Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [54]
Judith and Renie had no choice but to follow Paul out of the room and down the elevator.
But the hotel seemed calm enough. Captain Swafford was waiting in a wingback chair next to a wall of built-in bookcases. Miya was behind the desk, conferring with an older woman Judith didn’t recognize. There was no sign of the police or the reporter. It seemed as if nothing untoward had happened at the Fitzroy in the last hour.
Swafford looked up when Paul approached, but the captain didn’t acknowledge the cousins. Maybe he didn’t remember them, either. Judith discreetly dropped off Dixie’s key at the desk and led the way out of the hotel.
“Now what?” Renie asked, keeping an eye out for the irksome panhandler or any of his numerous brethren.
Judith surveyed their surroundings. “We’re only a couple of blocks from the St. Francis. Let’s walk.”
The wind chased them down Post Street. The skies had cleared, but it felt more like deep autumn than early spring. Discarded paper, plastic, and other bits of debris flew around their feet as they joined the busy pedestrian traffic. Judith and Renie were accustomed to March breezes at home, but in San Francisco, the wind seemed sharper, just as the city itself appeared more vital and more dangerous.
“Lack of familiarity,” Judith murmured as they waited for a stoplight to change at the corner.
“What?”
“I was thinking of this city,” Judith said, noticing that unlike at home, pedestrians seemed perfectly willing to risk walking against the warning lights instead of patiently taking their turns. “San Francisco has always been more exotic. Its past clings to it, just like the buildings hang on the hills. The Barbary Coast, Alcatraz, Chinatown, the fire and the earthquakes—along with romance, its history suggests drama and menace.”
Renie glanced at her cousin. “Your imagination is running away with you.”
“My deductive powers certainly aren’t going anywhere,” Judith grumbled as they reached the hotel entrance. Inside, she gazed across the spacious lobby to the registration desk. “Let’s check for messages before we go to the room.”
“They’ll be on our voice-messaging system,” Renie said. “Save yourself some steps.”
Judith agreed. Their suite, which had been cleaned and freshened in their absence, was a welcome relief from the city’s bustling noise and brisk winds. Judith collapsed on the couch while Renie checked phone calls, and immediately began making notations. She took so long that Judith sat up straight, anxiety mounting.
Finally clicking off, Renie began to read off of the notepad. “Joe wants to know why we haven’t left port. Your mother asked him to ask you if her check got deposited. Arlene Rankers can’t find the spot remover. Phyliss Rackley didn’t show up today because she has a plantar wart. Rick and Rhoda St. George want us to meet them at Farallon for dinner at seven.”
Up until the final message, Judith had felt inundated with relative trivialities. “Why the urgency on the St. Georges’ part? We just saw them.”
Renie shrugged. “I repeated Rhoda’s message almost word for word, except for the part about Farallon being a nearby restaurant on top of the elks’ swimming pool.”
“What?”
Renie waved a hand. “Maybe it’s the Elks Club building. We can look it up in the phone book. Are you going to call Joe?”
Judith sighed. “Yes. I’ll do it now. Hand me the phone.”
Arlene, not Joe, answered at Hillside Manor.
“Judith! Where are you? Halfway to Hawaii, no doubt. Is it rough? How’s the food? Have you met any interesting people? Why doesn’t the oven turn on?”
Judith was used to her neighbor’s rapid change of topics and occasional self-contradictions. “We haven’t left yet. I’ll explain in a minute.” She paused to think. The Flynns had renovated the kitchen after a fire two years earlier. The new double oven was much more sophisticated than the old one, with digital controls that required only a touch. Judith realized that Arlene might not have had occasion to use the high-tech model until now. After offering directions, she asked what the spot remover was needed for.