Renie, however, poked her cousin in the ribs. “Okay,” Judith relented. “Everything but the hall and the communal bathroom has been cleaned. Phyliss did Room Three yesterday.”

“Not to worry,” Herself said airily. Then, holding the dust mop as if it were a dance partner, she began to twirl around and sing, “‘I could have danced all night…'”

Judith and Renie scampered downstairs. “Is Vivian coming here just to tell me how awful I look?” Judith hissed when they reached the entry hall. “Since when has she offered to be so helpful?”

“Well…” Apparently Renie was trying to be reasonable. “She does call on your mother. That's helpful.”

“That's treason.” Judith surveyed the living room, which, to her relief, was empty of guests. “I mean, sometimes I think she keeps friendly with Mother just to annoy me. Furthermore, if she thinks I'm going to drag Joe over to her house to watch her and DeeDee Whoever suck down a fifth of Old Jolt, she's mistaken.”

“Goodness,” Renie said in mock dismay, “now who's being uncharitable?”

“Oh, shut up.” Judith started for the kitchen just as the phone rang. “Damn! I left the cordless on the counter.” She raced through the dining room, ran the length of the kitchen, and grabbed the receiver just as it trunked over to the answering machine. “Double damn! I've never figured
out how to break in once I miss the actual call. Now I'll have to wait until the message is recorded.”

“No, you don't,” Renie said in a calm voice. “You simply speak over the clicks and beeps. The only glitch is that your conversation gets recorded.”

“That wouldn't bother me,” Judith said, watching for the red light to show that the message had been completed. “I'll try it next time. Ah—it's finished.”

She poked the message button and heard Mike's agitated voice, “Where are you, Mom? Kristin's in labor. We're at the hospital. They're wheeling her…My God, the baby…!”

The message stopped. Judith could hear only the buzzing of the line. For a moment, she thought her heart had stopped and that the buzzing was in her ears.

“Let's go,” Judith shouted, racing for the back door.

The cousins ran past the toolshed, where Gertrude presumably was still being interrogated by the FBI, raced by two startled uniforms who remained on duty, brushed off a pair of reporters who yelled at them to stop, and flew down the driveway where Renie had parked her car.

They never looked back. If they had, they would have seen Minerva Schwartz pulling Barney's white Cadillac into the cul-de-sac.

T
HE
HMO
HOSPITAL
that had served members of the Grover clan for almost fifty years was located across town, about five miles from Hillside Manor. Mike had been born there, as had two of the three Jones offspring, and Donald Grover had died in the old wing, which had since been demolished.

After Renie totaled the Joneses' big blue Chevrolet on a mountain pass two winters ago, she and Bill had bought a new Toyota Camry they lovingly called “Cammy.” Judith, who wouldn't have dreamed of calling her Subaru “Suebby,” found the nickname cloying.

She also found Renie's careful drive to the hospital frustrating, as well as uncharacteristic. Usually, Renie drove like she was waiting for the checkered flag at the Old Brick Yard in Indianapolis. But on this cloudy June afternoon, she exercised extreme caution, even waiting for hesitant pedestrians to cross at unmarked corners and pausing for vehicles to pull out of driveways.

“Come on, coz,” Judith urged, “I'm about to have a stroke. Can't you put the pedal to the metal?”

“Cammy only likes to go fast on the freeway,” Renie responded. “She has excellent manners in business and residential areas. A courteous car is Cammy.”

Judith tried to relax as they skirted the edge of down
town and headed up the hill to Central Hospital. Her heart was still pounding, however, and she felt a throbbing headache coming on. The buzzing in her ears had been replaced by a different sound, which at first she couldn't identify.

“Your car is making a weird noise,” Judith said.

“Cammy doesn't make weird noises,” Renie snapped. “Cammy purrs.”

“That's what it sounds like.” Judith listened for a moment. The sound was still there, only louder. Then, just as Judith was about to turn around in an attempt to track down the noise, a large ball of fur flopped between the front seats and landed on the gearshift console.

“Sweetums!” Judith shrieked. “Good God! How did he get in here?”

Renie was so startled that she momentarily lost control of the steering wheel. The Camry veered to the right, just missing a blind man and his guide dog.

“Get that damned cat out of here!” Renie yelled. “He'll get Cammy hurt!” Grappling with a hissing, clawing Sweetums, Judith finally managed to put him in her lap. “He doesn't like to ride in cars,” Judith muttered. “He thinks he's going to the vet.”

“I wish he were going to the pound,” Renie asserted, finally picking up speed as the white brick bulk of the hospital came into view. “He must have sneaked in through the window. Since it wasn't raining, I put it down so Cammy could get some fresh air.”

“Honestly,” Judith said in exasperation, “you treat this car as if it were a pet. It's a
car
, dammit.”

Renie took her right hand off the wheel long enough to jab at Sweetums. “You treat that thing as if it were a person. It's a pain in the butt, if you ask me.”

“You should talk,” Judith shot back. “You make a fool over yourself with that rabbit. Who else tucks their bunny in at night and reads him a bedtime story?”

“Clarence is special,” Renie asserted. “And I don't read to him. I only sing him a little song.”

“I don't dote on Sweetums like that,” Judith declared.
“I'm not one of those people who invest all my love and affection into an animal. But if I did, it wouldn't be as dumb as calling my car ‘Suebby.' Unlike a pet, a car is not a surrogate child.”

Renie turned the corner by the hospital so fast that three people dove for safety behind a phone pole. “Cammy isn't a surrogate child. Bill and I have three children of our own, as you well know.”

“Grandchildren, then,” Judith said, sounding waspish. “You're jealous because Joe and I are about to become grandparents.”

“Bunk.” Renie honked at an ambulance that was pulling away from the hospital's emergency entrance. “We take good care of our cars so they'll last forever, not to mention that they're our first line of defense when it comes to highway safety.” Running up over the curb, Renie swerved around a “Do Not Enter” sign, and drove down the exit lane into the hospital's underground parking garage.

“Hey!” the attendant yelled from his kiosk, “you're going the wrong way, lady!”

Renie leaned out the window. “The hell I am. I'm in the parking garage, aren't I?” She rounded the corner and pulled into an empty spot. “How about this for convenience?” she said, her tone again chipper.

“It says ‘Reserved for Staff,'” Judith pointed out.

“So?” Fending off Sweetums's claws, Renie removed a notebook from her handbag. “Today, I
am
staff. Are you forgetting I designed the HMO's outpatient surgery booklet?” She scribbled a note and placed it on the dashboard. “Let's go.”

Carefully, Judith put Sweetums on the floor in front of the passenger seat. “Be good. We shouldn't be gone…”

“Whoa!” Renie was outside the car, glaring at Judith. “Get that cat out of there. He'll rip the upholstery.”

“What? I can't take him into the hospital.” Judith's patience, along with her nerves, had begun to fray.

“You'll have to,” Renie declared, a dogged expression on her face. “Bill would pitch a five-star fit if you left that
cat in Cammy. Come on, get him out of there.”

Judith couldn't risk arguing. She was too anxious about the baby. Cursing under her breath, she scooped up Sweetums and followed Renie to the elevators.

They reached the OB ward before anyone stopped them. A middle-aged nurse wearing scrubs and a weary expression barred the cousins' way to the main desk.

“You can't bring an animal in here,” she said in a firm voice. “Please take—” The nurse paused as Sweetums's yellow eyes narrowed, his back arched, his fur stood on end, and he let out a menacing hiss. “—that thing outside.”

Beset by murder, illness, a baby's birth, the FBI, and Herself, Judith balked. “No. Tell me about Mrs. M…Mc…M…Monigle first.” She had stumbled over the name, never having quite come to terms with the concept of another, much happier Mrs. McMonigle.

The nurse, whose nametag identified her as June Driscoll, glowered at Judith. “The cat goes first,” she insisted, as two other nurses and an orderly watched with curiosity.

“Here,” Renie snapped, yanking a squalling Sweetums out of Judith's arms, “I'll take care of the cat. I'll meet you back at the car.” She started to turn around, but had a last word for June Driscoll. “I don't know why you object to animals in this place. The last time I was in here for kidney stones you served me boiled warthog. At least that's what it tasted like. It sure as hell wasn't real meat.” Renie stalked away with Sweetums under her arm, his plumelike tail waving furiously.

June Driscoll eyed Judith with distaste. “What was the name?”

“McMonigle. Kristin McMonigle. Mrs. Michael McMonigle.” Judith's mouth had gone dry. “Please, I'm very worried. I'm Mrs. McMonigle's m-m-mother-in-law.” She stumbled again, still not used to the role, and well aware of all its pejorative connotations.

“I'll check.” Wrinkled scrubs flapping, June Driscoll strolled off down the hall, her attitude exuding indifference for Judith's concern.

Taking in her surroundings, Judith realized she was not only by the main desk, but that there was a waiting room off to her left. Glancing into the room, she saw that it was empty. Mike must still be with Kristin. He had promised to watch the delivery, though Judith had doubts about her son's ability to endure the process. She went over to the main desk, where a male nurse was sorting through charts.

“I'm waiting for word on my daughter-in-law,” Judith said in the most amiable voice she could muster. “Have you heard anything about a Mrs. McMonigle?”

The young man, who wore a trim mustache and fair hair cropped close to his scalp, regarded Judith warily. “You had a cat.”

“What?” The statement startled Judith. “Oh—you mean I
brought
a cat. I thought you meant that my daughter-in-law…Never mind. Do you have any information on her?”

The young man sorted through some more papers. “She was admitted at eleven-twenty.” He glanced at his watch. “That was almost an hour ago. There should be some news shortly.” He turned back to his charts.

Judith refused to sit in the empty waiting room. Instead, she began pacing the hallway. The clock above the main desk showed twelve-fifteen. Gertrude would be expecting her lunch. Searching for quarters in her wallet, Judith asked the nurse where the pay phones were located.

“There's a courtesy phone in the waiting room,” he replied without looking up.

Despite the fact that a no smoking policy had been in effect for years, the waiting area still smelled like cigarettes. Some of the magazines were older than the smoking ban, and decades of frayed nerves seemed to linger on the stale air.

Judith called Joe first, but had to leave a message. He was probably out to lunch with Woody, Judith thought as she dialed her mother's number. As usual, Gertrude let it ring and ring…and ring. Just as Judith was about to slam
down the receiver and let the old girl starve, Gertrude answered.

“Why are you calling me from the hospital?” she rasped. “Are you really that sick?”

“What?” Her mother's response startled Judith. “Oh—you saw the hospital's number on your caller ID. I'm okay, but Kristin is having the baby.”

“Kristin?” Gertrude sounded puzzled. “Who's Kristin?”

“Your granddaughter-in-law,” Judith said, trying to be patient. “Mike's wife.”

“Who's Mike?”

Judith was about to explain when she heard Gertrude chortle. “Okay, okay, Toots, I get it. How soon?”

“I don't know,” Judith replied.

“Surprise. You never know much, kiddo. When's lunch?”

“When I get home,” Judith said, then remembered that Herself was probably still in the house. “Or, call my number and see if Vivian answers. She's helping out today and she'll fix you something.”

“Vivian, huh? Haven't seen her for awhile. Okay, I'll ring her up. Say, how'd I leave Germany?”

The question took Judith aback. “What? You mean as a child?”

“Whenever. I told that nice young man from the government that I took a bus,” Gertrude said. “Think that's right?”

In all the other excitement, Judith had forgotten about Agent Dunleavy. “Is he still there?”

“Nope. He left about an hour ago. But he'll be back.” Gertrude sounded pleased by the idea.

Judith groaned. “What on earth for? Mother, are you leading him on?”

“Nope. Just answering his questions. Hey,” she said in an excited voice, “here's Vivian now. Hello, sweetheart. Come right in, take a load off…”

The phone went dead in Judith's ear. She tried not to be
irked with Herself, who, for once, was being genuinely helpful. Getting up from the worn faux leather chair, she caught a glimpse of Mike, rushing past the open door.

“Mike!” she yelled, racing out of the waiting room. “Wait!”

Mike turned just before heading to the elevators. “Mom!” He was all smiles. “Are you here to meet your grandson?”

In midstep, Judith halted and stared at her son. “My grandson!” She reeled at the news.

Mike nodded and enfolded his mother in a bear hug. “He came so quick, downstairs, in the hall, we couldn't get up to delivery in time. Sorry I had to hang up on your machine, but…”

“Slow down.” Judith realized she was gasping for breath, too. “The baby's already here? It's a boy? Is he okay? How's Kristin?”

“Fine, great, everybody's terrific.” Still beaming, Mike released Judith. “I tried to call you again, but Mrs. Flynn—the other Mrs. Flynn—answered. She didn't know where you'd gone.”

“I'd gone…here,” Judith said, feeling dazed. “Oh, dear. Can I see the baby? And Kristin?”

“Sure.” Mike took his mother's arm and led her back down the hall. “It's not far to the nursery. Then we'll go to Kristin's room. She's kind of tired, though.”

“Of course.” Relief swept over Judith. She squeezed Mike's arm as they approached the big windows of the nursery.

There were five babies in all. Two were black, one was Asian, and another seemed to be of Middle Eastern ancestry. Even if the McMonigle infant hadn't been the only Caucasian lying in the tiny isolettes, Judith would have recognized him. He was chubby, wrinkled, and had strange tufts of red hair sticking up all over his head.

“Oh! He's beautiful!” Judith burst into tears.

“Isn't he? Look, his eyes are open. See, he's waving his fists. Do you think he's trying to talk?” Mike was leaning
so close to the window that his breath clouded the glass.

For several moments, Judith said nothing. She wished Joe were with them. “Wonderful,” she murmured between sniffles. “Amazing. Have you picked out a name?”

Mike finally turned away from the window. “Yes. You're going to love it, Mom.”

“I'm sure I will.” She dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex. “What is it?”

“What do you think?” Mike was beaming again. “Dan McMonigle, the second.”

Judith cried even harder.

 

Renie seemed happy for Judith, though equally appalled at the name Mike and Kristin had chosen.

“I know, I know,” Judith said in a rather fretful voice. “But it's their decision. And Mike really was close to Dan.”

“You couldn't get close to Dan,” Renie retorted. “He was too damned fat.”

It was only when the cousins were getting into the Camry that Judith realized Sweetums was nowhere in sight.

“What did you do with my cat?” Judith demanded, backing out of the passenger seat and eyeing Renie over the car roof.

“I subdued him,” Renie replied, ducking down to get behind the wheel.