Legs Benedict by Mary Daheim Page A

warned.
    â€œYou were late today,” Judith remarked, putting the checkbook back in her purse. “Was something wrong?”
    As ever, it was a loaded question. “Wrong?” Phyliss fanned herself. “You bet. I had to call for the doctor. I thought I was heading straight to meet the Lord.”
    â€œDid the doctor come?” asked Judith, feigning interest.
    â€œNo.” Phyliss shook her head. “But he told me how to cure myself. I put my head in a grocery sack, called on the Lord, and the next thing I knew, it was a miracle. I could breathe again.” The cleaning woman offered Judith her most beatific smile.
    â€œYou were hyperventilating,” Judith said.
    â€œWhat? I was dying, that’s what I was doing,” Phyliss said with her own brand of tattered dignity. “Couldn’t catch my breath. Awful. A step away from the Pearly Gates.”
    â€œI’m certainly glad you’re better,” Judith said in her most sympathetic tone. “I won’t keep you, Phyliss. We’re running behind this morning, for all sorts of reasons.”
    â€œDon’t remind me,” Phyliss responded, and headed for the back stairs just as Renie came into the kitchen.
    â€œShe’s gone?” Renie, who had no patience with either Phyliss’s hypochondria or her evangelizing, let out a sigh.
    â€œOnly temporarily,” Judith replied with a droll expression. “She decided not to quit after all. The next thing I know, she’ll be trying to save the guests.”
    Renie didn’t comment. “No takers on that note you found?” she asked, rinsing out her coffee mug in the sink. “The guest interviews are over. Joe and that young detective just came from upstairs. They looked annoyed.”
    â€œI suppose.” Judith was searching the refrigerator’s freezer compartment for luncheon possibilities. “Joe can’t believe this happened so close to his retirement. I wish he’d go to work and forget about it for a few hours.”
    â€œYou’re right,” Renie agreed, looking out through the window above the sink. “There are plenty of reminders. I see some uniforms combing the area.”
    Judith joined Renie at the window. Two policemen were searching the Rankerses’ hedge, while a third was heading for the front of the house.
    â€œOh, great,” Judith sighed. “I suppose they’ll mark the entire property with crime scene tape. What will the neighbors think?”
    Renie grinned. “That you’re at it again?”
    â€œShut up.” Judith set her jaw, then turned as J. J. Martinez poked his head into the kitchen. “Mrs. Flynn? Could I see you for a moment?”
    â€œOh—certainly.” Judith had forgotten that she, too, would have to be interviewed. “In the front parlor?”
    J. J. nodded in his jerky fashion. “Afraid so. Should have questioned you first, but Joe filled us in.”
    Asking Renie to keep an eye on the guests in the living room, Judith followed J. J. into the parlor. “Do you need more coffee?” Judith asked, ever the hostess. “Something to eat? I’m going to fix lunch in a little while.”
    â€œToo much caffeine already.” J. J. rapped a mug with his knuckles. “Joe says it makes me jumpy. You think I’m jumpy, Mrs. Flynn?”
    â€œWell…” Judith bit her lips. She figured that an extra “J” could easily be added to the detective’s nickname. “Jumpy,” “Jittery,” or “Jerky” would work. “Maybe a little. And please call me Judith. I’ve known you for quite a while, J. J.”
    â€œOh. Yes. That’s true.” J. J. gave Judith a surprisinglydiffident smile. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if his manner proved effective in unsettling suspects. Or at least throwing them off-guard. “Now tell me exactly how you found the victim,