Nutty As a Fruitcake (7 page)

Judith introduced Gary to Renie. In the process, the cousins learned that Gary's last name was Meyers. “I know we've never met,” Judith explained as Angie brought coffee refills. “But I've seen you with Glenda. I've known her and Art since we were little kids. Renie knows the family, too.”

The cousins' credentials didn't seem to impress Gary. “So what happened to the old lady and what's-his-name?”

Judith tried to be tactful as well as cautious in relating the grisly events at the Goodrich house. Gary reacted with appropriate horror. A nerve next to his right eye twitched, and he rubbed at it in agitation.

“Mrs. G. was a bitch on wheels, always on somebody's case,” he said as his order was delivered. “The usual” was a cheeseburger with fries and several slices of raw onion. “I tried to steer clear of the old girl. My ex-wife was a nag. That's why she's my ex. Why can't women learn to shut up?”

“Because men don't learn to listen,” Renie put in. “Not all women nag. And sometimes men do listen. Now take my husband, Bill…”

Judith didn't want Renie to get launched on the topic of Bill. Renie would go on forever, even—especially—if she intended to heap praise upon her mate. Judith managed to distract her cousin by attempting to steal her tartar sauce.

The ruse worked. Judith turned back to Gary, who was sitting next to her in the booth. “Mrs. Goodrich wasn't a pleasant woman. I hate to say that, but it's true. I hope you and Glenda didn't break up because of her mother.”

For just a brief instant, Gary's fleshy features hardened. Then he laughed in a forced manner. “Let's just say there was too much family, okay?”

The table grew silent. Judith munched on the last of her fries, trying to think of an appropriate comment. None came to mind. Gary and Glenda were kaput. There was no reason, other than ordinary human curiosity, why he should care what happened to the Goodriches. Nor did Judith have any reason to press questions upon Gary Meyers. Giving herself a little shake, she glanced at Renie.

“We'd better go if you're Christmas shopping this afternoon.” Judith picked up her bill, then waited for Gary to get up so she could exit the booth. “It was nice meeting you, Gary. Have a merry Christmas.”

Judith thought Gary looked relieved. His mouth was full of cheeseburger. He nodded, waved, and turned his full attention to his meal. The cousins stopped at the register, then went outside into the rain.

“I'll take you home,” Renie said. “Then I'm heading downtown.”

Judith paused in the middle of fastening her seat belt. “We're halfway to town already. I'll go with you. I can call Phyliss and Mother from there to let them know where I am.”

Renie gestured at the restaurant they'd just left. “Call from here. There's a phone by the entrance to the bar.”

Judith went back inside. Phyliss answered almost immediately. “What did you spill on the kitchen floor?” she demanded. “It's so greasy. I'll bet you let that awful cat eat off of it.”

Naturally, Judith denied the accusation. But she wondered. She always did when it came to Sweetums.

“In the kingdom to come, there won't be any cats,” Phyliss declared. “They're wild things, worshipped by those Egyptians, who didn't know any better. Have you ever seen Moses petting a cat?”

“I've never seen Moses,” Judith replied. “If I run into him downtown, I'll ask.”

“Now see here,” Phyliss huffed, “don't you start blas
pheming! I won't put up with such ungodly talk! That's one of the reasons I quit working for Enid Goodrich. She was always contradicting me about religion.”

Judith felt a passing pang of sympathy for Enid. Humbling herself, Judith tried to make amends. She didn't want to anger Phyliss, especially not now, with the holiday season upon her.

The call to Gertrude was mercifully brief. Gertrude was watching a talk show. “Freaks of nature,” she said. “People who are completely abnormal. You know, like your husband.” Gertrude hung up.

Coming out of the darkened entrance to the bar, Judith all but bumped into Gary Meyers, who was leaving the dining area. Gary reacted as if he'd been attacked by aliens. Judith apologized.

“I had to make a couple of phone calls,” she said, wondering why she felt an explanation was necessary. “There's so much to do this time of year.” Judith winced at her own meaningless chatter. “The morning just flew by, with all the trouble at the Goodriches'.”

Gary had opened the door for Judith and was now standing on the sidewalk, his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his Cascade Beer jacket. His expression was still nervous, even wary. “Trouble is right. That family was born for trouble. Maybe Glenda's okay, but the rest of them…” He shook his head in a hapless manner. “Women! They're the real troublemakers!”

Renie was honking the horn. Judith gave Gary a feeble smile and hurried to the car. Oblivious to the rain, Gary remained on the sidewalk, staring vacantly down the street.

“The meter ran out while you were on the phone,” Renie said as they pulled into traffic. “The parking violation goons watch this area like vultures. I got a ticket last month for parking in front of a fire hydrant.”

“I should think so,” Judith said reasonably. “It's illegal.”

“Which is stupid,” Renie countered, taking up two lanes at once. “Nothing was on fire. Why should a parking space go to waste on the off chance that the store I'm shopping in is going to ignite? How often have you been anywhere and
had the place go up in flames before you'd paid for your purchases? No such luck, right?”

“You mean a fire sale?” Judith asked with a droll smile. “Coz, you're drifting to the right.”

“Oh, good grief! First you tell me how to park, now you're teaching me to drive! Why do you and Bill and my mother and the kids think I don't know how to drive after over thirty years on the road?” Renie ran an arterial, causing two cars to come to a screeching halt and several horns to erupt in frantic honking. “Do you know that I got a commendation this year from our insurance company because I have such a good safety record?”

“Luck,” Judith said under her breath. Fortunately, the comment was drowned out by a man in a truck who was yelling that Renie was going the wrong way on a one-way street. “Coz…” Judith began as terror enveloped her.

But Renie had swung around a corner. “Okay, so I forgot which way the damned street went. As my father once said when he got stopped for going north on a southbound street, ‘I know it's one-way. That's what I was doing—going one way.'” Renie shrugged.

Judith closed her eyes. She remembered Uncle Cliff's erratic driving only too well. While Renie had inherited some of her father's more admirable qualities, his road skills—or lack thereof—also resided in the genes.

Miraculously, the cousins arrived downtown in one piece. They spent the next three hours trooping from Donner & Blitzen to Nordquist's to The Belle Epoch. By the time their feet and their money had given out, each had acquired most of the items on their respective lists. At precisely four o'clock, they were in the car again, breathing heavily.

“The stores look pretty,” Renie said, somehow managing to reverse out of their parking place without hitting either of the adjacent vehicles. “I like Nordquist's historical Santa Clauses, especially the Russian one.”

“The Belle Epoch is so homey,” Judith said. “Every year, they convert the turn-of-the-century Thanksgiving window into Christmas. It's a wonderful transition.”

“True,” Renie agreed, as the big blue Chev snaked up the curving exit lane. “But Donner & Blitzen is always the best. All those silver stars and gorgeous angels make you feel like you're halfway to heaven.”

Judith smiled. “The store smells good, too. I wonder if they use a special Christmas spray.”

“We'll have to figure out when the kids can get together to come down and have their pictures taken with Santa at Donner & Blitzen. I swear, they'll be forty years old and still have to sit on Santa's lap for the annual photo session.” So wrapped up in holiday tradition was Renie that she made the wrong turn and found herself exiting in the opposite direction from Heraldsgate Hill. “Damn,” she breathed as they waited for an opening in the steady late afternoon traffic. “Now we'll have to drive two miles out of our way just to get home.”

Judith darted Renie a quick look. “We'll be going right through the hospital district,” she said, hoping to sound innocent.

“I know,” Renie replied. “That's the only way we can get on a one-way street that takes us back to Heraldsgate Hill. Do you think I'm stupid as well as reckless?”

“No-o-o,” said Judith. “But as long as we're in the vicinity, maybe we should check on George.”

Renie applied the brake too hard, throwing both cousins forward in their seat belts. “Hold it! Are you trying to finagle yourself into this Goodrich thing? What's the point? George killed Enid; George tried to kill himself. Open and shut. Get over it.”

Judith sighed. “I know. You're right. But I care about George. I'd like to find out if he's dead or alive. They won't tell us over the phone, so if we drop in, we might be able to talk to Glenda or Art. And if George has died, we'll find out right now instead of waiting to hear about it. Come on, coz, Bayview is only four blocks away. Arlene would never forgive me for passing up this opportunity.”

Renie groaned but turned right instead of left. “I should have known when you tried to pump Gary Meyers. Okay, okay,” she went on, seeing the arguments forming on her
cousin's lips. “It's not easy to turn your back on a murder. It's impossible when it happens two doors down from your house. But you
could
wait until Joe gets home from work. He'll know, won't he?”

“Maybe,” Judith allowed. “It depends on whether he and Woody are all wrapped up in the Shazri case.”

Parking at Bayview Hospital proved fairly easy, but finding George Goodrich was another matter. The public hospital was an enormous maze with additions, annexes, and employees for whom English was definitely not their native tongue. After twenty minutes, Judith and Renie found themselves outside of the Intensive Care Unit. They also found themselves face-to-face with Sancha Rael.

“Mr. Goodrich's condition has stabilized,” Rael informed them in detached tones. “I can't tell you any more than that, and shouldn't have given out the information in the first place. But,” she added, smirking at Judith, “you
are
Joe Flynn's wife. I'm perfectly willing to grant him…favors.”

Judith pretended she hadn't heard Rael's last remark. “So Mr. Goodrich is going to pull through?” She also tried to pretend that there wasn't an edge to her own voice.

Rael nodded in a casual manner that somehow was also elegant. “They got to him in time to get the stuff out of his system. He took sleeping pills. Dalmane.”

Putting aside her annoyance with Rael, Judith tried to remember what she knew about Dalmane. It was Renie, however, who spoke up first.

“That's not real heavy-duty, is it? I think my mother took it after she broke her hip. She had trouble sleeping.”

Rael seemed indifferent to Renie's comment. “Whatever. The old guy's pulled through, so we can charge him.”

Judith pounced. “You've got sufficient evidence?”

But Rael was too savvy to fall into the trap. “We know how to do our job,” she said with a tight little smile. “You must hear that from pillow talk with your husband.”

Judith fought off the desire to make a snappy comeback. Renie, however, didn't show such restraint:

“Hey, Judith and Joe don't do pillow talk. They just make
mad, passionate love. Constantly.” Renie shook her head. “It's pathetic, really, at their age. I worry about them.”

Rael glared at Renie, then abruptly turned and headed back into the ICU. Renie snickered. “Maybe she's not so nice after all. What's her point in ragging you?”

Feeling vaguely disturbed, Judith shrugged and sighed. “Who knows? Maybe she does have a thing for Joe. Or maybe she's just unpleasant.”

The cousins gazed around the reception area, where staffers were putting up cheerful Christmas cutouts: Santa waving from his sleigh, a happy snowman with a stovepipe hat and a carrot for a nose, a trio of wide-eyed angel babies floating on a cloud. Judith wondered if the loved ones who waited ever noticed the decor. Certainly the three people who sat in armchairs lined up against the wall didn't seem very jovial. She was about to suggest leaving when Glenda and Art came through the double doors that led from the outside. They both seemed startled to see Judith and Renie.

“We just happened to be in the vicinity,” Judith said, wondering why the small fib felt like such a big lie. “We wondered how your father was doing. I hated to go home without having news for the rest of the neighbors. I'm sure they've been worrying, too.”

Glenda didn't meet Judith's gaze. “He's coming along,” she murmured. “It's such a relief. I guess.”

Art frowned at the floor. “You got to feel as if he wanted to go, too. I mean, what has Pappy to look forward to now?”

“Prison?” Renie said, then clapped a hand to her head. “I didn't mean it like that! He won't go to prison anyway. But after living with your mother, even prison would seem like a…”

None too discreetly, Judith nudged Renie. “A rest,” Judith interrupted. “A rest
home
. My cousin means your father will probably go to a place…like that.”

“A mental institution,” Glenda said miserably. “You don't need to spare our feelings. The worst of it is, Pappy isn't crazy.”

“But he had to be,” Art put in. “What do they call it? Temporary insanity—that's it.”

Glenda was now nodding vigorously. “It might have been like a blackout. Does he really have to be locked up for the rest of his life? It doesn't seem fair.”