sewer system. “Don’t worry about it, Mother. It’s not your fault.”
“Of course it isn’t,” Gertrude huffed. “What are they having for supper? Bacteria?”
Judith couldn’t discuss the matter further. She headed back into the house, trying to come up with one of her well-intentioned fibs to stave off the wrath of Winifred and the rest of Bruno’s party.
As Judith entered the kitchen, Joe was answering the phone. She gave him a questioning look, but he shook his head. “It’s Bill,” he said, handing the receiver to Renie.
Winifred was waiting under the archway between the entry hall and the living room. “Well?” she demanded, tapping a toe on the bare oak floor.
“The truffles were stolen,” Judith said. “A bushy-haired stranger burst into my mother’s apartment and grabbed them off the table. He fled through the hedge on foot.”
“What?”
Judith nodded several times. “I’ll notify the police at once.”
Winifred looked homicidal. She also seemed incredulous. And, in fact, she was speechless.
Ben Carmody came to her side. “The truffles werestolen?” he inquired in a mild voice. “That’s too bad. But then I don’t like them.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he shot a furtive glance at Bruno, who was still standing by the fireplace. “I mean,” Ben explained, “they’re not my favorite.”
Bruno eyed Judith, Ben, and Winifred with curiosity. “Did someone mention the police?”
Winifred pointed a long, thin finger at Judith. “She claims the Périgord truffles were stolen.”
Bruno frowned. “Really?” He hesitated. “Calling the police is a bad idea, even for a thousand dollars’ worth of truffles. We don’t need that kind of publicity.”
Chips Madigan jumped up from the window seat. “How about a private detective?”
Bruno looked dubious, but before he could speak, Judith broke in: “That’s a good idea. I know just the man.” She paused and gulped. “I mean, my husband is a private detective. I’m sure he can clear this up.”
Bruno shrugged. “Then let him do it.”
Winifred gave Bruno an inquiring look. “Are you certain you want to do that? What do we know about Mrs. What’s-her-name’s husband?”
All eyes were on Bruno. He scratched his bearded chin before responding. “Why not? Maybe losing the truffles isn’t our biggest problem.”
Nobody spoke, but there was much shifting of stances and staring at the floor.
Finally, Winifred turned to Judith. “Very well. Let’s have a word with your private detective husband.”
Judith tried not to grimace. Joe would not take well to supporting his wife in one of her bold-faced lies. “I’ll get him,” she said in a weak voice.
She went back through the dining room and into the kitchen. As she opened her mouth to explain the situation to Joe, Renie dropped the phone, let out a high-pitched shriek, crawled under the kitchen sink, and slammed the cupboard door behind her.
FOUR
“R ENIE !” J UDITH CRIED , pulling on the handle of the door beneath the sink. “Come out right now!”
“What the hell is she doing?” Joe demanded.
“She’s in shock,” Judith replied as the door—or Renie—resisted her tugs. “I’ve seen her do this before. Once, when she found out she was pregnant the third time, and again when she got the kids’ orthodontist bill.”
Joe bent down to pick up the receiver, but heard only the dial tone. “So what is it?” he asked with a worried expression. “Has something happened to Bill?”
Placing the receiver on the counter, he nudged Judith aside and gave the cupboard door a mighty yank. Renie was folded up inside, pale of face, with her chestnut curls in disarray, her mouth agape, and her eyes almost crossed.
“Coz!” Judith urged, hampered by the hip replacement in her effort to kneel down. “What’s wrong? Is it Bill?” Maybe he had another pumpkin stuck on his head, Judith thought wildly. Maybe he was suffocating. Maybe he had
“Of course it isn’t,” Gertrude huffed. “What are they having for supper? Bacteria?”
Judith couldn’t discuss the matter further. She headed back into the house, trying to come up with one of her well-intentioned fibs to stave off the wrath of Winifred and the rest of Bruno’s party.
As Judith entered the kitchen, Joe was answering the phone. She gave him a questioning look, but he shook his head. “It’s Bill,” he said, handing the receiver to Renie.
Winifred was waiting under the archway between the entry hall and the living room. “Well?” she demanded, tapping a toe on the bare oak floor.
“The truffles were stolen,” Judith said. “A bushy-haired stranger burst into my mother’s apartment and grabbed them off the table. He fled through the hedge on foot.”
“What?”
Judith nodded several times. “I’ll notify the police at once.”
Winifred looked homicidal. She also seemed incredulous. And, in fact, she was speechless.
Ben Carmody came to her side. “The truffles werestolen?” he inquired in a mild voice. “That’s too bad. But then I don’t like them.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he shot a furtive glance at Bruno, who was still standing by the fireplace. “I mean,” Ben explained, “they’re not my favorite.”
Bruno eyed Judith, Ben, and Winifred with curiosity. “Did someone mention the police?”
Winifred pointed a long, thin finger at Judith. “She claims the Périgord truffles were stolen.”
Bruno frowned. “Really?” He hesitated. “Calling the police is a bad idea, even for a thousand dollars’ worth of truffles. We don’t need that kind of publicity.”
Chips Madigan jumped up from the window seat. “How about a private detective?”
Bruno looked dubious, but before he could speak, Judith broke in: “That’s a good idea. I know just the man.” She paused and gulped. “I mean, my husband is a private detective. I’m sure he can clear this up.”
Bruno shrugged. “Then let him do it.”
Winifred gave Bruno an inquiring look. “Are you certain you want to do that? What do we know about Mrs. What’s-her-name’s husband?”
All eyes were on Bruno. He scratched his bearded chin before responding. “Why not? Maybe losing the truffles isn’t our biggest problem.”
Nobody spoke, but there was much shifting of stances and staring at the floor.
Finally, Winifred turned to Judith. “Very well. Let’s have a word with your private detective husband.”
Judith tried not to grimace. Joe would not take well to supporting his wife in one of her bold-faced lies. “I’ll get him,” she said in a weak voice.
She went back through the dining room and into the kitchen. As she opened her mouth to explain the situation to Joe, Renie dropped the phone, let out a high-pitched shriek, crawled under the kitchen sink, and slammed the cupboard door behind her.
FOUR
“R ENIE !” J UDITH CRIED , pulling on the handle of the door beneath the sink. “Come out right now!”
“What the hell is she doing?” Joe demanded.
“She’s in shock,” Judith replied as the door—or Renie—resisted her tugs. “I’ve seen her do this before. Once, when she found out she was pregnant the third time, and again when she got the kids’ orthodontist bill.”
Joe bent down to pick up the receiver, but heard only the dial tone. “So what is it?” he asked with a worried expression. “Has something happened to Bill?”
Placing the receiver on the counter, he nudged Judith aside and gave the cupboard door a mighty yank. Renie was folded up inside, pale of face, with her chestnut curls in disarray, her mouth agape, and her eyes almost crossed.
“Coz!” Judith urged, hampered by the hip replacement in her effort to kneel down. “What’s wrong? Is it Bill?” Maybe he had another pumpkin stuck on his head, Judith thought wildly. Maybe he was suffocating. Maybe he had
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