Loco Motive: A Bed-and-Breakfast Mystery - By Mary Daheim Page 0,1
got furious, especially about the TV. He couldn’t watch Crusader Rabbit with Mike. For six weeks Dan tried doing finger puppets to amuse Mike but gave up when his hands went numb. Dan had poor circulation due to his diabetes and weighing four-hundred-plus pounds.”
Arlene looked puzzled. “That doesn’t sound right. Are you sure?”
“Sure of what?” Judith responded, feeling chilly as the wind picked up off of the nearby bay. “You know my pathetic life story.”
“Yes, certainly,” Arlene agreed. “But wasn’t Crusader Rabbit on TV much earlier when we were kids?”
Judith smiled ruefully. “You’re right. Whatever it was, Dan and Mike couldn’t watch it.” Maybe, she thought, it was one of Willie’s action cartoons.
Arlene nodded. “Rags the Tiger, Crusader Rabbit’s faithful sidekick. Rags was a good sport, the boon companion who didn’t mind playing second fiddle. And speaking of companions,” she went on before Judith could start up the steps, “is Willie married to that redheaded floozy who’s with him?”
Judith sighed. “Who knows? Maybe she’s a circus acrobat.”
“That sounds like Willie’s type,” Arlene said. “Flash and dash, danger and…contortions?” She shrugged. “I’d rather not think about that, though Willie was popular with his marital arts movies.”
“Martial arts,” Judith corrected.
“Oh.” Arlene frowned. “Yes, I know. Carl and I just had a big fight. I misspoke.” She glanced toward her house, where only the second story could be seen above the hedge.
“It’s turning cold and windy. I should go make up with Carl—if he’s regained consciousness.”
“Okay.” Judith didn’t ask for details. She was never sure when Arlene was exaggerating. Her neighbors had been married for over forty years, a devoted couple who enlivened their wedded state with an occasional rumpus. Passing through the entry hall where Sweetums was hissing at her, she went into the dining room, where she heard the phone ring. A woman answered the call in the kitchen. Pushing aside the swinging half doors, Judith saw Pepper, the wife, companion, or God-only-knew-what to Willie.
“Who?” Pepper shouted, dancing around the orange and white blur of feline fury as Sweetums streaked to the back door. After a pause, Pepper barked, “Never heard of her,” and hung up.
“What was that?” Judith demanded.
“Who cares?” Pepper snapped. “It wasn’t Wayne. He should’ve called by now.”
Judith didn’t know who Wayne was and didn’t care. “The guest phone’s in the upstairs hall,” she said pointedly. “Don’t you have a cell?”
“It needs charging.” Pepper’s freckled face was hostile. “I’m a guest. Why can’t I use any damned phone that’s handy?”
“My phones are for professional and personal use. You’re welcome to use the guest phone upstairs on the end table by the settee. It’s right outside your room. There’s a charge for long—”
The phone rang again. Pepper reached for the receiver. “No!” Judith shouted. “Don’t!”
The younger woman snatched up the receiver. “Wayne?” she barked into the phone. “Hey—knock it off with the calls, you moron!”
Fuming, Judith glared at Pepper. “Give me that. Now.”
“Oh, for…here.” Pepper shoved the phone at Judith. “It’s that same idiot. You deal with it.”
A volley of obscenities bombarded Judith’s ear. Recognizing her cousin’s voice, she waited until Renie ran out of steam—and cusswords.
“It’s me, coz,” Judith said as Pepper stalked off down the hall that led to the back stairs. “Sorry about guests who don’t follow house rules. What’s up?”
“I’m down,” Renie replied, suddenly sounding glum. “Bill and I had a huge fight about his Boston trip. I can’t fly there with him unless I’m really drunk. He swears that if I guzzle a pint of Wild Turkey before I get on the plane and sit in the lap of another Olympic gold medalist, he’ll kill me.”
“You only did that once,” Judith said.
“He was so good-looking,” Renie asserted. “He’d won the decathlon, for God’s sake!” She paused. “Maybe I never told you about the Argentine tenor or the American League MVP. If God intended humans to fly, He’d have tucked a fifth of Wild Turkey in with the fetus.”
“You’re not making sense,” Judith pointed out, trying to obliterate other embarrassing incidents Renie had caused when the cousins had flown together. “Are you sure you haven’t gotten a head start on the booze?”
Renie grimaced. “I hate the stuff. The odor’s too strong.”
“You’ve taken several plane trips. Can’t you do it sober by now?”
“No.”
“Then you’d better stay home.”
There was a pause before Renie spoke again. “Bill already bought the tickets. We leave Tuesday. The psychology conference starts Thursday.” She paused again to clear her throat. “But I have an idea.”