Dune to Death by Mary Daheim

By Mary Daheim

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Now we’ll have both the police and the sheriff here. ” “Let them sort it out,” said Renie, rummaging in the cabinets for brandy or some other calming source. ” Judith gave Renie a gimlet eye. “We live in violent times,” she murmured. Leaning so far back in the chair that she almost tipped it over, Judith swore in frustration. “Having Joe break a leg was bad enough, but now this! ” Having failed to find anything stronger than orange 37 38 / Mary Daheim juice, Renie poured them each a glass and collapsed at the table.

Chuck’s Chowder House was crowded, a large, noisy eatery where customers sat family style on benches. Judith and Renie, having returned from another round of pinochle at the hospital, had arrived shortly before seven. The line at Chuck’s had reached far into the jammed parking lot. The cousins had not been seated until just before eight, or, as Renie put it, about two minutes short of her demise from famine. But the wait was worth it. The salad was crisp, the creamy chowder lived up to its reputation, and the sockeye salmon steaks almost brought tears to Renie’s eyes.

Judith explained, watching Joe’s self-pity turn into astute professionalism. He picked up the unlighted cigar from the nightstand and stuck it between his teeth. Renie glanced over at the other bed and noticed that Jake Beezle was gone. ” Judith concluded her narrative. “Well, well,” remarked Joe, chewing on the cigar and linking his hands behind his head. “So you’ve got another murder on your hands, Jude-girl. It’s out of my jurisdiction; it’s off your turf. ” Judith turned wide black eyes on her husband.

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