and
shoes didn’t match. Judith wondered if he’d simply not
been able to make up his mind when he got up that morning. “I’ve been rooting for the Seafarers ever since the
franchise got here,” she said as Tubby slowly released her
hand. “I’m a big sports nut. Wasn’t that terrible about Bob
Randall?”
Tubby nodded. “Really terrible. Just like Juan. And
that actress, Addison Kirby’s wife. It makes you stop
and think.” Tubby stopped, apparently to think.
“It was nice of you to call on Mr. Kirby,” Judith said.
“My cousin here actually saw him get hit by that car.”
“Really?” Tubby turned to gaze at Renie. “That’s
terrible, too. I guess you can’t blame Addison for being
kind of upset.”
“That’s true,” Judith responded. “You know, we
spoke to him before the accident. He told us he was on
his way to meet you. I’ll bet you wondered what happened to him when he didn’t show up.”
Tubby rubbed at the back of his head. “Did I? Yes,
sure I did. I wondered a lot. Then the hospital called
and told me what happened and that I’d better mosey
on over to see him. So here I am.”
“How thoughtful,” Judith said. “We gathered that
Addison had something very important on his mind. I
hope he was feeling strong enough to tell you about it.
It’s so hard to be laid up and not able to get things off
your chest.”
“That’s terrible,” Tubby agreed, “being laid up like
that and not able to . . . Yes, he got it off his chest. But
I don’t see how I can help him. I know very little.”
Behind Tubby, Renie nodded emphatically.
124
Mary Daheim
“You know very little about . . . what?” Judith
prompted.
“About . . .” Tubby scratched his triple chins. “About
how Joaquin and Mrs. Kirby and Ramblin’ Randall
died so all of a sudden. But I told him—Addison—that
it seems like a real coincidence to me.”
“It does?” Judith said, trying not to sound incredulous.
“Well . . . sure,” Tubby replied, holding out his
chunky hands in a helpless gesture. “What else? I
mean, I know it wasn’t drugs with Joaquin. He never
did drugs. He believed his body was like a . . . temple.
Or something. And I suppose I have to believe what
Addison said about his wife not taking drugs, either.
He ought to know. But I can’t say about Bob Randall.
I hardly knew him, except to see him at sports banquets and such. I figure this drug talk is a smoke
screen. The doctors just plain screwed up. It happens.”
“Occasionally,” Judith allowed, wondering if it was
