Suture Self : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

loud coughing fit . You were there so I could work two

jobs while Dan laid on the couch, starting his day with

an entire bottle of blackberry brandy and working his

way up to his first vodka at eleven in the morning.

“You did more than just play at Ethel’s,” Judith continued. “You learned your numbers.”

“Not all of them,” Mike responded. “I always left

out nine.”

“True.” Judith hung her head. “Okay, I’ll see what I

can do.”

“Great, Mom. Got to go. There’s a message coming

in on my fax. Love you.” He hung up.

“Family tree, huh?” Renie said, having conquered

her choking.

Judith grimaced. “I’ve dreaded this for years.”

Renie offered her cousin a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t you think Mike knows that Dan wasn’t his real

father?”

“Define ‘real,’ ” Judith said with a frown.

“I meant natural father,” Renie responded, eating a

piece of Havarti cheese. “Yes, I certainly know that

SUTURE SELF

79

Dan raised Mike, that in spite of being a lousy husband, he was a pretty good dad. I also know that Mike

has always felt that Dan really was his dad. But a year

or so ago, I got the impression that Mike had figured it

out. Do you remember? We were all having our pictures taken with little Mac, and Mike suddenly looked

from the baby’s red hair to Joe’s, and since Mike himself has red hair and Dan was very dark, I got the impression that Mike finally realized the truth.”

“He’s never said a word,” Judith asserted. “Not to

me, not to Joe. But you’re right, I think he must know,

deep down. How much denial could he possibly have?

I wanted to broach the subject with him then, but I kept

putting it off. We’d already had one big conversation a

couple of years ago, and it became clear to me that the

truth would have altered his memory of Dan.”

“He was younger then,” Renie pointed out. “That

was before he got married, wasn’t it?”

“I can’t remember,” Judith admitted. “I know, I tend

to bury things, hoping they’ll go away. But they don’t.”

The phone rang again, this time on Renie’s line. She

responded in monosyllables, then hung up. “Security.

His name is Torchy Magee. He’ll be up in a few minutes, along with a cop.”

“If Joe had never been a cop,” Judith sighed, “and

never gotten drunk that night in the bar with Herself, I

wouldn’t be in this quandary now.”

“Nonsense,” Renie retorted, cutting another slice of

cheese and popping it in her mouth.

Judith didn’t say anything for a few moments. She

was reliving that terrible time when Joe had suddenly

disappeared just weeks before their wedding. She’d only