Here Comes the Bribe (6 page)

“You and Truman would've gotten along just fine,” Judith said, standing up. “It's too bad you didn't see who killed Millie Schmuck.”

Gertrude gazed at her daughter with unblinking faded blue eyes. “Who says I didn't?”

Judith couldn't argue the point.

W
hen she got back inside the house, Joe was in the kitchen with a red-faced Reverend Kindred. “I see no reason why I shouldn't conduct my Saturday-evening prayer service here. It's always
open to all comers.” He pointed to a sheet of paper on the counter. “I'd only distribute my flyers to the immediate neighborhood. Now, will you allow me to use your copier or will I have to file freedom-of-religion and freedom-of-speech charges against you and Mrs. Flynn?”

“First of all, I don't think you'd get many takers right around here,” Joe countered. “The Rankerses, the Dooleys, and my wife and I are all Catholics. The Steins are Jewish, the Ericsons are Lutheran, the Porters and the Bhatts are Methodists, and the new people in the rental don't seem to attend any church.”

Kindred's jaw jutted. “You see? Fresh ground with souls to save! I'll personally call on them.” Clumsily, he whirled around and left the kitchen.

Joe sighed. “Why did I think I could talk sense to a religious zealot?”

Judith laughed. “Because you're sensible?”

Joe, however, was looking beyond his wife. “Can it,” he said under his breath. “Hi, Mrs. Kindred. Are you looking for your spouse? He just went out.”

“Oh,” Elsie replied without much interest. “No, I wanted to know if you people could help me find poor, dear Millie's project information.”

Joe turned to Judith. “Not my line of duty. I have to check on the MG's progress at the repair shop.” He made his exit via the dining room.

“Well?” Elsie asked, fists on hips. “Is there any chance you might've come across Millie's valuable data?”

“No,” Judith answered. “I didn't realize she had a project. What's the purpose of it?”

The other woman folded her hands as if in prayer. “A program aimed at women who are seeking salvation. Very personal in its approach. The eye is the beholder of all unworldy and worldly things.”

“It sounds . . . comprehensive,” Judith said for lack of anything more cogent. “I'm sorry, but I have no idea what happened to Mrs. Schmuck's project information. Did you ask Mr. Schmuck?”

Elsie shook her head with its lank strands of graying auburn hair. “I don't like bothering him in his time of sorrow. Clayton Ormsby told me that Rodney is being badgered by the police.”

“I think he may be exaggerating. The police have to follow procedure,” Judith said in her most reasonable manner.

“The police!” Elsie exclaimed. “They're all corrupt. But I refuse to bribe them. I have no patience with them after they . . . Never mind. I'll only adhere to my conviction that all officers of the law are ungodly. They suspect the worst of even the most law-abiding, God-fearing people.”

Judith feigned shock. “Surely you and Reverend Kindred have never been treated badly by the police.”

“Well . . .” Elsie cleared her throat. “There was an incident about a year ago, but my dear husband was able to clear his name. It was all a silly mistake. There are some preachers who aren't quite all they should be, you know. Then there are some like George, who is more than a man of the cloth.” She turned on her sensible heel and stalked self-righteously out of the kitchen.

Judith snatched up the phone and called Renie. “What are you doing this afternoon?” she inquired.

“I was working on this damned county design,” her cousin replied glumly. “How do I convey changes in recycling rules? Dare I show the current county executive being stuffed upside down into a blue bin instead of a black can?”

“Probably not,” Judith said. “I wondered if you could come over and help me do some research.”

“Oh, no! I thought you weren't sleuthing.”

“Well . . . I'm not, really, but I'd like to find out if these current guests are dangerous. They are, after all, under my roof.”

“They paid to be there, right?” Renie retorted. “I suspect they'd just as soon head back wherever they came from.” She
paused. “It's a couple of hours before I have to conjure up dinner. Maybe I should pick up something easy at Falstaff's deli. Okay, I'll come by in a few minutes.”

Renie's comment about where the Schmuck party had come from bothered her. She wondered why they had traveled from L.A. to hold a wedding in her B&B. They were headed for Japan, but Judith didn't think there were any direct flights to Tokyo from the local airport. She sat down at the computer and entered Rodney Schmuck's name. A few people came up with that surname, but no Rodney. That, of course, didn't mean he was using an alias. It only indicated he wasn't well known or into self-promotion via the Internet.

She typed in
Sophie Kilmore Ormsby
. As a surgeon, there should be a listing for her. No luck. She retyped the name, omitting
Ormsby
. The name appeared, but as a veterinarian over on the other side of the mountains. Maybe there was more than one Dr. Sophie Kilmore. Judith gave it one last shot, entering
George Kindred
. There were several, with some variations, but no reverends. Deciding her quest was hopeless as well as frustrating, she surrendered. She'd wait to see how Renie reacted to her futile efforts.

And realized she was indeed sleuthing. It seemed to be a habit she couldn't break. A bad habit, she told herself. And often a dangerous one. Yes, she'd been lucky over the years. But nobody's luck lasted forever.

J
udith conveyed the information—or lack thereof—to her cousin upon her arrival. Renie, in turn, reported that she'd seen the Reverend Kindred being chased off the porch at the rental house between the Ericson and Bhatt properties.

“Who lives there now?” Renie asked. “I don't think you told me who Herself's latest renters are.”

“That's because I'm not sure,” Judith replied. “They only moved in the first of May. Joe hasn't been in touch with his ex since then. Whoever they are, they seem like decent people, which is nice, considering some of the jerks Vivian has rented to in the past. Of course, she can't personally interview potential tenants when she's holed up with Jim Beam in Florida on the Gulf Coast.”

“Understood,” Renie agreed. “Oddly enough, the rev wasn't coming back here, but heading for the Bhatts on the corner. I don't think they're home. The SUV is gone.”

“They're probably off with their kids,” Judith said, ignoring her cousin's wistful look at the cookie jar. “It's a nice day. In fact, we should be out and doing.”

“Doing what?” Renie asked with a faintly alarmed expression.

“Meeting the new neighbors,” Judith replied, heading down the hall to fetch her jacket. “I think their last name is Clary or Cleary. Something like that. Try to be pleasant, okay?”

“Why do I always have to assume an uncomfortable demeanor?” Renie moaned. But she followed her cousin outside and across the cul-de-sac. “Gosh,” she murmured to Judith, “I hardly recognize this big open space when it's not jammed with emergency vehicles. I feel disoriented.”

Before they reached the curb, a familiar voice called out: “Yoo-hoo! Wait for me!” Arlene Rankers hurried to join the cousins. “I just happened to be standing on my toilet upstairs when I saw you heading to . . . the rental, correct?”

Judith nodded. “I thought I should introduce myself. And Renie.”

“Of course,” Arlene agreed. “I've come over to the Careys three times, but they're never home. They both must work. I've just happened to notice that they never take their mail inside until early evening. They shop at Gutbusters wholesale store and Nordquist's. Is Vivian really charging two thousand dollars a month to rent that rather small house?”

Judith didn't want to know how Arlene had found out the rental price. “That's really not exorbitant for Heraldsgate Hill,” she pointed out. “Your Cathy should know that from her real estate dealings.”

Arlene looked indignant. “What I'd really like to know is why Joe's ex didn't list the house with my daughter.”

“Face it,” Judith responded. “Vivian is a bit addled from drink. She's lucky she remembers she owns a house here on the hill.”

“Hey, Arlene,” Renie said as they started up the steps of the modest bungalow, “how come you spend so much time standing on your toilet? Doesn't it make you kind of dizzy?”

“The view,” Arlene replied. “Do you realize how precious a view is? It adds immensely to the price of real estate.”

“Right, right,” Renie concurred. “We've got a view of the mountains and a good chunk of the city. But I've never yet stood on . . .” She shut up as a fair-haired young woman opened the front door.

Judith did the honors, introducing the trio. “We've been remiss,” she went on. “We should've welcomed you to the neighborhood sooner.”

“I tried,” Arlene said, “but you and your husband must work. No one was home.” Somehow she made their absence seem like a federal crime even as she put a foot down on the threshold.

Mrs. Carey offered her callers a strained smile. “My husband sometimes works nights. I'm Madeleine Carey. Call me Maddy. My husband is Jeb. Would you like to come in?”

“No,” Judith replied firmly before Arlene could vault inside the house. “As you may know from the sign in our front yard,” she went on, gesturing toward Hillside Manor, “I run a B&B. I was curious because one of our current guests was seen stopping off at your house a little earlier. I hope he didn't bother you.”

Maddy's smile was more genuine. “No. Jeb was able to stop his salesman's pitch fairly fast.”

“Good for him,” Judith said. “That sort of proselytizing can be a nuisance.”

Maddy looked puzzled. “Well, I'm not sure I'd call it that. I mean, it doesn't matter what he was trying to tell Jeb. As you probably know, we rent this house, so we couldn't sell it if we wanted to.”

Judith couldn't suppress her surprise. “You mean he wasn't trying to evangelize?”

“No, no.” Maddy shook her head. “He told Jeb he was a Realtor.”

“Maybe,” Arlene said, “he meant his kingdom wasn't of this world.”

“I don't think so,” Maddy responded. “He insisted we could get at least four hundred thousand for this house. He kept repeating, ‘Location, location.' I don't think he meant heaven.”

Arlene harrumphed. “My daughter, Cathy, could sell it for more than that. She's a very savvy Realtor.”

Judith nudged Arlene. “That's not the point,” she said. “I thought the reverend was in his preacher's mode. Sorry to have
disturbed you, Maddy. We'll be going now. You must come over for coffee soon.”

Maddy looked dubious, but smiled again before closing the door.

“That explains it,” Arlene muttered as they reached the sidewalk. “Naomi Stein told me a man had come to their house earlier this morning asking if they were interested in selling. Did you know that, Judith?”

“No,” she replied in a toneless voice. “I've been kind of caught up with other things, like having a dead body in the backyard.”

“Oh, that's not so unusual,” Arlene said with a dismissive gesture. “But door-to-door Realtors are. Usually they simply send you a letter saying how much they'd like to sell your house if you're thinking about a move. Of course we're not. Unless we do.”

“Unh,” said Renie, who had been remarkably quiet during the brief visit to the rental.

Arlene shot her a sharp glance. “Well? Are you put off because you live on the cheap side of Heraldsgate Hill?”

“No,” Renie replied. “Our property taxes are lower. Ha ha.”

Arlene didn't comment. Instead, she kept going toward the giant hedge. “I'm going to ask Cathy to check out this Kindred person's real estate credentials. He's probably not licensed to practice in this state. Heavens, he may not even be a preacher!” She disappeared around the huge mass of shiny laurel leaves.

“She's right,” Renie murmured, “even when she's wrong. Damn—her manner of speaking is contagious. No wonder I like her so much.”

“You're kind of contrary yourself, coz,” Judith said, pausing by the driveway to the Flynn garage. “What do you think about calling luxury car rentals?”

Renie wrinkled her pug nose. “I don't really want to go anywhere. We might not get back in time so that I can fix Bill's dinner by six.”

“I mean to find out where my guests were picked up,” Judith
explained. “I'd like to make sure they came from the airport. It puzzles me as to why they came here just to hold a wedding.”

Renie kicked at a dead leaf. “That's different. I can deal with research. I'm calling it that because you're not really sleuthing, right?”

The cousins headed back into the house. “Damn it,” Judith admitted, “I am. I can't help myself, especially when it happened on the premises. I can't believe the media hasn't shown up.”

Renie laughed as they went into the kitchen. “They did. You might as well live in a gated community for the time being. Those unmarked police cars outside of the cul-de-sac diverted the media ghouls. Woody has clout. They stopped
me
. I had to prove I was family.”

“How'd you do that?” Judith asked, slipping off her jacket.

“I called your mother. She grudgingly admitted we were all related.”

“Amazing.” Judith sat down at the computer. “Let me check limo rentals. You can man the phone.”

Renie sat down at the kitchen table. “Do I get a snack?”

“Yes. I'll start the appetizers while you make the calls. Here's the number for A-List Autos.”

Before Renie could punch in the number, Stuart Wicks entered the kitchen via the back hallway. “Excuse me,” he said in a tone indicating he didn't give a hoot if Judith excused him for much of anything. “I've been informed that we can't leave until the autopsy is concluded, which may not be for several days. I have to be in court Monday afternoon.”

Judith tried to look sympathetic. For all she knew, Stuart might really be a lawyer. “Can you ask for a postponement?”

“Not at this late date,” he replied, his lean features grim.

“But,” Judith pointed out, “you were booked through the weekend.”

“We intended to take a very early Monday-morning flight out of here,” Stuart said.

“To L.A.?”

“Of course.”

“You'll have to talk to Captain Price,” Judith informed him.

“I'll do that,” Stuart said. “Please give me his number. I'll use my cell. I wouldn't want to be overheard on your personal line.” He cast a disparaging glance at Renie, who was holding Judith's phone.

Judith scribbled the official—not the direct—line to the precinct captain on a Post-it note and handed it to Stuart. She knew he wouldn't be able to reach Woody since he was officially off duty. “Here. I hope the captain can be of help.”

“He'd better,” Stuart replied, closing his long fingers over the note as if he wanted to absorb it by osmosis. “My appearance in court involves a very serious case. Given my status in the legal community, I never deal with trivial matters.” He stalked out of the kitchen.

“American Bar Association,” Renie said. “Check him out in California and this state.”

“I will,” Judith assured her, sitting down again at the computer. “I should not only check for lawyers, but do the same with doctors and the AMA. I did find a Sophie Kilmore in the eastern part of the state, but it didn't say she was a surgeon.”

“GPs can do fairly simple surgeries, especially the ones in small towns where they don't have specialists. I remember when . . .” The phone rang in Renie's hand. “I'll get it. Hello? . . . Yes, but . . . No kidding. You mean . . . How can we see through the Hedge That Ate the Early Settlers? . . . Sure, Arlene, I'll tell her.” Renie disconnected. “Kindred showed up at the Rankerses' house while Arlene was with us. The rev was in Realtor mode. Carl told him to take a hike.”

“He's working the entire neighborhood,” Judith declared. “Now I'm beginning to understand the method to Rodney's kind of madness claiming he's my son. But what has any of that got to do with Millie being poisoned?”

Renie looked thoughtful. “She didn't go along with whatever scheme Rodney was hatching?”

Judith took even longer to say anything. The kitchen was very quiet. In fact, the entire house seemed unusually quiet, given that most of the guests apparently were upstairs. The only sound was the schoolhouse clock clicking its way to the three o'clock hour.

“Maybe Millie didn't,” Judith finally said. “But what
is
the scheme? Pretending to be my son wouldn't get him far, even if it were true. He claimed he had proof, but I never saw it. For all I know, his mother
was
named Judith Grover. You told me a bunch of them came up on the Internet.”

“Right, though with variations on Judith—Judy, Judi, Jude, and so on. Usually,” Renie continued, “the people who are listed are well known—at least in a certain circle—or promoting their business or expertise.”

“So one of them could be Rodney's Judith Grover,” Judith mused. “Do you think we should check up on one or two of—”

“Don't even think about it,” Renie interrupted. “I am not calling any of these women and saying, ‘Hey, it's three o'clock and do you know where your illegitimate son is?'”

“I guess I won't suggest that after all,” Judith murmured. She turned in her chair. “Did you hear the front door shut?”

“I thought it was the back door—with your mother forgetting to open it. Maybe she's stuck between the door and the screen.”

Judith shook her head. “Joe's still at Ron's auto repair shop. He'd come in the back way. Let's check on the guests. It's too quiet upstairs.”

She led the way down the long hall. “We'll grab some towels as our excuse for bothering this current bunch of weirdos.”

“You need an excuse? Why not just walk in and tell them they're homicide suspects?”

“Most of them may be innocent,” Judith responded. “At least I hope so. On the other hand, they may be guilty of something else. Oh, well.” She gathered up a pile of towels from the built-in cup
boards by the door that went up to the family quarters. Moving to Room Six, she knocked. “I'm not sure who's in here. They chose the rooms after they got back from dinner late last night.”

There was no response. They moved on to Room Five—then Four, Three, and Two. Apparently, all the guests had left. The cousins stood by Room One with its crime-scene tape.

“We're going in,” Judith announced. “I want another look at that suitcase. You can come with me or stay in the hall and sulk.”

Renie heaved a resigned sigh. “I'll join you. Have you no respect for Woody?”

“I have enormous respect for him,” Judith said as they entered the room. “I suppose that's why I'm trying to help him.”

“You can't fool me,” Renie asserted. “You're doing it for you because you like to sleuth. That's fine. Just don't get yourself—and me—into some tight spot where we get ourselves killed. I hate it when that happens.”

“I'm not too fond of those situations either,” Judith said, going through the suitcase. “Ah! Here's what looks like the sheet of paper Millie showed Joe.” She stopped to read the typed words. “I'll be darned. It
is
recommendations for a gluten-free diet.”