Dune to Death (7 page)

“‘Rugged,'” murmured Judith, but didn't expect either of the Limas to hear her. They didn't. Instead, Larissa climbed Donn Bobb's frame until she had gotten to her feet, then flopped down on the sofa, a hand over her eyes. Mascara oozed onto her cheeks. Renie ambled in, munching on a piece of toast smeared with strawberry jam about a half-inch thick.

“There's no ham in that refrigerator,” she declared. “Did we eat it all?”

Judith gave her cousin an arch glance. “
You
did. This morning.” She eased herself into the rocker. “Your aunt was a missionary, I hear. Brazil?”

Larissa nodded. Donn Bobb sat down next to his wife, twiddling his thick thumbs and looking decidedly uncomfortable. There were dark circles under his heavy-lidded brown eyes. Larissa ran a hand through her tousled hair, wiped at the streaks of mascara, and hitched one thumb in the belt loop of her cutoff jeans. “I hadn't seen her since she got back. Auntie left for the jungle over twenty years ago, when I was just a tot. It's lucky we got to see her at all—we only came to town Sunday, Donn Bobb having been on the circuit in Redmond and Klamath Falls and…” She screwed up her face, which would have been pretty had it not been so vacant. “Where were we, Hot Spurs?”

“Sublimity,” replied Donn Bobb, who seemed barely able to keep awake, “but only 'cause the pickup broke down.” He cast his heavy-lidded eyes at Judith. “I never met Auntie. Guess I missed one fine person. Larissa's done nothin' but talk about her since she found out she was dead as a bag of dirt.”

Wincing at the simile, Judith considered offering her unexpected visitors coffee, thought better of it, and asked more questions instead. “I understand she was living down in the boathouse.”

Larissa's eyes got wide again. “Oh, no! She was up at the house with Momma. The boathouse is an awful wreck. I remember playing down there when my brother and I were kids and it smelled so
awful
. Like seaweed. Ugh.” Her voluptuous figure shuddered inside the tank top and cutoffs.

Judith wore her most innocent expression. “It's not half-bad, really. Decent furniture, clean, sort of cozy. A man named Titus Teacher has been living there for awhile, too.”

Larissa wrinkled her nose. “Never heard of him. Maybe Momma hired him as a caretaker.” The idea seemed to strike Larissa after the fact. She turned to Donn Bobb. “A caretaker! That makes sense, right, Passion Chaps?”

Donn Bobb roused himself from his somnolent state long enough to look puzzled. “Right, what?” He nudged
her in the ribs. “Hey, Thunder Thighs, your auntie didn't bring some fella back with her, did she? I thought she was all religious and holy.”

Larissa frowned. “She was. She didn't eat breakfast unless the Lord told her to make bacon or eggs.”

“But no ham,” remarked Renie. She glared at Judith. “Are we out of ham because Christ was a Jew or because these stupid stores in Buccaneer Beach are only open for two hours a day?”

The Limas gazed blankly at Renie. “Christ was a Christian,” Larissa said with a knowing smile. “That's how it all got started.”

Renie rolled her eyes and went back into the kitchen. Unlike Judith, she did not suffer fools gladly. Or at least with patience. More to the point, the refrigerator was not in the living room. Judith cast about for a leading question, but felt at a loss. The Limas weren't exactly a fount of information.

“You mentioned a brother?” she finally asked for want of a better line of inquiry.

Larissa blinked. The long eyelashes might not have been false but the smeared dark lines etched on her eyelids were. “My brother? Oh—Augie!” Her crimson mouth turned down. “He's a jerk. Do you know he came to town the other day from Idaho just to ask Momma for a loan? After all these years, not so much as a phone call let alone a visit to Momma, then he comes mooching around with his hand out. Why can't he get a real job like Donn Bobb? Augie keeps saying it's all because of the Eeeconnnomyyy.” She spun the word out as if it were a joke.

Judith passed over Larissa's impression of national stability. “He's in Buccaneer Beach?”

Larissa batted her eyelashes again. “Augie? Oh—yes, at a motel up the highway. He and Momma had a big fight. Seven years since they seen each other—imagine! Then they squabble. Augie's wife is a snot. All she can think of is money. She never misses a chance to buy a lottery ticket, neither.” Larissa sniffed as if such desperate at
tempts at fiscal security were beneath contempt. “If,” she went on with a sly glance at Donn Bobb, “Augie and Amy could figure out what causes her to have babies, they might be able to save ten cents.” Larissa aimed her bosom at Donn Bobb's upper arm. “
We
know, don't we, Italian Scallion?”

“Scallion?” echoed Renie, returning to the living room with a handful of carrot sticks and celery. “I should be so lucky. I could have made a salad. Say, coz,” she said pointedly, “don't we have a
lunch date
?”

Judith looked up. “Ah—well, yes, I thought we'd drive up the highway to that log cabin place with the fresh trout.” Renie beamed; Judith turned back to her guests. “I'm very sorry about your Aunt Leona. How is your mother taking it?”

Larissa frowned, then looked at her husband. “Oh—sad, wouldn't you say, Lethal Weapon? Donn Bobb doesn't know Momma real well. It's our first trip back home since we got married, so he just met her. But you have to figure,” she went on as both Limas got to their feet, “she can't be happy her sister got murdered, right? But Momma isn't much for sharing her feelings. She's one to keep to herself, too much so, if you ask me. At least she's finally come out of her shell lately, even got a beau. After Auntie died, I told Momma to let loose and just wallow around in grief like a pig in a trough.”

Donn Bobb was nodding—or nodding off. Even though he was standing up, it was hard for Judith to tell. His long sandy hair all but covered his face. “I gather your mother has been a widow for some time?” Judith inquired.

Larissa jostled her husband's arm, making him twitch a bit. “Oh, yes, my daddy's been gone quite a while. He passed on after I got out of high school and moved away. He got himself drowned when he was still pretty young. Well, fifty or so.” She didn't notice the effect of her vague disclaimer on the cousins.

“Very young,” asserted Judith with a steely smile. “I take it you're staying with your mother up at the family home?”

Larissa's eyes roamed about the ceiling. “Well—in a way. We're actually in the RV. We hauled it up behind the pickup. Along with the boat and the bikes.”

The idea of so much rolling stock all on one highway made Judith's head spin. Feeling inadequate to the task, she tried to pin Larissa down. “It must be nice for your mother to have company. Evenings get particularly lonely when you live by yourself. Do you play cards?” she asked, almost gagging on the word.

“Cards?” Larissa glanced at Donn Bobb for help. None was forthcoming as Donn Bobb stared on. “No, none of us play. Like I said, Momma's not real sociable. That chubby ol' police chief must have done some powerful wooing to get her to go out with him. We just watch TV in the RV. Momma sews. Quiet, like.”

“In the house?” Judith felt like gnashing her teeth.

Larissa burst into laughter. “Oh! What did I say? TV in the RV! Oh! A poem! And you said Momma in the house! She could be in the yard! Sewing! Oh!”

Judith leaned on the back of the rocker for support. “She could be, yes. And we must be…gone.” With effort, she started herding the Limas toward the back door. “We're so sorry about your loss. Do give our condolences to your mother. And your brother. 'Bye.”

Larissa's laughter reached even gustier proportions, like a tsunami rolling in from the ocean. “
Mother! Brother!
Oh, my, you are a caution! Thanks for making me laugh! I needed that! Donn Bobb says I'm too
serious!
”

Judith evinced amazement. “No! And all along I thought you were giddy!” Still maintaining an astonished expression, Judith firmly closed the door behind the Limas. She could have sworn she heard Donn Bobb snore.

“I'
M NOT UP
to this one,” insisted Judith after the cousins had taken off like a shot in the MG. “You're right, these people are all nuts. Now we meet a loon with a baseball bat and a narcoleptic rodeo clown. What next, a tap-dancing tuna fish?”

Renie, finding herself en route to a restaurant, was in a less frazzled humor than Judith. “Give yourself a break, coz, it wasn't a complete bust. You found out there's a brother. And a wife. You learned that while Alice Hoke was with Chief Clooney, the Limas can probably alibi each other. Besides, they're too dumb to commit a murder. What we need is a suspect with an IQ higher than his or her body temperature.”

Judith kept her eye on the road but her mind on Renie's words. “I don't know—it doesn't take a nuclear physicist to wring somebody's neck with a kite string. Titus Teacher doesn't have an alibi. And we don't know about Augie or Amy. ‘Nearest and dearest,' that's what Joe said, remember?”

“Right, right.” Renie settled back in the bucket seat. “What we need is a motive. If Leona was a missionary,
she probably didn't have any money. I wish we knew who the young guy we saw her with was. He was just an outline through the window.”

“He was a blur to me,” said Judith, picking up speed as they left Buccaneer Beach's city limits. “At least I understand old Jake Beezle's remark now. He said Alice Hoke never smiled, much less giggled. But Leona and Larissa certainly do. Did,” she amended in reference to the deceased. Judith glanced over at Renie. “I wonder if Jake knew Leona?”

“Probably.” Renie leaned forward as she spotted a log structure up ahead on the right. “You can interrogate him when we go to the hospital this afternoon. Is that the restaurant?”

It was indeed Larsen's Log House, part of a complex that included a motel and a small gift shop, also built of logs. The parking lot, however, was full. Judith pulled in next door, which was another motel, but much older and in considerable disrepair. The sign that swung over the office entrance read “Anchors Aweigh Inn and Apartments—Weekly/Monthly Rates.”

The rusting, battered car in the next space had Idaho plates. It also had two infant safety seats and many toys strewn about the ripped upholstery. Judith paused next to the MG. “We don't have a reservation,” she noted with a gesture at the log cabin restaurant.

“So?” Renie blinked at her cousin. “Even I can wait.”

“So do it,” said Judith, trying not to look sly. “I've got to see a man about a murder. I think.”

Renie finally noticed the car with its telltale plates. “Oh, coz, there must be a zillion people down here from Idaho. What makes you think this is Augie Hoke and Company?”

Judith lifted her hands. “The state of the car. The kiddie stuff. The motel up the highway, or so Larissa said. I could be wrong, sure, but as long as we're here…”

“…I'm coming with you,” interjected Renie. “This place looks a bit seedy to me. I don't want you to get caught in the middle of a drug bust. Joe would be really annoyed.”

The fat man with a day-old beard behind the desk confirmed that a Mr. and Mrs. August Hoke were registered at Anchors Aweigh. He would not, however, give them the unit number or deliver a message until Judith explained that she was from the Oregon State Lottery Commission. Swatting at a pair of flies, the motel manager offered to get word to the Hokes.

“Tell them to ask for Mrs. Flynn over at Larsen's Log House. We'll be lunching there before we head back to Salem.” Judith's eyes narrowed slightly, as if the threat of their departure were imminent.

The fib, Renie insisted, was the reason for the forty-five minute wait. “God is punishing you for such an outrage,” she said as they cooled their heels in the reception area off the main dining room. “But why me? I never tell tall tales like you do.”

“They're always in a good cause,” replied Judith, on the defensive. “Besides, I didn't say they'd won the lottery, did I?”

Renie gave a slight shrug. “They'd know it if they had, I guess. Unless they're as dumb as Larissa and Donn Bobb. I don't know much about it—I haven't bought a lottery ticket at home in years.”

“Dan used to buy them all the time,” recalled Judith, as the aroma of fresh fish and baked bread wafted their way. “Remember the time he got five out of the six numbers and the dog ate the ticket?”

“Barely.” Renie was distracted by the scent of food. Before she could comment further, the hostess beckoned to them just as a young, careworn couple came through the door. Judith heard the man ask for Mrs. Flynn. Allowing Renie to continue on into the dining room, she felt forced to invite the newcomers to join them. They looked as if they could use a good meal.

“The lottery?” Augie Hoke bore a passing resemblance to his sister, mainly because of his blond hair and blue eyes. But by comparison, he seemed lackluster, painfully thin, and extremely shy. His wife, also on the lean side,
but with hair so dark it was almost blue, seemed chronically breathless.

“Pottery,”
said Judith, leading the way and trying to find Renie in the crowded restaurant. Spotting her cousin hiding behind a menu, Judith made the introductions. “We're here in Buccaneer Beach to look for unusual pottery. We heard your family had some interesting heirlooms.” Judith paused briefly and licked her lips. Renie was peering over the menu with a bemused expression, obviously watching closely to see how Judith would extricate herself from this monstrous prevarication which was growing like Topsy. “We—that is, my husband and I—rented your mother's beach cottage. But before I could call on her and inquire about the pottery, your poor aunt got killed. I certainly don't want to bother your mother at a time like this.” Judith gave both Hokes her most sympathetic gaze.

Amy Hoke was giving her husband a puzzled look. “Pottery? Augie, does she mean that old blue stuff your mother has been using since she was a kid? It must be pre–World War II. Lu-Ray, isn't it?”

Augie stared off into space, though it was not the vacant expression of Donn Bobb Lima or even Larissa. “I guess. It belonged to my Grandpa and Grandma. Momma inherited almost everything, including the cheese factory.” His long face sagged. “There wasn't much left, though, after the rat got hold of it and ran it into the ground.” He pushed the menu aside and leaned toward Judith. “Then you aren't from the state lottery?”

Judith's black eyes widened innocently. “My, no. The motel manager must be a little hard of hearing. You're right though—Lu-Ray pottery can be quite a collector's item.” The statement made her pause; another thought leapt to mind, then fled. Judith frowned. “Go ahead, order lunch. It's on us.” She kicked Renie under the table.

With a show of minor reluctance, the Hokes complied. Amy requested only a small salad; Augie opted for oyster stew. Renie got both, along with the trout. Judith settled on halibut cheeks and cottage fries.

“So how are the children?” Judith asked airily.

The children—all five of them, as it turned out—were still in Idaho, staying with Amy's parents. Under Judith's artful probing, she learned that Augie worked in cement, which was seasonal at best, and nonexistent at worst. Amy was a candlemaker, probably not in great demand on a year-round basis. It was no wonder, Judith thought, that Augie, father of five, had come home to mother to ask for a loan.

“I hope,” remarked Judith in midcourse, “that you got to see your aunt before she died.”

Augie sighed over his empty oyster stew tureen. “Just once. We came up to the house—Momma's place—Sunday afternoon. Momma was going to fix dinner, but she got too tired. She's not used to company.”

“It's been terrible for her,” Amy put in, not making it quite clear if she blamed or pitied her mother-in-law, “to grieve for so long. Sometimes I think she waited alone in that house for seven years, like that lady in the poem, hoping Mr. Hoke would come back from the sea. Isn't it true that if you don't find a body, you can't declare somebody legally dead for seven years?”

Judith started to say that was true under certain circumstances, but Augie spoke first. “She never doubted he was dead. I think she used it as an excuse to avoid everybody. Even us. Momma never did like people much. Aunt Leona was more shy, but she had real love in her heart. She was sorry we didn't bring the kids. Auntie was crazy about kids. It's too bad she never had any of her own.” His pale skin flushed slightly, as if he were embarrassed at having said so much to a stranger. But as ever, Judith's open countenance encouraged confidences. Augie looked away.

“She never married?” Judith's expression was bland.

It was Amy who answered in her breathless voice, “No. She spent her whole life devoted to missionary work.”

Judith felt Renie nudge her under the table. “Do you have any idea who Titus Teacher is?”

Both the Hokes' faces were a void. “Who?” asked Amy.

Judith took a sip of coffee. “He's living in the boathouse. I thought he knew your aunt.”

Augie and Amy continued to appear mystified. “Never heard of him,” said Augie. “Aunt Leona was staying with Momma.”

“Really,” Judith responded. “And your sister and her husband were in the RV on your mother's property, right?”

Augie nodded as Amy made a face of disapproval, apparently caused by the mention of her in-laws. “Momma doesn't like guests. That's why we haven't come home for all these years. She'd keep writing and putting us off,” Augie explained slowly. “I don't know how she put up with Aunt Leona for this past month. Or vice versa,” he added with a dark look.

The check had arrived and Judith knew that the interview was rapidly drawing to a close. She felt as if she were getting nowhere. “At least you got to see Leona on Sunday,” she said, trying not to be too transparent. “I still don't understand why she came back to Pirate's Lair last night. I mean, it isn't as if she were staying there.”

Augie gave Amy an inquiring look. “Didn't Momma say she had some of her stuff stored in the boathouse? Maybe she went back to collect it.”

Amy nodded, a languid, yet convincing gesture. “Augie's aunt loved the beach cottage. That's why Augie's granddaddy relented and left it to her.” Briefly, her dark eyes sparkled. “Everything else went to Augie's mother. Not fair, I'd say, except it's none of my business. Everybody's family is different, I guess.”

Judith tried to sift through this particular bit of information. “So Aunt Leona actually did own Pirate's Lair? Did she handle the rentals?”

Augie again looked vague. “She couldn't have, since she was gone for so many years. I suppose Momma did it for her.” He gave Judith a sudden, sharp glance. “Oh—you mean now, after she came home. Maybe. It would have been her right. And fair's fair. I have to agree with Amy—the way the money got divvied up in this family wasn't exactly right. But then there wasn't as much left as there
should have been, after…all was said and done.” He caught Amy's warning look and turned away.

“Done by the rat?” Judith asked guilelessly.

Augie colored again, offering his wife an apologetic nod of the head. “Yes—the rat. Race Doyle. Heck, Amy, everybody in this town knows what happened. Race botched up the cheese business and then made off with the money that was left and skipped town.” His face froze in a portrait of resentment.

Amy sniffed. “He's probably been living on the Riviera ever since, chasing half-naked women. I can't believe his nephew had the nerve to come back here and practice law!”

Augie stared at Amy. “And that Momma still uses the firm! Just because Bartlett Doyle was the Ogilvie attorney for thirty years! Bart may not have been a crook like Race, but I wouldn't trust any Doyle an inch.” He slumped in his chair, as if the uncustomary outburst had exhausted him.

“What happened to Bart?” asked Renie, now surfeited with tiny oysters and rainbow trout.

“Bart died,” said Amy, as if it served him right. She took a deep breath. “He got run over by a logging truck last year.”

Judith shuddered. She swiftly changed the subject, to when the Hokes were heading back for Idaho. After the funeral, according to Amy, which was scheduled for Friday morning. There was no point in staying on, Amy continued with a meaningful look at her husband, as long as Alice Hoke remained so
impossible
.

The restaurant was clearing out rapidly, and when Judith's offer of dessert was declined, even by Renie, it was obvious that the time for departure had come. Judith still hadn't found a tactful way to ask if the Hokes had an alibi for Tuesday night.

“This has been very generous of you,” said Amy Hoke, getting up and smiling at the cousins in a wan sort of way. “We don't eat out much. It costs a lot with all the kids. I'm just sorry we don't know much about Alice's pottery.”

“Oh, that's all right,” Judith began, still racking her
brain for a subtle inquiry into the Hokes' whereabouts of the previous evening. “Maybe I can write a letter after I get…”

“I suppose,” interrupted Renie, hoisting her huge handbag and pushing back her chair, “you've got an alibi for last night? We do.” She gave the Hokes a big smile.

“An alibi?” echoed Augie, looking startled. “You mean…” He stared first at Renie, then at his wife. “Oh—well. I suppose that's routine, right?” His gaze shifted to Judith.

“You haven't talked to the police?” asked Judith. “Or the sheriff?”

“One—or both—left calls,” offered Amy, brushing at the wrinkles in her faded denim dress. “But we haven't seen anybody yet.” She took her husband's arm. “Actually, we went for a drive up the coast last night. We stopped at some place about ten o'clock for milk shakes.” Amy gave Augie a tight little smile. “Didn't we have a nice time, honey?”