Free Hocus Croakus by Mary Daheim Page A

staying, and there was a terrible car crash just outside. Everybody looked up for about a second, then went back to playing despite the fact that all sorts of emergency vehicles showed up, sirens, flashing lights, and all. Worse yet, there was a fatality. But nobody paid any attention, including me. I read about it the next day in the newspaper.”
    Judith shivered. “That’s awful.” She hesitated, then touched Renie’s arm. “Come on, we can’t just stand here. Let’s try to get closer to the action.”
    â€œBut Pancho told us to—”
    â€œNever mind Pancho,” Judith said, already moving away. “If I’ve found another body, I’m entitled to see what’s going on. I’m praying that Salome isn’t dead, that she simply passed out, or that it’s a publicity stunt or a practical joke. How can you blame me for wanting to learn the truth?”
    There was no answer from Renie. Judith turned to look at her cousin, but she wasn’t there.
    â€œDamnit!” Judith swore under her breath. She gazed down the row of quarter slots. Renie’s taffeta skirt stuck out a bit into the aisle. As fast as her artificial hip could carry her, Judith tromped back down the row of machines to discover her cousin pressing buttons like a maniac.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing?” Judith demanded.
    Renie didn’t bother to look up. “Apparently, whoever was playing this machine when the power went out left sixty credits in it and nobody noticed. This is Wild Ginger, and it’s one of my favorites.”
    â€œYou silly twit,” Judith hissed. “Cash out or whatever, but come with me right now or I’ll never speak to you again.”
    â€œOhhh…” Renie pressed the Play button one more time. Two green leaves and one ginger blossom showed up on the center line. With a disgusted expression, Renie cashed out.
    â€œThe sacrifices I make,” she muttered, “just because you have this obnoxious habit of finding dead bodies.”
    â€œYou think I enjoy it?” Judith snapped.
    â€œI have to wonder,” Renie retorted as they approached the Corvette display where every machine had on its light to signal for a mechanic.
    â€œWhat are they doing?” Judith asked. Some of the players were talking among themselves, others were looking around for assistance.
    Amos, the security guard at the desk, had just reached the area. The cousins stopped in their tracks. Renie peered across the ten feet of space that separated them from the console.
    â€œIt looks as if the machines are all registering a 30033 code. That means that the hopper is empty, or that there’s a mechanical failure.”
    A female security guard with two black braids showed up, then an older man who seemed to be the only guard wearing a gun. The players rose from their seats, most with reluctance.
    As other onlookers gathered around, Judith could hear the female guard’s pleasant but firm voice: “The problem is probably due to the power failure. If you’ll step well away, we’ll fix it. It may take a while, so you’re free to play elsewhere. Meanwhile, your money is safe. The computer has your credits recorded.”
    Pancho Green came around from the far side of the console. Apparently, he didn’t see the cousins, who were half hidden by a life-size cutout of a showgirl.The casino manager had assumed a casual air, chatting amiably with an older goateed man. As the crowd of onlookers grew in number, Pancho held up his hands.
    â€œNothing to see here,” he announced in his resonant voice. “Go enjoy yourselves, good luck, and get rich.”
    The words seemed as magical as if they were part of Mandolini’s act. The gawkers began to disappear just as a quartet of workmen in white overalls unfolded a tall, plastic screen to enclose the Corvette area.
    â€œShoot,” Judith said, “now we can’t even see the