Suture Self : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

jerk as Jim and the rest of the family indicated.”

“I’ll bet he was,” Judith replied. “Big sports stars

can be very hard to live with.”

“What,” Joe inquired, “about Addison Kirby getting

run down? Was that an accident or something Jim

cooked up?”

“I’m not sure,” Judith admitted. “I’m not even certain who was driving. It might have been Jim after he

got the homeless man to steal the Camry from the dealership. He might have told the guy to run over Addison, or at that point Jim himself may have been

driving. If so, he may not even have seen Addison

Kirby. We’ll know when Woody checks for hairs and

fibers.”

“Good Lord!” Renie cried. “Jim may have driven

our car? It’s a wonder we didn’t find it in pieces!”

“He wouldn’t have driven it far,” Judith said dryly.

“Jim had used the homeless to help him get around, no

doubt stealing cars and returning them, perhaps before

the owners knew they were gone. This time, he had to

leave Bill and Renie’s Camry because of the bad

weather. Plus, the last homeless victim was staying

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closer to the hospital because the camp had been

moved from under the freeway. The snowstorm

worked both for and against Jim Randall. And of

course he couldn’t take a chance of being seen with his

stooge.”

“Say,” Renie put in, “was Jim Randall the one who

got into my suitcase? And who was it you glimpsed in

the ICU?”

“I still don’t know who was in the ICU,” Judith

replied, “but I’m sure it wasn’t Jim. It was dark, he

couldn’t see well, and I can’t think of any reason why

he’d be interested in us.” She gave Woody a shrewd

look. “Why don’t you tell us who the intruder in our

room was? Could it be the same person I saw in the

ICU?”

“Ah . . .” Woody looked embarrassed. “I’m not supposed to say . . .”

“Come on, Woody,” Judith coaxed. “Tell us.”

Woody glanced at Joe. “She exerts a certain irresistible power, doesn’t she?”

“In more ways than one,” Joe murmured, the gold

flecks flashing in his green eyes.

“I guess it’s all right to reveal the truth,” Woody said,

though he cast a wary gaze on the closed door. “The intruder in your room was Harold Abernethy.”

“Who?” Judith and Renie chorused.

Woody bestowed his engaging grin on the cousins.

“I knew you wouldn’t know who he was. Well,” he

amended with a quick glance at Judith, “I sort of

thought you might have found out his real name.”

“Mr. Mummy!” Judith exclaimed. “His name wasn’t