Clam Wake
Authors: Mary Daheim
In loving memory of Judith Marie Marshall Collins
.
You are still with me, dear Coz
.
Chapter 1
J
udith McMonigle Flynn stared at the mail on the credenza, glared at the thick packet's return address, and squared her broad shoulders before marching out of the front hall to confront her husband in the kitchen.
“It's here, Joe,” she announced. “Come and get it.”
“What's here?” he asked, after swallowing a bite from a ham-and-cheese sandwich.
“The mail,” Judith said, hands on hips. “Phyliss brought it in when she was sweeping the porch.”
Joe's green eyes looked suspicious. “So? Did your cleaning woman figure somebody sent a bomb to Hillside Manor?”
“A bombshell as far as I'm concerned,” Judith retorted. “It's from New Zealand.”
“Wow!” Joe stood up and hurried past Judith on his way to retrieve the packet.
Phyliss Rackley came through the back hall from the basement. “Satan's familiar is hunting. There must be a mouse there. Or a rat.”
“At least Sweetums will probably nail whatever rodent it is,” Judith said glumly. “Do you have any
good
news?”
It was the wrong thing to ask her fanatically religious cleaning woman. “I sure do! Hallelujah! Christmas is over!”
“That's good news?”
“It certainly is,” Phyliss asserted, setting a pile of clean kitchen towels on the counter. “We don't have to listen to those heathens gripe about the holiday and that Santa Claus is our savior.”
“There is that,” Judith allowed, opening the refrigerator. “Of course Santa is based on a Catholic saint. A bishop, in fact.”
Phyliss's beady eyes were suspicious. “You're making that up.”
“No,” Judith said, removing some leftover salad from the fridge. “Surely you've heard the legend about him.”
Phyliss slammed the drawer in which she'd put the towels. “Legends! More hocus-pocus. What's that one about Sleepy Hollow? Did your bishop take off his head and ride a horse?”
“Not even close,” Judith retorted. She wasn't in the mood to argue.
As Phyliss left the kitchen, Joe returned. “This is really one hell of a trip. I'm going over to see Bill as soon as I finish lunch. I already called to tell him I got the packet.”
“Good for you,” Judith muttered, sitting down with her salad.
Joe hurriedly finished his sandwich, then leaned forward to put a hand on his wife's arm. “HeyâI honestly don't know why you're so irked about this New Zealand fishing trip Bill and I are taking. It cost us less than four hundred dollars apiece. We weren't serious about bidding on it at the church auction, just trying to hike up the price for Father Hoyle. Was that so wrong? How did we know the other guests were going to suddenly get tightfisted?”
Judith set her fork aside. “First of all, the parish council shouldn't have moved the auction to November instead of May. Yes, I know Father Hoyle's taking a month off to visit relatives when the auction's usually held. But scheduling the event so close to the holidays was a big mistake. What's more, the fishing trip has to be in January because it's summer in New Zealand. I suspect that even some of the wealthy parishioners couldn't take time off right now. But what really got meâand Coz Renieâwas that after the first hundred bucks, you and Bill were the only people biddingâagainst each other.”
“That was because . . .” Joe sat back and sighed. “Okay, so maybe we shouldn't have been the bartenders before the bidding started.”
Judith narrowed her dark eyes. “You were told to get the other parishioners juiced, not each other.”
“You have to admit it's a hell of a deal,” Joe asserted. “If we had to pay the full freight, it'd be almost three grand apiece.”
“Which, I may point outâagainâprohibits Renie and me from going with you and Bill. Admittedly, it's a slow time here at the B&B, but she has annual reports to design and can't get away even if we could afford it. You could've earned some big bucks investigating the crooks behind that recreational development project up north. The only thing that kept me barely above water this month is New Year's and the Martin Luther King three-day weekend. The reservations until St. Valentine's Day are few and far between.”
Joe refused to look contrite. “Even if you two went, you'd be bored. Besides, you know how drunk Renie gets if she has to fly. Do you realize how unbearable your cousin would be by the time we got to Auckland?”
“She'd be unconscious,” Judith said. “I wouldn't have to listen to her. We could stay in the city and explore. I've heard New Zealand is a lovely country.” She finally managed a small smile. “Okay, I give up. I'm being a brat. January's always a downer.”
“I know.” Joe smiled back before standing up. “How come you're eating salad again?”
Judith shot him a dirty look. “I'm still trying to lose the seven pounds I gained over the holidays. I've got three to go.”
“Hey,” he said, reaching down to put a hand on her shoulder. “You're tall. I can never tell when you gain or lose weight.”
“Your eyes are probably going.” She poked at his slight paunch. “It wouldn't hurt you to shed some weight, too.”
“I've gained less than ten pounds since we got married fifteen years ago.” Joe glanced at his midsection. “I think my muscles have worked their way down to my stomach since I retired from the police department. Being a private investigator forces me to spend too much time sitting on surveillance. I'm off to show Bill the packet.” He kissed his wife's forehead.
Judith smiled again. “Say hi to the Joneses for me. Renie's probably working on her graphic designs in the basement.”
Joe started out of the kitchen, but paused. “We'll have to be at the airport Thursday morning by six for the flight to San Francisco. We can take the shuttle.”
“And you will,” she agreed. “I've got two Wednesday reservations.”
“It's only Tuesday. You might get another one.”
“Ha ha,” Judith said. But she wasn't smiling.
I
t figures,” Gertrude Grover muttered when Judith went out to collect her mother's lunch tray from the converted toolshed apartment. “Dopey and Dummy will be upside down in New Zealand. Although I don't think it'll make much difference with that pair. What brains they've got will probably fall into outer space. Say, why don't you ask your goofy cousin Serena and her daffy mother to come over some night so the four of us can play bridge? That might cheer you up.”
“That's not a bad idea,” Judith said. “Renie and I haven't played cards in ages. I hope we can remember all the bidding cues. We might be kind of rusty.”
“It'll come back to you,” her mother asserted. “Just like riding a Popsicle. You never forget how to do it.”
“A Popsicle?” Judith echoed. “You mean a biâ”
“I know what I mean,” Gertrude interrupted. “When you were a kid and it got hot in the summer, you'd put a Popsicle on your bicycle seat to cool it off.”
“I only did that once and it was a mistake,” Judith said. “The Popsicle melted and it looked like I wet my pants.”
Her mother shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“It wasn't. Maybe Renie can come over Thursday night. I've only got one reservation so far. Luckily, the weekend's looking a little better.”
Worry surfaced in Gertrude's faded blue eyes. “You going broke?”
“No, Mother, it's always like this in January.” She stood next to Gertrude's chair and put a hand on the old lady's rounded shoulder. “Things will pick up in March. They always do.”
“Hunh. There's talk of a recession. Maybe just like the thirties. Soup kitchens and homeless camps. Where's FDR when we need him?”
“The last I heard,” Judith said, “he and Eleanor were still buried at Hyde Park.”
Gertrude sighed. “Seems like only yesterday that I heard FDR had died. I was babysitting Serena while your aunt Deb and uncle Cliff were off on some appointment. I left you napping with Grandma and Grandpa Grover. Your dad was teaching at the high school. Serena and I were prank-calling Realtors when Deb and Cliff pulled into the driveway. We both went to the back doorâ”
Judith was aghast. “You let Renie prank-call people? She was six.”
“Don't interrupt. She's always had a deep voice. Anyway, as soon as Deb and Cliff got out of the carâtheir old '37 Plymouthâwe knew something terrible had happened. They'd heard the news about President Roosevelt on the radio. You were too young to understand.”
“That's true. I don't remember anything about it.”
“All the Grovers were in mourning. Even Auntie Vance, who's tougher than a logger's tin pants. She was working for the navy at the time. Then Aunt Ellen joined the Red Cross. Ohâspeaking of Auntie Vance, she and Uncle Vince are coming down from Whoopee Island Thursday. I hope they bring clams. I've got my mouth set for chowder.”
“They might,” Judith said, edging for the door. “She's definitely tough enough to brave the January cold to dig them at Obsession Shores. But she has a heart of gold and you know it.”
Gertrude sneered. “She's got you fooled, Toots.”
Judith smiled and headed back to the house. When it came to being tough, her mother could give most people a run for their money.
O
n Wednesday, a last-minute reservation came in. A reporter for a Midwest newspaper chain was doing a series on Pacific Northwest getaways and hadn't liked the looks of the motel reserved for him at the bottom of Heraldsgate Hill. He'd checked nearby hostelries, deciding that Hillside Manor was close to downtown and would be a nice change from the nondescript accommodations he'd been staying in as he worked his way north.
Judith had given Jack Larrabee her warmest welcome, hoping he might have a good word about the B&B in his articles. Jack, who was about forty, tall and lean with rather unruly fair hair, had kept a poker face. She figured him for a hard sell, though he would stay two nights.
For now that news was good enough. After the guests' social hour, Judith got caught up in Joe's trip preparations. Being a man, he couldn't find half of the items he needed. In fact, he couldn't even remember where he'd stored his suitcase. By nine o'clock Wednesday night, Judith finally found it in the basement behind the furnace.
“Why,” she demanded, after dumping it in the hall by the back stairs, “did you put it there instead of with the rest of our luggage?”
“So I'd remember that was the one I want to take instead of something bigger. Or smaller,” Joe explained.
Judith shook her head and went into the living room to relax. As soon as she collapsed on one of the matching sofas in front of the fireplace, the phone rang. With a sigh, she hurried across the room to the cherrywood table to take the call.
“What,” Cousin Renie demanded, “has two legs, two arms, an ornery disposition, and no eyes?”