Renie. “How’s…everything?”
Margo blinked at the cousins but didn’t question their
liberation. “Awful,” she replied, making a face. “Frank and
that horrid Mannheimer are drunk as skunks. If you ask me,
that caretaker is an alcoholic. Gene and Max have hardly
said a word in the last half-hour, and Russell just stares off
into space.”
Judith frowned. The last thing she wanted was to have
Frank pass out. “We’ll make coffee,” she said quickly. “Ava,
Margo, you start pouring it down all of those men as soon
as it’s ready. And keep them away from the liquor.”
By five-thirty, Margo reported that Frank and Rudy were
still drunk, but in upright positions. Refilling the men’s coffee
mugs, she hurried back to the lobby.
Grimly, Judith turned to Renie. “You’re going to have to
let the park personnel in through the second floor. They can
use Mannheimer’s ladder. I’ll be with Frank in his room.
Remember, it’s opposite ours—the other corner room.”
Renie nodded. “I don’t like this. What if they don’t come?”
Judith grimaced. “Then you’ll have to rescue me.”
“Oh, swell!” Renie twirled around the kitchen, hands
clasped to her head. “How do I do that?”
“With Margo’s gun,” Judith said, pointing to the suede bag
that Margo had left on the counter before carrying out the
coffee refills. “Take it now.”
“Oh, good grief!” Renie reeled some more.
“Do it quick, before she comes back.”
With a big sigh, Renie opened the suede bag and removed
the handgun. “I haven’t fired a gun since my dad took me
target shooting forty-odd years ago. It was up at the family
cabin, and I blew a hole through Uncle Corky’s picnic ham.”
“Better than blowing a hole through Uncle Corky.” Ju-
dith gazed at the gun. “Is it really loaded?”
Renie checked the chambers. “Yes, ma’am. And so’s Frank.
Now what?”
Judith squared her shoulders. “Now we nail him. This may
be our finest hour.”
She didn’t say that it could also be their last.
NINETEEN
FRANK KILLEGREW WAS sulking. “Sh’almost shix,” he
mumbled. “Who drinksh coffee at shix? Time for martoonis
and shotch. Cocktail time, cockroach hour, cock-a-doodledoo!”
“Chicken if you don’t,” Judith said with forced cheer.
“Frank, I’d like to talk to you for a minute. Do you mind?
Dinner’s almost ready.”
“I’m the cock of the walk,” Killegrew declared, trying to
get up off the sofa. “I can do anything I damned well…” He
fell back, but was given a hand by Max.
“There you go, Frank,” Max said. “I think you’ve got a
