Vi Agra Falls (6 page)

“I hate that kind of music,” Rochelle declared, wincing. She removed her half-glasses to stare across the cul-de-sac. “Where's that black sedan? It was parked where the bar's set up.”

“What sedan?” Judith asked in a loud voice.

Rochelle put her glasses back on. “Ham said it was the same car he saw the other night, and probably the same man who went around the back of the house and then left.” She shrugged. “Maybe he was delivering something for this shindig. I hear there's going to be a big announcement after the band takes a break.”

“Hopefully,” Judith said, “it'll be soon.”

Jeanne Ericson poked Judith in the arm. “We have noise ordinances in this city,” she shouted. “Can't we report this?”

Seeing Joe doing the samba with Marva Lou Buss, Judith grimaced. “It depends on the time of day, I think, like after ten at night. Let's wait. I wouldn't want to see my husband busted by one of his former cop buddies.”

Jeanne followed Judith's gaze. “Oh. I keep forgetting—Joe used to be married to Whatever-Her-Name-Is-Now. Sorry.”

“So am I,” Judith murmured, feeling a headache coming on. “Excuse me, I'm going to get some aspirin.”

Rochelle and Jeanne both nodded. The samba ended, providing a moment of relative quiet. But as Judith went up Hillside Manor's front steps, she saw Herself appear on the bandstand.

“Don't forget,” Vivian said into the microphone that was pinned to the deep vee of her cleavage, “our big news is coming up in just a few minutes. Meanwhile, I'm going to serenade you with one of my old favorites, ‘I Ain't Got Nobody.'” She swiveled her hips and patted her bosom. “Not true, of course. As
my darling Billy Boy will tell you, I still have plenty of body.” Her guests broke into gusts of laughter and scattered applause. Judith felt like throwing up.

“How much,” Jeanne Ericson murmured, “of that body is plastic?”

Rochelle snickered. “I may have too much body, but it's all mine.”

“Only my hip is artificial,” Judith asserted. “I can't stand listening to this.” She fled into the house as Herself began to sing.

Downing two aspirin, she leaned against the kitchen counter, wondering if she could endure going back outside. Hunger pangs were gnawing at her stomach. The neighbors always provided delicious food, though it suddenly occurred to Judith that they'd all miss Miko Swanson's Japanese delicacies this time around. They'd also miss the older woman's gentle kindness. At least, Judith thought with a pang, Mrs. Swanson had been spared the raucous party in the cul-de-sac.

Finally, a few minutes before eight o'clock, she worked up the courage to rejoin the Block Watch potluck. The aspirin was easing her headache, though she was still annoyed with both Joe and Gertrude for blatantly joining Herself's shindig.

To Judith's relief, the music had stopped. The bandstand had been vacated. Joe had been talking to an older man who looked vaguely familiar and might have been one of the cop-bar habitués, judging from his somewhat drunken gestures. Judith watched her husband leave the Buss celebration and walk across the cul-de-sac to join Gabe Porter, Hamish Stein, and one of the Dooleys' grown daughters. The newlyweds from Anchorage remained on the other side of the cul-de-sac, engaged in an animated conversation with one of the waiters.

Judith ignored Joe. She filled a paper plate with pastrami,
Russian rye bread, macaroni salad, and several of Gabe's vegetables with sides of Rochelle's creamy herbed dip and Naomi's zesty horseradish.

Arlene sidled up to Judith. “If you want to give Joe a few good whacks, I've got my wooden spoon in the potato salad.”

Judith sighed. “Why can't men understand what upsets women?”

“Probably because they're men,” Arlene said. “There's not much we can do about that. Unfortunately.”

Judith took a bite of the pastrami, which was excellent. She was about to taste Jeanne's macaroni salad when Herself again ascended the bandstand to the accompaniment of a drum roll. Conversations died away; guests on both sides of the cul-de-sac stopped in their tracks; only Sweetums seemed uninterested, prowling toward the Rankerses' hedge, possibly in search of Tulip.

“Old friends, new friends, buddies, and neighbors,” Vivian began, “this might as well be New Year's Eve. This is the start of a new era, looking forward to the future. We know you'll want to join us as we ring out the old and bring in the new.”

“What's she talking about?” Jeanne whispered to Judith.

“I've no idea,” Judith replied. “She doesn't seem drunk. But she probably is.”

“…Good enough for the last century, but not for this one,” Herself continued, though Judith had missed the first part of the sentence. “Most of you know we recently purchased the house next door on the corner.” She raised a languid arm in the direction of Mrs. Swanson's bungalow. “That little house and the one I already own are outmoded on Heraldsgate Hill. They're the past, we're the future. Right after Labor Day, both of these little cracker boxes will be razed…” She paused and beamed at her audience. “And in their place, like a phoenix rising from
the ashes, will stand a six-story, twelve-unit, glorious, beautiful, stunning condominium!”

“My God!” Jeanne gasped.

“Lordy, Lordy,” Rochelle muttered.

“Mad as a hatter,” Arlene declared angrily. “Where's my wooden spoon? I'm going to beat some sense into that woman!”

“So,” Herself went on as her guests applauded enthusiastically, “hop on the Twenty-first Century Express for the ride of your life!” The band began to play; Vivian chimed in with a lusty, if rusty, version of “Chattanooga Choo Choo.”

The neighbors had begun talking at once. Judith marched up to Joe, who appeared to be under attack from Ted Ericson and three of the Dooleys.

“Did you know about this?” Judith demanded of her husband, dispensing with good manners for interrupting an irate Ted.

“Hell, no!” Joe retorted. “That's just what I was trying to tell—”

A commotion broke out by the bandstand. Arlene hadn't been kidding. She was trying to get at Vivian, wielding her wooden spoon as if it were a mace. Billy Buss was trying to restrain her. The band kept playing, but Herself stopped singing and stepped backward, falling into the bass drum.

Billy's muscle finally overcame Arlene's rage. She shrieked as he hauled her away from the bandstand, where the musicians had abruptly stopped the music while the drummer helped Vivian stand up. Halfway across the cul-de-sac, Billy released Arlene. Still clutching the wooden spoon, she whacked her enemy on the head. He reeled slightly just as Carl Rankers hurried to the site of the melee.

“Don't,” the usually unflappable Carl warned Billy, “ever lay a hand on my wife again! If my darling wants to whack some
body with her spoon, let her do it. That spoon belonged to her grandmother, and it's whacked plenty of people better than you in the last hundred years!”

Billy shot Carl a menacing look. Frankie Buss put a hand on his brother's shoulder. “C'mon, Billy, have another drink.”

Judith glared at Joe. “And you told me to stop looking for trouble! Now what have you got to say for yourself about Herself?”

“Okay, okay,” Joe said, holding his hands in front of him as if he expected either his wife or Arlene to go on the attack. “But how the hell would I know Vivian intended to build a condo?”

“You might've guessed she'd do something disruptive,” Judith asserted. “I just had that feeling—” She stopped, seeing Gertrude hurtling across the cul-de-sac in her wheelchair. “Mother? Have you defected from the enemy camp?” Judith asked.

Gertrude ignored her daughter, heading for Arlene. “You okay, kiddo?” Judith heard her mother ask.

“Oh, great!” Clapping her hands to her temples, Judith whirled around—and bumped into Naomi Stein. “Sorry,” she apologized. “My mother must be having a loyalty crisis. All her sympathy is for Arlene, but being so ornery, she likes Vivian, too. I'm the one left out in the cold. Or the heat, in this case. Oh, damn, I'm going inside to mope!”

“Poor you!” Naomi exclaimed, but her sympathy was lost on Judith, who fled toward the B&B. Shutting the front door to muffle the noise from outside, she went into the living room, grabbed the phone from the cherrywood table, and called her cousin on the other side of the hill.

“We just got back from our Block Watch party,” Renie said, answering on the second ring and sounding chipper. “They ate all of my chickens. How'd your potluck turn out?”

“A disaster,” Judith said, collapsing onto one of the matching sofas. “You won't believe what I'm going to tell you.”

Five minutes later, Renie got a word in edgewise. “But I
do
believe it,” she insisted. “It's just the kind of stunt Herself would pull. Maybe she can't carry it off. Zoning and permits and all that stuff. I'm not sure their property is zoned for multifamily dwellings.”

“I had to apply for a permit when I opened the B&B,” Judith said. “I got it,” she added glumly.

“A condo's a different matter,” Renie responded, “especially if the neighbors put up a fuss. You're going to have to band together. It sounds as if they're as upset as you are.”

“They are,” Judith assured her cousin. “Arlene was at her most combative, and everybody else in the cul-de-sac probably would've joined her if Billy hadn't backed off.”

“That's good,” Renie declared. “You've got momentum. March on City Hall tomorrow. Launch whatever's the best offensive. Maybe you should start with the Heraldsgate Hill Community Association.”

“Good idea,” Judith said. “Now I'm going to have another shot of Glenlivet and try to relax. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Thirty minutes later, Judith was still on the sofa, having fallen asleep after downing her second drink of the evening. She was awakened by Joe, calling her name from what sounded like the dining room.

“Wha'?” Her body jerked at the sound of his voice. Disoriented, she tried to sit up. “Joe?” she finally said after he'd repeated her name a couple of times.

“There you are,” he said, looking sheepish as he entered the living room. “Are you still mad at me?”

Judith held her head. “I don't know. I feel groggy.”

He sat down next to her on the sofa. “Go to bed. You're beat. It's after nine o'clock. I did our share of cleanup from the potluck. Your glass bowl's in the dishwasher.”

Judith yawned and stretched. “No. I should stay up at least
until ten, when we officially lock the doors.” She paused, suddenly aware that except for the ticking of the grandfather clock, there was an absence of noise in or out of the house. “What happened to that awful music? Did Arlene actually break up the big party?”

“Not exactly,” Joe said, wincing. “The band played for a little while after…after you left, but by that time some of Vivian's partygoers were kind of sloshed. The stripper that Billy hired refused to…perform. Then everybody started arguing and some fights broke out and the band stopped playing and all the musicians decided to take advantage of the free booze and…well, Vivian passed out, so Billy carried her into the house and more fights broke out because, I guess, Billy didn't come back to pay the band and everything got out of hand and somebody called the cops. Gabe Porter, I think. By the time the patrol car got here, everybody had pretty much left. That's when Ted Ericson and Naomi Stein decided to press charges for disturbing the peace and littering private property.” He winced again. “I'm afraid that side of the cul-de-sac is kind of a mess, but none of our gang will touch it with a ten-foot pole.”

“Oh, good grief!” Judith was wide awake now. “A stripper! What next? No, don't tell me. It's bad enough already, especially since our guests will have to come back to the B&B through a disaster area!”

“That couple from Anchorage didn't seem to mind,” Joe remarked. “They grabbed a couple of bottles from the bar and went off to the park up the street. I gave them directions on how to get there.”

“What! You know it's illegal to drink alcohol in a public park! Are you crazy?”

“Probably.” Joe sighed. “It's been that kind of evening.”

Judith couldn't argue. “Yes,” she said, and tried to curb her anger. It was pointless to keep berating Joe. She needed sup
port, not hostility. “We're going to have to fight this dreadful condo project, you know.”

Joe leaned forward on the sofa, head down, hands on his knees. “It sure as hell puts me on the spot.”

Judith was taken aback. “What do you mean? Just because you were married to Herself shouldn't enter into the picture. If she were anybody else, you'd be the first one to file a protest.”

“But she isn't anybody else,” Joe murmured, staring at the glass-topped coffee table's collection of glossy magazines.

“That's it!” Judith cried, bracing herself to get her tired body off of the sofa. “I
am
going to bed! You check on Mother, you take care of the guests, you lock up, you apologize to them again for all this mess! I've had it!” She stomped out of the living room, taking the shorter route to the third floor via the front stairs.

Joe didn't try to stop her. In fact, he didn't even bother to look up. He remained motionless, still staring with unseeing eyes at the cover of the latest
House Beautiful
magazine.

 

J
udith couldn't settle down after she got into bed. Maybe it was the change in routine, maybe it was the evening's unsettling events, maybe it was the quarrel with Joe—whatever the cause, it was going on midnight when she finally drifted into a restless slumber.

When she woke up, she thought it was because she heard Joe coming to bed. Still annoyed, Judith rolled over as far as she could to avoid any attempted gesture of affection. But after a couple of moments, she realized that the sound was caused not by her husband getting into bed, but by him getting out of it. He was moving hurriedly around the bedroom. Judith opened her eyes as she heard him go out into the hall. Glancing at the digital clock, she saw that it read 2:47 a.m.