lead in another Zepf movie because he and Bruno got
into a fistfight at Marina Del Rey in L.A. I assume
Dirk was permanently scratched from Bruno’s A-list.”
“Very interesting,” Renie remarked. “So Ben gets to
be a leading man instead of a villain because Dirk
played smash-mouth with Bruno.”
“I suppose so,” Judith responded as the cousins
went inside. “I guess nice guys do finish first.”
“That’s not the saying,” Renie corrected. “It’s the
other way around.”
“You’re right,” Judith said. “With everything that’s
happened in the last couple of days, my mind’s a muddle.”
The cousins had barely reached the kitchen when an
insistent tap sounded at the back door. It was Arlene
Rankers, looking desperate.
“What’s wrong?” Judith asked, hastening to meet
her friend and neighbor.
“What’s wrong?” Arlene threw up her hands.
“That’s what I came to find out. Who got hauled off by
the medics?”
Judith realized that the Rankerses wouldn’t know of
the events that had occurred at Hillside Manor since
they left for home the previous night. “Have a seat,”
she said, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. “I’ll
fill you in.”
Which Judith did, though she was careful to omit
specific details. Her good-hearted neighbor was famous for spreading the news over what was called Arlene’s Broadcasting System, or merely ABS. Judith felt
there was no need to make the situation any worse than
it already was.
“Goodness!” Arlene gasped when Judith had finally
finished. “You certainly get more trouble than you deserve. What can Carl and I do to help?”
Judith was about to reply that she was beyond help,
but changed her mind. “Keep an eye on who comes
and goes around here.” That was easy; the Rankerses’
kitchen windows overlooked Hillside Manor and the
cul-de-sac. At the sink and the dinette table, Arlene had
long ago established her personal observation deck.
“Fine,” Arlene responded, “but can’t you do that
yourself?”
“Not really,” Judith said. “There’s too much going
on. This is a big house. I can’t keep track of everybody’s movements.”
“Not to mention that it’s Halloween,” Renie put in.
Arlene was uncharacteristically silent. She was staring at the table, arms slack at her sides, forehead
creased in concentration. When she finally spoke, it
was as if she were in a trance.
“Seven-fifty A.M., Joe leaves through the back door in
