Silver Scream : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

weekend.”

“So it seems.” Vivian reached into her cobra-skin

handbag to retrieve a pair of black kid gloves. “I must

be off. I’ll give Sam your best. By the way, I hope that

nothing was badly burned. Except for those handsome

firefighters on the roof, everything looks fine from outside.”

“It’s not too bad,” Judith said, hoping the statement

might be true.

“Good,” Herself responded. “Toodles.” She departed through the front door on a wave of decadence

and a whiff of Chanel No. 5.

For at least a full minute, Judith stood in the hallway, thinking hard. She had been certain that the per- 328

Mary Daheim

son wearing high heels at Norway General was Winifred,

coming to see Angela. She had ruled out Eugenia, who

always wore sensible shoes, and Ellie, who preferred

sandals and sneakers. The idea that Winifred had wanted

to ensure Angela’s silence concerning the source of

Bruno’s cocaine addiction was out the window.

She considered going upstairs to see what was happening on the guest floor. But she didn’t really want to

know. Besides, she was leery of overdoing it with her

hip. The first order of business was almost as painful

as the fire itself: She had to call Ingrid Heffelman to

change the current set of reservations.

With a heavy sigh, Judith looked at the calendar on

the wall above the computer. She hadn’t flipped the

page to November. Saying good-bye to Sculptor’s Stu-

dio, she stared at the new painting. It was Grant

Wood’s American Gothic. Born 1892 in Anamosa,

Iowa, the tag line read, he taught in the Cedar Rapids

public schools and later was an artist in residence at

the University of Iowa. Wood was strongly influenced

by German and Flemish painters of the . . .

Judith’s brain was going into overdrive, but was

short-circuited by the voice of Battalion Chief

Ramirez, who was calling from the entry hall.

“Everything’s under control,” he said, pulling off his

heavy gloves. “We’ll come by later today to check

things out and see what help we can offer once your

husband has finished talking to your insurance agent.”

Judith thanked the firefighter, then waited on the

porch until the hoses were rolled up and the fire truck

drove away. A small white sedan was pulled up to the

curb by the Rankerses’ driveway. Something about the

vehicle chafed at her memory, but she shrugged it

SILVER SCREAM

329

away. Small white cars were as common as the autumn

fog. My brain’s in a fog, she thought. Rarely had she