Gone With the Win: A Bed-And-Breakfast Mystery (3 page)

Ruby made a face. “My mom didn’t like being independent. That’s why she stuck by my dad for so long. She had trouble getting along without a man. Of course, she had trouble getting along with Dad, too.”

Joe had finished loading the dishwasher and was heading for the back stairs. Judith rose from her chair. “I have ice cream if you’d like dessert. Or maybe an after-dinner drink?”

“I’ll skip the ice cream, but thanks,” Ruby said, also standing up. “Mr. Flynn should’ve let me bus the table. I’m used to it.”

“You’re a paying guest,” Judith said, going to the liquor cupboard. “Brandy, Drambuie, Galliano, or . . . I guess that’s it unless there’s something else in the dining room’s guest liquor cabinet.”

“Galliano sounds good,” Ruby replied.

Judith poured a measure into matching Isle of Murano glasses purchased when she and Renie visited Venice in their halcyon single years. “Let’s go in the living room and be comfortable,” she said, handing Ruby her drink.

“I feel sort of dumb,” Ruby blurted on their way through the dining room. “I’m probably on a fool’s errand. I feel like a pest. But I heard you had a big rep for crime solving.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Judith said, indicating that Ruby should sit on one of the two matching blue sofas flanking the fireplace. “My expertise is overrated. But it’s natural for you to want to know who killed your mother. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t done this sooner. Or,” she continued, seating herself across from her guest, “is this your first serious attempt at solving the mystery of her death?”

Ruby paused after a sip of the golden liqueur. “Good stuff. I haven’t tasted this since the last time I had a Harvey Wallbanger.” She licked her lips before speaking again. “I moved away after Mom died. Ozzie and I sold the house and split the profits, which weren’t all that much after we paid off Mom’s bills. First, I went to a community college over in the eastern part of the state, but studying wasn’t for me. Then I headed for Sun Valley. Don’t know why, just thought maybe I’d like it. I met a guy there and we moved in together for a couple of years, but that didn’t work out. Hell, you don’t want to hear all this. Cut to the chase. Never did marry any of the guys I met along the way, and three years ago I finally ended up in Little Bavaria, where I got dumped by a ski bum. I liked it there. Last spring I saw a couple of stories on the news about old murders that hadn’t been solved until DNA came along. I got to wondering about Mom. Then you showed up and I heard you were a hotshot sleuth. I liked you. I even kind of liked your lippy cousin.” She shrugged. “That’s it. Here I am. But you’re retired. Sorry ’bout that.”

Judith smiled weakly. “I never intended to be any kind of sleuth. I just seemed to get mixed up in murders. The first one happened right here at the B&B in the dining room. How could I
not
get involved? And then . . . well, some other situations arose, and being curious by nature, I just couldn’t help myself. But I promised Joe I’d quit. Sleuthing can be a dangerous . . . hobby.”

Ruby gazed in the direction of the big bay window, where the lights of the city glittered in the distance. “Yeah, I suppose it could be risky. Just my luck.” She sipped her drink before speaking again. “That’s okay. Your hubby will probably come up with somebody good.”

“I’m sure he will,” Judith said. “If it’ll help, your room is vacant for the next two nights. I won’t charge you. It’s not your fault I’m on the inactive list.”

“Oh . . .” Ruby looked uncertain. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Judith asserted. “I gather you haven’t lived in the city for a long time. It’s changed and grown. The least I can do is help you navigate it. Besides, I know from living way out south in the Thurlow District that it’s almost like being cut off from the city itself.”

Ruby nodded. “I never did know my way around even when I was growing up. I don’t think I went downtown more than six, seven times.”

“Understandable,” Judith agreed as Joe entered the living room.

“Galliano?” he remarked, leaning against the sofa and looking over Judith’s shoulder.

“You want some?” Judith asked, craning her neck to look at him.

“No, thanks. I need more than that after facing off with your mother.” He turned to Ruby. “I’ve got three names for you, including a woman investigator. Good people.” He moved around to come between the sofas and hand over his list. “Two are downtown and one is over on the Bluff. No fee from anyone to hear you out. I haven’t called any of them yet, but I’ll do that tomorrow first thing when they’re on the job.”

Ruby’s face lighted up. “Thanks, Mr. Flynn. You’re a doll.”

He patted his paunch with one hand and ran the other through his graying red hair. “A kewpie doll, maybe.”

They all laughed. But Judith knew murder was never a laughing matter.

Chapter 3

R
uby Tooms decided to take advantage of Judith’s offer to stay on at Hillside Manor. It had been years since she’d spent time in the city and decided to do some exploring.

“I might even head out to the Thurlow District,” she told Judith Wednesday morning. “You got a bus schedule?”

Judith said she had one in her visitor information. “You’ll have to transfer downtown,” she added. “I haven’t been there since . . . well, since I moved here. The café’s gone, and probably so are many of the other businesses. Believe it or not, I’ve heard the neighborhood has improved.”

Ruby shrugged. “It didn’t have any other direction to go unless it slid into the Sound.” Getting up from the kitchen table, she poured herself another mug of coffee. “I’ve lost touch with my old pals from the bad old days. Maybe there’s no point in going there. But I’d like to see if our house is still standing. Say,” she went on before sitting down again, “do you think I should make a list of all those people who might’ve been mixed up in my mother’s murder? I could give it to the private eye who takes on my case.”

“That’s a good idea,” Judith replied, opening the dishwasher to empty it. “When will you start contacting the PIs Joe recommended?”

“Tomorrow, I guess,” Ruby said without enthusiasm. “I wish your hubby did this kind of work.”

“He did it for years as a cop. He’s sort of burned out.”

Ruby nodded as she sat down. “I get it. Darn.”

Judith paused in the act of putting silverware away. “You’re not guilt-tripping Joe, you’re doing it to me. Honestly, I can’t get involved. I made a promise to my husband. I never, ever intended to get involved in murder. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and I let my curiosity run away with me. Besides, it’s dangerous. I’m emphasizing this because I don’t want you to start snooping around and try to figure out things for yourself. Leave it to a pro.”

“Okay, okay,” Ruby said wearily. “I get it. But I still want a look around the old hood.”

“That’s fine,” Judith declared, softening her tone. “But don’t go near any of the people involved—if in fact they’re still there.”

Ruby took a last gulp of coffee and stood up. “I won’t. Honest. Now give me that bus schedule so I can at least
look
at the scene of the crime. I need to do that. What do they call it? Closure?”

“Yes.” Judith smiled. “Just make sure that nobody tries to close
you
—permanently.”

I
hate bicycles!” Renie screamed into Judith’s ear. “Wait—I don’t mean bicycles as a mode of transport, I mean the dinks who ride them. If they’re going to hog the roads, why can’t they obey the rules? Are they all suicidal? I just saw some bozo ignore the four-way stop at the top of the hill and almost crash into a woman with a baby in a stroller. The baby slugged him. Ha ha.”

“There are lanes for bikes,” Judith pointed out reasonably.

“On the sidewalk?” Renie snapped. “That’s where this idiot ended up. If I hadn’t been in a hurry, I’d have run over him. I’ve no patience for people who break rules.”

“And you don’t?” Judith retorted.

“Only when I’m forced to.” Renie had lowered her voice. “But that’s not what I’m calling about.”

“Which is?” Judith asked, putting down the recipe book she’d been leafing through to get some new appetizer ideas.

“Uh . . . I forget. I got so upset about the . . . oh! Can I bring something for dinner with the Prices Friday night?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m serving a pork loin. I’ll get a dessert at Falstaff’s.”

“I could make Chocolate Glop,” Renie suggested. “It’s Bill’s favorite. My sister-in-law, Bippy, makes it for everybody’s birthdays.”

“Is that what it’s really called?”

“It’s what I call it. I don’t think Bippy has an actual name for it. It just . . .
is
.”

“No thanks, I’ll rely on Falstaff’s. They have real names for their desserts. At least I’ll know what we’re eating.”

“And take all of the fun out of it? Okay, it’s your dinner. Think I’ll go out and run over a bicyclist.” Renie hung up.

Shaking her head, Judith set the phone down and went back to her recipe book. A few minutes later, a frowning Joe entered the kitchen to get a fresh diet soda.

“What’s wrong?” Judith asked, looking up from a list of ingredients for smoked salmon latkes.

“I just talked to Woody,” he said, leaning against the refrigerator. “The mayor is grudgingly going along with some of my suggestions to improve relations with people who aren’t related to the police.”

“That’s good news,” Judith said, “assuming I know what you’re talking about. Or that the mayor does. Why do you look disturbed?”

Joe opened the fridge and removed a can of Diet 7UP. “I mentioned Ruby’s cold case, just to see if Woody remembered it. Turns out it was his first homicide assignment.”

Judith’s dark eyes widened. “No! I mean . . . what did he say?”

Joe popped the top on the soda can and sighed. “Woody’s always felt it was a real blot on his résumé. It isn’t, of course. Every tec has a few of those after a long career. But you know Woody—he’s got a lot of pride. It still bothers him. He told me he’d like to meet Ruby. He remembers her as a teenage kid.”

Judith’s expression was sympathetic. “I suppose he does. Woody’s very kindhearted. Does he feel as if he failed her?”

“Right.” Joe sipped his soda. “When we were partners and had cases we couldn’t close for various reasons, I urged Woody to let go. If he ever had spare time and wanted to do some further checking, go ahead. But never let an unsolved murder become a millstone that would distract him from the current job. And he didn’t. But it still bothers him.”

Judith moved closer to her husband and looked him in the eye. “Joe, are you trying to tell me something?”

His frown turned into a full-fledged scowl. “Hell, no! I just wish I’d never stirred up Woody’s sensitive conscience.”

“Oh.” Judith backed away and shrugged. “I thought maybe you were reconsidering taking on Ruby’s problem.”

Joe vigorously shook his head. “I don’t give a damn about Ruby. I mean, other than that she’s on a mission that probably has a dead end.” He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s Woody that bothers me. I don’t want to spend Friday night listening to him beat himself up over a cold case.”

“Okay.” Judith glanced at her recipe. “Sondra can console him. She’s used to it. Do we have any crème fraîche? I need it for the smoked salmon latkes.”

Joe opened the fridge. “l don’t see any. We’ve got smoked salmon in the pantry from the last fishing trip Bill and I took.”

“Check the freezer,” Judith said.

Joe complied. After some mild cussing and haphazard rummaging, he produced a container of the desired item. “Here. It was behind a bunch of your mother’s pig hocks and her cigarettes. Why does she have to put her smokes in the freezer?”

“Because she doesn’t have a freezer in the toolshed. She thinks the cigarettes stay fresher if they’re frozen.”

“How about taking out the cigarettes and putting your mother in the freezer?”

Judith uttered an impatient sigh. “Just be thankful that Mother doesn’t like you. Otherwise, she’d never have insisted on having her own apartment. Would you really want her living in this house?”

“I really don’t want her living, period.” Joe suddenly looked chagrined. “Sorry, I didn’t quite mean that.”

Judith couldn’t help but smile, if wryly. “Skip it. Can you get me a can of that smoked salmon?”

Joe wordlessly went down the hall to the pantry. Judith started peeling potatoes. Looking out the window over the sink, she noticed that it had begun to rain, light drops bouncing off the Rankerses’ monster laurel hedge. Typical November, she thought, with temperatures in the high forties and probably some wind by nightfall.

Joe returned with the smoked salmon. After setting the can on the counter, he kissed his wife’s cheek. “Maybe you
have
reformed,” he murmured.

Judith gazed at him with innocent eyes. “I gave you my word. When have I ever lied to you?”

Joe looked dubious. “You lie to everybody else when it suits you.”

“I do not lie. I tell fibs only when absolutely necessary.”

Joe’s green eyes danced. “Some of those fibs are real whoppers. You’re very good at it.”

Her dark-eyed gaze met his. “I repeat, have I ever lied—or fibbed—to you?”

Joe didn’t answer immediately. “How,” he finally asked, “would I know if you did?”

S
hortly after the current group of guests left on their appointed evening rounds, Judith began to worry about Ruby. It was almost seven-thirty and she had not yet returned to Hillside Manor.

“Maybe,” Joe suggested when he and Judith were finished cleaning up the kitchen, “she ran into some old pals. Not everybody flees the Thurlow neighborhood like you did.”

“It’s possible,” Judith conceded. “If she hasn’t eaten, I saved enough of the spare ribs and the rest of dinner for her because I assumed she’d eat with us.”

“Ruby’s a free spirit,” Joe said. “Sounds as if she likes to keep on the move. Never married?”

“No,” Judith said, turning on the dishwasher. “She had some guy with her at an event in Little Bavaria, but he was kind of a drip. I figure she dumped him about the time Renie and I left town.”

“There can’t be a lot of eligible men in a little place like—”

Joe was interrupted by the phone, which happened to be sitting behind him on the counter. “Flynn here,” he said, never breaking the habit after thirty years as a cop.

Judith assumed it was for her, so she paused in the kitchen, watching Joe. His ruddy face darkened. “Okay, I’ll be right over. Thanks.” He hurried off. “That was Carl Rankers,” he said, heading down the back hall to grab his jacket. “They’ve got Ruby and she’s a mess. Mistook their house for ours. Drunk, he figures. It’s raining hard, so I’ll go get her.”

“Wait!” Judith cried. “I’m going with you!”

“Stay put,” Joe called, already at the back door.

But there was no stopping Judith. By the time she caught up with Joe, he was already on the Rankerses’ front porch. Carl opened the door.

“We’ve never had one of your guests come here before,” Carl said in his droll manner. “Kind of exciting, at least for Arlene. She’s making coffee. Want some?”

“No thanks,” Joe replied, leading the way in through the dining room and the adjacent living room. “Save it to sober up my wife’s latest guest.” He shot Judith a reproachful glance. “She likes to take in the occasional stray.”

Arlene poked her head out from the kitchen. “Five minutes,” she announced. “Booby, are you alive?”

The object of her question was flopped on the beige sofa, eyes closed, mouth agape. Judith moved closer, noting that Ruby’s face was dirty—or bruised. “Ruby,” she said softly, “are you awake?”

The other woman’s closed eyes flickered open—and shut. “Unf.” She shifted her body with obvious painful effort. “Oof.”

Judith sat down next to Ruby and looked up at Joe’s disgruntled face. “Go home. This is going to take a while. If I need help, Carl’s here.”

The two men exchanged wordless male glances. “No,” Joe said. “Carl’s got a bad back. I’ve only got flat feet.”

Carl put a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go watch whichever overpaid NBA teams are on TV. This is women’s work.”

Joe took one last look at Ruby, whose eyes were still closed. “Oh, hell, why not? Call when you need me,” he said, following Carl back out to the hallway and presumably to the family room downstairs.

Arlene stepped into the living room. “Thank goodness they’re gone. Men are so helpless except for heavy lifting. Though Carl isn’t very good at that with his bad back. I
told
him not to lift our SUV by himself. Men aren’t very good at listening either. Is Booby dead?”

“It’s Ruby,” Judith said. “Just passed out. Is the coffee ready?”

“Almost,” Arlene replied, tapping her fingernails against the kitchen doorframe. “Maybe she needs smelling salts. I don’t have any.”

“Neither do I,” Judith said, gently trying to arrange her unconscious guest into a more comfortable position. “But we can’t leave her here to sleep it off. How on earth did Ruby get this far?”

Arlene moved across the room to help Judith. “Well,” she went on as she handed Judith some throw pillows to put under the head of their patient, “I’m not sure. Carl heard something out on the front porch, but he thought it was your cat, flinging himself at the storm door. He does that sometimes if we’re serving fish. But we weren’t. I’d made lasagna instead. Finally, Carl opened the door and Ruby fell into his arms. We never got a sensible word out of her. Of course, that’s not unusual around here, especially when our children visit.”

“That happened how long ago?” Judith asked.

Arlene’s pretty face puckered in recollection. “Ten minutes before Carl called? She mumbled your name, so we thought she must be a guest who’d confused our houses, given that they’re similar in style and it’s such a dark, rainy night. But night often is . . . dark, I mean.”

Judith nodded. “I wonder if she took the bus, but I don’t see how she could have walked the two blocks from the bus stop. She would’ve had to cross Heraldsgate Avenue and that’s not easy, being so busy and so steep. Maybe she took a cab. Or got a ride,” she murmured, frowning. “It looks as if her face is bruised.”

“Maybe she fell down,” Arlene suggested. “You’re right—she wasn’t in very good shape to walk. And she does reek like a distillery. Not that I’ve ever been to a distillery. Why would I do that? Carl took a tour once of a brewery and said it smelled awful. Goodness, your guests usually aren’t drunk. When Carl and I have taken over the B&B for you, I don’t recall anyone being more than a tad tiddly.”

“That’s true,” Judith replied, noting that Ruby had begun to stir. “While I can’t control how much liquor guests consume when they’re off the premises—or if they bring their own supply with them—I clearly state that excessive use of alcohol or any other harmful substance is grounds for being ejected. Is the coffee ready?”