The Wurst Is Yet to Come (9 page)

“Well . . . not often. Unless they keep a lid on it. Little Bavaria is kind of isolated up here in the mountains.” Judith paused at the corner. “Uh-oh. I hear music. The parade must be starting. How do we avoid it?”

“Go down a couple of blocks to where they were assembling and do an end run?” Renie suggested.

A dozen preschoolers, holding on to a thick red rope, were being herded by two young women toward the main street. Judith nodded at a group of laughing adults who were making their way toward the parade route. “We'll have to,” she said with a sigh.

Before they could start walking in the opposite direction, a squad car pulled up next to the curb a few feet away. Judith put a hand on Renie's arm. “Hold it. There's somebody in the backseat. Let's see if an arrest has been made.”

“Are you joking? If they busted someone, it's probably a shoplifter pocketing cheap made-in-Myanmar German souvenirs.”

They recognized Officer Hernandez when he got out of the driver's side. Apparently, he didn't notice them, but opened the rear door. Judith couldn't see who was getting out until after Hernandez moved away from her line of sight.

When he did, she gasped. The officer was escorting a handcuffed perp into headquarters. Renie let out a little squeal as cop and captive marched to the entrance.

“Good grief!” she cried. “Isn't that Eleanor Denkel?”

 

Chapter Seven

W
hat's that all about?” Judith said, trying to keep her voice down as more parade goers trickled past them and detoured vehicles used the side street for access. “Has Eleanor been arrested for being obnoxious?”

Renie cupped her ear. “I can't hear you. The band's too loud.”

The only place to escape traffic and parade noise was in the alley next to police headquarters. Judith grabbed Renie's arm, steering her in that direction. Reaching relative quiet next to an unoccupied police van, the cousins caught their breath.

“Why is Eleanor busted?” Judith asked, still not raising her voice.

“Good question,” Renie said with a smirk. “You tell me, FASTO. Maybe she's a hooker?”

“Hardly.” Judith made a face. “Handcuffs, too. You don't suppose . . . ?” She let the question dangle.

Renie's brown eyes widened. “She dunnit? Her own grandfather?”

Judith shrugged. “Family ties are sometimes severed with a knife.”

“Yes,” Renie mused, “that can cut off a relationship. If we wait for Duomo to get back from lunch, it'll be time for his afternoon break.”

“You're right,” Judith agreed. “I don't know who else is on duty besides Orville, but he can't abandon his post.” She grimaced. “Why does the concept of Ellie in a cell make me want to smile?”

“Because she treats you like compost?”

“There is that,” Judith allowed, gazing up at the mountain that had become completely visible. “The B&B association is like high school—full of cliques. Not my style.”

“You have to have certain things in common to be in a clique,” Renie remarked. “How many other innkeepers find corpses?”

Judith glowered at her cousin. “Don't rub it in. Maybe we should watch the parade.”

Renie turned mulish. “You know I'm not fond of parades.”

“Have you ever watched an Oktoberfest parade?”

“No, and don't try to break my record for abstinence.”

Judith shook her head and started walking down the alley before she realized her cousin wasn't behind her. “Why are you leaning against that van?” she demanded. “Isn't it the paddy wagon?”

“Probably,” Renie called back. “I figure that they'll have to use it to haul away rioters and drunks from the parade. Then I won't have to walk back to Hanover Haus.”

“Oh, for . . .” Judith was distracted by the screeching of tires. She glanced back to the street, where a squad car had just pulled up. “Hey—the chief's back!” she shouted to her cousin.

“He ate and ran? Not likely.” Renie shook her head, but hurried to join Judith, who was already on her way to accost Fat Matt and Major Schwartz before they entered the building.

“Whoa!” the chief cried. “You hear about the break we got in the Wessler case?”

“Break?” Judith said. “You've only been gone ten minutes.”

Duomo waved an impatient hand as he paused at the entrance. “Okay, so it's a confession. That's as good as a break. You going or coming?” Before Judith could reply, he looked beyond her to where Ernie was apparently asleep on his feet by the squad car. “Major!” the chief barked. “Land mine! Move it!”

“Huh?” The officer snapped to attention before jumping at least three feet across the sidewalk. “Damn! Sneaky commie bastards!”

“Better than an alarm clock,” Duomo muttered, opening the door and allowing the cousins to enter first. He paused at the front desk, scrutinizing Orville. “Seeing how we got this case wrapped up,” the chief said, “why don't you take that squad car outside and nip over to have Suzie put some lunch together for me? She knows what I like.”

“But,” Orville protested, “the parade's going down Main Street. I'd have to drive out of town to get to the pancake house.”

“Hell, Orville, just turn on the siren and bust right on through. Hop to it, I'm starved.”

“Yes, sir,” Orville said with his usual careworn manner. Putting on his regulation hat, he came around from behind the counter to make his exit. “Pickles?” he asked, halfway out the door.

“Sure, the little sweet ones,” Duomo replied.

“Got it.” Orville departed.

“Now,” the chief said to the cousins, “how do we work this? Probably not a good idea to let you in on the Denkel woman's interview. Why don't you two take over the front here while I listen in on whatever Hernandez is doing in the other room? Where'd Ernie go?” He looked around and shrugged. “Oh, well. Doesn't matter. It's all yours,” he added with a wave of his hand before ambling off to the interrogation room.

“This is insane,” Judith declared. “I'm beginning to wonder if this whole thing is some sort of hoax.”

“You mean . . .” Renie's puzzled look suddenly disappeared. “Ingrid has decided to get even with you by staging a murder?”

“Exactly.” Judith reluctantly moved around to the other side of the counter. “We'll play along for now. It could be fun.”

“Am I still FATSO?” Renie asked, joining her cousin.

“Please—
FASTO
. Sure. We can play this game, too. If the chief and the other cops are in on it, they could blow your cover. On the other hand, we could've lied to them as well as to the B&B people.”

Renie grimaced. “I think I'm confused. Am I still married to Bill?”

Judith looked exasperated. “Of course. Unless you prefer Joe.”

“No!” Renie cried. “I mean, I like Joe and all that, but . . .”

“Skip it.” She glanced toward the interrogation room on her left. “I wonder what they're doing in there. Laughing at us?”

“Probably.” Renie sat down by the phone console. “I'm bored.”

“You're nuts.” Judith pulled a chair up to the computer. “This is a rare opportunity. We can access police files.”

“Such as?”

“Let's see if the Stafford homicide is real.”

Renie was leaning her cheek on her hand. “Real what?”

“As in it actually happened.” Judith scowled at the screen. “I need a password. I thought this thing would be up and running.”

Renie gazed glumly at her cousin. “Try ‘Gestapo,' ” she muttered.

“Not funny.”

“Then try the local newspaper,” Renie said impatiently. “You won't need a password to get online.”

“I'm not sure what it's called,” Judith admitted. “It'd be a weekly?”

Renie yawned. “Probably.”

Judith typed in “Little Bavaria newspaper.” The front page of the
Blatt
came up. “It
is
a weekly. It came out Wednesday. I'll put in Bob Stafford's name and see what . . . ah!” She stared at the headlines:

LOCAL RESTAURATEUR'S BODY FOUND; M.E. CITES FOUL PLAY; CHIEF INVESTIGATES STAFFORD MURDER; DUOMO BAFFLED IN HOMICIDE CASE

“Sounds right,” Renie murmured.

Judith shrugged. “At least we know that Bob Stafford really was murdered. This couldn't have been faked.”

“I wonder,” Renie mused, “if the city TV and print media covered the alleged killing of Dietrich Wessler.”

As in most B&Bs, including Hillside Manor, there were no TV sets in the guest rooms. “We could pick up a daily paper,” Judith suggested. “But if this is a hoax, they'd never release it publicly. Even if it was a genuine homicide, it might not make the news back home. Thank goodness,” she added, relieved that Joe would be kept in ignorance.

“A regional two-, three-graph item,” Renie remarked. “No other media coverage unless one of the TV stations is doing an Oktoberfest feature. I've seen no signs of that.”

Judith smiled wryly. “If Mavis Lean-Brodie shows up,” she said, referring to her longtime adversary and sometimes ally from KINE-TV, “I'll know Herr Wessler really did get killed.”

“Mavis,” Renie said with the same inflection she might have used for “plague” or “CEO.”

The interrogation room's door opened. Chief Duomo stumbled out, mopping his forehead. “Tough cookie,” he murmured, closing the door behind him. “Heart of granite. Never seen the like in my . . . twenty-five? Twenty-eight? Thirty . . . what the hell, I've been on this job too long.”

“Eleanor confessed?” Judith asked.

“Oh, did she!” He stuffed his wrinkled handkerchief into his back pocket. “Well. That wraps it up. Thanks for your help. Now, if we could move on to that Stafford murder . . . after lunch, I mean. Where's Orville? How long does it take him to get my damned food?”

Judith had stood up. “Are you going to let her post bail?”

“Oh, sure,” the chief said. “She can't miss Oktoberfest. See ya.” He ambled into his office and shut the door.

“Now what?” Renie said.

“Hang on,” Judith said. “I'd like to see how that stuck-up Ellie plays this hand. Will she post bail? It's Friday. I can't imagine there's a bail bondsman anywhere around here after noon on a weekend.”

“Gee,” Renie said, “I thought they'd be hanging out on street corners like hookers during a big beer blast like this.”

Judith disagreed. “People don't get out of control. College kids don't count—they don't need an excuse to guzzle. Oktoberfest's more than beer drinking; it's Bavarian customs, history, and culture.”

“Good,” Renie murmured. “I don't want to get run down by a drunken tuba player.”

“You won't.” Judith paced the area behind the counter. “Where's Ellie? Where's Hernandez? Ernie's probably asleep somewhere. Lord, what a crew!”

“Hernandez is kind of cute,” Renie remarked. “He seemed normal—by comparison. Whatever happened to Orville?”

“Who knows?” Judith's usual inexhaustible patience had snapped. She marched over to the door leading to the room Duomo had exited and knocked three times. There was no response. Frustrated, she turned the knob. The door opened, revealing an empty room. “What on earth?”

Renie joined her cousin. “There has to be another way to get out. I cleverly deduce that it was via that large open window that probably leads into the alley.”

“Damn!” Judith exclaimed. “I didn't notice any window last night. I was too concerned about our own interrogation.” She walked across the room and looked out. “It's a two-foot drop. Even I could do that.”

“Why don't we? I'm bored again.”

“Stop that!” Judith picked up a file folder from the table and scanned the papers inside. “Hey—this is Ellie's signed confession. It sounds almost enough like her to be the real thing.”

“How about the short version?” Renie said, lounging against the doorframe. “Tweet will do.”

Judith reread the statement twice before responding. “The motive is so predictable. Couldn't they be imaginative if they're writing fiction?”

“Skip the critique. Cut to the headline.”

“Ellie stabbed her grandfather because he was going to change his will and leave everything to Klara.”

“Oh. You're right. That is
so
not original. Let's go.”

Judith hesitated. “The parade may be over. The route's short.”

Renie turned around. “Hi, Orville. Hey, want to let me have a couple of those fries?”

“You want to get me fired?” Orville muttered before moving on.

“Jerk,” Renie muttered as Judith joined her in the outer office.

“You're right,” she said. “This game is dumb. I have to be at the town hall at four to attend the function with the Oktoberfest organizers.”

“What am I supposed to do while you're there?”

Judith headed out the door. “Amuse yourself. You're creative.”

“I have to be inspired,” Renie said as the cousins paused before crossing the street. “I could check out some of the shops. Bill likes German stuff. Maybe I can find a nice bust of Goebbels.”

They'd reached the main street, where the traffic flow was now normal. “Hey,” Judith said, “isn't that Franz Wessler hurrying our way?”

“Gee,” Renie said, “I'll bet he realized he's madly in love with you and wants to sweep you off your feet.”

“Shut up, coz,” Judith murmured as a worried-looking Franz approached them.

“Good afternoon,” Franz said without his usual aplomb. “I dare not linger. I must see the police.” He sketched a bow and hurried away.

Renie shot Judith a curious glance. “About Ellie?”

“Grab him. You can run, but I can't. Go!”

Her cousin looked reluctant, but she rushed away, calling after Franz. He stopped at the curb, obviously flummoxed. Renie took his arm, hauling him back to where Judith was ready and waiting to go straight to the point. “Is this about Ellie's confession?” she demanded.

Franz turned pale. “How do you know?”

“We were at the police station when she was brought in,” Judith replied. “I have to level with you. I know Ellie didn't kill your father. This whole situation is absurd and you know it.”

Tears welled up in Franz's eyes. “Yes, yes. I am aware of that.” He swallowed hard, lowering his head before he stared straight into Judith's eyes. “That's why I'm going to the police. My niece didn't kill
Vater
. I did.” He rushed across the street, heedless of oncoming traffic.

J
udith watched Franz disappear into the side street. “Damn! Did Franz learn to act in L.A.? Those tears seemed real.”

“I didn't get a good look,” Renie admitted. “His back was to me.”

“Now
I'm
confused. Can anybody give us a straight answer?”

Renie thought for a moment. “How about Inbred Heffalump?”

“She's not here,” Judith said. “But,” she went on, more slowly, “my guess is that she's the one who put this thing together—if, in fact, it is a payback hoax because of the bodies I've found.”