Nutty As a Fruitcake (21 page)

Sinking into the armchair that Leigh had abandoned, Arlene knitted her brow in concentration. “Nothing startling. Enid and George went to Glenda's for Thanksgiving. When they drove off, we were out in the front yard trying to coax Mugs's husband out of the car. They'd had a fight about gravy. Last year, I didn't put giblets in it and…”

“That would be Thursday,” Judith interrupted. “What about Friday?”

“Friday? You mean the day after Thanksgiving?” Arlene considered. “George went to the dentist. No, that was the previous week. He did his regular grocery shopping in the morning, just about the time Carl was working on the downspouts. We had that big wind in mid-November, and the leaves got…”

Judith forced a smile. “You're talking about Friday morning?”

Arlene nodded, somewhat impatiently. “Of course. If you'd let me finish…Anyway, the downspout fell off, and Carl had to go to Earnest Hardware. That was after lunch. He left just as George was taking Enid to the doctor. While Carl was gone, I scrubbed down the dining room because we'd had a little accident during dinner. Sort of a small fire, actually. When Carl came back, Glenda's car was parked at her folks' house. Gary Meyers was with her. I saw him leave.”

Arlene paused for breath while Judith tried to keep the com
ings and goings straight. Despite the digressions, the narrative thread was fairly clear. But something Arlene had said gave Judith mental qualms.

“Art stopped by Saturday afternoon while I was taking down my Thanksgiving decorations,” Arlene said, shifting on the plastic-covered armchair. “JoAnne was there Sunday—I saw her on our way back from Mass. Art came around again at noon on Monday, and Leigh was there in the evening. She'd borrowed her mother's car. Tuesday—well, you know what happened Tuesday.”

Judith was impressed by Arlene's ability to keep tabs on the cul-de-sac. She only wished that her neighbor had been eyeballing the vicinity early Wednesday morning. “No other sightings?” Judith asked hopefully.

Arlene's expression was apologetic. “We still go to bed early, even now that Carl is retired. We get up early, too, but unfortunately, the only house we can see from the dinette is yours. It's very dull.”

Renie, who had been standing by the fireplace fiddling with the artificial flower arrangement, nodded with understanding. “I never see what's going on in our neighborhood. Our street's too steep and all the trees have grown up so that it's practically like living in the woods.”

“You have to create opportunities, Serena,” Arlene said in encouragement. “For example, the other day I happened to be standing on my toilet, and I saw Naomi Stein come home with a huge Nordquist's box. I'll bet she's buying Ham an overcoat for Christmas. Or would that be Hannukah?”

“It would for the Steins,” Judith said with a smile. Over the years, Arlene was prone to stand on her toilet, though she never explained why—but everyone knew it was so she could get a better view.

“That was Monday,” Arlene continued, apparently still offering Renie advice. “Last Friday—or was it Thursday?—there I was, on top of the garage. I saw Corinne Dooley, making her bed at two in the afternoon! Granted she has a lot of children, but wouldn't you think she'd get right at that in the morning?”

“Maybe that's why,” Renie ventured.

“Why she has so many children?” Arlene was frowning at Renie. “Yes, you have a point…”

“No,” Renie broke in, “I meant why she's so busy…”

“Then a week or so ago,” Arlene blithely went on, “I was hanging out of the attic window…” She stopped herself with a wave of one hand. “No, it was the day you borrowed Kevin's truck, Judith. I was watching for you to come back in one piece. Anyway, an attic is a wonderful vantage point. Remember that, Serena. A really sweeping view.”

Renie was looking bemused. “So what did you see? Someone sweeping?”

“Exactly!” Arlene's voice was fraught with enthusiasm. “Rochelle Porter, out on her back porch. She'd gotten home early from work. Or else she hadn't been called to sub that day. Oh—I saw Mrs. Swanson, talking over the fence to George. She doesn't come out much during the cold weather. Being from Japan, I suppose she's used to a tropical climate.”

Judith considered correcting Arlene, both about the Japanese weather and the half century Mrs. Swanson had spent in the Pacific Northwest. But Arlene was still talking: “That's when she gave him the hatchet, of course.”

Renie blinked; Judith gaped. Arlene started to get out of the armchair.

She was immediately tackled by both cousins.

 

“Honestly!” cried Arlene, “you don't need to twist my arm so
hard
, Serena!”

Abashed, Renie let go. Judith, however, blocked Arlene's passage. “You've never mentioned the hatchet before,” she said in reproach. “At least not to me. Did you tell the police?”

Arlene's face was blank. “Tell them what? They know about the hatchet. You said so yourself.”

Judith had to concede the point. “But you should have…” She stopped, aware that the argument went against the grain of her own belief in George's innocence. “Let's be precise. What did you see George and Mrs. Swanson doing?”

With a hand to her forehead, Arlene wandered to the hearth.
“I wasn't concentrating on
them
. The Ericsons had gotten a delivery from UPS that morning. They weren't home, of course, so the box was still on the front porch. You can't see their porch from the street because of the high fence. I think it was for their computer. Goodness, in all the other excitement, I forgot to ask Jeanne about it.”

“George?” Judith coaxed. “Mrs. Swanson?”

Arlene was growing exasperated. “I told you, I wasn't paying much attention. They were at the fence, with the hatchet. That's it.”

Judith reflected briefly. “That was Tuesday afternoon, the day before the murder?”

“Yes, yes.” Arlene now sounded cross. “As I said, it was the day you borrowed Kevin's truck. Really, I should get home. Or you should.” Arlene's gaze wandered off in the direction of the bedroom.

Judith knew that Arlene wouldn't be satisfied until she'd had a look at the rest of the house. “You're right. Don't forget, we're serving the Lutheran Church's St. Lucy's Day buffet Monday night.” Judith didn't know if she and Arlene had been asked to cater the annual celebration of light in the spirit of ecumenism or because the Lutherans were sick of lutefisk. “I'm coming back with Phyliss this afternoon. You might as well leave the back door open.”

Arlene's blue eyes widened in feigned innocence. “You mean…But I was…You're
leaving
?”

Judith nodded. “Immediately. It's all yours.” She led the way for Renie.

“Is that a good idea?” Renie asked when the cousins were back on the sidewalk.

Judith shrugged. “Where's the harm? We've already been all over the place, along with Dooley. So have the family members. And the cops, of course. Phyliss will launch her frontal attack when she shows up to clean. Let Arlene have her fun. We did.”

“If you can call it that,” Renie muttered.

It was nearly noon, and the fog had almost dispersed. The
air felt damp and chilly, with overcast gray skies. Renie lingered by her Chev.

“I should go home and get to work. Let me dig Aunt Ellen's box out of the trunk.”

Judith waited at the curb, her mind far from Aunt Ellen and Uncle Win in Nebraska. Indeed, her thoughts were in the gutter.

“Greg dropped that key,” she declared, gesturing across the driveway to the parking strip in front of the Ericson house. “For some reason, he couldn't park where you are now. Tuesday night, he took the key out of the phony rock after JoAnne told him where to find it. Enid and George were in bed. Greg let himself in, then dropped the key on his way out. Why?”

“He's dippy,” Renie replied, handing a carton to Judith. “It's not heavy. You know Aunt Ellen—she doesn't like paying postage, either.”

Judith cringed at the pile of plastic-shrouded presents. “She means well. I think.”

“She does,” Renie said, sounding unusually mellow. “What time do you want us tomorrow?”

Judith was roused from her mental gymnastics. “Huh? Oh—five-thirty, I guess. I'll call you.” She jiggled the carton experimentally. At least she couldn't hear any sounds of broken parts, unlike in other years. “Hey!” she called suddenly as Renie opened the car door. “If you were Arlene, what would you have just seen?”

Renie made a face. “What are you talking about?”

Judith jiggled the box again. “When you gave me this. Think about it—frozen in time, a glimpse.”

Renie ducked into the Chev. “Bye, coz.” Her voice was muffled.

“You wouldn't have been able to tell if I was taking or giving,” Judith shouted. “In a cursory look,
I
might have been handing this to
you
.”

Without a backward glance, Renie drove away.

T
HE AFTERNOON DIDN'T
go as smoothly as Judith had hoped. She and Phyliss spent four hours scrubbing down the walls of the Goodrich bedroom, washing the bloodstained bedding, and trying to clean various other items that offered mute evidence of the gruesome crime. Both women agreed they would have to come back, probably on Monday. The beds had to be made up, they should straighten the living room, and the bath was in need of a good cleaning. Phyliss was game. After her initial screeching reaction to the murder site, she had been remarkably subdued.

The following day, Saturday, Joe was able to stay home. But he didn't put up the tree. Instead, he wrapped the outside pipes, tinkered with his MG, and cleaned the furnace filters. Busy with dinner preparations, Judith didn't nag. They could do the tree on Sunday. As she had said, the candy and cookies could wait.

In the late afternoon, Dooley and O.P. stopped by. Judith was readying the rib roast for the oven. The boys had nothing new to report, a fact that seemed to grieve them both.

“There's a lot of coming and going in your street,” O.P. said very seriously, accepting a reindeer-shaped sugar cookie from the batch Judith had baked that morning. “But it's mostly the police and delivery trucks and people coming to the B&B.”

“I know,” Judith said, rubbing a mixture of salt, pepper, and garlic onto the big roast. “Say, did you notice a beat-up orange pickup parked around the neighborhood in the last few weeks, O.P.? You haven't mentioned it.”

O.P. munched the front legs off his reindeer. “Maybe—did it have tools in the back? I think I saw it across the street about two weeks ago.”

Dooley swung his long legs out from under the table. “I saw it a couple of days after I got home. But it wasn't near the cul-de-sac. It was sitting a couple of blocks away, by the park.”

The nearby park was a panoramic viewpoint that overlooked downtown, the bay, and the mountains. Nobody connected to the Goodriches lived in the vicinity. Judith wondered why Ross Cisrak seemed to be roaming aimlessly around Heraldsgate Hill.

She also wondered why Dooley was on his feet. He was eating a frosted star and looking out through the kitchen window. “Great Nativity set,” he remarked. “Gee, I forgot, you can't see much past the Rankers', can you?”

“Try the dining room,” Judith said dryly.

With long, swift strides, Dooley did.

“Girls,” sneered O.P.

“Gaby Porter's due home today, I take it.” Judith tapped the cookie jar.

O.P. extracted a fat Santa. “Yeah. That's dumb. Being possessed by a girl, I mean.”

“
Obsessed
,” Judith correctly gently. O.P. shrugged. The sound of a car door slamming could be heard faintly in the kitchen; the sound of the front door slamming could be heard loudly in the kitchen.

Judith looked at O.P. and grinned. O.P. made a disgusted face. “Dumb,” he repeated, and ate another cookie.

 

The dinner party was a big success. The Joneses and the Prices got on well, which wasn't surprising since Renie had a special fondness for Woody. The two of them shared a love of opera and spent much of the evening exchanging opinions
about current international stars and recent local productions. Sondra was a movie buff, which suited Bill admirably. Then there were sports, in which everyone had an interest, except perhaps Sondra, whose eyes seemed to glaze at the mention of anything involving a ball and men wearing strange costumes in public.

What wasn't mentioned was crime—not the Goodrich murder, not the Shazri case, not so much as a minor mugging at the bottom of Heraldsgate Hill. Awash with warm feelings, roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and Galliano on the rocks, Judith put the neighborhood tragedy aside. Indeed, she was downright sleepy when the Prices announced they had to rescue their baby-sitter. Standing in the middle of the New England village, Judith, Joe, Renie and Bill waved them off. Then the Joneses started for their Chev. Bill was never one to linger over farewells.

But to Judith's surprise, he did an about-face at the edge of the lawn. “Joe—I didn't want to say anything in front of Woody, but I've got two tickets to the NBA game tomorrow. It's at noon, because it's nationally televised. They're excellent seats, center court, eight rows up. Would you like to go?”

Joe waved the stub of his cigar. “Wow! That's a big game, even this early in the season! Sure, I'd love to! How'd you get the tickets?”

Bill shrugged modestly. “I had to commit someone yesterday. He's a season-ticket holder. His wife and her analyst can't make this one. I wish I had an extra so I could have asked Woody. He seems like a fine man.”

“He is.” Joe was grinning from ear to ear. “What time?”

“Eleven? Right after Mass, anyway. We'll get out on time. Father Hoyle has season tickets, too.” With a wave, Bill got in the car.

“Wow,” Joe repeated, but this time more softly. He started back toward the house, flipping his cigar butt in the direction of the old mill.

“Pick that up!” Judith's voice cut through the cold night air. In fact, it startled her as much as it did Joe. Anxiously, she glanced up at the second floor windows. All of her guests
were settled in. Hopefully, she hadn't disturbed them.

Joe couldn't find the cigar butt in the dark. Judith stomped over to the area where he'd thrown it, picked it up, and waved it in front of his face.

“Here, you selfish creep,” she hissed. “Put it in the fireplace or the trash or up your…whatever.” Angrily, she marched into the house.

Joe started to follow her, then stopped. For some moments, he paced the front yard, oblivious to the cold. The lights in the village went out. The first hint of frost was sparkling in the moonlight. Joe wandered over to the Rankers' property. He looked at the Holy Family.

On the stroke of midnight, Joe went inside.

 

At breakfast, Judith was still angry. She had pretended to be asleep when Joe had finally come to bed around twelve-thirty. But in fact, she had lain awake a long time, at least until two. Now it was nine o'clock in the morning, and she'd been up since six. She was tired, cross, and mad at the world. Her ire was primarily directed at Joe, but she saved some for Bill. And Renie. She could hardly wait to confront her cousin at church. What was Renie thinking of in allowing her husband to sabotage Judith's plans for putting up the tree?

Judith and Joe had been consuming their meal in a silence as frosty as the ground outside. It was Joe who finally spoke, not mildly, as Judith had expected, but with an edge to his voice.

“I'll bring the damned tree inside and set it up now.” He rose from his chair without looking at Judith.

“Don't bother.” Judith stared furiously into her coffee mug.

Joe ignored her. Five minutes later, she heard him grunting and groaning in the living room. Obviously, he'd carried the tree in through the French doors. Judith waited. More grunts and groans ensued, as did considerable cursing. Judith endured the first crash, but upon the second, she went into the living room. The card table had been upended; jigsaw puzzle pieces were scattered across the carpet. The piano bench lay on its side, along with a book of Christmas carols. Joe and the giant
fir looked as if they were locked in mortal combat. Judith left the room.

Shortly before ten, Joe came into the kitchen. Judith was switching on the dishwasher. She refused to turn in Joe's direction.

“The tree's in the stand,” he announced, the gruffness in his voice undermined by a gasping for air.

Judith didn't respond. Five minutes later, she was still tight-lipped when they reached the parking lot at Our Lady, Star of the Sea. Joe got out of the car, banging the MG's door behind him.

“Wait!” Judith jumped from the MG. At the church door, Joe turned. “Joe!” Judith slipped on an icy patch but kept her balance.

Several parishioners, most of whom Judith recognized, stared discreetly. Judith ignored them, hurrying to Joe's side. She tugged at his sleeve.

“I can't go to Mass when I'm so angry,” she said in a low voice. “Come on, let's go back to the car and talk this out.”

“No.” Joe's round face was inscrutable. “We'll talk later.”

Judith stamped her foot. “We have to talk now. You're going to the basketball game later.”

“So I am.” Joe shook off Judith's hand. With an unconvincing smile for the Dooleys, he went inside the church. Glumly, Judith followed.

 

“It looks like you're my chauffeur again, coz,” Renie said brightly, after Joe and Bill had driven off to the basketball game in the Joneses' Chev. “If you give me a ride, I'll give you an eggnog.”

“I'll give you a sock in the kisser,” Judith snapped. “You traitor! How could you?”

Renie stopped and stared as Judith stalked across the parking lot to the MG. “Hold it!” Renie yelled. “Why are
you
so mad?”

It was all Judith could do to keep from driving off without Renie. She couldn't even muster a smile for her curious fellow parishioners, who looked as if they were beginning to think
that a Philistine had landed in their midst. Judith knew that her reputation for congeniality was fraying around the edges, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Gritting her teeth, Judith waited for Renie to climb into the MG.

“You know why I'm mad,” Judith snarled. “Why didn't you go to the game with Bill? You like basketball. How could you let him invite Joe?”

Renie had taken out her compact and was reapplying lipstick. Reversing out of the parking space, Judith purposely braked hard. The lipstick careened off Renie's mouth and struck her nose.

“Damn,” Renie breathed. “I think we'd better wait until we get to our house to discuss this. You're kind of fractious.” She pulled a Kleenex from her purse and began swiping at the errant lipstick mark.

Inside the Joneses' living room, another big fir stood unadorned in another heavy tree stand. The rest of the house looked very festive, from the garlanded staircase to the English village atop the spinet piano. Judith, however, was in no mood to appreciate Renie's handiwork.

Renie headed directly to the kitchen. “The kids are gone for the day. They went to a church-sponsored sleigh ride and then caroling at a nursing home on the east side of the lake. Do you want your eggnog with or without?”

Renie's concept of eggnog was unorthodox: She drank it straight, without milk or liquor, and claimed that she lost weight in the process. Her rationale was that instead of snacking between meals as she usually did, she got filled up on eggnog. And because she was so busy with annual reports, in addition to her regular workload, routine family duties, and a host of holiday-related events, she burned off calories. The strangest part was that it was true: One year, she had lost sixteen pounds in six weeks. Renie was the only person Judith knew who actually ended the holidays weighing less than when she started.

But at the moment, Renie's eggnog diet was of no interest. Judith's request for a dollop of rum was made in a surly voice.
Renie obliged, then ushered her cousin back to the living room.

“Okay,” said Renie, settling onto the dark green sofa, “here's my rationale—I don't want Bill or the kids around when I decorate the tree. They argue; they bitch; they bunch all the lights together; they put the ornaments in the wrong place; they're lucky they don't knock the damned thing over. It might take me all day, but I'd rather put some carols on the CD player, drink a quart of eggnog, and take my time doing it right. It saves a lot of emotional wear and tear on everybody.”

Judith glowered at Renie. “It doesn't save on energy. Aren't you ready to collapse by the time you're done?”

“Sure,” Renie answered cheerfully. “But so what? Inside, I feel
good
.”

Judith wasn't convinced. “It's not right to let everybody else off the hook.”

Renie looked askance at Judith. “Decorating the Christmas tree shouldn't be a punishment, coz. It should be
fun
. It is, for me. But it's a chore for Bill, and the kids only enjoy it during the first ten minutes. The real reason that you're mad is because Joe isn't exactly like you. And Bill isn't exactly like me, either. For whatever reason, they don't bring the same sense of exhilaration—or maybe it's duty—to the holidays. That doesn't mean they don't like Christmas. It just means they aren't us. Which is good, when we think about it rationally. Come on, coz—where's your famous logic?”

Judith sighed. “Maybe you're right. But Joe acted like a real jerk.”

“He feels guilty because he doesn't share your joy. Cut him some slack. It's taken me years and years to do the same with Bill. I still haven't got it down pat.”

Finishing her eggnog, Judith got to her feet. “I'd better get started on that tree.”

“Me, too.” Renie walked Judith to the door. “The problem with you—and maybe me—is that we want to give, give, give. What we have to consider is that not everybody wants to get, get, get. It's hard for us to realize that Advent is supposed to be a time for inner reflection. Putting up the tree all by yourself
helps. Every ornament isn't just a memory, but a prayer.” Renie winced, embarrassed by her private revelation.

But Judith understood. She gave Renie a quick hug, and headed across the steep sidewalk to Joe's MG.

 

Judith had reached the tinsel stage when the front doorbell sounded. It was going on four, and she assumed it was one of her guests. The first two couples had checked in an hour or so earlier.

Glenda Goodrich looked even more haggard than when Judith had last seen her at the funeral. She was huddled inside her down jacket, pale and without makeup. Judith's offer of coffee was accepted, though Glenda seemed so distraught that she almost sat on a box of extra Christmas lights.