Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [98]
As they made their way out of the church, Renie was shaking her head. “The priest was a visiting missionary who spent twenty years in Africa. He thinks he’s still there.”
“He looked sort of old,” Judith said.
“He is sort of old, like eighty-cinq. Or eighty-sept, I forget. I’m not good at numbers in any language,” Renie admitted. “In fact, I couldn’t catch all of the words, but he seemed to be warning us to stay in le patolin—the village—and not go off to find temptation in Bafoussam.”
“Maybe it’s just as well I missed it,” Judith remarked. “I don’t know where Bafoussam is.”
“In Cameroon, Africa,” Renie replied as they stepped outside into an overcast day. “Okay, what’s your game plan?”
“I’m not sure,” Judith admitted. “Research, maybe. I’d like to know what—if anything—has appeared recently in the newspapers about Cruz Cruises. We have a computer setup in our suite. I can go online and check.”
“Are you thinking about the blackmail possibility?” Renie asked as they started walking along Bush Street.
“I don’t know what I’m thinking of,” Judith admitted. “We don’t have access to very many facts. If Connie was withdrawing increasingly large amounts from her personal account, where did the money go? Is Biff a complete bungler or is he holding back? And if it’s the latter, why? Because pressure is being put on him?”
“By Erma or Horace?”
“They pop to mind first,” Judith said as they started down Powell Street’s steep incline. “In fact, why don’t you arrange to meet with your old pal Paul Tanaka?”
“You mean,” Renie responded, “if he can take time off from his care and feeding of the Widow Cruz?”
“Yes.” Judith was feeling more purposeful. “Call him. He might be staying at the Cruz residence instead of the Fitzroy, at least until after the funeral tomorrow. Do you know where Connie lives?”
“Not exactly,” Renie said as they waited for a cable car to rattle by before crossing the street. “I know it’s an expensive condo near the bay, maybe in the Marina district.”
“Okay,” Judith said, moving more briskly despite her weary hip, “you contact Paul while I finagle a computer out of the front desk. I don’t want to have to use one of the public PCs.”
“Got it,” Renie replied as they neared the hotel entrance. “What about checking out Flakey Smythe in the newspaper archives?”
“Good thinking,” Judith said, smiling at the welcoming doorman. “Whatever he got out of Buzz Cochran wouldn’t be in the paper yet, though.”
“Let’s hope Buzz’s information didn’t include our near arrest,” Renie said, moving toward the elevators. “I’ll try to run down Paul and also make nice with Connie Cruz.”
Nodding, Judith went to the front desk. A handsome young man of Middle Eastern descent greeted her with a dazzling white smile. Judith went straight for the bald-faced lie.
“My laptop PC broke,” she declared. “Is there some way I can borrow one to use in our suite?”
The implication didn’t overtly affect the young man, but he said he’d find out and disappeared through a door behind the front desk. Judith eyed the clocks on the wall, which showed the time in various parts of the world: Sunday, March 23—noon in San Francisco; 3 P.M. in New York; 5 P.M. in Buenos Aires; 8 P.M. in London; 9 A.M. Monday in Tokyo. It had turned from winter to spring since the cousins had left home. Judith hadn’t noticed. So much had happened in the past few days that it seemed to her as if weeks, not days, had gone by. She should call Joe again. And her mother.
The young man returned with a laptop computer in hand. “Do you mind signing for it?” he asked in a diffident voice.
“Not at all,” Judith said. “I should be done with it this afternoon.”
She found Renie talking on the phone, presumably to Connie Cruz. “It couldn’t hurt to visit your father in Argentina,” Renie was saying. “The change of scenery might do you good. I’m sure he’d like to see you.” Noting Judith’s arrival, she made a thumbs-up sign. “We can talk about that when we see you this afternoon. Are you sure it’s all right? Okay, two o’clock, then. Bye.” She turned to Judith. “We’re