Free All the Pretty Hearses by Mary Daheim Page A

lobster, shrimp, or crab. Mayonnaise, too.”
    “I have some frozen shrimp,” Judith said. “Will that do?”
    Alicia grimaced. “It’ll have to. Oh, well. What kind of cheeses do you keep on hand?”
    “Swiss, Gruyère, Havarti, and two different Cheddars.”
    “No Parmesan?”
    “Only in a shaker,” Judith admitted.
    “Dear me.” Alicia gently scratched her cheek with a perfectly manicured and polished nail. “I suppose the Swiss and Gruyère will do. Oh! Mushrooms, of course.”
    Judith wasn’t going to waste the fresh mushrooms she’d bought for the Paines’ dinner. “Canned?”
    Alicia winced. “What kind?”
    “Button. Sliced and unsliced.”
    “I suppose the sliced ones might work if there isn’t any other variety.” She gestured at the stove. “Would you mind turning the oven on to three twenty-five?”
    “No problem.” Judith moved to the stove to set the temperature. “I’ll get the other ingredients from the fridge.”
    “You have a KitchenAid mixer,” Alicia noted. “Mine has seventeen attachments and a glass bowl. So much easier to monitor the mixing process than these old stainless-steel ones. They look as if they belong in a hospital. I also need a quart and a half-size glass baking dish.”
    “Sure,” Judith replied, removing cheese, mayo, butter, and milk from the fridge. “I’ll get the shrimp from the freezer so it can thaw. How long does it take for the soufflé to bake?”
    “Forty-five minutes,” Alicia replied, checking the oven temperature. “That’s less heat and a longer time than for the creamy kind, but Reggie is one for a firm soufflé. Where are your spatulas?”
    “Second drawer on the left from the mixer,” Judith said, searching for the shrimp in the freezer compartment. “How much—”
    The ringing of the phone interrupted her.
    “I’ll get it,” Alicia said. She grabbed the receiver from the cradle on the counter. “Yes?”
    Judith found the shrimp just as a loud crash practically shook the house. Screams and shouts erupted from the living room. Dumping the shrimp on the counter, she raced as fast as she could through the dining room and into the entry hall.
    All of the guests who’d been enjoying the social hour were crowding together in the archway of the living room entrance. Judith couldn’t see anything amiss. She counted heads to make sure everyone was alive.
    “Suitcase,” the husband from Indianapolis said, pointing to the first landing on the stairs. “I think.”
    Sure enough, the heavy piece of luggage belonging to the Beard-Smythes had fallen from above and toppled the stand on which Judith kept her guest register and visitors’ information.
    “How on earth . . . ?” she murmured, looking up to the second landing. No one was in sight. The impact of the hard-side case had broken one of the stand’s legs; the register was under the luggage and the visitor guides were scattered all over the bottom stairs and the entry-hall floor.
    “Let me help,” the young man from Kamloops offered.
    He was joined by his wife and the husband from Indianapolis, whose first name Judith suddenly recalled was Edgar.
    “Did anybody see what happened?” Judith asked, aware that she was trembling.
    No one responded right away, until finally the San Diego sister spoke up. “We were all chatting and having such a nice time. Then there was that terrifying crash.” She moved closer to the accident site. “Oh my! That stand looks like an antique. Can you get it fixed?”
    “I hope so,” Judith said. “It belonged to my great-aunt and great-uncle. It was originally a lectern in their parish church. It’s solid oak.”
    “Not solid enough,” Edgar said as he and the younger man set the offending piece of luggage on the entry-hall floor. “Anybody here lay claim to this thing?” he asked with a disparaging gesture at the suitcase.
    “It belongs to some guests who arrived just fifteen or twenty minutes ago,” Judith said. “The husband took