Free All the Pretty Hearses by Mary Daheim Page B

the case upstairs and his wife is in the kitchen. I’ll let her know.”
    Judith rescued the guest register and set it on the bombay chest. The rest of the group had joined in to pick up the restaurant coupons, city maps, bus and tour schedules, pens, notepads, and other items scattered around the entry hall. Judith explained that she had an artificial hip, making it risky for her to bend down, and thanked them for their efforts before returning to the kitchen.
    Alicia appeared oblivious to the commotion in the entry hall. She had the mixer going at full speed, whipping the egg whites into small peaks. She apparently didn’t hear Judith’s first two attempts to get her attention.
    “Stop!” Judith finally shouted within a few inches of the other woman’s ear.
    Alicia looked at her hostess and held up a finger. “One minute.”
    Judith reached across the counter and yanked the mixer’s plug out of the socket. “Who called?”
    “Who called what?” Alicia demanded, her eyes snapping with anger. “Why did you shut off the mixer? I had almost perfect peaks.”
    “I’m expecting an important call,” Judith said, working hard to keep her temper.
    “Oh.” Alicia shrugged. “It was a wrong number.”
    “Are you sure?” Judith asked, trying to ignore the eggshells on the floor, the counter, and in one of the drawers that her guest had left open.
    “Of course. It was someone with a foreign name, and though his English was quite good, he sounded very peculiar. A sex fiend, no doubt. He was rattling on about bondage and handcuffs and all that type of ridiculous behavior. I hung up on him. There’s no point getting angry or sounding frightened. That’s how those people get their thrills. Would you please plug in the mixer before I lose my peaks?”
    “Did he give a name?”
    “A name?” Alicia said crossly. “A name for what?”
    “His name. My name. Any name!”
    Alicia shook her head impatiently. “Certainly not. In fact, he started out saying something about sandwiches.”
    “Sandwiches?”
    “Yes.” The sapphire eyes sparked. “You know—bread, butter, egg salad, bacon, lettuce—”
    Judith interrupted the recital. “That makes no sense. What exactly did he say?”
    “Judith . . .” Alicia seemed weary of what she apparently perceived as nuisance queries. “He mentioned a deli at first, and then . . . well, he went off on all those vulgar things that definitely were not connected to sandwiches. Or if they were, I certainly don’t want to know how.” She picked up the mixer cord and jammed it back into the socket.
    Judith snatched up the phone and headed for the pantry. It wasn’t Joe who’d called. Woody had promised she’d hear from her husband, but something must have gone wrong. Alicia was as addled as the eggs she was beating. “Deli” translated as something quite different from sandwiches. Detective “Del” Delemetrios sounded more like it.
    Judith called the cops.

Chapter Six
    A fter dialing police headquarters, Judith asked for the homicide division. The information on her caller ID had come up as a general City Hall number. She knew from experience that this was routine for law enforcement calls in order not to alarm or scare off the person they were trying to reach. When an operator came on the line, Judith asked for Detective Delemetrios. After a slight pause, the call was transferred. Del answered on the second ring. After identifying herself, and apologizing for the confusion at her end, Judith asked why he’d called earlier.
    “No problem,” Del replied. “It’s all this paperwork. We’re also trying to keep the media at bay. The newspaper’s beat reporter is a City Hall veteran, one of the few older staffers who isn’t being forced into retirement.”
    “Is that Addison Kirby, by any chance?”
    “You know him?”
    “Yes. So does Joe. Have you told my husband about Addison?”
    “Ah . . .” Del paused. “I don’t think I mentioned him by name. Should