Vi Agra Falls
Authors: Mary Daheim
A Bed-and-Breakfast Mystery
To Bud and Betty,
who have won the Best In-Laws in the World Award
for the forty-second year in a row.
How did I get so lucky?
1
Judith McMonigle Flynn stood on the front porch of Hillsideâ¦
2
So lucky I caught you!” Vivian Flynn exclaimed, displaying considerableâ¦
3
In the weeks that followed, Judith mercifully saw little ofâ¦
4
Judith was sweeping up dead leaves from under the camelliaâ¦
5
Should I get all gussied up?” Gertrude asked Judith lateâ¦
6
Judith was stunned. “No!” she cried. “I can't believe it!”
7
Judith hurried down the front stairs as fast as herâ¦
8
Judith related the brief exchange between Marva Lou and Frankie.
9
Joe was in the kitchen when Judith came back intoâ¦
10
The rest of the day played out uneventfully. All ofâ¦
11
It's not my body!” Judith cried. “Damnit, I'm not onâ¦
12
Judith froze by the dining room table. “Joe,” she said,â¦
13
Uncle Al answered the phone on the fifth ring. “What'sâ¦
14
What?” Judith cried.
15
After the cousins had finished their meal of tempura andâ¦
16
Renie looked skeptical. “Didn't Vivian tell you he was dead?
17
That night, Judith had strange dreams. They weren't exactly nightmares,â¦
18
The names Mavis had given Judith rang no bells. Sheâ¦
19
From snatches of furious insults, the battle seemed to beâ¦
20
Judith's obvious astonishment evoked a curious expression from Terri. “What'sâ¦
21
Caitlin's expression was grim. “What should we do?”
22
Frozen in place under the plum tree, Judith sensed ratherâ¦
J
udith McMonigle Flynn stood on the front porch of Hillside Manor, took a deep breath of fresh summer air, and gazed around the cozy cul-de-sac on the south slope of Heraldsgate Hill. It was a perfect June morning with pink and white dogwood trees in full bloom, maple trees swaying in the soft wind, and rosebushes bursting with new buds.
“Nice,” she said out loud. Not too warm, she thought, and so peaceful. The only sound was the chirping of baby birds in a nest that Mama and Papa Robin had built in the branches of a cotoneaster bush by the east side of the house. All the weekend B&B guests had left by eleven o'clock on this last Monday of the month.
Judith was about to go back inside when she heard a rumbling noise. A plane overhead? A helicopter? A herd of stampeding buffalo? The sound grew closer. She leaned on the porch railing and saw a huge truck pulling into the cul-de-sac. It stopped in front of the second house from the corner. Judith went down the front steps to see the big black and red letters on the truck's side: grooving moving, inc.
“What's going on?” a voice nearby called out.
Judith turned to see Arlene Rankers coming out of her house
on the other side of the laurel hedge. “I don't know,” Judith replied. “Are Rudi and his girlfriend moving out?”
Arlene's pretty face puckered into a scowl. “If they are, I should've known about it. Cathy keeps her ear to the ground when it comes to the real estate business. Surely my own daughter would've told me.”
Judith gestured at the two burly young men who had gotten out of the truck. “They're going to Rudi's rental. I think their lease is up about this time of year.”
“That's right.” Arlene started across the pavement that curved in front of the Rankerses' house and the B&B. “Let's find out.”
Judith hesitated. She was as curious as Arlene, but lacked her neighbor's brashness in posing awkward questions. Then again, there were times when Judith didn't want to know the truth. The moving van's arrival was one of them.
“Arlene!” called a voice from farther down the cul-de-sac. “Wait!”
Rochelle Porter, who lived on the other side of the Rankers, hurried to the middle of the street where Arlene stood with her head cocked to one side like a curious bird. “What is it, Rochelle?” she asked.
Rochelle motioned for Judith to join them. “Last night I couldn't sleep,” Rochelle said, lowering her voice. “Gabe got a crazy notion that he wanted some real soul food. He made chitlins with vinegar and some kind of hot sauce that practically set my mouth on fire. For a black man who was raised right here in this city and hasn't been farther south than Disneyland, I don't know why that fool husband of mine comes up with these peculiar cravings.” She shook her head. “I was up half the night with heartburn. About three in the morning I saw lights over in Rudi Wittener's house and a big U-Haul. Rudi's girlfriend, Taryn, came outside, and the movers started hauling furniture from
the house to the truck.” Rochelle gazed at the newly arrived moving van. “Look, they're unloading the truck. Somebody else must be moving in.”
Arlene stamped her foot. “I'm going to strangle Cathy! She should have told me! I'm never the last to know!”
Judith suppressed a smile. Arlene was right: she was indeed the font of all knowledge, rumor, and gossip on Heraldsgate Hill. Long ago, Judith had dubbed her neighbor's store of information as Arlene's Broadcasting System, or more briefly, ABS.
“Maybe,” Judith said soothingly, “Cathy doesn't know. It's odd to move out in the middle of the night. Why would they do that?”
Arlene glared at Judith. “
You
wonder? Not as much as I do! And,” she added, marching off toward the van, “I intend to find out!”
Rochelle laughed and shook her head. “Arlene's got more nerve than a peanut merchant. I admire her gumption.”
Judith nodded. “Me, too. She's a terrific neighbor.”
Both women stopped talking as they watched Arlene's animated conversation with the brawny movers.
“Bus?” Arlene shouted. “What bus? The nearest stop is a block and a half over on Heraldsgate Avenue.”
One of the men threw his hands in the air; the other stomped off toward the ramp that had been propped up behind the van.
“Oh, for heaven's sake!” Arlene exclaimed. “If you people can't speak English, at least show me your work order! My husband's the block watch chairman around here.
We have to know
.”
With a heavy sigh and sagging of broad shoulders, the mover who'd remained by the curb came around to the driver's side of the van and opened the door. He returned with a clipboard and shoved it at Arlene.
“âBuss'?” Arlene snapped, looking up from what Judith pre
sumed was the work order. “You don't spell âbus' with two esses.”
The man tapped his finger several times on the sheet of paper.
“Oh,” Arlene said, more quietly. “That's the person's name. Carry on. Or lift on. Orâ¦whatever you people do.” She headed back to Judith and Rochelle.
“Someone named Billy Buss is moving in,” Arlene announced. “He's from Oklahoma. There was a handwritten note attached to the work order. I think I got the gist of it. It indicated that Mr. Buss was anxious to be in the house by today, which, I suppose is why Rudi and Tara had to move on such short notice. I hope they got a break on their rent. I was never fond of them, but fair is fair, after all. This Buss person sounds very demanding. I hope he's not a musician.”
“Amen,” Rochelle said with fervor. “Rudi and his violin just about drove Gabe and me crazy as a pair of three-legged chickens.”
Judith agreed wholeheartedly. “His outdoor practice sessions, especially when he did them in the nude during the hot weather, upset all of us, including my B&B guests.”
Arlene shot Judith a dark glance. “And that wasn't the worst of it,” she said pointedly.
“It wasn't,” Judith responded with a grimace. “I'm still trying to forget about that whole wretched episode.”
Rochelle's smile was ironic. “You and your dead bodies. If it wasn't so terrible, it'd be funny.”
Judith frowned at Rochelle. “You wouldn't say that if you had to contend with the state B&B association. They almost took away my innkeeper's license after the murder involving Rudi Wittener and his hangers-on.”
Rochelle's expression grew somber as she put a hand on Judith's arm. “I know. I'm sorry. It's just that youâ¦well, you have sort of aâ¦
habit
of getting involved in those things.”
“Some habit,” Judith murmured. “I hope I've gotten over it by now. I'm not as young as I used to be.”
Rochelle looked rueful. “Who is?”
“Mary Alice O'Flaherty,” Arlene said. “You may not know her, Rochelle, but she goes to our church. She was forty-eight for the past seven years, and now she's forty-two. Amazing.”
Judith and Rochelle both managed to keep straight faces. They were used to Arlene's occasional off-the-wall remarks.
“Lordy, Lordy,” Rochelle said. “That
is
amazing.”
“Mary Alice doesn't look her age,” Judith noted, which was true. Mary Alice looked more like seventy-two than forty-two.
The three women paused to watch the movers carry a red brocade Victorian loveseat into the rental house.
“Gaudy,” Rochelle commented. “That thing looks like it belongs in a whorehouse.”
Arlene's blue eyes widened. “You don't thinkâ¦?”
Rochelle burst out laughing. “No, of course not. This is Heraldsgate Hill. With our skyrocketing real estate prices, not even first-class hookers could afford to move in.”
But Judith was suddenly struck by an equally unsettling thought that wasn't exactly unconnected to excesses of the flesh. “Excuse me,” she said. “I have to see how Phyliss is getting along.” Smiling weakly, she headed back to Hillside Manor just as her cleaning woman appeared on the front porch, shaking out a dust mop.
“Heathen goings-on,” Phyliss said, her thin lips pursed in disapproval. “Look at what's coming out of that moving van now. A bar!”
Judith turned to see the men rolling a sleek portable cherrywood bar down the ramp. “That's what it looks like,” she agreed bleakly.
Phyliss leaned her scrawny frame on the dust mop. “Does this mean the naked fiddler's been hauled off by Beelzebub?”
“I'm not sure what it means,” Judith said glumly. She gazed out into the cul-de-sac as Arlene and Rochelle walked off to their respective houses. “What's taking Joe so long at the hardware store? All he had to do was buy some lightbulbs.”
Going back inside the house, Phyliss shrugged. “You know menâthey go hog-wild when they see all those fancy tools and tin buckets and nuts and bolts.”
“True,” Judith said vaguely. She wandered into the kitchen, trying to concentrate on the tasks she performed in the course of her typical innkeeper's day. For the second time that morning, Judith checked the computer at the far end of the counter to see if there were any new reservation messages. Three requests had come in during the past three hours, two for late July, one for early August. The B&B was perking along nicely during the peak travel season, but she still felt uneasy. While she was responding to the latest inquiries, Joe breezed in through the back door, loaded down with brown Full House Hardware bags and carrying a sink plunger.
“What,” Judith asked, “is all that? And don't we already have six sink plungers?”
Joe set the paper bags on the kitchen table and twirled the sink plunger like a baton. “None of them are like this baby,” he declared. “It's what they call âmodular modern.' See how the handle curves? And look at the difference in suction.” He shoved the plunger into the sink and gave it a couple of pushes.
Nothing happened.
“And?” Judith said, her dark eyes wide with feigned interest.
“Well⦔ Joe paused and then shrugged. “Of course it's not going into action. The sink's not plugged. Just wait until it is.”
“If our summer excitement is based on unclogging a drain,” Judith said, getting up from the chair by the computer, “I'd prefer something a little more dramatic.”
Joe pulled the plunger out of the sink. “You're bored?”
“No,” Judith replied. “Of course not. I'm justâ¦wondering about something.”
Joe's green eyes regarded Judith with curiosity. “Such as?”
“Did you see that moving van in the cul-de-sac?”
“I did. Is that for Mrs. Swanson?” Joe replied, referring to the elderly Japanese-born widow who lived on the corner.
Judith shook her head. “No. She's not moving in with her daughter until around Labor Day. Rudi and Taryn moved out last night,” she went on, and recounted what Rochelle Porter had seen.
“Odd,” Joe remarked. “Then what's that van doing over thereâ¦?” He grimaced. “Do you know who's moving in?”
“Somebody named Buss from Oklahoma,” Judith said. “Arlene saw the work order.”
“Ah.” Joe looked relieved.
Judith smiled. “Yes, I know what you're thinking. The thought occurred to me, too. I assume you haven't heard anything from Florida lately?”
“Not since Christmas,” Joe said, removing some hinges from one of the hardware store bags. “You saw the card, too.”
“Yes.” Judith made a face. “Eight tiny pink flamingos pulling Santa's sleigh didn't strike the right Yuletide note. Neither did Santa wearing a bikini. And I certainly could have done without the scratch-'n'-sniff martini inside that smelled like gin.”
Joe shrugged. “You have to admit, it was all very Vivian.” He emptied another bag that contained a cordless screwdriver. “This one bends,” he explained. “My other one has only one position.”
“Just like your first wife,” Judith remarked. “As in facedown on the bar.”
“Hey,” Joe retorted, sorting different-sized nails, “lay off. Be honest. Since Vivian bought the house in the cul-de-sac, she
hasn't lived there for more than a year or so off and on. She's a sun person, she hates the rain. That condo on the Florida gulf is her idea of paradise.”
“I know that,” Judith said, “but when she's here the whole tone of the neighborhood changes. I hate to say this, but her lifestyle doesn't fit in with the rest of us. Not with us or the Rankers, the Porters, the Steins, the Ericsons, and Mrs. Swanson. Herself,” Judith went on using the nickname she'd given her rival years ago, “is a creature of the night, drinking and partying and having all sorts of strange men come and go.”
Joe scowled at his wife. “Some people might say that you have too many guests who come and goâpermanently.”
“That's not fair,” Judith snapped. “There have only been two guests in fifteen years who actuallyâ¦passed away on the premises while they were guests. You're an ex-cop. You know better than anyone that I had absolutely no responsibility for theirâ¦bad luck.”
Joe simply looked at Judith and said nothing.
Judith sighed. “Okay, okay. So I
have
gotten caught up in several homicides. But they just happened to occur in situations where I was involved.” She came up to Joe and kissed his cheek. “That's not really the point. It's strange, but even after all these years, I feel a little jealous of Herself. Despite herâ¦uhâ¦flaws, she still retains some sort of glamour that I don't have.”
“Yeah,” Joe said, emptying yet another bag with an assortment of washers, screws, and electrical tape. “But you know damned well none of it's real.” He put his arm around Judith. “I got what I wanted right here. I had it all along, but I blew it. Then I got a second chance.” He hugged her tight. “Over forty years have gone by since I got drunk and eloped with HerselfâI mean, Vivian. Isn't it about time we forgot it ever happened?”