All the Pretty Hearses (18 page)

“Oh . . .” He picked up her hand. “I’d rather stroke you—all over.”

She was surprised that it wasn’t easy to smile at him. But she did. “All of this can’t be easy for you.”

“Or you either.” His green eyes narrowed. “Unless, of course, Addison Kirby’s been an adequate replacement.”

“Oh, Joe!” She laughed, equally surprised to find that this was easy. “He’s a nice guy and I trust him. But he’s not you. Nobody is.”

Joe leaned forward so that their foreheads touched. “I’d like to say it’s been worth it. But it’s not.” He pulled her closer and kissed her softly on the lips. With obvious reluctance, he leaned back in the chair. “They plan to announce tomorrow that I’m a suspect in the murder of whoever the hell that guy in the morgue is.”

“Oh no! Why? You can’t let them do that. It’ll ruin your reputation. Are they crazy?”

Joe shrugged. “You’d prefer they arrested Uncle Al? Or Bill?”

“Why do they have to arrest anybody who’s innocent?” Judith demanded. “It makes no sense.”

“That’s because this whole case—and the investigation that started even before the homicide—makes no sense.” He shook his head. “No, that’s not accurate. It probably makes perfect sense, if we could only put the other pieces together. I just happened to find myself caught in the middle. A coincidence, I figured. But it turns out that it was no such thing. I was, in effect, set up. The problem is, I’ve no idea who made sure I was in the right place at the wrong time.”

“Does Woody have any leads?”

“No,” Joe said ruefully. “The murder site was in his precinct and he’s only been on the job a short time, so he has to start from scratch. Woody’s as baffled as I am.”

“None of that makes you the fall guy. You’ve earned your reputation. Don’t let this case tarnish it.”

“Hey,” Joe said, putting his thumb and forefinger on his wife’s chin and staring into her eyes, “once we solve this, I’ll be a hero, not a bum.”

“No, you won’t,” she retorted. “Most people will only remember that a retired cop was charged with murder. That’s what will stick in their minds. They won’t recall what happened beyond that bald fact.”

Joe’s hand dropped to his side. “I’m doing this for Woody. And,” he went on, the gold flecks in his green eyes sparking, “to flush out the real killer before he—or she—strikes again.”

Judith tensed. “Do you really think that will happen?”

“It’s very possible,” Joe said quietly. “If the guilty party figures the setup worked, it could make him—or her—reckless. I’ve seen it happen. Then we have a better chance of catching this crafty bastard.”

Judith stared at what was left of the pastrami. “I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”

“I won’t. I can’t.” He sounded helpless. “Keep Addison around. I want to make sure you’ve got somebody you can trust with you.”

Alarmed, she looked at Joe. “You think
I’m
the next victim?”

“No,” he insisted. “I just worry when I’m not with you.”

Judith didn’t believe him, but she kept that thought to herself. “Then I might as well go home.” She stood up. So did Joe. “This is the worst fix we’ve ever been in,” she said, feeling depressed. “What a horrible way to start the new year. I feel like crawling into a hole like the groundhog and never coming out.”

“Hey,” Joe said, putting his arm around her, “I know it seems pretty bad, but we’ll figure it out.” He steered Judith toward the door. “I’ll try to keep in touch, though I can’t tell you much about what’s going on. If there’s some kind of badass at City Hall, I have to avoid being overheard on a wire.”

“You can spare me the details,” Judith said as Joe reached for the doorknob. “You may be right about another murder. But it won’t be me.”

Chapter Sixteen

T
here had been no chance for Joe to ask Judith what she meant. In fact, the doorknob had turned in his hand. Joe stepped aside to let Woody in. Del and Addison remained in the corridor.

Judith offered Woody a peck on the cheek. “I’m leaving. I know you’ll figure all this out and make a lawful arrest. Good luck. Give my love to Sondra. Bye, now.”

She only glimpsed Woody’s startled face. “You coming, Addison?” she said over her shoulder. “Or should I call a cab?”

“He’s leaving, too,” Joe called out to his wife. “Take it easy, Kirby.”

Once they’d exited the side hall, Judith was surprised that Addison led her to the elevators. “I thought you parked in the garage,” she said as he poked the down button. “Isn’t that in the other direction?”

“I parked where I left you off,” he replied, keeping his voice down. “It’s okay for media types to do that after hours. I didn’t want to mention going to the morgue.” The doors slid open. He didn’t continue until the car started its descent. “I knew you’d ask a lot of questions.” He paused to offer Judith an apologetic smile. “I couldn’t take you with me and I didn’t want to waste time. Besides, it was better that you didn’t know what I was doing in case somebody made a ruckus.”

“Like the corpse?” Judith said drily.

Addison sighed. “It was definitely Zachary. What do you make of that?”

“Wait until we get to the car,” Judith said as they exited the elevator.

A soft drizzle was falling when they left the building. Ever the gentleman, Addison opened the passenger door for Judith and waited for her to put on her seat belt. A moment later, he was behind the wheel.

“Well?” he said, turning the ignition key.

Judith didn’t answer until they stopped at a red light three blocks later. “I’m trying to think this through logically. The man living in the condo was supposedly paralyzed or at least unable to walk after a serious accident. My first question for the medical examiner would be did the vic have such a disability? I assume they’ve done an autopsy.”

“Iggy couldn’t tell me anything,” Addison replied. “He works nighttime security and used to be a truck driver for the newspaper. I was lucky he let me see the body. I could look, but not touch. And I only had about five seconds to do that. Given that, they may be waiting for official ID and next of kin to be notified before they cut him up.”

“But it’s a homicide case,” Judith pointed out. “They’ve already waited three full days. That’s too long.”

“True, but they know cause of death,” Addison said as the light changed. “Two bullets at the base of the skull. Time of death is verified by the neighbor who heard the shots. SANECO won’t worry too much at this point about whether or not the deceased was a fraud. It’s a moot point unless his heirs follow up on the insurance claim.”

“His heir would be Hannah Paine Conrad,” Judith said. “So why does Hannah show up at the B&B with a bogus Zachary?”

“That’s what I wonder, too. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Of course,” Judith agreed. “Hannah is in on whatever hoax was perpetrated. But isn’t that kind of obvious? And why would she do it?”

“It’s
too
obvious. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

Judith shook her head. “No. We’re missing something. A lot of somethings. I need more time to think about this. If Zachary Conrad had suffered a bad accident that put him in a wheelchair, it’d have made the news. That’s your beat, right?”

“Basically,” Addison agreed, “but I was out of town visiting our son and his family in L.A. at Christmastime. Before that, I took a few days off to go see our daughter and her gang in Dallas. Sure, the story would be handled by whoever took on my beat, but I was updated on major coverage. I don’t recall anything newsworthy about Zachary after I got back.” He made a face. “On the other hand, we’re so squeezed for space and staff that some things fall through the cracks. Since we went to a morning edition, our deadline is ten
P.M.
—eleven for a big story and sports scores. Once in a while we miss an otherwise usable piece of news, but with our rival out of business, it’s been on TV or the Internet and grown cold by the time we go to press. It’s hard enough to keep updating our online version.”

“I understand,” Judith murmured. “Every so often something happens on the hill that seems like news to me, but I never see it in the paper. Our last power outage in November was an example of that. I never saw a word about it.”

“Right. Some drunk hit a pole around midnight, so it was pointless to run it thirty-six hours later. I didn’t even bother calling Zachary.”

“The other big question is why would he be living in a condo on the lake when the Conrads have a house on the Bluff?”

Addison chuckled. “To escape Hannah? She sounds like a virago.”

“You should meet her mother,” Judith remarked. “Norma’s even worse. More years of practice.” She frowned. “I wonder if she has any answers. I’d hate to have to talk to her, especially after the whole family walked out on me. But she must know
something
.”

“Want me to do it?” Addison volunteered as they reached the steep ascent of Heraldsgate Avenue.

“Would you?” Judith couldn’t keep the relief out of her voice. “I mean, you’d have to wait until there’s a formal ID of the body. Hannah will have to be notified as next of kin.”

“That should prove interesting,” Addison murmured. “She’ll have to explain why she showed up with her dead husband at Hillside Manor.”

“No she won’t. She’ll figure the cops won’t know what she did. Hannah is unaware that I have a connection to the police.”

“Oh?” Addison responded, taking a left onto the street that led to the cul-de-sac. “You don’t think she knows about FASTO?”

“I doubt it,” Judith said. “She doesn’t strike me as the type who’d be curious about anything that didn’t affect her directly.”

“You’re probably right,” he allowed, slowing down to make the next turn. “It seems as if I’m your guest again tonight.”

“That’s fine with me,” Judith said. “You can take your choice of the rooms. They’re all vacant.”

“I’ll stay where I did last night . . .” He hit the brake by the driveway. “The garage doors were closed, right?”

Judith leaned forward. “Yes. What . . . ?” In the headlights, she saw Joe’s MG parked outside and her Subaru inside, but otherwise, the garage seemed empty. “Pull up behind the MG. I don’t see any sign of a horse . . . carcass.”

“Just as well,” Addison said, reversing just enough to go straight ahead into the driveway. “Stay here. I’ll check.” He turned off the engine and got out of the car.

From her viewpoint, Judith still couldn’t see beyond the void where the dead animal should have been lying. Addison flipped on the lights. The horse had disappeared. Judith got out of the Rover.

“I don’t know what to say,” she murmured, joining Addison in the garage. Even the water and the feed were gone. “I wonder how anybody got in. You locked the door, didn’t you?”

“I thought I did,” Addison replied, “but maybe I screwed up with the code. There’s no sign of a break-in.”

Judith nodded absently. “I’ll ask Mother if she heard anything.”

“It’s going on midnight. Won’t she be asleep?”

Judith shook her head. “She’s a night owl. Her light’s still on.”

Addison followed Judith out of the garage and down the walk to the toolshed. As predicted, Gertrude was sitting in her chair, watching Jay Leno. The volume was unbearably loud. “Well,” the old lady said when she saw her visitors come inside, “did you wear out your shoes with all that dancing? I could make some pretty good moves in my day, you know.” Her gaze fixed on Addison. “Slue Foot there likes to think she can dance, but with a partner like Flat Foot, she hasn’t got a prayer.”

Judith waved an impatient hand at her mother. “Did you hear anything outside while we were gone?”

Gertrude put a hand behind her left ear. “Eh? I’m deaf, you know. Speak up!”

Judith snatched up the remote and hit the mute button. “No wonder. You make yourself deaf when you . . . never mind. Did you hear a noise outside—”

“I heard you the first time,” Gertrude interrupted. “Do you think I’m
that
deaf? No, it’s been quiet as a grave around here. Now go away and let me watch my show.” She smiled coyly at Addison. “You can stick around. You like Leno?”

“Yes,” Addison said, “but I should go. It’s almost midnight.”

“You young people,” Gertrude said with a disgusted wave of her hand. “No stamina. Tsk tsk. That’s fine. I’ve had enough company for one night. Get your beauty sleep. That daughter of mine sure needs it.”

Addison smiled politely. “She’s had a long day. Good night . . . Gert.”

Judith started to hand the remote back to her mother, but paused. “What company, Mother?”

“The Doublegangers,” Gertrude said. “Nice boys. Or
boy
. You better make an appointment with the eye doctor. I need new glasses.”

“You mean the twins?” Judith asked.

“Twins?” The old lady frowned. “Isn’t that the same as Doublegangers?”

“It’s
doppelgängers,
” Judith said, trying to hang on to her shredding patience. “Andrew and Paulina Paine have twin boys.”

Gertrude looked surprised. “Those Paines doubled themselves? Aren’t there too many of them already?”

“Yes, but never mind that,” Judith persisted. “Why did they come to see you?”

“Why shouldn’t they?” Gertrude snapped. “Some youngsters like old people.”

Addison smiled. “So do I—and I’m no youngster.”

“Oh,” Gertrude said, “you’re young to me. ‘Younger Than Springtime’—didn’t your wife play Nellie Forbush in
South Pacific
?”

“She was the understudy for the lead years ago,” Addison replied. “She did three performances when the star got a cold.”

“I thought so,” Gertrude said. “I missed her in that. I saw the road show years ago when it came to town at the amphitheater on Teal Lake.”

“Mother,” Judith said, leaning on the card table, “I don’t believe the twins just dropped by to say hello. What did they want?”

“Oh . . .” Gertrude made a face. “They wanted to get into the garage. One of them left his wallet in there. I told them to take my house key and look for the secret code in your drawer by the computer machine. They found the wallet, came back, and returned the key. Took ’em long enough, but they were real polite. Can’t believe they’re related to that Paine pair from church. Maybe they’re adopted.”

Judith’s shoulders sagged. “You gave a key to a couple of strangers and let them go into my private drawer? Are you crazy?”

“Probably,” Gertrude said complacently, then glanced at Addison. “Dementia—isn’t that the correct term?”

“And,” Judith shouted, “stop talking in different voices! You’re driving
me
crazy!”

“Short trip,” Gertrude murmured. “Pull yourself together, Toots,” she went on in her normal tone. “How many times have you run off someplace and told me to let in workmen like that old coot, Skjoval Tolvang, or those other folks who have to fix something you busted?”

Judith was forced to admit her mother had a point. “Okay, okay. At least I know who the Paine twins are. I’m sorry.” She moved to the chair and kissed the top of the old lady’s head. “Have a good night.”

“The same to you,” Gertrude muttered. “And don’t take any wooden nickels.”

Moments later, Judith was in the kitchen. The first thing she did was check the drawer where she kept the garage and other household codes. Sure enough, the garage-door information had been returned. She was checking her registration list for Saturday night when Addison came through the back door.

“You lingered,” Judith said. “Was Mother spouting Shakespeare?”

Addison shook his head. “I only stayed a couple of minutes, but I had to park the car and close the garage. I remembered the code.” He held out a small scrap of paper. “I found this next to your Subaru. Mean anything?”

Judith stared at the printed words on the soiled scrap:

and MIXED SALES

Tuesday, September 6

“Not offhand,” she said. “ ‘Mixed sales . . .’ of what? Bulbs, maybe? It’d be the right time of year.”

“But it’s not yours?”

She shook her head. “No. Whatever it is was torn off of a printed notice or from a magazine. It’s not stationery or newsprint.”

Addison smiled wryly. “Yes, I figured out that last part, sometimes being an investigative reporter. I assume the Paine twins dropped it. Or whoever shot the horse. Unless they’re one and the same. Or two and the same.” He shook himself. “I’m starting to talk like your mother.”

“Be careful,” Judith warned. “She’s contagious.”

For a few seconds, she stared at the paper scrap. “It’s dirty, as if maybe someone stepped on it. I wonder if a print could be taken from it?”

“You think it’s important?”

Judith leaned against the counter. “Probably not. But . . .” She shrugged. “The least little piece can fit into a puzzle.”

“You ought to know. You’ve had more experience than I have with murder. This is only my second foray into homicide.” His face grew bleak. “I wasn’t much help, despite my wife being one of the victims.”

“You had a broken leg,” she reminded him. “Courtesy of the killer. You’re lucky you weren’t a victim, too.”

He was staring out the kitchen window into the rain that was coming down harder. “Was I? Lucky, I mean.”

Judith put a hand on his arm. “Don’t talk like that. Someday you’ll find someone to spend the rest of your life with. I know. I did.”

Addison turned to look at her. “You didn’t
find
Joe—he was always there. You just got him back.”

“I got lucky,” Judith said. “Maybe you will, too.”

“I appreciate the thought.” He squared his shoulders and moved toward the swinging doors. “I’m beat. I think I’ll head upstairs. Is there anything you need for me to do before I go to sleep on my feet?”

Briefly, Judith studied Addison’s face. He had aged more than she realized. Or maybe the deep lines and the lack of sparkle in his usually shrewd eyes were caused by fatigue. And yet he seemed to have changed since his arrival on her doorstep the previous day. An unexpected thought occurred to her, but she dismissed it. Instead, she merely smiled faintly and shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m turning in very soon, too. At least I don’t have to get up early to fix breakfast for the guests.”