you the address.”
“Our system showed it on the screen,” the female
voice replied. “Besides, you’ve called here before,
haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Judith said weakly. “So I have.”
“The patrol car is close by,” the operator assured
her, “and the medics and firefighters have been alerted.
You’re not calling for your mother, are you?”
“No,” Judith whispered, fixated on Joe, whose efforts appeared to be futile. “No.”
“How’s she doing?” the operator inquired. “I hear
she’s quite a character.”
“Fine. Good. I . . . must . . . hang . . . up . . . now.”
Judith clicked off and, with a limp wrist, placed the
phone on the kitchen table.
Panting, Joe looked up from Bruno’s prone form.
“It’s no good. He’s dead.”
Judith crossed herself while Joe hung his head.
“Damn,” he breathed, “how did this happen? Was it an
accident?” His eyes traveled to the light fixture. “Oh,
hell! What’s that thing?” He picked up a long cooking
fork and poked at the spider. “It’s fake.”
“I need a drink,” Judith said, her voice hoarse. She
noticed that the balky cupboard door had swung open
again and closed it with a shaky hand. “I can’t believe
this. Yes, I
“Hey,” Joe said, reaching into the Flynns’ private
liquor stash, “it isn’t personal. When I was on the job,
I investigated at least a half-dozen homicides involving
families that had already suffered through at least a
couple of other murders.”
“They were probably all crooks,” Judith pointed
out, wincing as she looked at Bruno, whose face was
an unnatural color. She was about to turn away when
she saw something round and white on the floor next
to his body. Moving carefully so as not to touch the
dead man, Judith fingered the object. “Aspirin,” she
said, holding it between her thumb and index finger.
Not seeing the bottle she kept on the windowsill, she
placed the pill on the counter. “Then you don’t think
it’s all my fault?”
“No.” Joe handed Judith her drink, then stared at
Bruno. “I wish I could figure out what happened. Does
the spider suggest a setup?”
Judith gaped at him. “You mean . . . to scare Bruno
to death?”
“Maybe just to rattle him,” Joe replied, wearing his
deadpan policeman’s face.
