Wed and Buried Read online

  MARY DAHEIM

  Wed and Buried

  A BED-AND-BREAKFAST MYSTERY

  CONTENTS

  ONE

  JUDITH MCMONIGLE FLYNN tripped over the silver bells on the…

  TWO

  BY THE TIME the pork roast had been reduced to…

  THREE

  JUDITH COULDN’T HELP it. She cried at Mike’s wedding. The…

  FOUR

  GERTRUDE REFUSED TO eat the salmon quiche that Judith had…

  FIVE

  PHYLISS RACKLEY WAS praising the Lord. As she dusted the…

  SIX

  “IT MUST HAVE been the tux,” Judith muttered. “Joe and…

  SEVEN

  DESPITE RENIE’S DISMISSAL of Darrell’s suspect list, Judith made notes.

  EIGHT

  JUDITH REMAINED IRATE and indignant for almost twenty minutes. Then…

  NINE

  JUDITH REALLY WASN’T sure how she ended up bringing TNT…

  TEN

  IT APPEARED THAT Joe didn’t recognize Judith and Renie until…

  ELEVEN

  JUDITH HAD CHASED after Esperanza, but the other woman refused…

  TWELVE

  FUELED BY A six-pack of Pepsi, Renie was hard at…

  THIRTEEN

  AT EXACTLY ELEVEN-FIFTY, a small explosive device had been thrown…

  FOURTEEN

  JUDITH WASN’T WILLING to quite let go of the premise…

  FIFTEEN

  THE MOMENT OF madness had passed. Judith had caressed the…

  SIXTEEN

  JUDITH DIDN’T KNOW what to do. She could hardly wave…

  SEVENTEEN

  “YOU’VE GOT TO do it,” Renie declared when she arrived…

  EIGHTEEN

  JOE COULDN’T HONOR Judith’s request, because, as he put it,…

  NINETEEN

  JOE HAD LISTENED to the news of his ex-wife with…

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER BOOKS BY MARY DAHEIM

  COPYRIGHT

  ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

  ONE

  JUDITH MCMONIGLE FLYNN tripped over the silver bells on the silver box, fell against the oak banister, and landed on her knees atop something odd from Aunt Ellen. Cursing under her breath, Judith sat on the next to the bottom stair and tried to figure out what her aunt in Beatrice, Nebraska had sent Mike and Kristin for a wedding present. Was it a wall plaque? Was it a clock? Was it a hat? Unable to make heads nor tails nor anything else out of the jumbled corn husks, Judith rubbed her sore knees and called for Joe.

  “Your aunt gives some weird gifts,” Joe Flynn remarked around the cigar he held between his teeth. “Is she nuts or just cheap?”

  “Neither,” Judith replied a bit testily. “You met Aunt Ellen and Uncle Win when they came to our wedding five years ago. Aunt Ellen is the sanest person I know, but she is a bit…um…thrifty. Plus, she does crafts.” Judith lifted the cluster of corn husks. “Maybe it’s a wreath for the front door.”

  Joe’s round face registered mild interest. He picked up the object of conjecture, experimented with setting it on his thinning red hair, and finally brandished it like a shield. “I think it’s a toilet seat cover. You’d have to be careful, though.” His green eyes sparkled with mischief.

  Judith stood up. She was almost as tall as Joe, who fudged a little when listing his height at six feet. “I’ll let Mike and Kristin deal with it,” she said. “I’ve got other things to worry about before the wedding.”

  It was Thursday morning, and the ceremony was set for Saturday at eleven A.M Between now and then, Judith had a long list of things to do. As the mother of an only child who was male, she had never expected to shoulder the lion’s share of putting on a wedding. That was usually up to the bride’s family, but Kristin Rundberg’s parents lived on a wheat ranch in the eastern part of the state, a remote locale that wasn’t conducive to hosting large celebrations. Thus, Mike had asked his mother if he and Kristin could be married in the city, at the parish church on Heraldsgate Hill. Euphoric over the news that her son and his long-time fiancée had finally set a date and were actually going to become man and wife, Judith readily agreed.

  But that was almost eight months ago, at Thanksgiving. Now it was late June, and Judith was wondering why she’d been so accommodating. Kristin’s relatives were coming, not only from the wheat country, but from Idaho and Montana. Most were arriving in a few hours, and some would stay at Hillside Manor. Judith would be out of pocket in more ways than one, since she would have to give up at least three nights of paying guests at the bed and breakfast. There would be meals to provide for the visitors, including those who were checking into motels or camping in their RVs. Judith wasn’t looking forward to the descent of the Rundbergs.

  The phone rang as Judith was carrying some of the presents from the hallway into the front parlor. Joe picked up the cordless phone from where Judith had left it at the bottom of the staircase.

  “It’s Renie,” he called. “What should she do with the lutefisk?”

  “Ask her if it smells bad yet,” Judith shouted back. “If it does, it’s ready to eat.”

  There was a pause, then Judith heard Joe’s mellow voice speaking into the phone. She loved that voice, which sounded like honey on warm toast. It wasn’t a cop’s voice, though it served Joe well. Those soft, ripe tones had deceived many a perp in the interrogation room. Of course Joe could also yell, which he proceeded to do just as Judith came out of the front parlor.

  “She says it smells like a Metro bus on a hot afternoon, and if you don’t get it out of her…oh.” Joe’s voice dropped several notches as he saw his wife come into the entry hall. “Renie’s kind of mad,” he said, putting his hand over the mouthpiece.

  Judith took the phone from her husband. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.

  Renie told her cousin exactly what was wrong, which was just about everything. “It’s not my sons that are getting married,” Renie snarled. “They’ll never marry, nor will our daughter. They will drift in and out of this house and that college and this job and that relationship until Bill and I are in some pest house, putting spaghetti in what’s left of our hair. William and Serena Jones are doomed. Meanwhile, your son is taking a fine, buxom young woman to wife and will produce grandchildren for your posterity. And all I have is this stupid stinking lutefisk. The lye it’s soaking in has eaten through my new kitchen counter. I’m bringing it over now and throwing it on your front porch. Good-bye.” Renie hung up.

  “You’re right,” Judith said to Joe. “Renie’s mad. Where’s Mike?”

  “He took your car to the airport to collect the Montana contingent, remember?” Joe replied mildly. “He and Kristin were going to stop at Nottingham Florists to check the flowers.”

  Judith ran a hand through her shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair. “Oh. That’s right, I forgot. Do you need the MG? I was thinking of going over to Renie’s and rescuing the lutefisk.”

  Joe’s green eyes regarded Judith with something akin to pity. “Jude-girl,” he said, using the nickname that his wife had once despised, but had gotten used to since their marriage, “I’m taking two days off from chasing murderers and other bad guys to play designated driver, remember? I’m heading for the bus depot and the train station in about twenty minutes.”

  “Oh,” Judith repeated. “I forgot.” Renie would have to deliver the lutefisk, but hopefully not in the manner she had threatened. “Do I have time to run up to Falstaff’s and get the pork roast for tonight?”

  Joe glanced at the grandfather clock in the living room. “If you hurry.”

  Judith grabbed her purse from off the marble-topped table in the entry hall. “I’m on my way.”

  But she wasn’t. Upon reaching the bac
k door, she saw the nose of Renie’s big blue Chevrolet pull into the drive. Renie flew out of the car, and raced around to the trunk. A moment later, she was staggering under the weight of a huge white carton.

  “Here’s your damned fish,” she shouted. “I hope those crazy Norwegians or whatever they are eat until they puke.”

  Judith hurried to take the carton from Renie. One whiff of the lutefisk sent her reeling backwards. “Ooof! You’re right, it doesn’t smell so good. I’ll put it in the basement.”

  A small, hunched figure appeared in the backyard, squinting against the midday sun. “Who’s that? Serena? What stinks? Don’t you ever bathe, kiddo?”

  Judith ignored her mother and headed back into the house with the carton. Renie could handle Gertrude. Sometimes it was easier for a niece to deal with an aunt than a daughter with a mother. Judith edged her way downstairs and settled the carton on the basement floor next to Joe’s fishing tackle. The odor wafted after her up the stairwell. At the back door, Sweetums was poised, ready to investigate.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Judith murmured to the cat. “You wouldn’t like it. You’re part Persian, not Norwegian.”

  Sweetums shook his orange and white fur, a gesture of disdain for human opinion. Swishing his plumelike tale, he sauntered into the kitchen. Judith wasn’t fooled. But she had no time to waste on the cat. Outside, she found her mother and Renie engaged in one of their usual arguments. Judith waved as she headed for the garage and Joe’s MG.

  “Knucklehead!” Gertrude yelled. “You tell her!”

  Judith halted in midstep. “Tell her what?”

  “That I’m not going to any wedding this weekend.” Gertrude had clumped forward on her walker, thrusting out her chin and assuming a defensive attitude under the baggy blue cardigan and black- and green-striped housedress. “What would I go to a wedding for? I don’t know anybody who’s getting married.” The old woman shot Renie a fierce, obstinate look.

  Judith and Renie exchanged quick glances. Gertrude’s memory had been slipping for some time, slowly but surely sinking into a morass of advancing age and increasing self-absorption. As her physical world grew smaller, so did Gertrude’s perception of what went on around her.

  “Mother…” Judith began with what she hoped was patience and understanding. “Of course you’re going to a wedding. Mike’s wedding. He’s getting married Saturday at Our Lady, Star of the Sea.”

  Gertrude’s small face puckered. “Mike?” She gazed up at the cloudless blue sky. It was hot for June in the Pacific Northwest. “Oh. Mike.” A twitch of her nose seemed to dismiss her grandson. Then she tipped her head to one side and regarded her daughter and her niece with small, shrewd eyes. “It’s about time,” she declared and turned back to the converted toolshed where she made her home.

  Judith sighed. “I don’t know when she really forgets and when she’s trying to annoy me. Did I tell you what she said on Mother’s Day?”

  Judith had told Renie. Twice. “You’re getting as goofy as she is,” Renie chided gently. Now that she had rid herself of the lutefisk, her good humor seemed restored. “She asked if she had any children. You said yes, she had you. Your mother said, ‘You’re it?’ and acted disgusted.”

  “See what I mean?” Judith said, her patience eroding as she watched her mother disappear inside the toolshed. “Was she kidding then? Is she kidding now? I never know anymore.”

  Renie gave a little shake of her chestnut curls. “My mother remembers too much. If I’m five minutes late getting to her apartment, she brings up the latest abduction from the local news. If Bill and I are going to spend a weekend in Port Royal, she recalls seeing that they had a hepatitis outbreak six months ago. If one of our kids is off sailing, she reminds me that somebody drowned two weeks ago off Cape Whazzits. She’s still got a mind like a steel trap, and everything in it is scary.”

  “They’re a pair, all right,” Judith lamented. “I don’t know which is worse. Hey, thanks for taking care of that lutefisk. I’m sorry I bothered you with it.”

  Renie shrugged. “It’s okay. I volunteered, didn’t I? I just didn’t realize how it smelled. Anne and I will have the groom’s cakes ready by tonight. She’s working on them now,” Renie noted, referring to the Jones’s only daughter. “What else do you need?”

  Judith considered. Her neighbor and partner in catering, Arlene Rankers, was handling the reception, which would be held at Hillside Manor. Judith and Arlene had put on many a wedding reception over the years, so both women knew the drill. The rehearsal was set for Friday, with dinner to follow at the Naples Hotel, a refurbished landmark overlooking downtown. The details at the church—music, flowers, guest book, and the service itself—had already been worked out. It would be an ecumenical ceremony, with Kristin’s Lutheran pastor joining Father Francis Xavier Hoyle.

  “I can’t think of anything at this point,” Judith said a bit wearily. “I’ve worked my tail off for the past two months. Probably I’ve missed something, but I don’t know what.”

  Renie’s gaze was sympathetic. “Trust me, it won’t matter. They’ll still get married.” She hesitated, her sandal-shod foot tracing a circle in the lush green grass. “Um…Have you made up your mind about…You know.” Renie’s loss of words was uncharacteristic.

  Judith’s dark eyes grew troubled. “No. Not yet. I’ve talked to Joe, but he refuses to give me any advice. It’s between Mike and me, he says. I suppose he’s right.”

  Renie grimaced. “I suppose.”

  The cousins stood in silence for several moments. For over fifty years, they had been as close as sisters. They could say anything to each other—or nothing at all. So close was their communion that they could virtually read each other’s minds.

  “Talk about being damned if you do and damned if you don’t,” Judith finally murmured. “Is honesty always kind? Does Mike need to know after all these years? Is it fair to Joe to go on keeping a secret?” Judith made a desperate little gesture with her hands. “My problem is that I can see both sides.”

  Renie’s smile was wry. “That’s always been your problem. You’re too blasted fair. It’s enough to make me believe in that astrology stuff. Libras are like that. Scorpios aren’t. We not only aren’t fair, we bend the rules.”

  “I already did,” Judith gulped. “That’s why I’m in this quandary.”

  Renie held up a hand. “It’s too late to give yourself a bad time over that. Besides, it all worked out. It just took twenty-five years to get there.”

  Judith offered Renie a small smile. “But I haven’t dealt with it where Mike’s concerned. I’ve played ostrich, and buried my head in the sand.”

  “You tend to do that,” Renie said, not unkindly. “Hey, I’ve got to run, coz. My mother needs a few things at the drug store. You know what happens if I’m not on time. An APB goes out.”

  “Right,” Judith nodded. “I merely get called a lot of awful names, like chowderhead and moron and Big Stoop. That is, if Mother remembers I left in the first place.”

  Renie drove away, but before Judith could get into the MG, Joe appeared in the driveway. The twenty minutes were up; he had to leave for the bus depot and the train station. Judith was stuck waiting for Mike and Kristin to return from the airport.

  Fortunately, they did, less than ten minutes later. The relatives they’d picked up had been delivered to the Naples Hotel. They’d arrive at Hillside Manor around six, after they’d “freshened up.”

  Thoughtfully, Judith watched Mike and Kristin head into the house. At twenty-eight, her son was a fine specimen of young manhood, tall, broad-shouldered, and extremely fit. As a park ranger, his deep tan was almost permanent, obscuring the smattering of freckles that went with his dark red hair. Judith swelled with pride as she watched his easy, long-legged stride.

  Should she tell him? Was it fair not to? Did it really matter? Judith wrung her hands. She’d never been good at making hard decisions. That was why she’d stayed with Dan McMonigle for eighteen year
s. Despite Dan’s verbal abuse, his gluttony, his drinking, and his refusal to work, it had seemed easier to keep the marriage intact. It had been a delusion, of course. Or was it cowardice that had kept her shackled to Dan? Had she been afraid of Dan’s reaction, afraid of the unknown, afraid to act? Maybe she had feared all those things. Once Judith put down roots, she pulled them up only when forced by circumstances.

  Such circumstances had changed her life when Dan’s four-hundred-pound body gave out at the age of forty-nine. Or, as Judith sometimes put it less delicately, Dan had blown up. However his demise could be described, it had spelled freedom for Judith, at least of a sort. She and Mike had moved home to the old Edwardian house on Heraldsgate Hill. There Gertrude had held sway, giving grudging consent to the reinvention of the Grover house as a bed and breakfast establishment.

  Judith spared a fond look for the old, solid three-story structure that had been home to four generations of Grovers. Nine years had passed since Judith had begun the major renovation. Hillside Manor’s green-on-green exterior had faded in the rain and damp of those gray Pacific Northwest seasons. Maybe it was time for a paint job come the fall. It wasn’t a smart idea to take on any big projects during the height of the tourist season.

  Fleetingly, Judith glanced in the direction of the bay where the water sparkled like diamonds and the mountains to the west stood out against an almost flawless sky. The vista never palled: Even in a downpour of autumn rain or thick winter fog or what sometimes seemed like perpetual drizzle, Judith found something that caught her eye. Perhaps it was a ship riding at anchor in the harbor or the sleek glass and steel structures of downtown or merely the changing play of light and shadow. She had grown up with that view, and while many things had changed including herself, certain elements remained constant. Judith smiled as she hurried into the house.