A Case of Bier Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About the Author

  Also by Mary Daheim

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Author’s Note

  The story takes place in August 2006.

  Chapter 1

  Judith McMonigle Flynn checked the mailbox, noticed it was empty, and hurried down the front porch steps. “Arlene!” she called to her neighbor. “I hear you on the other side of the hedge. Has your mail come yet?”

  There was no answer. Judith kept walking to the end of the Rankerses’ giant hedge. Arlene suddenly appeared, looking vexed.

  “The mailman has come,” she replied. “In a way.”

  “What do you mean?” Judith asked, wishing it wasn’t so hot under the late-afternoon sun.

  “Charles is new,” Arlene replied, her blue eyes darting off to one side. “Carl started trimming our hedge this morning, but it got too warm after lunch, so he quit. Charles thought he could take a shortcut through the hedge where part of it had been removed. He’s stuck.”

  “I thought his name was Chad,” Judith said, following Arlene onto the Rankerses’ lawn.

  “It is,” Arlene replied, “but it doesn’t suit him. That’s why I won’t call him Chad. What were his parents thinking? Yoo-hoo, Charles! Are you still in there?”

  Judith heard a muffled, fretful voice call out something that sounded like “My bad.”

  “No, no!” Arlene shouted. “It’s not your fault. That is, the blame is on Carl. He didn’t need to prune the hedge just because I insisted he should do it before—” A yelp and a thud interrupted her. “Oh dear,” she murmured. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “You’re right,” Judith agreed, starting for the Flynns’ side of the hedge. “If he fell, he must’ve landed in our yard.”

  By the time she and Arlene went around the hedge and down the walk next to Hillside Manor, they saw Chad—or Charles—struggling to get to his feet. Judith winced as she noticed that some of her peonies were being trampled underfoot.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  After the fair-haired young man brushed off leaves, twigs, and dirt, he stepped tentatively onto the grass. “I guess so. I don’t think I tore my uniform. It’d be awful if I damaged U.S. Postal Service property.” He looked at Arlene. “Did I take the wrong route? Through the hedge, I mean.”

  “Well . . .” Arlene paused, pondering the question. “Not all wrong. You did a fine job of going into the hedge, but you didn’t do as well coming out.”

  “I guess not,” he said, swiping at a twig in his cowlick. “I’d better be on my way. I’m running kind of late.” He trotted off down the walk.

  “Such a good sport,” Arlene remarked. “I must dash to go through our mail. I want to make sure there are no loose ends when we take over at the B&B.”

  “It’s so good of you to fill in while we’re on vacation . . .” Judith stopped. Arlene was greeting their daughter, Cathy, who had just pulled into the Rankerses’ driveway.

  With a shrug, Judith turned toward the porch—and saw Chad rushing toward her. “My mailbag!” he cried. “Have you seen it?”

  “No,” Judith replied. “Did you leave it in the hedge?”

  Chad’s sparse eyebrows raised up. “I . . . Right! That’s how I got so tangled up. The strap, you know.” He disappeared on the other side of the hedge.

  Judith shook her head and realized she was sweating under the hot summer sun. Even her shoulder-length gray hair felt damp. But she might as well wait for Chad to come back so she could collect the mail in person. He was new to the route, new to the postal service, and new to the city. As a recent bridegroom whose Pacific Northwest–born wife wanted to remain on her native turf, Chad had left his small Midwestern town and followed her home like a lost pup.

  He returned with the Flynns’ mail in hand. “Mrs. Rankers says you’re taking a trip somewhere,” he said. “Do you want the mail stopped?”

  Judith shook her head. “Mr. and Mrs. Rankers are going to go back and forth between the houses so that I can keep the B&B open during August’s peak travel time. We’re just going for about a week. But thanks for inquiring.”

  “Sure,” Chad said with a chipper smile. “Have a good one.” He limped off across the cul-de-sac.

  Relieved to get out of the sun, Judith went inside. Except for the public utilities bill, the mail was junk. She was tossing the unwanted pieces into the recycling bin under the kitchen sink when Joe Flynn entered the back door.

  “Your gruesome mother may be dead,” he announced in a cheerful tone, pausing to kiss his wife’s cheek. “Where should I put the Spot’s fish-and-chips?”

  “In the fridge,” Judith replied. “It’s not even five. What do you mean about Mother?”

  Joe’s ruddy complexion darkened. “She was letting Sweetums into her hovel when I came out of the garage. She talked to the cat but not to me. Hey, I’m not complaining, but the old bat must be sick. You know she never misses a chance to give me a bad time.”

  Judith checked the fridge to make sure Joe had remembered to get coleslaw. He had. “It’s the weather. She hates the heat as much as I do.”

  Joe feigned surprise. “She hates the heat more than she hates me?”

  “She doesn’t hate you,” Judith declared. “She didn’t even hate Dan when I was married to him. Mother simply doesn’t like to share me with anybody. I think that’s because my father died so young.”

  Joe looked skeptical. “Are you sure your father didn’t run away from home?”

  “You know he didn’t. He was born with an enlarged heart. He knew he’d never reach an old age. He was only in his forties. What should’ve been the rest of his life was stolen from him.”

  “By your mother?” Joe retorted. “How old is she now? A hundred and ten?”

  Judith’s usual good nature was ruffled. “Stop. I have to make the appetizers for the guests. Go away and leave me in peace.”

  “I’ll make the appetizers,” Joe said. “Why don’t you build us a couple of Scotches and take yours outside? It’s cooler under the fruit trees.”

  Judith smiled wanly. “Maybe I will. You do know your way around a kitchen. And around me.”

  “We waited a long time to get to this point,” Joe said, putting his arm around her. “Which, unfortunately, reminds me that Herself e-mailed me this afternoon.”

  Judith went rigid at the mention of the first Mrs. Flynn. “What does she want now? Is she tired of being chased by crocodiles in Florida?”

  “I think they’re gators up around the gulf where she’s got her condo,” Joe said, still holding on to Judith. “Frankly, she sounds bored. I wonder if she’s quit drinking.”

  “Ha! Maybe she’s bored with the brands she’s been buying. Why doesn’t she switch? Or has she run out of kept men to make a trip to the liquor store?”

  Joe finally removed his arm from his wife’s waist. “Cut her some slack. Vivian,” h
e went on, using Herself’s real name, “is in her eighties. She’s not as spry as she used to be. She’s talking about going on a cruise.”

  “Alone?” Judith asked, dark eyes snapping. “Or has she gotten married? Again?”

  “No clue,” Joe replied, going to the refrigerator. “Go outside, take a seat, and I’ll bring your drink. Just make sure your gruesome mother doesn’t leave the toolshed.”

  Judith didn’t argue. She wasn’t really annoyed with Joe; she was just uneasy about leaving Hillside Manor during the height of the tourist season. It wasn’t that she didn’t have confidence in the Rankerses’ ability to run the B&B. They’d done it on several other occasions. Furthermore, Arlene and Carl doted on Judith’s mother. That was no mean feat, given that Gertrude Grover wasn’t easy to please.

  As if to prove the point, the old lady opened the door to the converted toolshed and called out in her raspy if still-strong voice, “Are you sick or did Lunkhead throw you out of your own house?”

  “Joe’s making the hors d’oeuvres,” Judith replied. “He thought I needed to rest. And in case you’ve forgotten, the house still belongs to you, Mother.”

  Gertrude had advanced to the top step. “You think I’ve lost my marbles? Guess again, kiddo. I’d still be living in my house if you hadn’t married that jackass. What’s for supper? You know I like to eat at five.”

  Judith could hardly forget the old bone of contention between them.

  “Spot’s fish-and-chips with coleslaw. I’m not cooking in this weather.”

  Gertrude curled her lip. “That doesn’t sound like supper to me.”

  “Then call it what we do—dinner,” Judith said, brushing perspiration off her high forehead and wishing her mother wouldn’t compete with the weather to annoy her. “In fact, you can have it now. I’ll heat it in the microwave.”

  “That’s not cooking, that’s voodoo,” Gertrude retorted. “Faster isn’t better. Is your oven broken?”

  “Of course not,” Judith shot back. “But I don’t want to heat up the kitchen. You’re older, your circulation isn’t as efficient.”

  “As efficient as what?”

  Judith managed a feeble smile. “As it used to be?”

  “Look who’s talking. Except for some of my teeth, I’ve got all my original parts. You’ve got a phony hip.”

  “It works just fine.” Inwardly, Judith winced. During winter nights when the thermometer dropped down into the low thirties, she felt some twinges. But not now, with the mercury edging toward ninety.

  Gertrude seemed to read her mind, not an uncommon occurrence. “You won’t feel so frisky when you go gallivanting off to the Rockies. You’ll probably get frostbite.”

  “The average temperature in August at Banff and Lake Louise is in the seventies. The weather should be lovely,” Judith declared. “Joe and Bill made all of the arrangements this time around. Renie had a big graphic design project to finish by mid-August and I’m always busy with the B&B full up this time of year.”

  “How does my niece get paid for drawing what looks like squiggles?” Gertrude muttered. “Why doesn’t she draw people?”

  “She does what her clients ask of her,” Judith explained for the umpteenth time.

  Gertrude made a dismissive gesture. “Dumb. Not as dumb as you and my niece letting the idiots you married arrange your trip. You’ll be lucky you don’t end up staying in a wigwam.”

  “We’ll be at the historic hotel in Banff,” Judith responded. “You remember it from when we went there with Renie’s folks back in the fifties.”

  “Which century?” Gertrude snapped.

  “Never mind.” Tired of standing in the sun and even more tired of arguing with her mother, she headed back to the house to get Gertrude’s so-called supper.

  Joe was putting the finishing touches on the appetizers. His green eyes glinted when he saw his wife’s sour expression. “The old bat nailed you, right?”

  “Mother’s had enough practice,” Judith said, leaning against a kitchen chair. “You know she really doesn’t mean half of what she says. It’s her way of teasing.”

  “Not when she’s dumping on me.” Joe handed Judith the Scotch he’d poured for her. “Hey, relax. It’s just two more days before we take off. Oh—Renie called to say the car rental will be ready for us Thursday morning at eight o’clock. She’s in a snit, of course.”

  “You know my cousin hates mornings,” Judith said. “Bill may have to carry her out of the house in her bathrobe. What kind did they rent?”

  “A Lexus GX470,” Joe replied after taking a sip from his own drink. “Very roomy.”

  “Very expensive,” Judith murmured. “Why didn’t they get something cheaper?”

  Joe sighed. “If we wanted cheap, we could’ve taken one of our cars. But we agreed your Honda and the Joneses’ Camry would be too cramped. What next? You want to make the trip in my MG with Renie and Bill in the boot?”

  Judith couldn’t help but smile at Joe’s referring to the trunk of his classic red sports car as its boot. He’d had the car when they first met over forty years earlier and still kept it in almost mint condition. “I’m not sure which one I fell in love with first—you or your car.”

  “That’s not very flattering,” Joe said in his low, mellow voice. “Hey, are the current guests checking out tomorrow?”

  Judith nodded. “By chance, they all stayed through the weekend. But we’ll be full again tomorrow. As I’ve mentioned, we’re booked until after the Labor Day weekend.”

  “Good.” Joe picked up the hors d’oeuvre tray and carried it out to the living room.

  Judith sipped from her Scotch before putting Gertrude’s dinner in the microwave. When she carried the “supper” out to the toolshed, Sweetums leaped from behind the birdbath, his orange-and-white furry body almost causing her to drop the plate.

  “You . . . cat!” she cried. “You’re too old to cause problems. Why don’t you need a hip replacement? Four of them, in fact.” With an indignant swish of his plume-like tail, Sweetums ascended the two steps to Gertrude’s door.

  “Don’t bother me,” the old lady said. “I’m watching the news. It’s all bad.” Making the announcement seemed to please her.

  “Here’s your dinner.” Judith set the plate down on the cluttered card table.

  Gertrude stared at the food. “That’s it?”

  “It’s the same thing Joe and I are having.”

  “Where’s the dessert?”

  “You don’t need dessert. Joe and I don’t need it either. It’s not good to overeat in hot weather.”

  Gertrude’s faded blue eyes pinioned her daughter. “Hot? I should be wearing two sweaters, not just one. Go away. I want to find out what’s happening in Angioplastystan or wherever some jackasses are blowing up other jackasses.”

  Judith complied. She realized her mother was probably even crabbier than usual because the Flynns were going on vacation. But she also knew that Carl and Arlene would pamper the old lady to pieces. Their own parents had been dead for years. If nothing else, it made Judith feel less guilty about leaving her mother for any length of time. Deep down, she would miss the old girl and Gertrude would probably miss her.

  Maybe.

  Chapter 2

  The next two days flew by. Guests in, guests out. Packing had taken up almost all of a full day. With their departure set for 8 a.m. Thursday, Judith had gotten up at the usual early hour to start the guests’ breakfasts. She’d insisted that Joe sleep in—a relative term at six in the morning—since he and Bill Jones would share the driving. Carl and Arlene arrived at seven thirty to take over the kitchen. Judith took Gertrude’s breakfast to the toolshed and kissed her mother good-bye.

  “Don’t take any wooden nickels,” the old lady cautioned. It was her standard unsentimental farewell.

  At seven forty, a Yellow Cab pulled up in front of the B&B. Judith could see only one passenger—Bill Jones. When Joe opened the front door to sit by the driver, he asked where Renie
was.

  “Back here on the floor,” Bill replied. “She’s asleep. Watch it, Judith. Try not to step on her.”

  Judith edged her way onto the leather seat. Renie was curled up in a lump-like fashion, but at least she was dressed for travel. “How come she’s not in her bathrobe?” Judith whispered to Bill.

  “She got dressed last night,” he replied in his normal voice. “Renie couldn’t cope with the concept of getting ready before ten o’clock. I’m used to it,” he said in the manner of a martyr being led out into the Roman Colosseum.

  In retrospect, Judith remembered the next hour only in a hazy, disjointed way. A family with three noisy young children at the car rental agency had briefly disturbed Renie’s rest. Judith recalled something about “birth control” and “openings at an orphanage” before her cousin went back to sleep. Then they were in the Lexus SUV, where Renie flopped onto one of the two spare second-row seats and nodded off again.

  That was just as well. The Flynns and the Joneses were stuck in the tail end of downtown morning traffic. Joe frequently swore under his breath. Bill offered an occasional word of wry consolation. Renie slept on. Finally, at nine thirty-eight, the Lexus turned onto I-90 and headed east. Joe expelled a sigh of relief; Judith patted his arm.

  “We’re on our way,” she said softly.

  Joe smiled.

  Fifteen minutes later, they heard a rustling sound behind them. Judith turned around. Bill was staring straight ahead, his expression stoic, his arms folded. Suddenly Renie’s tousled head popped up behind her cousin’s seat. “Where am I? What happened?” she asked in a foggy voice.

  “We’re heading for the pass,” Judith informed her.

  “The pass? What pass?” Renie scrunched her eyes together before struggling to get onto the seat next to Bill. “Oh. I know where we are. Banff, right? Has anybody been murdered yet?”

  “Why,” Judith said in exasperation, “are you saying that?”

  Renie looked puzzled—and sleepy. “Because that’s happened before when we went on a trip.”

  “Not this time,” Judith declared with fervor. She was about to tell her cousin not to even think about coming across a corpse, but Renie’s head fell on Bill’s shoulder and she immediately went back to sleep.