Hocus Croakus (4 page)

Judith heaved a big sigh. So far, her vacation wasn't off to a very good start. It was bad enough that both mothers had come along, that the contractor was already on her trail, and that she suspected Joe of going beyond his gaming limit for the day. But when Renie ignored her in favor of a stupid slot machine, that was going too far. Judith and Renie were as close as sisters, and always had been. They'd grown up together, they'd shared all sorts of trials and tribulations, joys and pleasures. Renie had always been there for Judith, and vice versa. But apparently not at the Lake Stillasnowamish Resort Casino.

To be fair, as Judith always was, this was a working vacation for Renie. She would have limited time to spend on gambling, which she obviously enjoyed.

And this evening, they'd attend the Great Mandolini's magic act. Judith was definitely looking forward to that. She'd find herself caught up in the art of illusion, and be able to forget her troubles for a couple of hours. Reality would be set aside for a fantasy world.

Judith had no idea how quickly her own illusions would be shattered.

I
HATE MAGIC
acts,” Gertrude declared. “They're phony. They never tell you how they do it.”

“I've never liked magicians,” Aunt Deb asserted. “They frighten me. I'm always sure something is going to go wrong.”

“So,” Judith said, trying not to keep the relief out of her voice, “you really don't want to go?”

Both of the old ladies shook their heads.

“At least you agree on something,” Renie remarked. “What will you do all evening?”

Despite their years, Gertrude and Deb kept rather late hours. “We'll watch TV,” Gertrude said. “Or play some cribbage. I brought my cards and crib board with me. I always beat the pants off Deb.”

“I'll work the crossword puzzle,” Aunt Deb said. “I do it every night. It keeps my brain active. As I've mentioned several times to some people,” she went on with a sharp glance at Gertrude, “the brain is a muscle that needs to be exercised like any other part of the body.”

“We shouldn't be late,” Judith said. “It's the dinner show. I may stay in the casino for a little while, but frankly, I'm tired.”

“Don't hurry on our account,” Gertrude snapped. “I don't need to look at your long face if you've been losing your shirt.”

“Now, Renie,” Deb began, “stay away from any seedy-looking types. Keep your eye on your purse. Don't accept a drink from anyone you don't know. And for heaven's sake, don't let some fast talker try to lure you away with the promise of becoming a dancer in one of those scantily clad nightclub shows.”

“Mom,” Renie said with a straight face, “you know I can't dance.”

Deb's eyes narrowed behind her trifocals. “They'd say they could teach you.”

Judith looked at her watch. “It's almost six. Joe said he'd meet me in the room about now. We're supposed to have a drink in the Winter Bar before the show. We want you and Bill to join us.”

“Fine,” Renie agreed. “What, a little before seven?”

Judith nodded. “I'm going to change now. I assume people dress up for the shows here.”

“If it's like our city's casual code, they just put on a better pair of jeans,” Renie said. “I, however, am going to wear something wonderful.”

Judith didn't doubt it. Her cousin owned two separate wardrobes. Most of the time, she was garbed in ratty old sweatshirts and frayed pants. But for her professional and social life, Renie wore expensive designer outfits. There was no in between.

The cousins retreated to their rooms. By six-twenty, Judith had changed from slacks and sweater into a long black skirt and a ruffled red satin blouse. There was still no sign of Joe.

Judith tapped on the door that connected the Flynns to the Joneses. A moment later, Renie appeared.

“What's up?” she asked.

“Joe's not here yet. Should I have him paged?”

Renie shrugged. “Maybe he's at a lucky table. We've got plenty of time. Bill's doing his neck exercises,” she added, referring to her husband's chronic medical problem. “He stiffened up while he was studying baccarat. Meet you in the Winter Bar.”

Ten minutes later, Judith was pacing the room. Five minutes after that, she was pacing the hall by the elevators. Maybe she should have Joe paged.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a thirtyish dishwater blonde wearing horn-rimmed glasses. She glanced at Judith, then continued down the corridor in the opposite direction from the Flynns' room. Judith kept pacing. The woman stopped walking and turned back toward the elevators.

“Wouldn't you know it,” she murmured. “I forgot my day planner. This is the busiest time of night for the elevators. It'll take me forever to get down and back up here in time for Mandolini's show.”

“We're going to see it, too,” Judith said. “That is, if my husband ever shows up. Do you think that the Great Mandolini will be worth it?”

The blonde scowled at Judith. “Of course. He's magnificent. I work for him.”

“Oh!” Judith was surprised. “You're the second person I've met since I got here who's part of the troupe. I met his assistant, Salome, this afternoon.”

“Lucky you,” the blonde said. “By the way, I'm Griselda Vanderbehr. What's your name?”

Judith identified herself and shook Griselda's
slightly clammy hand. “I'm pleased to meet you, Ms. Vanderbehr.”

“Call me Grisly,” Griselda said with no hint of amusement. “It's an old high school nickname.”

“Okay,” Judith said somewhat doubtfully. “I hope the show goes well tonight for all…”

The elevator doors opened on the other side of the corridor. As Griselda moved briskly to the car, Judith looked to see if Joe was among the people already inside.

He wasn't. Feeling frustrated as well as annoyed, she returned to their room and dialed the operator.

She'd just been connected when Joe rushed into the room. “Sorry. I got held up.”

“You better not mean literally,” Judith said, banging down the phone. “You've got ten minutes to change and meet the Joneses in the Winter Bar.”

“I'll make it,” Joe said airily as he went into the bathroom.

“What kept you?” Judith asked through the door.

“A bunch of double downs and more than a fair share of blackjacks,” Joe called back over the sound of running water. “I won five hundred bucks this afternoon. Is that a good start or what?”

“It's great,” Judith replied, her anger ebbing. “That takes some doing, given how lucky blackjack dealers usually are.”

“When you're on a streak, you have to keep going,” he said, coming out of the bathroom. “And you can't use a cell phone at the tables, of course. You could be cheating. Hey, you look terrific.”

“Thanks.” Judith couldn't resist smiling.

Joe cocked his head to one side, the gold glittering in his green eyes. “You don't suppose the Joneses could carry on without us for a while, do you?”

For once, Judith wasn't going to succumb to what she called the magic of Joe's eyes. She held out both hands in front of her. “Forget it. I'm not going to get dressed, do my hair, and put my make up on all over again. We'll miss the show.”

Joe looked disappointed, but didn't argue. “We've got plenty of time. This is only the first day of the rest of our vacation.”

“Which reminds me,” Judith said as Joe started changing clothes, “Bart Bednarik called here this afternoon.”

Joe put his hands over his ears. “I don't want to hear it. Bumbling Bart makes me crazy.”

“But the latest involves spending—”

“Stop!” Joe smoothed his thinning red-gray hair in front of the big mirror over the bureau. “We're on vacation, remember? Let Bart figure it out.”

Judith shut up.

 

Renie yawned her way through the opening act that featured Craven Raven, a once-hot grunge band singing songs Judith didn't recognize. Bill stretched his neck this way and that. Joe ordered a second round of drinks and tapped his foot, which rattled the table. Judith was getting irked.

“Stop that, Joe,” she whispered.

“What?” He leaned closer.

“Stop tapping. You're driving me nuts.”

Joe shook his head. “I can't hear you over this damned music.” He kept tapping.

Judith reached under the table to whack Joe's leg. “Stop it!” she all but shouted.

As if on cue, the band concluded its act. The salads arrived along with the new drinks. Joe stopped tapping.

“The Great Mandolini better be great,” Joe said.

“The casinos have to pull in a young crowd, too,” Renie noted. “What if future generations didn't take to gambling? Where would we all be then?”

Judith looked askance. “Not broke?”

“You know what I mean,” Renie said with a scowl. “Several years ago, the only place we saw young people in the Nevada casinos was up at Lake Tahoe. They'd come to ski, but they stayed to gamble.”

“Speaking of the younger set,” Judith said, watching Renie just miss dropping lettuce on the bodice of her bronze-and-gold sweater, “how are the wedding plans going? You haven't mentioned it lately.”

Renie glanced at Bill. The previous fall, all three Jones children had announced their engagements. “What can we say?” Renie said with a sigh. “They keep changing their minds about when and where. We keep pushing for a triple wedding. Frankly, I don't think any of them will get married this year.”

“Jobs,” said Bill. “We'd like to see Anne and Tony and Tom all get real jobs before they get married. We'd like to see them get out of graduate school. We'd like to see them get—”

“Not out of the house,” Renie said in a scolding voice. “We don't want them to feel that we don't love them.”

Bill frowned at his wife. “Of course we love them. But it would be nice if they lived somewhere else before they hit midlife crises and you and I are hauled off to a home for the gaga.”

Joe grinned at Bill. “For a psychologist, you have a way of avoiding professional jargon.”

Bill shrugged. “Nuts is nuts.”

Renie leaned toward the others and spoke in a
confidential tone. “I think Bill wants to go to the Gaga House. He has this fantasy where the nurses wear short skirts and sheer black stockings with seams and—”

“You have your bosom in the salad dressing,” Bill cut in. “Never mind, Joe and Judith don't need to hear it.”

“I'd like to,” Joe said. “In fact, I might like to go there myself.”

“Never mind,” Renie said, using a napkin to dab off the glob of dressing.

“I was so relieved when Mike settled down,” Judith remarked as their entrées arrived. “But I worry that one of these days the forest service will transfer him. He could end up anywhere. I'd hate to see Mike and Kristin and the boys move to the other end of the country. I'm so used to having them an hour away from town.”

“The kids were both so cute when we saw them during the holidays,” Renie put in. “Mac is smart as a whip and Joe-Joe is just adorable. I would kind of like to have grandchildren. It's the road to getting them that seems pretty rugged. Hey!” Renie cried as her salad plate was whisked away. “I'm not done.”

“You look done to me,” said the red-haired waiter. But his smile was pleasant enough.

“It's all worth it,” Judith declared. “Of course, we had only one child to marry off.”

Bill glanced at Judith. “Yes. One.”

“And a boy at that,” Renie murmured.

“Good steak,” Joe remarked. “But they sure hurry you through the meal to get to the magic act.”

“Don't call it ‘magic,'” Judith said. “Mandolini is an illusionist. I happened to meet—”

She was interrupted by a woman whose brown hair was done up in a very tall topknot. “Excuse me,” she said in a slow, deliberate manner. “You're sitting at our house table. There must be some mistake.”

“I don't think so,” Joe replied. “We're guests of Pancho Green, the casino manager.”

“Then,” the woman responded, “the maître d' made a mistake. This is the table reserved for the Great Mandolini's friends and guests.” She paused to point to the table behind them, which was already occupied by two Asian couples. “That's where you should be sitting.”

“On their laps?” Renie snapped. “They look like high rollers to me. I doubt they want company.”

The woman fingered her pudgy chin, then looked at the watch that was pinned to her pink brocade cocktail dress. She was of medium height, but of chunky build. Her age was hard to determine. Forty, Judith guessed, but she could have been thirty-five or fifty.

“The performance will begin shortly,” the woman finally said. “You'll have to move. At least one other person is joining me, and he should be here any minute.”

“We're eating!” Renie exclaimed. “You find another table.”

Bill shot his wife a hard look. “Serena.”

“Hold it,” Joe said to the intruder. “Find us a good table and we'll move. We don't want to make trouble.”

The woman's shrewd gaze seemed to absorb every nuance of Joe's personality and appearance. “Done,” she said, and wobbled away as if she weren't used to wearing three-inch heels with the too-tight brocade sheath.

“I'm mad,” Renie announced as Joe went off to get the maître d'. “We had a perfect view. Now we'll be
stuck in some dank corner where we'll only see the illusion of an illusionist.”

“We should be okay,” Judith soothed. “The cabaret isn't that big. I doubt if it seats more than two hundred people.”

Renie was still gobbling steak and French fries when Joe finally returned. “We're not so close to the stage,” he said in an apologetic tone, “but we'll still have a decent view. The waiters will move our stuff. Follow me.”

The foursome moved up the aisle between the tables, almost reaching the top of the sloping floor. The new seating arrangement seemed to be at the only vacant table in the cabaret.

“This stinks,” Renie announced loudly. “Why not put us in the lobby?”

“Pipe down,” Bill ordered. “It's free, remember?”

“It damned well better be,” Renie said, going into her pouting mode.

When their unfinished meals and table service arrived, dessert came with it. The houselights were beginning to dim; the eerie strains of a sitar filtered through the speaker system.

Judith finished the last tender morsels of her lamb chops. Her timing was perfect. A moment later, her plate disappeared. A moment after that, the cabaret went dark and the music became louder. Then, with a crash of cymbals, a tiny blue spotlight appeared on the dark-blue velvet stage curtains.

“I can't see my dessert,” Renie complained. “Are there any nuts? I'm allergic to nuts. I could have an attack.”

“You may be attacked,” Bill warned, “if you don't knock it off.”