Major Vices (20 page)

 

Judith and Renie didn't mind leaving in the least. Indeed, they practically sprinted out the back door. Holly, however, called after them. She wanted to apologize for her daughter's behavior.

“I'm sure Jill didn't mean the two of you,” she explained, twisting a fresh Kleenex in her dainty hands. “We all appreciate what you did for Uncle Boo's party. And your other…efforts. You've been so kind.”

Judith patted Holly's arm. “No problem. It's been a very eventful—and upsetting—twenty-four hours. As for Jill, it's easy to excuse her. She was carrying around a big secret, and that's a burden. It must have been terrible for her to become a widow and not be able to let anyone know.” Judith watched Holly's reaction carefully. Mother and daughter had had the opportunity for confidences when they'd left the living room in tears the previous evening.

But Holly seemed quite natural. “Jill should have said something earlier. I, of all people, know what it's like to lose a spouse and have no one to turn to. When Andy, my first husband, was shot down in Vietnam, I was utterly alone. No parents, no brothers or sisters—just the baby to console me. It was a nightmare.”

“What about Andy's folks?” Renie asked, with one foot on the threshold and the other in the passageway.

Holly's fine brow furrowed. “They were from the South. I never really knew them. Once Andy was dead, they showed no interest in me—or in Jill. At least they didn't cause any problems when I married Derek and he
wanted to adopt her.” With that remark, Holly seemed to fade away, literally and figuratively. The cousins made their farewells and were out of the house.

The walk was clear of ice; only patches remained on the street. To elevate their sense of relief, a Federal Express truck passed by effortlessly. So did a new Volvo, going in the opposite direction. By coincidence, the tow truck they had seen earlier was now hauling away its prey, a late-model compact which bore the city's official seal.

“Too bad it's not a police car with Buck Doerflinger in it,” chortled Judith as they reached her Nissan Stanza.

Renie settled into the passenger seat, fastening her safety belt. “Do you mind if we stop at Falstaff's Market? I have a need for a half-rack of Pepsi. They've got a special this weekend.”

Judith didn't mind. She was too pleased at the prospect of escaping Major Manor. Her determination to flee had all but put the murder case out of her mind. She didn't care that Jill had secretly married Uncle Boo; she was immune to the ongoing war of the wills; she was even willing to concede that Buck Doerflinger was right and that Weed Wakefield was the killer. Nothing mattered except being reunited with Joe, making peace with her mother, and getting back to Hillside Manor in time to greet her next round of guests.

The car wouldn't start. Judith turned the key, but nothing happened. She tried again. And again. She swore.

“Cars! It's always some damned thing!” She waited a few moments, then made another try, this time tromping on the accelerator. There was still no response.

“Battery?” suggested Renie, looking worried.

“Probably,” Judith replied testily. “My car's used to being in the garage. It probably got too cold sitting out here since yesterday afternoon. Drat, I should have tried to start it this morning. It's after two now.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “I wonder if Derek has jumper cables.”

But Derek's black Ford Taurus was reversing out of the driveway. The cousins had been too absorbed in starting their own car to notice that the Rushes—minus Jill—had loaded up and were leaving.

“Toadie's car is still there,” Renie noted, pointing to the Buick Park Avenue.

“I hate to ask her for help,” Judith said in a dismal voice. But as she spoke, Trixie came hurrying down the street. “Oh—I forgot she'd gone to borrow a phone.” Judith couldn't help but break into a wry smile. “She doesn't know about Jill and Boo. Shall we tell her?”

Renie scowled at Judith. “I thought you wanted to get out of here.”

“I do. I can't.” Judith made a desperate gesture with her hands. “I've got to get a jump-start first.” She opened the door and swung out of the driver's seat just as Trixie was stepping off the curb.

Trixie looked startled to see Judith. “You're leaving?” she asked in a hopeful voice.

“We were, but my battery's dead. Does your mother have jumper cables?”

Trixie frowned in the effort of concentration. “I don't think so. I do, but they were in the Lexus.” Her face turned wistful. “I had
everything
in that car. It's really a shame Mason wrecked it. I'll have to wait weeks to get a customized replacement.”

Judith knew she should stick to the crisis at hand, but Trixie had given her an opening she couldn't resist. “I'm impressed by how well you've done as a Wear-House Dressing rep, Trixie. Maybe I'm in the wrong business.”

An elderly couple drove slowly past in a large, aging Chrysler Imperial, testimony to the safety of the streets. Trixie gave Judith a self-satisfied smile.

“It's all on commission, and if I do say so myself, I'm a very persuasive salesperson. Some months I net as much as a thousand dollars!”

Judith tried not to let her jaw drop. Trixie wasn't making a living wage. Maybe she'd reamed her first three husbands. The family rumor mill had said as much. But Vaughn C. Vaughn had been a junior-high-school teacher. Hamlin McBride was a repairman for the gas company. And Rafe Longrod, with his scattering of X-rated movie houses, had usually been one stumble away from bank-ruptcy. None of the three ex-mates had had much, though
Judith was sure they'd ended up with even less by the time Trixie got through with them.

“My, my!” Judith exclaimed after she had collected herself. “I guess I
am
in the wrong business! I sure couldn't afford a fancy car like a Lexus on what I make with the B&B! You must be a smart money manager.”

Trixie made a futile attempt at looking modest. “Mummy taught me everything I know.” She gave Judith a sly glance. “It's not always what you have, but what you're going to get. And I believe in making the most of what's coming to me.”

“So do I,” said Renie, who had finally gotten tired of waiting in the car. “What
have
you got coming to you, Trixie?”

Trixie turned a malevolent eye on her. “You know what it is,” she asserted. “My inheritance. I've used my expectations to help me get by.”

The cousins exchanged swift, vaguely startled glances. “You mean…” Judith began, then stopped for fear of jumping to the wrong conclusion.

“You know what I mean,” Trixie said in a querulous tone. “Uncle Boo was always an angel about co-signing loans with me. He knew I'd never default, because I wasn't paying back with my money. It was his. Which was going to be mine anyway. And Mummy's,” she added as an afterthought.

Judith's brain was spinning. “You mean…?” This time she was overcome by Trixie's sheer audacity. “You had Boo take out loans for you? Like to buy your car?” She couldn't keep the shock out of her voice.

Trixie, however, was undaunted. “Of course. He was so sweet about it. We'd have a few drinks and visit and laugh, and the next thing you knew, he'd sign those old papers as if he were doing Christmas cards. What a sweetie! I'll miss him, though.” Her effort at sorrow failed.

“You'll miss his signature,” Renie said, not bothering to disguise her venom.

Exasperated, Trixie made a face at Renie. “Now, now! Sour grapes and all that! After all I've done for Uncle
Boo! Why, he couldn't have gotten along these last few years without me. And Mummy.”

Renie leaned against the roof of Judith's car. Her brown eyes danced with mischief. “He got along, all right. To the justice of the peace. Gee, Trixie, didn't you know Boo and Jill tied the knot last month?”

Trixie's reaction was to laugh, a merry sound that seemed to linger on the cold winter air. “Very funny, dearest cousin! You always were the family joker! Or,” she continued, the smile swept from her face, “are you just a joke?”

“The joke's on you, Trixie.” Renie nodded toward the big house. “Go ask Mrs. Major. She's still in there, playing the piano—and playing her cards just right.”

For the first time, Trixie seemed shaken. “I'll just do that,” she declared with an attempt at dignity. “Jill! She's a mere child! What does she know about getting married?” Trixie stamped off across the street.

“Not as much as you do,” Renie called after her.

“Coz.” Judith's tone was mildly reproachful. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you enjoyed trading barbs with this bunch.”

“I do,” Renie answered promptly. “The only problem is that in a duel of wits, they're all unarmed.”

Judith gave a faint shake of her head. “Now, we'd better not ask Aunt Toadie about the jumper cables. I'll have to call the AAA. I wonder if Trixie found a phone. I forgot to ask her.”

The cousins resorted to the same method that Trixie had used, walking down the street until they found someone at home. No one responded until they got to the end of the block. The square-jawed, middle-aged woman who came to the door of the Roman brick rambler acted suspicious.

“How many of you are going to bother us?” she demanded. “Isn't it enough that there's a crime spree going on around here? On The Bluff!” She tossed her head, almost but not quite loosening the tightly wound chignon at her neck.

After a brief lecture on why modern society was going to hell in a handbasket, the woman offered to call the AAA for Judith. Obviously, she was not going to permit strangers into her impeccably maintained home.

The cousins waited on the porch, which was decorated with planters containing fading winter cabbages. Renie paced, from the covered lawn swing to the red, white, and blue mailbox; Judith silently tried to identify the shrubs that lined the graceful walk.

It was more than ten minutes before the woman reappeared. “That was very tiresome,” she complained. “I was on hold forever. The AAA tow truck will be here in about two hours. They're all backed up because of the weather. And accidents, of course.” She slammed the door in the cousins' faces.

“I guess I won't ask her if she has jumper cables,” Judith muttered as they returned to the street level. “Two hours! Damn! What do we do now?”

“The neighbors aren't exactly what I'd call warm,” Renie noted. “That's the trouble with rich people—they're always afraid you're after their money.”

Judith uttered a short, dry laugh. “Sometimes they're right. Look at Trixie, getting Uncle Boo swizzled and then having him sign those loans.”

“How did she get him to make the payments?” Renie mused. “Even Trixie wouldn't go through all that every time she had to send a check.”

They had reached Judith's car. “Automatic deductions, I'll bet. Trixie probably had Boo's bank account number, gave it to whoever she was borrowing money from, and then the payments would come out as regular as rain. Boo would have to sign only once.”

“She's not smart, but she sure is cunning,” Renie allowed. She paused with her hand on the car door. “Well? Do we sit here and wait for the AAA?”

Judith's shoulders slumped as her gaze traveled across the street to the house. “Not for two hours. Still, I hate to go back in. Trixie and Jill must be going at it by now.”

But they weren't. At least not anymore. Toadie came flying out from around the side of the house, with Trixie bringing up the rear. A second later, Jill appeared, waving a fireplace poker.

“And never come back!” she yelled as Toadie and Trixie scrambled to get into the Buick.

The cousins waited for mother and daughter to depart. Ironically, Toadie's car didn't start on the first two tries, either. But the third time, just as Jill began to lunge with the poker, the engine turned over. Toadie and Trixie fled the scene of the crime. Literally.

Judith set her jaw. “We might as well go back inside. I could use a drink, I guess.”

“I could use a ham sandwich,” Renie said. “Creamed chicken is never very filling.”

“You ate all the ham,” Judith reminded her cousin.

Renie looked mildly surprised. “I did? Well, I'll have to finish the Havarti, then.”

Jill was still standing on the lawn outside the den. Her satisfied expression changed to curiosity as she saw the cousins return to the house.

Judith explained about the dead battery and the delayed arrival of the tow truck. Jill's reaction was resigned, but not entirely cold.

“You can keep me company until that cabulance hauls Mason off,” she said, leading the way back around the house to the front entrance. She paused at the end of the house with its plastic-draped scaffolding. “I wonder if there are jumper cables in the garage. Do you know how to use them?”

Judith did, having had the opportunity to learn when her old Mercury went through its last winter and died shortly before Dan did. Her most memorable disaster had occurred after the 2
A
.
M
. closing at the Meat & Mingle. She had shut the bar down, taken the money from the till to put in the bank's overnight drop, and discovered that the car wouldn't start. The Thurlow neighborhood was tough, rough and ready for any innocent person who wasn't as armed and dangerous as most of its inhabitants. Judith couldn't afford the AAA membership in those days. She had considered spending the night in the car but had known she'd be afraid to sleep for fear someone would come along and rob her. Or worse. At last a gang of teenagers had pulled in behind the restaurant, stereo blaring, speakers pounding, bass throbbing. Judith had hidden under the dashboard. But one of the youths had sauntered
over to the Mercury. He'd seen her and called her by name. She had recognized him from her day job at the branch library. In gratitude for her help with a history paper the previous semester, he had shown her how to use jumper cables. It was only after he had got the car started for her that she learned he'd flunked the paper and dropped out of school.