Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [110]
“It had to be fast,” Renie allowed, “no matter what the weapon. There must have been people backstage getting ready for Dixie’s recital.”
“That’s true,” Judith agreed. “Not to mention that you’d have to act fast before the ice began to melt. Now who in that gathering suddenly realized that Mags had to die? And why?” She glanced out the window, noting that the fog was rolling in once more. “My brain’s fogged,” she said. “Besides basic information, there’s something we’re missing.”
“Like Erma’s jewels,” Renie said. “I wonder where they are.”
Judith stopped in the middle of the room. “Coz! We’ve been idiots!”
“What? A minute ago, I was a genius.”
“That was then, this is now,” Judith said in a disgusted voice. “Do you realize that if our fingerprints were on the stuff they found in our safe aboard ship…”
“The ones we looked at in her suite were fake,” Renie finished for her. “Erma never had the jewels in the first place when she was on the San Rafael.”
“And we didn’t know the difference because we aren’t used to diamonds and emeralds and rubies and such.” Judith came to rest on the sofa’s arm. “The others might have noticed, but we wouldn’t, not even up close.”
“And everybody else was so used to seeing Erma all decked out in her gem-laden glory that they wouldn’t pay much attention.” Renie got up from the chair and returned to the honor bar. “I’m hungry. Shall I nibble or should we consider dinner?”
“Only you could think of food at a time like this.” Judith glanced at her watch. “It’s not even five-thirty.”
“It’s always time to think of food,” Renie grumbled. “I’m going to eat those pretzels.”
“Do that,” Judith said as the phone rang. “Joe?” She moved to the desk and picked up the receiver.
“You must come by for a drink,” Rhoda said in less than her usual nonchalant manner. “Ricky is so brilliant I can hardly stand it. He has news.”
“What is it?” Judith asked.
“I can’t tell you over the phone,” Rhoda said. “We’ll send a car. You must be absolutely worn out from all those reckless cabdrivers in this town.”
“That’s really not necessary,” Judith replied. “It’s only a short ride to your place.”
“But it’s all uphill,” Rhoda asserted. “I must insist. Is fifteen minutes enough time?”
“Well…yes,” Judith said, glancing at Renie, who was slurping Pepsi and stuffing her face with pretzels. “We’ll be out front at”—she checked her watch—“five forty-five.”
“Perfect. See you soon.” Rhoda hung up.
“Do you suppose they’ll have hors d’oeuvres?” Renie asked wistfully.
“We can eat dinner afterward,” Judith replied, with an anxious gaze at the phone. “I wish Joe would call back before we leave. I should have told him to reach me on my cell.”
“You never have it on,” Renie said, dropping the empty pretzel bag into the wastebasket. “I never turn mine on either, unless there’s an emergency. It took me three years to memorize my own number.”
“You never were good at numbers,” Judith said absently. Her mind was elsewhere, going over her theory about the weapon that had killed Mags. Surely the forensics experts had figured it out. Maybe that was Rick’s big news.
The cousins headed out, arriving at the curb a couple of minutes before the appointed time. Judith, wearing her new gray suit, felt the damp chill through the jacket.
“Don’t they ever have spring around here?” Renie demanded. “I was here in June once when it was so foggy I got lost in Maiden Lane, and it’s only two blocks long.”
A Lincoln Town Car glided out of the fog and was forced to double-park in front of the busy hotel. Judith could see the driver inside and motioned for him to stay put. The cousins hurried to get inside.
“Hi,” Judith said, noting the chauffeur’s cap on the man at the wheel. “I assume you’re the St. Georges’ driver.”
The man nodded.
“I knew they had a maid,” Renie noted. “Rhoda mentioned that they’d sent her on vacation because they expected to be gone on the cruise.”
“Like Connie’s housekeeper,” Judith remarked as they climbed up Nob Hill. She