Vi Agra Falls (16 page)

“She didn't ask for your autograph?”

“Drop it.” Judith opened the fridge. “What did you feed Mother?”

“My special shrimp dump,” Renie replied. “You had a hard-boiled egg and some shrimp in the refrigerator. She loves it.”

“She would,” Judith muttered. “My mother may be the only person in the world besides you who can stand to eat that crap.”

Renie hopped up onto the counter. “Then it's a good thing I didn't make enough for us, too.”

“Thank God. I'm having a BLT. You're on your own.”

“I'd like a BLT. Make one for me, and I'll tell you who your mother's visitor was yesterday.”

Holding a package of bacon, Judith stared at her cousin. “How did you get that out of her?”

“By putting a big dose of vodka in her ice tea,” Renie replied. “How else do you think I could get her to eat shrimp dump?”

Judith couldn't help but grin at Renie. “Clever, if sneaky. I should've guessed you had a reason for being so mild-mannered when I asked you to fix Mother's lunch. So who was her mystery caller?”

“A woman named Flora Bunda,” Renie replied, “fleeing the cops.”

“You're kidding!”

Renie shook her head. “Oh, no. She was the stripper at Vivian's party. She never got the chance to take it off because of the brawl.”

“Why,” Judith asked, setting a tomato and some lettuce on the drain board, “was Flora avoiding the…
Flora Bunda?
”

Renie smirked. “Yes, as in floribunda roses. I wondered when you'd twig to that. So to speak.”

“I don't suppose,” Judith said dryly, “you know her real name?”

“No,” Renie replied ruefully. “I don't think your mother knows it, either. But at least you know where those rose petals came from. They were a big part of her act, and hence the stage name of Flora Bunda.”

Judith grimaced. “I don't recall seeing anybody at the party covered in rose petals.”

“
Partially
covered,” Renie corrected. “Your mother said the stripper was no spring chicken. Flora changed into her costume after Herself's condo shocker. By the time for her act, the band got into it with the guests. She was told to wait until the dust settled, but it never did. She was stuck in the basement because she was to come out that way, bumping and grinding through the garden gate. Her clothes were upstairs.”

Judith frowned. “So?”

“Your mother didn't know why she couldn't go upstairs to get them,” Renie said. “It sounds as if she spent the night in the basement and didn't emerge until after the cops showed up.”

“It makes no sense,” Judith murmured, putting bacon slices into a skillet. “If time of death was between ten and midnight, this Flora person must have been in the basement when the murder occurred. Did she hear anything? See anything? Or was the murder committed off the premises? I'd certainly like to talk to her.”

“You could call No Nudes R Good Nudes and ask for her.”

“Funny, Coz,” Judith muttered. “I wonder if Flora stole Mother's engagement ring.”

“Her ring is missing?”

Judith nodded. “Flora couldn't have come to the toolshed until after I served Mother's breakfast. The cops showed up long before that. I searched everywhere for the ring, but couldn't find it. And I certainly didn't see Flora anywhere. Did Mother say if the stripper was still wearing her costume when she arrived?”

“Your mother seemed a little confused about that,” Renie replied. “Flora had a blanket over whatever she was or wasn't wearing.”

“We'll have to find out who she is,” Judith said, tearing off lettuce leaves. “Put some bread in the toaster.”

Renie hopped off of the counter and crossed the kitchen to Grandma Grover's breadbox. After eighty years, the painted cherries-on-a-stem décor had faded and a faint line of rust showed around the edges. Judith was too sentimental to replace the metal heirloom.

“Why,” she asked, “did Mother take pity on Flora?”

Renie sighed. “I suppose Vivian set her up. She'd already been to see your mother. Flora claimed she was avoiding police persecution for taking part in a pro-bingo rally. She gushed about Vivian's affection and esteem for your good-hearted mother because…blah-blah-blah.”

“Good grief,” Judith muttered, flipping the bacon. “The bingo bit sounds like something Herself would use to gain Mother's sympathy.”

“If Flora swiped your mother's ring, Aunt Gert may not think so highly of her,” Renie pointed out.

“True,” Judith agreed. “
If
she believes Flora took it. If, in fact, Mother simply hasn't mislaid it.” She finished making the sandwiches. The cousins sat at the kitchen table, temporarily lost in thought. “I feel stymied until I talk to Joe,” Judith finally said. “He can at least tell me who he knew at the party.”

Renie's expression was ironic. “And if he pitches a five-star fit because you're trying to solve the case?”

“That's a chance I have to take,” Judith said. “I can't get anywhere if I don't know who's who. And nobody knows who the victim is.”

“Not true,” Renie remarked. “The killer knows.”

Judith didn't argue.

 

T
hree o'clock passed with no word from Joe. Judith was tempted to call his hotel, but she waited. Finally, at three-thirty the phone rang just as Frankie and Marva Lou came through the door. “You have mail,” Judith called before pressing the receiver's on button.

“Muggy, hot, humid,” Joe said without preamble. “Do not complain about our local weather. It's not that bad by comparison.”

“I'm sure it isn't,” Judith said, and paused. “I hate to, but I must ask a question.” She paused again.

“Well?” Joe finally said when his wife remained silent. “What?”

Judith took a deep breath and summoned up her courage. “How many people did you actually know at Herself's party?”

“Oh, for—” Joe stopped. “Okay, I knew you couldn't resist. There's not a damned thing I can do about it from here in Atlanta, so I might as well cooperate. I suppose I could hire a bodyguard for you.”

“Renie's staying with me,” Judith said.

“Renie's a little squirt with a bad shoulder and—” Joe hesitated. “Is she in a good mood?”

“Temporarily,” Judith replied, “but that won't last. It never does. I rest my case.”

“Don't feed her,” Joe urged. “Then I know she'll be ready for war.”

“I'll
have
to feed her,” Judith said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “I don't want her going to war with
me
.”

“Right. Okay,” Joe went on, resigned, “what's your question?”

“Which partygoers did you know?”

“The waiters,” Joe replied. “Vivian's boys by a couple of husbands before me. They're not boys anymore, must be in their forties. Barry Henckel and Doug Campbell. I didn't recognize them at first. It's been fifteen years since I've seen them. Vivian says they've been a lot of help since she moved back. They both work in the restaurant industry.”

“Their names were familiar,” Judith said. “Do they live nearby?”

“They do now, though they've been all over in the food industry—Paris, Rio, New York, New—”

“Spare me the details,” Judith broke in.

“Fine.” Joe's tone was faintly sarcastic. “Barry lives in town, not far from the zoo.”

“How appropriate.”

“Spare me
the editorial comments,” Joe grumbled. “I really wish you weren't—Oh, skip it. There were a couple of cops I knew from way back, Carney Mitchell and Andy Pruitt. Both retired. Andy spends half of the year out north and winters in Arizona. Carney lives east of the lake. I saw some other familiar faces, but couldn't place them. They may've been city or county workers. Some of those guys were regulars at the cop bars back then because we were all headquartered in the same part of town. Vivian had quite a few fans in those days. She was a pretty good torch singer. Maybe she kept in touch with some of them.”

Judith refrained from making a scathing comeback, focusing
instead on making notes. “I don't recall meeting either Carney Mitchell or Andy Pruitt, although there was one older guy who looked familiar. Fairly tall, thatch of white hair, a slight paunch, gestured a lot.”

“Carney. We used to go lake fishing together. Andy's shorter, and when he had hair, it was kind of red. He's bowlegged. You may've met them at a departmental party. Both transferred out of Homicide later.”

Judith heard voices from the entry hall, followed by the closing of the front door.
The Busses,
she thought, wondering if their FedEx delivery had spurred them into action. “That's it?” she asked Joe.

“That's it.” His words had a ring of finality. “Any news on the vic?”

“You mean who he is? No, but…” Judith winced. “His body was stolen from the morgue last night.”

“Oh, for—” Joe stopped. Judith could hear him sigh. “I won't ask if you're kidding,” he finally said, “because I know you're not. I think I'll just head for the bar and try to forget I called you.”

“It's not my fault the body got snatched,” Judith snapped. “I'm keeping a low profile. What
can
I do if nobody knows who got killed?”

“A blessing in disguise,” Joe murmured. “It sounds as if somebody doesn't want the vic identified. I'm not mad at you, just worried. How come Renie's at our house?”

Judith had hoped that Joe wouldn't ask. “Well…Bill went fishing.”

“He did?” Joe sounded surprised. “Where?”

“Down to the coast,” Judith said. “The salmon are in. He invited you, but that was after you were getting ready to go to Atlanta.”

“Damn! Why the hell didn't you tell me?”

“I…ah…I assumed this was a trip you couldn't postpone.”

“I could postpone dying if I thought the salmon were in,” Joe retorted, practically shouting.

“You couldn't postpone this trip to find a killer in our own neighborhood, not to mention the victim was in your ex-wife's backyard? How will you explain that to Caitlin?” Judith wasn't finished, despite Joe's protests. “If nothing else, Vivian is your daughter's mother.”

“Keep Caitlin out of this,” Joe shot back. “I've spent most of Caitlin's life trying to keep her from getting sucked into Vivian's decadent adventures, and I've done a damned good job of it. Caitlin's got a nice life in Switzerland, a great job, and a good husband. She's never followed in her mother's tawdry footsteps. I don't want her getting mixed up in this sordid mess. I'm damned glad she's not near her mother.”

“You're right,” Judith conceded, hearing the doorbell and moving out of the kitchen. “I've always admired the way you've handled—” She stopped, halfway through the dining room.

“Coz,” Renie called from the entry hall, “you have a visitor. It's Caitlin Flynn, just in from Switzerland.”

J
udith froze by the dining room table. “Joe,” she said, lowering her voice almost to a whisper, “Caitlin's here.”

“What?”

“Caitlin. She's here, talking to Renie. Got to go.”

“Hey, wait a—”

Judith ended the call before Joe could finish. She left the receiver on the dining room table and hurried to meet her husband's daughter.

“Judith!” Caitlin exclaimed, long legs taking big strides to embrace her stepmother in an enthusiastic hug. “How wonderful to see you!”

“I'm stunned,” Judith admitted when Caitlin let go. “You look terrific. But you're not Caitlin Flynn anymore. Or did you keep your maiden name?”

“Only at work. Otherwise, I go by Claude's name, Rouget.”

“Come into the living room,” Judith urged, leading the way. “I was just talking to your father. I can't believe you're here.”

Caitlin settled onto one of the dark blue sofas. “I can't, either,” she said, her expression suddenly grim. “My mother sent for me. I was shocked. I hadn't talked to her, let alone seen her, in at least a year.”

Judith had sat down on the matching sofa. Renie leaned against the arm. “You two chat. Can I get you something to drink?” She darted a quick look at her cousin. “No, I'm not playing docile dogsbody this time. I'm trying to be thoughtful.”

“Thanks, Coz,” Judith said, turning to Caitlin. “Go ahead. I'm going to have Scotch-rocks. I feel a bit wobbly.”

“Any white wine will do,” Caitlin said to Renie. She smiled, exhibiting her father's Irish charm. “I've never cared much for the stronger stuff. It always reminds me of my mother, mixed with a heavy whiff of My Sin perfume.”

As Renie headed for the kitchen, Judith shook her head in wonder. “I still can't believe you're here. Have you seen your mother?”

“Oh, yes,” Caitlin replied in a bittersweet voice. “I spent the last hour listening to her carry on about the strange man she found dead in the backyard. It
is
true, I suppose. You're never sure with Mom.”

“That's why she sent for you?” Judith asked.

Caitlin's green eyes flashed with what Judith thought was anger. “Yes. In fact, it wasn't me she really wanted. It was my husband, Claude, who's a lawyer. She thought he could help her with this latest mess—for free, of course. That's ridiculous. He can't practice law in this country. Anyway, he's preparing for a big case in Marseilles. By the way,” she said, gazing around the living room, “where
is
Dad?”

“Atlanta.” Judith looked apologetic. “On business. He left last night. I told him you were here. Feel free to call him from our phone.”

“I can use my own.” Caitlin's expression grew wistful. “I didn't realize that after retirement from the force, he accepted outside jobs that required travel. I thought he was kicking back.”

“He is, generally.” Judith shifted around on the sofa for a
more comfortable position.
Maybe,
she thought,
my discomfort isn't physical; maybe I'm embarrassed defending Joe's absence at such a crucial time in Vivian's life; maybe I should've kept my big mouth shut
. “This client is very important,” Judith explained. “Usually, he doesn't travel much.”

“I should've called ahead,” Caitlin said ruefully. “I left in such a hurry. Since it's vacation time all over Europe, the chemical company I work for in Geneva is relatively quiet.”

Renie's voice resounded from the dining room. “Keep your trap shut, Phyliss! This isn't an orgy, it's an early cocktail hour. And stop making the sign to ward off the evil eye whenever you see me.”

There was no audible response from the cleaning woman. Renie appeared, carrying three glasses on a tray. “Someday I'll clobber that old bat,” she declared, setting the tray on the coffee table. “I know zilch about wine, but this is white, even if it says pinot grigio on the label.”

“That's fine,” Caitlin said. “Thanks.”

Judith picked up her Scotch-rocks and raised the glass. “To you, Caitlin. You do plan to stay for a few days, don't you?”

“Yes,” Caitlin replied, lifting her slim wineglass in response to the toast. “I have an open-ended return ticket. The only problem is, I don't want to stay with Mom. In fact, there isn't room for me with her assistant living there. What would you recommend?”

“How about here?” Judith responded. “I've got an unexpected vacancy tonight. After that, I'm not sure….” Her glance strayed to Renie, who had sat down next to her on the sofa.

“Don't even think about me giving up the third-floor guest room,” Renie said, looking daggers at her cousin. “I'm not sleeping with you. Not only do you talk and sing in your sleep, one time you hit me and shoved me out of bed. I got stuck between the wall and the headboard.”

“I was twelve at the time,” Judith retorted. “Joe never complains.”

Renie turned a less hostile face to Caitlin. “Ordinarily, you could stay at our house. We have plenty of room with all our kids living so far away. Except,” she added, grimacing, “the toilets are out of commission for a couple days. That's why I'm staying here.”

Caitlin smiled. “You have your own problems. Mom said I could get a sleeping bag and put it in the vacant house she bought next door.”

“We'll work out something here,” Judith assured her. “Forget a hotel or motel. You can use your dad's MG. It's in the garage.”

Caitlin laughed. “Of course! He'll drive it until the wheels fall off.”

“The car's,” Renie said, “or his?”

“Coz…” Judith glared at Renie. “Why don't you take your drink out to the garage and play with Clarence?”

“Damned if I won't,” Renie said, getting up with glass in hand. She stalked out of the living room.

Caitlin looked puzzled. “Clarence?”

“Renie and Bill's bunny,” Judith explained. “Bill went fishing.”

Caitlin pointed to the mantel. “That's Renie's husband, isn't it? Why do you have a picture on the mantel of him with a stuffed monkey?”

“He's not a monkey, he's an ape,” Judith said, and wanted to bite her tongue. She refused to play into Renie and Bill's ridiculous fantasy. “Never mind,” she continued. “I'll explain that some other time. If you're really lucky, I'll forget you asked. So will you.”

“Okay.” Caitlin settled back on the sofa just as the doorbell rang.

“I have to get that,” Judith said. “Excuse me.”

 

T
he two men who stood on the porch looked vaguely familiar. “How may I help you?” Judith asked, wondering if they'd been B&B guests at some time and had heard about the vacancy.

“We came to see Sis,” the shorter of the two replied. “Is she here?”

“Sis?” Judith's jaw dropped. “You're the waiters!”

Both men laughed. “Sometimes,” the short one said. “Mom told us Caitlin came to see her dad.”

Caitlin had, in fact, come into the entry hall. “Doug! Barry!” she exclaimed, though her enthusiasm struck Judith as forced even as she allowed each of the men to give her a hug. “Have you met my half-brothers?” Caitlin asked Judith.

“No.” She held out her hand to the shorter of the pair.

“Doug Campbell,” he said, practically squeezing Judith's fingers to the point of pain. “This is Barry, Barry Henckel, my kid brother. Half-brother, half-wit. Ha-ha.”

Barry's handshake wasn't as strong. Judith tried to find a resemblance between the two, but only their brown hair and brown eyes indicated a family relationship. Doug was not only short and stocky, but apparently hadn't shaved for a couple of days. Barry was much thinner, a few inches taller, and his scraggly hair was going gray. In their well-worn jeans and T-shirts, the half-brothers struck Judith as scruffy.

Barry and Doug were edging their way into the living room. “Hey,” Doug cried, espying the drinking glasses, “it looks like you've already started to party! Awwwright!” He punched his fist into the palm of his other hand. “Let's get it on!”

“Actually,” Caitlin said quietly, “I was about to leave to collect my luggage from Mom's house. Maybe you two could get it for me.”

Barry, who Judith decided was the silent partner in the sibling relationship, spoke in a deep, rumbling voice. “No rush.”

“Awesome!” Doug cried, slapping Barry's back. “Who's buying?”

Before Caitlin—or Judith—could protest, voices could be heard coming from the front porch, where the door had been left open. A moment later, Marva Lou and Frankie Buss appeared in the archway between the living room and the entry hall.

“What are you two doing here?” Frankie demanded.

“Seeing our sis,” Doug retorted, fists clenching and unclenching at his side. “You got a problem with that?”

“Your sis?” Marva Lou said with a sour expression on her puddinglike face. “I thought you were waiters. Which one is your so-called sis?”

“Her,” Barry replied, pointing to Caitlin, who looked to Judith as if she'd rather be just about anywhere but Hillside Manor.

“How many pups did your mother whelp?” Marva Lou said harshly. “Or is this one hers?” she added, gesturing at Judith.

“Hey!” Judith cried. “That's enough!” She put a hand on Caitlin's arm. “We're going to see…Clarence. Let's go before he…um…hops off.”

Judith hustled Caitlin out through the French doors at the far end of the living room.

“Should we leave them in there?” Caitlin asked, looking over her shoulder. “It sounds as if big trouble is brewing.”

“I'm insured,” Judith said grimly.

“I'm so sorry Barry and Doug showed up,” Caitlin said as they went down the back steps. “Who are those other two people?”

“Billy's brother and his wife,” Judith replied, heading for the garage. “I take it you didn't meet them at your mother's.”

Caitlin shook her head. “Are they staying here?”

“I'm afraid so,” Judith answered. “They've been out all day. I assumed they might have been at your mom's house.”

“Not while I was there, but Mom mentioned some visiting relatives from Oklahoma.” Caitlin cringed as the sound of shattered glass reverberated from inside the house. “Oh, no! Should we call the police?”

Judith grimaced. “Maybe.” Before she could make up her mind, Barry and Frankie hurtled through the French doors, seemingly engaged in mortal combat. The two men grappled with each other until Barry threw Frankie over the porch rail and into a pyracantha shrub.

Renie came out of the garage, holding Clarence in her arms. “What the hell's going on?” she cried, and stopped abruptly when she spotted Frankie rolling onto the sidewalk. “Yikes! Come on, Clarence, we're going back to your cage!”

Barry dusted off his hands and went inside the house. Frankie was cussing his head off and trying to stand up. “I've been wounded!” he finally shouted. “Help! Get a doctor!”

Judith came closer, scrutinizing the stricken man. Trickles of blood ran down his face and hands. “It's just thorn scratches from that bush you fell into,” she said, putting out a hand to help him get up. “You'll be fine.”

Refusing Judith's offer, Frankie made a weak but futile attempt to stand. Caitlin moved behind him and gripped his elbows with her hands. “Give it another try,” she urged.

Slowly but surely, Frankie managed to get on his feet. Caitlin was as tall as Judith and sturdily built. “Regular workouts,” she murmured, keeping one hand on Frankie's back. “I try to stay fit.”

“You are,” Judith said admiringly. “Let's put him in one of the patio chairs for now.”

Caitlin steered Frankie along the walk and over to the small patio. “Nothing seems to be broken,” she said to Frankie. “How do you feel?”

“Like crap,” he mumbled. “I'm prething chargeths.”

“What?” Caitlin asked.

“I thaid,” Frankie practically shouted and then paused to run a finger inside his mouth, “
I'm prething chargeth
. I've lotht a tooth.” He curled his upper lip under to show that the left incisor was missing.

Judith bent down to take a look and made a face. “That's terrible. Do you want me to look for it?”

“Why?” Frankie demanded. “I'm not a dentith. Are you?”

“Of course not.” Judith offered a sympathetic smile. “I'll get some antiseptic and Band-Aids for those scratches. Caitlin will stay with you. I'll tell Mrs. Buss what's happened.”

She hurried to the back door, wondering how Marva Lou Buss was faring with the half-brothers. Before going into the guest bathroom, Judith peeked into the living room. No one was there. Her cocktail glass was empty, and so was Caitlin's wineglass. She guessed that Barry and Doug had drained them before taking off.

Glancing out through the open front door, Judith spotted Marva Lou standing by the curb. “Mrs. Buss,” she called. “Could you help me care for your husband?”

Marva Lou turned around slowly. “Why?” she asked wearily.

Judith stepped onto the porch. “He lost a tooth and has some scratches from a pyracantha shrub. Or maybe you call it firethorn.”

“Serves him right,” Marva Lou snapped, coming up the steps. “This trip's a disaster. Where's that bozo now?”

“In the backyard,” Judith replied as the two women went inside. “What happened to Doug and Barry?”

“They chugalugged those drinks and took off in a pickup parked in front of Billy's house,” Marva Lou replied. “Good riddance, I say. I could use a stiff drink myself. Where's the booze?”

“In the antique washstand by the dining room window,” Judith said. “I'll get Mr. Buss.”

“You can keep him, for all I care,” Marva Lou muttered, barging in front of Judith and heading for the liquor stash. “Men are idiots. Why did Frankie think he could talk Billy into sharing the money? It's not Billy's money, it belongs to that wretched woman he married. She'd steal from a beggar. Why didn't she get killed instead of that guy in the tree?”