Mary Daheim, Mystery Author

The only goodfella is a dead fella...

A Further Glimpse

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Legs Benedict

Chapter One
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JUDITH MCMONIGLE FLYNN stared at the blank computer screen, hit several keys in succession, and swore out loud. "I'm ruined!" she exclaimed, running frantic fingers through her silver-streaked dark hair. "I'm helpless! All the B&B reservations for the next two weeks have fallen into a big, black hole!"
"No, they haven't," her cousin Renie said in a matter-of-fact voice as she came to stand behind Judith. "Move it, coz. Let me show you something." Renie pressed a single key, and the screen scrolled down. "There you go. Somehow, you put a bunch of white space at the top. We delete that..." Renie pressed another key. "And here comes the Hillside Manor guest list."
"Ah!" Judith put a hand to her bosom and leaned back in the chair. "Thanks, coz. I was really upset there for a minute. This thing has been giving me fits the last few days."
"You're still learning," Renie said, gazing at the names, addresses, and phone numbers that now appeared on the screen. "Even after all these years of working with a computer, I still hit something by mistake, and weird stuff happens. Frankly, you should be using some kind of B&B program. Your system is pretty clumsy."
"No, it's not," Judith said, on the defensive. "I use Email for almost half my reservations, and all the ones from overseas. Then I type them in and can use the wordprocessing part of the computer for letters and Christmas card lists and all the other stuff. How is that clumsy?"
Renie shrugged. "You'd make life easier if you had a real program," she insisted, still looking at the screen. "I'm sure they're available for B&Bs. Why don't you call ... Hey, since when have you been reserving rooms for Mr. and Mrs. John Smith?" Renie pointed to the names on the middle of the screen.
"That's Mr. Smith's name," Judith replied. "Your last name is Jones. Some people really are named John Smith."
"With a P.O. box in New York City?" Renie was skeptical.
"He explained that on the phone," Judith said in a reasonable tone. "He lives in an apartment in Manhattan and it's easier for him to pick up his mail at the post office." Renie shrugged. "I thought people in Manhattan had doormen to take in the mail. But you know best. You've been in the B&B business for nine years. There can't be many surprises left." Judith studied the screen. "Actually, there can be. That's one reason I enjoy innkeeping. But most of all," she added, more to herself than to Renie, "I love the people."
Renie was smiling. "We may be as close as sisters, coz, but we're different in a lot of ways. I prefer to conduct my graphic design business from the basement where no one can find me." "Right ... yes." Judith was still peering at the screen. "You know, this is sort of weird. Five of the six rooms booked for next Monday are for two nights. They all booked within hours of each other, and none of them used E-mail. They phoned." She ran a finger down the screen, indicating the reservations for Doria, Perl, Santori, Schwartz, and Smith.
"Why is that weird?" asked Renie. "They're for the third week of June. School's out, everybody's on the move. When did the requests come in?"
Judith glanced up at the old schoolhouse clock. "Between eight and eleven-thirty this morning." It was now a few minutes after noon. "The fifth reservation was made a month ago, by a couple from Minneapolis."
Renie shrugged, then lighted a cigarette. "As far as I'm concerned what's weird is that you had any openings this time of year. Aren't you usually booked solid from Memorial Day through Labor Day?"
Judith winced as Renie exhaled. "Not in mid-June. Generally, there's about a ten-day lull. The locals know and the tourists have caught on that it always rains in the Pacific Northwest right after school gets out. Coz," she continued, unable to hide her exasperation, "do you have to smoke in here?"
"Why not? Your mother does. And Joe has his cigars." Renie flicked ash into the sink.
"I almost never let Mother smoke inside, and Joe never smokes anywhere but up in our family quarters on the third floor. Sometimes I wish you'd go back to eating like a disgusting pig."
"Not me," Renie replied breezily. "My dry cleaning bills have gone way down. You know how messy I am when I eat. Now I just drop live ashes and set my clothes on fire. That way, I never have to clean them."
Judith uttered a beleaguered sigh, though she knew that Renie was more or less speaking the truth. Her cousin's obsession with food had often driven Judith crazy over the years, in part because no matter how much Renie ate, she never got fat.
Conversely, Judith was always watching her weight. "Statuesque" was her favorite self-description, and at five-foot-nine, she could afford a few extra pounds. Or so she told herself when she dared to get on the scale.
"If you go on smoking here," Judith threatened, "I'll have to bar you from the house."
"If I go on smoking," Renie countered, "you're afraid you'll start again. Besides, since Bill retired from the university at the end of this past quarter, we're trying out hobbies we can share. He's started smoking, too."
"Aaargh!" Judith twirled around, arms covering her head. "I don't believe it! Bill's like Joe, he never smokes anything but cigars."
"He does now. We may even take up pot." Renie flicked more ashes in the sink. "Got to go, coz. I have a meeting downtown at one."
For once, Judith was relieved to see Renie depart. The phone was ringing; the cleaning woman, Phyliss Rackley, was yelling from the basement; and Sweetums had scooted through the open back door where he was sitting in the pantry, batting at cans of cat food.
The call was from a Mr. Harwood, asking for Judith's mother. He sounded like a salesman, but Gertrude Grover could deal with him. Indeed, Judith's mother probably would make him wish he'd gone into an easier line of work, like guiding climbers up Mount Everest in a blizzard. Judith gave Mr. Harwood her mother's separate number and hung up. Phyliss was still yelling.
"What's wrong?" Judith called from the top of the basement stairs. Behind her, Sweetums was reaching for the cat food tins.
"There's a mouse in your dryer," Phyliss yelled back. "He's deader than a dodo, and gone to see the Lord."
Judith turned to remonstrate with Sweetums, who had just managed to knock three of the cans off the shelf. The cat leaped out of the way and began rolling one of the cans with his forepaw.
"I'll get the mouse," Judith said wearily, and headed down the stairs.
Phyliss, her gray sausage curls more disorderly than usual, was standing on a discarded kitchen chair. "There might be more than one," she declared with a grim expression.
"If there is," Judith assured the cleaning woman, "Sweetums will catch them. He's a good mouser."
"He's Satan's spawn," Phyliss retorted. "That cat is Beelzebub's familiar."
"That cat is a cat," Judith said, using a paper towel to scoop the mouse out of the dryer. "I'll put this in the garbage." She started back up the stairs just as a can of cat food rolled past her and hit the concrete basement floor with a clatter. "Okay, okay,"
Judith muttered. "I get the hint." She glared at Sweetums as she went out the back door.
"Knucklehead!" The raspy voice came from the door of the converted toolshed. "Where's lunch?"
"Jeez." Judith tried to ignore her mother until she had dumped the dead mouse into the garbage can at the side of the house. "I'm coming. It's been a hectic morning."
"Not in here," Gertrude Grover called, motioning inside the toolshed with her walker. "Nothing happens in my so-called apartment. Mold is growing between my toes."
"Didn't you just have a phone call?" Judith asked.
"I hate the phone. Okay, okay," Gertrude admitted, "so what? It was some census taker or something. I told him I was dead. I might as well be. In this boxy place, I feel like I'm already six feet under."
Judith also tried to ignore her mother's complaints. They weren't new, but they were annoying. Seven years earlier when Judith had finally married Joe Flynn, the great love of her life, Gertrude had gone into self-exile in the backyard. Although she'd despised her daughter's first husband, the late and usually unlamented Dan McMonigle, Gertrude had never approved of Joe, either, and refused to live under the same roof. She griped endlessly about the toolshed, but preferred it to sharing space with her son-in-law.
"I'll be right back," Judith called over her shoulder. In the kitchen, she hurriedly opened a can of cat food for Sweetums and spooned it into a dish in the rear hallway. The cat eyed her coldly, then, with his long, plumelike tail waving with disdain, he pranced away to consume his meal.
Five minutes later, Judith appeared at the closed toolshed door. "Lunch," she called, trying to sound cheerful. There was no response. Judith balanced the tray in one hand and knocked with the other. "Lunch!" she called again, this time louder. "Open up!"
Judith was about to knock again when the door opened just a crack. "Who is it?" Gertrude hissed.
Judith sighed. "It's me. Your daughter. With lunch."
"Lunch?" Gertrude's small, wrinkled face displayed confusion. "What about breakfast?"
Judith sighed again. "You ate breakfast at seven-thirty. Now it's after twelve. You asked for lunch. Here it is."
"Lunch." Gertrude shook her head in a bewildered fashion. "If you say so, Toots. Come on, don't just stand there like a tree stump."
Gritting her teeth, Judith entered the small sitting room and set the tray down on her mother's cluttered card table. "Liverwurst sandwiches, lemon Jell-O with mixed fruit, carrot sticks, sweet pickles, and coconut bars I made this morning. Oh, and coffee. Okay?"
Warily looking at the items on the tray, Gertrude struggled to set the walker aside, nudged the card table, and eased her frail body into the shabby old orange and yellow armchair.
"Phew!" she exclaimed as Judith tried to help her get settled. "That was quite it trip! I'm all worn out."
Judith didn't ask her mother what trip she had been on. Maybe Gertrude referred to the trek from the door; maybe she was recalling some long-ago journey with Donald Grover, Judith's father As age eroded her mother's mind and body, Judith often didn't know what Gertrude was talking about. And neither did Gertrude.
"All set?" Judith asked with a forced smile. The watery eyes suddenly sharpened. "Huh? If you mean do I like this slop, guess again, kiddo. Since when did I eat liverwurst you can slice? You know what I like: the kind that comes out of one of those tube things, and you smear it all over everything, including your elbows."
"Falstaff's is carrying this new brand," Judith explained. "It's supposed to be healthier."
"Healthier?" Gertrude made it slashing gesture with one arm. "How can eating sliced liverwurst give me new organs? Or," she asked slyly, "do I get a new liver?"
Judith had to smile. It was always a relief when Gertrude showed signs of her perverse old self. "If you don't like it, I'll go back to buying the other kind," she told her mother. After all, what was the point of serving low-cal, nonfat, high-fiber foods to a ninety-year-old woman who had been raised on lard and bacon grease?
Buoyed by Gertrude's temporary lapse into sanity, Judith returned to the house.
Phyliss was running the vacuum cleaner in the living room, and two more calls had accumulated on the answering machine. One was a reminder from the dentist for a cleaning and checkup, the other, a reservation request for the Fourth of July. Hillside Manor was already full during the holiday weekend, and had been booked since early April. In its location on the south slope of Heraldsgate Hill, the B&B had a perfect view of the annual fireworks out in the bay. Guests who were in the know always made their reservations well ahead of time.
The rest of Friday was spent on the usual tasks. When Phyliss left at one o'clock, Judith finished up the housework that the cleaning woman hadn't quite managed to get done during her four-hour daily stint. A woman called to cancel the Doria party of one for Monday, but within fifteen minutes a man phoned to reserve the room for a Mr. du Turque. Judith returned the calls that had backed up on her answering machine, computer requests were checked, and the appetizers were created for the incoming guests who began arriving around four. All six rooms were occupied by be time Joe Flynn arrived home from his duties as a homicide detective with the metropolitan police force.
"The rain stopped," he said in a cheerful tone after kissing Judith hello. "Dare we barbecue tonight? I'll take over."
Judith considered. She had the meal planned and had just begun to peel potatoes. The menu would keep. "Why not? If it starts raining again, we'll come inside."
"I'll thaw the hamburger," Joe announced, heading for the refrigerator. "Will your mother be joining us or will her broom have landed by dinnertime?"
"Joe..." Judith started to remonstrate, then shut up. It was so pleasant of late to have her husband come home in a good mood. It was also unusual. "Mother likes hamburgers," Judith said instead. "But she'll probably eat in the toolshed. I take it you had an easy day?"
"A snap," Joe replied, putting a pound of hamburger in the microwave. "Wife whacks husband with fireplace shovel. Wife confesses. Woody and I get home on time," he said, referring to his longtime partner, Woody Price. "That's the way I want it until I retire at the end of the year."
Originally, Joe's prospective retirement had been a bone of contention between the Flynns. Judith felt that deep down, under the complaints and the grouchiness, her husband loved his job and knew that he was doing something worthwhile. But spurred by Bill's example, Joe had decided that as soon as he could take Social Security, he too would bid farewell to the workplace. He was tired, he was burned out, and murder on a daily basis ravaged the soul. Judith understood her mate's attitude.
The weekend progressed smoothly, or as smoothly as it could with the usual difficult demands of the guests. A couple from San Jose demanded a futon. Fortunately, Judith kept one stored in the big closet on the second floor. A woman from Des Moines fell in love with the baby grand in the living room and played old favorites, none of which were Judith's. The honeymooners from Houston got into a big fight and the bride ran out of the house. Her groom found her two hours later, sitting on the next-door neighbors' front porch, pouring her heart out to Arlene Rankers.
Monday dawned with the usual mid-June drizzle and dreary gray skies. Around noon, Judith received a call from Earl and Donna Eckstrom, the couple from Minneapolis who had made their reservation some weeks earlier. They had had car trouble cast of the mountains and would have to cancel. Judith graciously accepted their apologies, and wished she had a more stringent policy on last-minute cancellations. On the other hand, true to her good heart, she felt sorry for the Eckstroms. But their defection left a vacancy.
Renie arrived late in the afternoon with a large sheet cake. "The gas company gave me this when I went in to consult on their revised customer newsletter. Some vice president was retiring and they were having a party, but the guy got drunk at lunch and passed out, so they had to cancel. They thought I'd like the cake, but we'll never eat all of it. 1 figured you could serve it to your guests instead of the usual hors d'oeuvres."
Judith regarded the cake with "It's been a gas, Omar!" etched in orange frosting. "Well... I suppose. Maybe I could serve it later, after everyone has come in from their night on the town."
Renie shrugged. "If not, give it to the Dooleys. They've still got about fourteen kids living at home, don't they?"
"At least," Judith laughed, referring to the large brood in the Dutch colonial on the other side of the back fence. "I can't figure out which are children and which are grandchildren these days. Sometimes I wonder if people don't drive by and drop off a spare kid. Corinne and her husband would never know the difference."
The front doorbell rang, a signal that either a guest or a tradesperson had arrived. Family, friends, and neighbors sways used the back door at Hillside Manor.
"Time to play hostess," Judith said, heading through the swinging doors to the dining room. "Stick around, I'll make us something to drink."
The man and woman on the front porch appeared to be son and mother. "Barney Schwartz," the short, burly man said, and used his left hand to wring Judith's until she winced. As he let go, Judith noticed that the index and middle fingers of his right hand were missing. "This is my ma, Min," Barney said, flicking the three remaining fingers at the older woman.
Min towered over her son. "That's short for Minerva," she said in a deep, faintly accented voice. "How do you do, Mrs. ... ?"
"Flynn," Judith replied and cautiously offered her numb hand.
But Min Schwartz merely waved. "Arthritis. My fingers are very stiff."
So, Judith observed, was her spine. Minerva Schwartz was not only tall, but ramrod straight, and possessed of a sharp, aquiline profile that age hadn't quite undermined. The eyes matched the steel-gray hair, which was swept back from her face and arranged in a tight little topknot. She reminded Judith of her piano teacher, Mrs. Grindstein.
"You'll be in Room Four," Judith said. "It has twin beds and a very nice view of the bay. Here, Mr. Schwartz, I'll help you with your luggage."
Barney Schwartz put his foot down in front of the two suitcases and the train case. "I'll manage," he said with a crooked smile. "Hey, what's with the parking? We pulled up in that cul-de-sac out front."
Judith glanced outside and saw a brand-new Cadillac parked at the curb. "That's fine. We all have garages, although one or our neighbors, Mr. Porter, tinkers with cars in his free time. We try to leave him a couple of free spaces. You drove from..." Judith paused, trying to recall the Schwartzes' point of departure. "Royal Oak, Michigan."
"Yep," Barney answered, gathering up all three suitcases. "Just outside De-troit. Motown. The Motor City. You been there?"
"Ah ... no, unless it was at night on the train." Judith managed a half-smile. "Years ago, my cousin and I took the train to New York before we sailed to Europe."
The cousin had inched her way into the entry hall. "I'll pour," Renie said in an undertone as Judith headed up the stairs with the Schwartzes.
Judith gave a slight nod as she led her guests to their room. "We had new wallpaper put up this winter," she said, opening the door. "I hope you like it."
Barney didn't bother to look, but Min surveyed the subtle iris design with the air of a connoisseur. "Very pleasant." She moved stiffly towards the nearest door. "Is this the bathroom?"
Judith nodded. "You share it with Room Three. There's also a bathroom just outside which is usually used by Rooms One and Two, but accessible to any of the guests. Rooms Five and Six also share a bath."
Barney was shoving the suitcases into the small closet. "What about a key?"
"Oh." Judith's half-smile twitched. "Here, this is for the room. The other key is for the B&B. If you come in after ten at night, you'll have to unlock the front door."
Barney's bushy eyebrows rose. "You don't keep this joint locked?"
Judith shook her head. "Not during the day. This is a very quiet neighborhood."
Barney seemed amazed. "No break-ins? No burglaries? No crime?"
Judith shook her head. "No, it's very safe." The Schwartzes couldn't see her cross her fingers behind her back. There had, alas, been a murder or two over the years, but only one had occurred on the premises of Hillside Manor. Of course, a killer had once stayed at the B&B. Two killers, actually. Or was it three? The disasters blurred in Judith's memory.
"Wow. It's hard to find a safe neighborhood in a big city these days." Barney seemed overwhelmed as he accepted the keys.
His mother, however, was regarding the bathroom door with misgiving. "I prefer not to share. At my age, I need access to a bathroom at all times, day and night."
Judith heard the authoritarian tone in Min's voice. More to the point, Judith understood the vagaries of the elderly. "Well ... there's the bathroom just outside the door, and there's one off the entry hall where you came in just now."
Min vehemently shook her head; the topknot didn't budge. "I want this bathroom locked on the other side."
Judith also understood the obstinacy of the older generation. She remembered that Mr. and Mrs. Smith were in Room Three, the largest of the guest rooms. The price was a bit higher, and therefore, the visitors who stayed in Three expected the best of the amenities. Perhaps the Smiths would be sympathetic.
I'll see what I can do," Judith said.
Min, however, wasn't giving in, nor did Barney seem willing to mediate. Judith understood that, too. Barney probably had given up arguing with his mother forty years ago.
"Lock it now," Min commanded.
Judith hesitated. "I'll make it worth your while," Barney said, finally breaking his silence.
Judith sighed. "No, no. It's my job to make guests happy. I'll lock it, and hope that the Smiths are a considerate couple."
"The Smiths?" Barney's bushy brows quivered again.
The faint sound of the doorbell could be heard from below. "Yes, the Smiths. Excuse me, I'll take care of this right now."
Hurriedly, Judith went into the bathroom and locked the door from Room Three.
Then, with a strained smile and a wave, she raced downstairs.
Renie had already opened the door. Two pretty young women in their mid-twenties stood on the porch, each holding what looked like brand-new suitcases and wearing sweatshirts, one of which read "Plays Well With Others." The second shirt was emblazoned with "Runs With Scissors." A blue and white airport shuttle was just pulling out of the cul-de-sac.
"Ms. Perl and Ms. Williams," Renie announced. "Of Newark, New Jersey. This is your innkeeper, the redoubtable Mrs. Flynn."
"Redoubtable?" murmured Judith with a questioning glance at Renie. "Hi," she said in her most amiable voice. "Welcome to Hillside Manor."
Both young women started talking at once, then burst into giggles. "Stop it, Pan- the willowy blonde said to the plump brunette. "You'll make Mrs. Flynn crazy."
"You started it, Sandi," Pam replied good-naturedly.
"Did not!" Sandi shot back, and they both lapsed into giggles again.
Sandi was the first to get herself under control. "Sorry. We teach preschool, and sometimes, when we're out of the classroom, we get to acting just like our students."
"But we don't wet our pants!" Pam doubled over with laughter.
"Or worse!" Tears of mirth began to roll down Sandi's cheeks.
Judith tugged at her chin. "Ah... Would you like to take your things upstairs?"
Both young women stopped laughing at once. "Upstairs, downstairs, all around the big stairs, here we go!" they chanted together, and gave each other high fives when they'd finished.
"Sure," said Pam.
"Let's go," said Sandi.
The young women managed to stay composed while Judith introduced them to Room One, a cozy nook next to the stairs. The decor's bright red and pink roses seemed to suit the newcomers' personalities perfectly.
"You'll be sharing a bathroom with the Smiths from Room Three and Mr. du Turque from Room Two," Judith explained. "If it gets too crowded, there's a bathroom downstairs off the entry hall." "No problem," Pam declared. "We're used to sharing. That's what we teach our students."
Judith felt relieved. Perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Smith would be equally obliging. "Great. The appetizer hour is at six, with wine, sherry, and juices. Is there anything else you need?"
Both young women were eyeing the closet. "Can you lock that?" Pam asked. No one in Room One had ever made such a request.
Judith tested the knob. "I honestly don't know. I'd have to look for a key. Is it important?"
Pam and Sandi exchanged quick glances. "Not if you have a safe," Sandi said.
"I do." Judith offered Pam and Sandi a reassuring smile. "It's in the family quarters, though, so you'll have to give me whatever you want to put in it."
Again, the two women looked at each other. "We'll get back to you on that," Pam said. "Okay?"
"Sure. I'll be downstairs." Judith left.
Renie was in the front parlor, nursing a bourbon and water. She had prepared Judith's scotch, but the ice was melting. "Here's to Humpty and Dumpty," Renie said, raising her glass. "I'm glad you're stuck with them and not me."
"I get stuck with a lot of people," Judith said, frowning at her highball. "These two are no problem. At least they're cheerful. By the way, when I mentioned drinks, I meant pop or tea."
Renie cocked her head. "So I'm a mind-reader?"
"You know I shouldn't be sitting here drinking at this time of day," Judith said, then glanced at the venerable grandfather clock that stood next to a tall bookcase. It was almost four-thirty. "Why did I let you talk me into this?"
"I didn't," Renie replied. "Isn't the late afternoon usually a signal for drink 'em if you got 'em?"
"Not for me," Judith retorted as the doorbell rang again. "See what I mean? Now they'll smell liquor on my breath." She shot Renie an annoyed glance.
Pete and Marie Santori of Miami, Florida looked as if they wouldn't have cared if Judith had appeared stoned out of her mind and in the nude. Their deeply tanned arms were entwined and they only had eyes for each other. Honeymooners, Judith thought, and offered the couple a bright smile.
"You're in Room Five," Judith said after Pete and Marie had managed to let go long enough to bring in their two large pieces of luggage. "If you'd sign the register..."
"You do it, Pooky-wookums," Marie urged with a poke in the ribs for her beloved.
"No, Diddlyumdoodles," responded Pete, tickling his bride's chin. "Ladies-lovely ladies-loving ladies first."

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After a few more exchanges of treacle, Pete finally signed in. He was tall, dark, and lean, with gold chains around his neck and a gold link bracelet on his right wrist. Judith was about to hand the Santoris their keys when Pam and Sandi came down the stairs. The two young women suddenly stopped just before the first landing.
Sandi screamed and Pam collapsed.
Pete and Marie charged past Judith and ran out through the front door.

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