was the Porcinis from New Jersey. They headed upstairs to Room Five.
“Don’t worry about it anymore tonight,” Judith said. “You should get to bed. I’ll come up with you. The guests can let themselves in after we lock up at ten.”
“You don’t have to—” Ruby was interrupted by the doorbell. “Guess somebody forgot their key.”
“No,” Judith said. “It’s not yet ten. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
A quick look through the peephole revealed Corinne Dooley, who lived on the other side of the fence from the Flynns’ double garage.
“Hi,” Judith said, opening the door and noticing that Corinne was holding a brown purse. “Come in. You’re all wet.”
Corinne crossed the threshold, running a hand through her disheveled graying blond locks. Never quite sure how many children the prolific Dooleys had, Judith was amazed that her neighbor’s hair hadn’t fallen out in clumps by now. But Corinne was always an amazing sea of calm amid utter chaos. Grandchildren as well as nieces and nephews added to the lively mix.
“Tyler found this in our garbage can,” Corinne said, handing over the purse. “It had one of your brochures inside. Do you think it belongs to a guest?”
“It just might,” Judith said, gingerly holding the purse. “It was in your garbage can? How did he happen to find it?”
Corinne waved a hand. “One of the other kids threw out Tyler’s trumpet. They get tired of hearing him practice. Being the baby of the family, sometimes they pick on him. He found the purse just now when he was looking for the trumpet.”
“Thanks, Corinne,” Judith said. “I’m not sure I know which one Tyler is—unless he’s our paper boy.”
“He is,” Corinne replied. “He has been, since a year ago last summer. You probably never see him. He does the route around five-thirty and starts in the cul-de-sac.” She smiled conspiratorially and lowered her voice. “I don’t suppose you have any mysteries you’d like solved. He’s taking after his older brothers when it comes to playing detective. Tyler thought he saw a cop car in your driveway earlier.”
“Ah . . . well, it had to do with the loss of this purse,” Judith said, unwilling to reveal too much. “My guest thought it might’ve been stolen. Maybe she dropped it coming from . . . the bus.”
“In our garbage can?” Corinne laughed. “What did she do, climb over the fence? We aren’t exactly on the route from the bus stop to your house unless she was out for an evening stroll.”
“It’s a long story,” Judith said. “Tell Tyler that if I ever have a mystery—even a small mystery—I’ll let him know. His brothers were always a big help in my former sleuthing days.”
Corinne’s blue eyes widened. “You quit?”
“Yes,” Judith said, ruing the lack of conviction in her voice. “I’m getting too old for that sort of thing.”
“But you’re so good at it,” Corinne asserted. “And it does make the neighborhood more interesting. Not that I enjoy murders, but the mystery part is a good topic of dinnertime conversation. At least when we can hear each other over all the noise and breaking of crockery.”
“Hard on the nerves, though,” Judith said. “The murders, I mean.”
“So’s dinnertime,” Corinne said, her hand on the doorknob. “But I go with the flow. Glad Tyler found the purse. Good night, Judith.”
Judith closed the door behind her neighbor. When she turned around, she saw Ruby leaning out of the dining room doorway.
“My purse?” she said in relief. “Wow!”
“I didn’t open it. I wondered about fingerprints, but I suspect if there are any, they’d be smudged after going through various Dooley hands.” Judith handed the purse to Ruby. “Go ahead, open it in the living room, where we can be more comfortable.”
They sat down opposite each other on the matching sofas. “Sorry there’s no fire,” Judith said. “Joe never got around to making one.”
Ruby’s gaze
“Don’t worry about it anymore tonight,” Judith said. “You should get to bed. I’ll come up with you. The guests can let themselves in after we lock up at ten.”
“You don’t have to—” Ruby was interrupted by the doorbell. “Guess somebody forgot their key.”
“No,” Judith said. “It’s not yet ten. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
A quick look through the peephole revealed Corinne Dooley, who lived on the other side of the fence from the Flynns’ double garage.
“Hi,” Judith said, opening the door and noticing that Corinne was holding a brown purse. “Come in. You’re all wet.”
Corinne crossed the threshold, running a hand through her disheveled graying blond locks. Never quite sure how many children the prolific Dooleys had, Judith was amazed that her neighbor’s hair hadn’t fallen out in clumps by now. But Corinne was always an amazing sea of calm amid utter chaos. Grandchildren as well as nieces and nephews added to the lively mix.
“Tyler found this in our garbage can,” Corinne said, handing over the purse. “It had one of your brochures inside. Do you think it belongs to a guest?”
“It just might,” Judith said, gingerly holding the purse. “It was in your garbage can? How did he happen to find it?”
Corinne waved a hand. “One of the other kids threw out Tyler’s trumpet. They get tired of hearing him practice. Being the baby of the family, sometimes they pick on him. He found the purse just now when he was looking for the trumpet.”
“Thanks, Corinne,” Judith said. “I’m not sure I know which one Tyler is—unless he’s our paper boy.”
“He is,” Corinne replied. “He has been, since a year ago last summer. You probably never see him. He does the route around five-thirty and starts in the cul-de-sac.” She smiled conspiratorially and lowered her voice. “I don’t suppose you have any mysteries you’d like solved. He’s taking after his older brothers when it comes to playing detective. Tyler thought he saw a cop car in your driveway earlier.”
“Ah . . . well, it had to do with the loss of this purse,” Judith said, unwilling to reveal too much. “My guest thought it might’ve been stolen. Maybe she dropped it coming from . . . the bus.”
“In our garbage can?” Corinne laughed. “What did she do, climb over the fence? We aren’t exactly on the route from the bus stop to your house unless she was out for an evening stroll.”
“It’s a long story,” Judith said. “Tell Tyler that if I ever have a mystery—even a small mystery—I’ll let him know. His brothers were always a big help in my former sleuthing days.”
Corinne’s blue eyes widened. “You quit?”
“Yes,” Judith said, ruing the lack of conviction in her voice. “I’m getting too old for that sort of thing.”
“But you’re so good at it,” Corinne asserted. “And it does make the neighborhood more interesting. Not that I enjoy murders, but the mystery part is a good topic of dinnertime conversation. At least when we can hear each other over all the noise and breaking of crockery.”
“Hard on the nerves, though,” Judith said. “The murders, I mean.”
“So’s dinnertime,” Corinne said, her hand on the doorknob. “But I go with the flow. Glad Tyler found the purse. Good night, Judith.”
Judith closed the door behind her neighbor. When she turned around, she saw Ruby leaning out of the dining room doorway.
“My purse?” she said in relief. “Wow!”
“I didn’t open it. I wondered about fingerprints, but I suspect if there are any, they’d be smudged after going through various Dooley hands.” Judith handed the purse to Ruby. “Go ahead, open it in the living room, where we can be more comfortable.”
They sat down opposite each other on the matching sofas. “Sorry there’s no fire,” Judith said. “Joe never got around to making one.”
Ruby’s gaze
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