Silver Scream : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

“Way before my time,” Dade said, still leaning on

the banister. “She was the one Bruno rarely talked

about. When he did, he was critical. I’ll say this for

him—he never bad-mouthed the other two wives.”

“Why was he so hard on the first one?”

Dade grimaced. “I guess she was kind of a terror. I

recall Bruno saying he ran into her someplace where

he least expected. He always called her Spider

Woman.”

Judith stared up at him. “Did that have something to

do with his superstition about spiders?”

“I don’t think so.” Dade yawned. “Sorry, Ms. Flynn,

I’m beat. I’m afraid I haven’t been much help.” Once

more, he started up the stairs, but this time he was the

one to stop his own momentum. “Why do you need to

know about Bruno’s wives?”

Judith offered him an uncertain smile. “I’m just curious. You know—when someone dies under your roof

and all . . .” She let the sentence trail away.

“Oh. That makes sense. I guess.” At last he continued on up the stairs and out of sight.

Wearily, Judith trudged back to the kitchen. Renie

was wearing her suede jacket and holding her huge

handbag.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

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Mary Daheim

“Dade Costello. He lost his house key.” Judith made

a face. “But guess what? Bruno referred to his first

wife as Spider Woman.”

Renie looked surprised. “Really? Who was she?”

“Dade doesn’t know,” Judith said, espying The Gas-

man novel on the counter. “Did you find any of the

keepsakes interesting?”

Renie started ticking off items on her fingers. “The

usual pressed flowers and leaves, a faded red ribbon, a

pair of ticket stubs from the 1968 World Series between

St. Louis and Detroit, another pair of stubs from the

1975 Iowa State Fair, a lock of what looked like baby’s

hair, a young woman’s photo, a newspaper clipping of

C. Douglas Carp’s obituary, and a recipe for prune pie.”

Judith looked thoughtful. “Let’s see the obit.”

Renie flipped through the book, then handed her the

yellowed clipping.

“Hmm,” Judith said. “Nothing here that wasn’t in

the other account of his life and times. By the way, did

you come across a picture of a young woman?”

Renie flipped through the pages. “Yes, here it is.

Anybody we know?”

Judith studied the youthful face with the innocent

expression. “I don’t think so. And yet . . .” She held the