Hocus Croakus Read online

  Whether Gertrude sold her story to the movies or not, the visitors had played a fateful role in Judith’s life. Not only had the movie flopped, the producer had ended up dead in the kitchen sink. Then someone had maliciously set the house on fire. Luckily, most of the destruction had been from the water used to put out the blaze, but Hillside Manor had been forced to shutdown during two of its busiest months, November and December. The Flynns’ insurance had paid for the fire and the water damage. But when Judith had received a check from the studio for a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in order to avert a possible lawsuit and any ensuing bad publicity, she had decided it was time to make some renovations, especially to the kitchen.

  As usual with such big projects, the work had dragged on. The house was livable, but only for the family. Judith had been out of business for over four months. The only good thing—other than the money and the refurbishing—was that January and February were usually slow in the hostelry business.

  But the changes in the kitchen had sent the Flynns—and Gertrude—off the premises for at least a week. As long as the main house was undergoing major surgery, Judith had opted to expand Gertrude’s living quarters in the toolshed. By chance, Renie had—against her will—been forced to attend a graphic-design conference at the Lake Stillasnowamish Resort Casino. Judith and Joe had decided to tag along and make it a family affair.

  By the time Judith reached her own room, Joe was unpacked and rubbing his hands together. “Let’s go kill ’em,” he said. “These people don’t realize we’re in like Flynn.”

  Judith was admiring the decor, which was different from that of Gertrude’s room. The wallpaper, drapes, and comforter’s theme wasn’t wildflowers, but lush trees, berry bushes, opulent ferns, and various species of small animal life.

  “Look at this squirrel,” Judith said, pointing to a little furry gray fellow painted on the headboard. “He’s gathering nuts for winter.”

  “Let’s gather some money for living,” Joe responded, already at the door. “I think I’ll try blackjack first.”

  “For what stakes?” Judith asked, eyeing her husband with suspicion. “We have an agreement, remember? Fifty dollars apiece each day.”

  “Oh—I’m sure I can find a three-dollar table,” Joe said, leading the way to the elevators. “I mean, this isn’t Vegas.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Judith replied.

  The elevator arrived. Moments later, the Flynns were on the busy casino floor. Coins jingled and bells chimed, and excited shouts could be heard from various parts of the casino. The players seemed to represent the entire socioeconomic population of the Pacific Northwest. Some were intense, others were laid-back, still others looked doleful. Judith, with genuine concern for her fellow humans, realized that this was a rich vein to mine for new types of individuals.

  Joe started for the table games, but Judith stopped.

  “I’m going to the front desk to see if Renie and Bill have arrived yet,” she said. “I’m getting kind of worried about them.”

  “They’re fine,” Joe replied. “Did your mother ask any more questions about the cabin?”

  Judith shook her head. “Somehow I can’t bear to tell her we’re tearing it down and building a B&B. But it’s an idea I’ve had in my head for years. It’s so stupid to let that beautiful piece of land sit there with nobody enjoying it.”

  “Well,” Joe said, edging closer to the gaming area, “if that project is anything like the one at home, I’m sure it’s taking Bill and Renie a while to sort things out with the contractor.”

  “You’re probably right,” Judith said. “Still, I’m going to check on them.”

  “Okay,” Joe said, starting to walk away at a rather fast pace. “See you around, Jude-girl,” he called over his shoulder.

  With some misgiving, Judith watched Joe disappear among the tables. But he was sensible when it came to money—in some ways, even more than she was. With a shrug, she went to the front desk.

  It was going on three o’clock. Judging from the long line of newcomers waiting to check in, the postlunch crowd had arrived. The Joneses weren’t among them. All of the employees behind the counter were busy. Judith crossed the lobby to see if Bill and Renie had pulled up outside.

  There was no sign of their Toyota Camry. There was a white Camry, a dark green Camry, a black Camry, and a pale violet Camry, but none was beige like the Joneses’ car.

  Judith slowly walked down the stairs, trying to fend off her worries by enjoying the scenery. The air smelled so clean, so fresh, so redolent of the evergreens that surrounded the resort and lined the lake. Snow still covered most of Mount Nugget, which had long ago brought gold and silver miners to the area. A railroad had gone up to the mining sites and, at one time, before Judith was born, the train had passed along across the river from the Grover cabins.

  A nearby rustling noise made Judith look up. She espied a flicker, poised to peck at a tall cedar tree. The speckled bird with its reddish head let out a series of slow, high-pitched cries. Once. Twice. Three times. Then it began to peck away at the wood.

  Bob Bearclaw, who had just seen off a big white limo, approached Judith. “You noticed one of our favorite birds around here,” he said with his pleasant smile.

  “Yes,” Judith replied. “I haven’t seen a flicker at home in several years.”

  “The city’s gotten too big,” Bob remarked. “And has too many cats.”

  Judith thought of Sweetums, her ornery pet who was being cared for by their neighbors the Dooleys. “Cats can’t help but hunt. It’s their nature.”

  Bob nodded. “You can’t interfere with nature.” He watched the flicker fly off to another tree. “My people have a special feeling for the flicker. We believe it has extraordinary powers, and sometimes predicts what is to come.”

  “Hmm,” Judith said. “I wish it could predict if I can win some money.”

  “It usually senses only ill winds.” Bob smiled kindly. “Wager wisely. That’s your best bet. And never gamble more than you can afford to lose.”

  “Very wise,” Judith agreed as three beige Camrys in a row pulled into the driveway. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I think my cousin and her husband are here. But those Toyotas are so popular, I don’t know which one might be theirs.”

  “I’d better get back to work,” Bob said, heading for the curb. “Enjoy yourself, Mrs. Flynn.”

  “Champagne” was the official name according to the Toyota manufacturers, but Renie fondly called their car “Cammy.” Ever since the Joneses had nicknamed their Camry, Judith had threatened to call her Subaru “Subby.”

  The passenger door opened in the last of the Toyota trio. To Judith’s relief, Renie jumped out of the car in an excited if graceless manner. Judith knew that her cousin rarely gambled, but when she did, she got a little crazy. A moment later, Bill emerged from the driver’s side, stretched his neck, and walked over to a valet-parking attendant.

  “Coz!” Judith called to Renie.

  Renie, who was about to open the rear door, looked around and waved. “We made it,” she said, turning back to the car.

  Bill opened the trunk for a bellman. The parking valet had gone inside. As Bill supervised the removal of the luggage, the valet returned with a bright-blue wheelchair.

  Puzzled, Judith saw that both Bill and Renie seemed perfectly mobile. Her cousin had had shoulder surgery at the same time that Judith had had her hip replaced. She shouldn’t need a wheelchair.

  Suddenly, Judith was enlightened. Renie was helping Aunt Deb out of the backseat.

  “Oh, no,” Judith said under her breath. “Not both of the mothers. Not the two of them. Oh, my!”

  It wasn’t that Judith didn’t like Renie’s mother. Indeed, she was extremely fond of Aunt Deb. But Gertrude and Deb didn’t always see eye to eye. The sisters-in-law, who had married brothers, could hardly possess more different personalities. They did, however, share certain attitudes, belonging to the same generation and coming from similar backgrou
nds.

  Judith kept out of the way while Bill and Renie dealt with the various hotel personnel. Bob Bearclaw was placing a smiling Aunt Deb in the wheelchair. After offering him the most gracious of smiles, she spotted her niece at the foot of the stairs.

  “Judith! You’re here in one piece! Come give your poor old crippled aunt a kiss!”

  Judith complied. “Gosh, Aunt Deb, I didn’t realize you were coming, too.”

  The smile evaporated on Aunt Deb’s face. “I simply couldn’t be away from Renie for so long. Day before yesterday, I felt one of my spells coming on. Renie suggested taking me to the doctor, but I didn’t want to put her out. I told her that I’d try to get through the week without her, and if I passed away before she got back, she should leave instructions for Mr. Hurley at the funeral home to keep me in a nice cool place.”

  Judith was spared a response by Bob, who gave the wheelchair a gentle nudge.

  “Oh, look at me!” Aunt Deb cried, the smile back on her face. “I’m traveling in real style! This is much fancier than the one I have at home.”

  “Don’t bother to explain,” Judith said to Renie, who had finally finished her duties with the parking attendant. “Your mother told me. The usual martyrdom gig. Have you got a room for her?”

  “Uhh…” Renie looked away. “Well, yes.” She raised her eyes to Judith’s. “They didn’t have any more handicapped-accessible rooms, so we had to…put…her…in…with…your…mother.”

  “Oh, good grief!” Judith clapped her hands to her head and started yanking at her salt-and-pepper page boy.

  “I know, I know,” Renie said. “It’s too awful. To make things worse, I didn’t want to come to this wretched conference in the first place.”

  Judith was silent for a moment. “It’ll work out somehow. It’ll have to. After all, we can’t have this trip turn into a nightmare.”

  As the cousins walked into the casino, Judith suddenly stopped halfway through the door.

  She thought she heard the distant cry of the flicker, not the usual slow cadence, but a rapid series of shrieks. Judith wondered if someone had brought a cat to the casino.

  She should have been so lucky.

  TWO

  JUDITH HAD NO choice but to accompany Renie and Aunt Deb to Gertrude’s room. Opening the communicating door from the Flynns’ side, they found Judith’s mother watching keno numbers flash up on the TV screen.

  “Go away,” the old lady said without turning around. “I’m busy.”

  “Hey,” Renie called to her aunt, “are you actually gambling?”

  Gertrude jumped, then slowly turned around. “Serena! What…?” She stopped as she saw Deb in the blue wheelchair. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  “The same as you, Gert,” Aunt Deb replied, “though I don’t intend to spend money on foolish games of chance.”

  “Then shut up and let me see if I got more than three numbers on this game,” Gertrude rasped, turning back to the screen. “Drat! I only got one. I lost a dollar.”

  “I thought,” Aunt Deb said sweetly, “you never wagered more than a nickel. Except, of course, when you want to play for a quarter at bridge club. Or,” she added archly, “when you can’t attend Mass, but can play bingo at the parish hall.”

  “Bingo’s always on a Wednesday,” Gertrude responded. “Midweek days are my good ones. Besides,” she said, pointing to the TV, “I’m not using real money. Do you see any dollar bills around here?”

  Judith grimaced. “I hate to say this, Mother, but I think every time you play a TV keno game, they charge your room account.”

  “Fiddlesticks,” Gertrude snapped. “How do they know what I’m doing up here? They got those spy-eye things in the ceiling?”

  “They do on the casino floor,” Renie said, “to watch out for cheating. But I don’t think there’s one in your room. Keeping track of your bets is probably done by a computer.”

  Gertrude scowled at her niece. “Computers! They’re a big nuisance. And as usual, you don’t know what you’re talking about, Serena.”

  “Now, now,” Aunt Deb said in gentle reprimand, “don’t speak like that to my little girl. She’s really quite smart.”

  “You couldn’t prove it by me,” Gertrude harrumphed. “Now my daughter here doesn’t have much sense, but she’s got enough brains to run a B&B. Which,” the old lady added with a hard look at Judith, “is kind of funny when you think about it, because she can put a bunch of strangers in all those bedrooms, but can’t find a place in the house for her poor old mother.”

  “Hey,” Judith all but barked, “that’s your choice. You never wanted to live under the same roof as Joe.”

  “I’m proud of you,” Aunt Deb said to Renie. “Your little drawings are very clever, even if I don’t always understand what they mean.”

  “That’s because,” Renie said for what she estimated was about the four-hundredth time, “sometimes they aren’t really drawings. They’re designs and concepts.”

  “At least,” Gertrude declared, “when you were married to Lunkhead the First, I could live in my own house. ’Course you never let me come visit you in yours.”

  “That was Dan’s idea,” Judith retorted, “not mine. He wouldn’t let any of the family or my friends visit. The only guests we ever had were his drunken cronies from the Meat & Mingle.”

  “The word concept has always bothered me,” Aunt Deb said. “I understand the meaning, but people seem to use it these days as sort of a substitute for what they really mean.”

  Since Aunt Deb had been a legal secretary, Renie understood her mother’s concern with exactitude in language. “It’s an idea,” Renie explained, “which takes in the…”

  “I’m surprised you had any company out in that dump on Thurlow Street,” Gertrude said. “Luckily, I never saw that place. Didn’t you have rats doing the rumba inside the walls? Or did you have walls?”

  “Of course we had walls,” Judith said. “And yes, we had rats. But they never bit…”

  “I honestly don’t see why,” Aunt Deb said in a familiar fretful tone, “when you work alone, you have to attend these conferences. They sound silly to me.”

  “I won’t argue that point,” Renie responded. “I wouldn’t go if the gas company wasn’t sending me. But they’re one of my best clients, so I’m stuck. It’s all a bunch of blah-blah, and what’s worse, I have to wear a name tag. I hate name tags. If you can’t remember a…”

  “It’s no wonder Dan croaked when he was only forty-nine,” Gertrude said with asperity. “He was as big as a house. Maybe not your house, but he weighed over four hundred—”

  “He drank too much and ate too many sweets,” Judith said, a sudden pang in her breast. Dan would have loved the casino. He had loved to gamble. Unfortunately, during the times he was actually employed, he had often spent his paycheck on the last three races at the nearby track. Like Dan himself, the horses he chose were losers.

  “But you get to meet so many new people,” Aunt Deb pointed out. Like her niece, Aunt Deb loved people. “I’d think you might enjoy that.”

  “Then,” Renie said, her patience eroding, “it’s too darned bad you aren’t the one attending the conference.” A wicked gleam sparked in Renie’s brown eyes. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

  “What, dear?” Aunt Deb looked puzzled.

  With a sheepish smile, Renie waved a hand in dismissal. “Forget it. Let’s get you settled in so that I can go out and win millions.”

  Gertrude’s attention was caught by the remark. “‘Settled in’? As in where?”

  “Here, Aunt Gertrude,” Renie said, her smile now as bright as a new silver dollar. “You don’t want to be all alone for the next few days, do you?”

  “I sure do,” Gertrude retorted. “Unlike some people,” she went on with a glare for Deb, “I like my own company. And I don’t like having my ear chewed off.”

  “Now, Gert dear—” Aunt Deb began.

  Judith held up her hands. “
Stop. Let’s make some ground rules.”

  “Like in hockey?” Gertrude shot back. “Get me a stick, I can bop her every time she opens her big mouth.”

  “Puck you,” Aunt Deb said under her breath. But she smiled.

  Gertrude whirled around in the wheelchair. “What was that?”

  Deb kept smiling. “I said, ‘poor you.’ I know I can be a trial.” She stopped smiling and hung her head.

  A knock sounded at the door. Judith and Renie almost trampled each other to answer it. Renie, being faster afoot, got there first. A tall young waiter stood behind a cart bearing covered dishes and a coffeepot.

  “Room service for Mrs. Grover,” he announced.

  “‘Room service’?” Judith echoed. “It’s not even four o’clock.”

  “That’s not supper,” Gertrude asserted, beckoning the waiter to bring in the cart. “That’s my snack. You never bring me snacks at home.”

  Judith started lifting the lids from the plates. “Smoked salmon? Trout pâté? A prawn cocktail? Pickles?”

  Gertrude jabbed Judith in the backside. “Where are the crackers? Where’s the cheese?”

  “It’s all here.” Judith sighed. “Okay, enjoy it. And share it with Aunt Deb. You can’t possibly eat all this.”

  “I could,” Renie volunteered, snatching a prawn from the cocktail glass. “Yum!”

  Judith grabbed Renie by the arm. “We’re going now. Get along, you two.”

  “Fine, beat it,” Gertrude said. “Deb can get herself unpacked. And tip the kid on your way out, okay?”

  After Renie had nipped into their room on the other side of the Flynns,’ the cousins headed for the casino.

  “Bill’s unpacked everything,” Renie said. “He must be downstairs, studying the table games.”

  “What do you mean, ‘studying’?” Judith inquired.

  Renie poked the elevator button. “Bill has a philosophy that he strictly adheres to when we go to Reno or Vegas or Tahoe. He believes that the only way to beat the house is to make three bets and then quit. So he always eliminates the slots because he says you never win. Instead, he studies the table games. Not just the games themselves but the players, the dealers, the stickmen, the croupiers, the pit bosses—everybody. Then, when he feels that everything is right, including his own attitude, he makes his bets.”