The Wurst Is Yet to Come (16 page)

“Oh? Even the bunny poop he leaves on your basement floor?”

“I clean it up every night. It's good for the garden. Clarence likes to go outside to nibble chickweed and clover. Bill or I always—”

“Stop!” Judith held up a hand, but her dismayed expression changed when a young man in a chef's jacket arrived with their strudel.

“Who's the pear?” he inquired.

“That's me,” Renie said. “Where's Ruby?”

“She went home,” the young man replied. “Slow night.” He slid their bill onto the table and ambled away.

Judith frowned. “That's odd.”

“Why? Ruby said something about maybe leaving early.”

“But before she served us?”

Renie made a face. “We aren't royalty.”

Judith didn't argue. Her watch informed her it was going on nine. “Maybe they close the dining room early during Oktoberfest.”

“We're missing the concert,” Renie said. “Don't you want to hear Klara sing? Or will she sing a different kind of song to the cops?”

Judith slowly shook her head. “Who knows? All I understand now is that Bruno's pastry chef has talent.”

“So he does,” Renie said, lapping up slices of pears with cinnamon-and-sugar-covered crumbs.

“In fact,” Judith said after a few moments of silence, “I think we should give our compliments to the chef.”

Renie winced. “Why do I think it's Chef Bruno's turn to be grilled?”

“Because,” Judith said, studying the bill, “that's what I plan to do. You owe me forty bucks.”

“With tip?”

Judith nodded. “I included our bar bill, too.”

“Fair enough,” Renie conceded, getting out her wallet. “Why are you grilling the chef?”

“Because,” Judith replied, “chefs count knives. I'd like to hear if one of his ended up in Herr Wessler's back.”

 

Chapter Ten

A
s might be expected Chef Bruno didn't look pleased to see the cousins invade his domain. “We're closed,” he announced gruffly.

“Exactly,” Judith said with a big smile. “My late husband and I owned a restaurant. That's why I feel guilty about interrupting your work. I wanted to thank you on behalf of us innkeepers who are here for Oktoberfest. You run an amazing kitchen.”

“Well . . .” The chef glanced at his helpers, who had stopped scurrying around the kitchen to stare at the newcomers. Bruno himself suddenly stared at them, too. “Didn't you two come in here last night?”

“Yes,” Judith admitted, deciding that honesty was the best policy. “We'd just witnessed the discovery of Mr. Wessler's body. We were horrified and fled the scene. It must've been chaos here after that.”

Bruno used a towel to wipe off some perspiration from his high forehead. “That's for damned sure. Never seen anything like it.” He glared at a young man with a blond goatee. “Almost lost my pastry chef.”

Judith smiled sympathetically. “Oh, no! His strudel was amazing. But,” she went on quickly, resorting to a semifib, “I heard you lost a knife. I've always wondered why people feel free to take souvenirs.”

Bruno scowled. “You mean a buffet knife?”

“Yes. Some of the people who were here last night mentioned that one or two had gone missing. That's just plain thievery.”

“Hunh.” Bruno's gaze took in his half-dozen staff members. “How many did we get back? I didn't count them.”

A dark-skinned young man glanced at what might have been a cutlery drawer. “We've got six of the ones we put out for the beef. I used two tonight.” He looked at his coworkers. “Anybody else got one?”

The pastry chef nodded. “It's right here. I took one to cut up the pears and peaches.”

“That it?” Bruno inquired, wiping perspiration from his bald head.

“You have one,” a curly-haired redheaded man said. “It's under the edge of that platter.”

The chef peered at the counter. “So I do. That makes ten. All accounted for.” He turned back to Judith. “Why are you asking?”

“Ah . . .” Judith grimaced. “I heard that several were missing. I mean, stolen. Or borrowed. Or something.”

“You heard wrong,” Bruno said. “Now, if you don't mind, we've got work to do.” He picked up the knife he'd been using and ran his finger down the flat side of the blade. “Glad you liked dinner. G'night.”

Judith decided they had no choice but to leave. “Damn,” she said when they'd gone out through the lobby, standing in a slight drizzle by the exhibitors' booths. “Bruno reminds me of somebody—maybe it's one of the chefs we had when Dan didn't feel like cooking. Or working.” She sighed. “Let's go back to the inn. I
am
tired and I hurt. I should call Joe to see how things are at home. Tomorrow is another day.”

“Okay, Scarlett,” Renie agreed. “It's early for me, but I don't mind.”

“Say,” Judith said, walking slowly along the still-busy main street, “how come your mother hasn't called you about six times?”

“I told her I'd be out of range in the mountains.”

Judith automatically glanced up, though cloud cover and darkness obscured the nearby peaks. “That might almost be true.”

“It would, in the Himalayas—that's where I told her we were going.”

“You did not,” Judith said.

“Well . . . not exactly. But I think she believed me. About the mountains and the interference, I mean.”

“Are you going to call Bill?”

Renie shook her head. “You know he hates to talk on the phone. If he even bothered to answer, he'd probably hang up on me.”

The cousins sidestepped some costumed teenagers dancing what looked like a cross between hip-hop and a polka. Judith and Renie could hear music as they drew nearer to the bandstand.

“I wonder if Franz found Klara's piece,” Judith murmured.

Renie sniffed. “If he didn't and she wrote it, she can probably fake it. Why not? Everything else around here seems fake.”

“You think so? I like it. It seems authentic.”

“I mean the Wessler murder,” Renie said—and grinned at her cousin. “My God, don't tell me you've forgotten about that!”

“No,” Judith replied wearily. “But I'd like to. At least for now.”

Entering Hanover Haus, they found the lobby deserted. “Guess everybody's at the events,” Renie remarked, starting up the stairs.

“You can't blame them,” Judith said. “That's where all the action is. We're probably the only guests not in attendance.”

Inside their room, Judith collapsed on the bed while Renie headed for the bathroom, saying she was getting ready for bed—if not for sleep.

“I'll read for a while,” she said, closing the door behind her.

Judith waited a couple minutes to unwind before getting out her cell to call Joe. He answered on the second ring.

“It's about time,” he said. “I thought you forgot about me.”

“Never that,” Judith assured him. “We've been busy. At least I have. How's everything at home?”

“Fine.”

“Including Mother?”

“She moved out.”

“Joe—”

“How do you think she is? With Carl and Arlene dancing attendance on her, she's in fine fettle.” He chuckled. “That means I can ignore her—and vice versa. We both like it that way.”

Judith propped herself up on a couple of pillows. “So everything's going okay with the B&B guests?”

“Uh . . . well, sure. Why wouldn't it be? The Rankerses are old hands at running this place.”

“I know,” Judith said, “but every so often the unexpected happens.” She paused, waiting for any sign of knowledge from Joe about the murder in Little Bavaria. “I thought there might be some Oktoberfest TV coverage from the local stations, but I haven't seen any reporters or video cams. Maybe they're waiting for Saturday's big doings.”

“Could be,” Joe said. “You want to get interviewed?”

“Heavens, no!” Judith exclaimed. “I want . . . anonymity.”

“Good thinking,” Joe said, “given your track record.”

“Now don't start in—” She broke off. “I assume Ingrid Heffelman hasn't asked you out on a date in my absence.”

“Ah . . . no.”

“You sound uncertain,” Judith said, suddenly suspicious.

“Not about a date,” Joe replied, after clearing his throat. “She did stop by yesterday morning.”

“What?” Judith cried. “You mean at the B&B?”

“Where else? Ingrid told me an inspection is a regular thing every couple of years. It's a city regulation.”

“There
is
a city regulation,” Judith said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice, “as you well know, but the city sends its own inspectors, not somebody from the state B&B association. What's wrong with you? You were a city employee for almost forty years!”

“Well . . .” Joe cleared his throat again. “That's why I believed her. I was spending the morning going over some of those reports from the city hall investigation. Ingrid told me that because this thing has been going on since the first of the year—along with budget cuts—consultants have been hired to do some of the legwork. It made sense. The city's done that in other areas. She pointed out it was a good time to do it while some innkeepers were out of town. Sort of spring it on them when they'd have no chance to fix things up while she was inspecting other parts of the premises. You can't blame her for doing her job.”

“Ordinarily it's not her job,” Judith huffed. “It sounds as if the two of you had quite a chat.”

“The least I could do was offer her a cup of coffee,” Joe said, sounding defensive.

“And the most you could do?”

“Hey!” Joe shouted. “That was it. I left her to do whatever she had to do. Arlene came back inside about then. I went to my office.”

Judith wondered how Arlene had handled Ingrid. With a left hook, she hoped. “Where was Carl?”

“He'd gone to the grocery store,” Joe said, sounding more like himself. “You were low on eggs. Or bread. Maybe it was milk.”

“Never mind. How long did Ingrid stay?”

“I don't know,” Joe replied. “She was gone when I came down to get some lunch. Ingrid said you'd get her report in a few days.”

“I'll bet it'll be a doozy,” Judith muttered. “Okay, sorry I got snappish. You know how Ingrid riles me.”

“Forget it,” Joe said. “She seemed nice, never criticized anything about you, not even your deadly track record.”

“Joe! Don't!”

“I'm kidding. But I mean it—it was a very pleasant visit.”

“Right.” Judith sighed. “So no other problems?”

“Nothing except a jealous wife. It's kind of flattering.”

“Men!” But Judith smiled. “I'm broad-minded. It's just that Ingrid showing up on Hillside Manor's doorstep is galling.”

“At least she left alive.”

“That's not funny!” But Judith was still smiling a few minutes later when she hung up just as Renie emerged from the bathroom.

“You look happy. Have you cracked the case?” she asked.

Judith explained about the phone call with Joe. Renie was amused. “You should call Arlene. I'll bet she didn't take kindly to an intrusion on her temporary turf, especially the pushy Inbred Heffalump.”

“I will call Arlene,” Judith said, “but not until tomorrow. She and Carl go to bed early. It's after ten. They probably went home and left Joe to lock up.”

“Everything else okay at the B&B?” Renie asked.

Judith nodded. “I didn't ask Joe if he'd heard from Mike, but if he had, he would've told me. Mike probably hasn't been notified yet about his new posting.”

“No point in worrying about that,” Renie said, lying down on her own side of the bed. “Our kids are all so far away that Bill and I are lucky to see them two or three times a year. Thank goodness for e-mail and cell phones. Of course Bill never answers their calls when I'm not home. Good thing he doesn't. They often want money. Mom's a soft touch. Oh, heck, so's Bill. How,” she asked, snuggling under the covers, “are Carl and Arlene getting along with the B&B?”

Judith made a face. “Fine, I think.”

“Why are you looking so grim?”

“Oh, it's stupid, really,” Judith said with some reluctance. “Ingrid Heffelman showed up to inspect Hillside Manor.”

Renie burst out laughing. “She did? Why? Or was she really inspecting Joe?”

“That's what
I
wonder. Ingrid's never done that before. In fact, nobody from the state board has ever conducted an inspection. It's all done through the city.”

Renie had put on her reading glasses. She peered at Judith with a wry expression. “And her excuse for showing up on your doorstep was?”

Judith waved an impatient hand. “Oh, the city hall investigation and all the departments being shorthanded and budget cuts and—”

Renie interrupted. “How did she know Joe would be home?”

“Maybe she called first and talked to Arlene.”

“Arlene wouldn't have been aware that Ingrid didn't do such things as inspect B&Bs,” Renie pointed out. “Makes sense. So where were the Rankerses while Ingrid was trying to seduce Joe?”

“Stop! They only had coffee together.” Judith paused. “It was later in the morning. Arlene and Carl were checking out the guests.”

“While Ingrid was checking out Joe.
I
suspect that maybe what you suspect could be right. But Ingrid's attempts at seduction wouldn't faze Joe. I've never seen the woman, but I always assumed my nickname of Inbred Heffalump wasn't far off the mark.”

Judith considered her cousin's comment. “To be fair, Ingrid's not
un
attractive. She's a big woman, a little overweight, but tall and imposing. In fact, well, she's kind of like . . . me.”

Renie sighed. “Oh, dear. Just Joe's type. Sorry about that.”

“
You're
sorry?” Judith retorted. “How do you think I feel?”

“Oh, coz, don't be stupid! Joe would never cheat on you. He waited too long to finally hook up with you. You know that.”

Judith frowned. “Men are . . . men.”

Renie had opened her book. “Don't be a jackass. We are, after all, kind of old. There
are
limits.”

“That's part of the problem,” Judith said. “If Ingrid is really chasing him, Joe can't run as fast as he used to.”

Renie ignored the remark. Judith pouted a bit. And then realized she was too old to pout. Instead, she turned off her lamp and went to sleep. In her dreams, an elephant was chasing a lion with a red-gold mane through Hillside Manor's backyard. The elephant suddenly stopped in front of the toolshed. Sweetums leaped off of the birdbath and growled at the elephant. Gertrude appeared by the statue of Saint Francis, singing, “You can have him, I don't want him, he's too dumb for me.” The elephant ran off and disappeared in the Rankerses' giant hedge, apparently devoured by the mass of glossy laurel leaves. Judith wasn't surprised that she woke up smiling.

J
udith didn't have to be at the B&B booth until ten. She had awakened shortly before eight, but decided not to call Arlene until after nine-thirty. Her stand-in would still be busy with the guests' breakfast. Maybe she shouldn't call at all.

Renie was again sleeping in, which was just as well as far as Judith was concerned. An early-rising Renie was not a pleasant Renie. Judith showered, dressed, combed her hair, and put on her makeup before heading down to breakfast. She arrived just after eight-thirty. The rest of the B&B contingent was already in place, looking, as Gertrude would say, “like the pigs ate their little brother.”