Silver Scream : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

cars are already on the lookout for the perp.”

The battalion chief seemed disconcerted. “You

mean . . . All these people in this house and no

one . . .” He gave himself a good shake. “Excuse me.

It’s a big house. In fact, haven’t you had a couple of

other 911 calls in the past few days?”

To Judith’s great relief, Dilys stepped in to spare the

Flynns the burden of an explanation. “To begin with,”

she said, guiding Ramirez out of the living room, “this

is a B&B. The current guests are somewhat unusual in

that they . . .”

The pair disappeared into the front parlor. Judith

glanced at the bay window. The ladder remained;

water still poured down the side of the house. Judith

couldn’t have felt worse if she’d suffered a physical

blow.

“What did you mean,” Joe inquired, “when you said

there was only one woman?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Judith noticed the guests leaving

their breakfast table. “My,” she said in sarcasm, “I’m

glad we didn’t spoil their appetites.”

Joe gave her a quick hug. “Hang in there. It’s going

on ten. I’ll head out now to see Fred Sheets at the insurance agency.”

Judith said something that sounded like “Mrph.”

A moment later Dilys stuck her head back into the

living room. “I’m going to confer with my backup.

They seem to have gotten lost.” She winked. “At

Moonbeam’s.”

324

Mary Daheim

“Great,” Judith said through gritted teeth, then threw

her hands up in the air. “Mother! I’d better tell her what

happened. She must be frantic.”

Gertrude, however, was in her usual place, leafing

through a film directory. “Hi, Toots,” she said, barely

looking up. “Abbott or Costello or whatever his last

name is brought this to me. It’s got all the directors and

actors and moving-picture people listed. It’s too bad

Joan Crawford’s dead. People used to say she looked

like me.”

“Mother . . .” Judith began.

But Gertrude interrupted. “Anyways, Dade—yes,

Dade, I remember his first name now—left me his card

and one from some woman named Fleming. She’s supposed to call me when she gets back to Los Angeles.”

The old lady pronounced it “Los Ang-elees.” “Boy,

there sure are a lot of names in this book.” She tapped

the cover. “I never heard of most of them.” Finally,

Gertrude looked at her daughter. “Where’s lunch?”

“It’s ten o’clock,” Judith said, then pointed to the