The Sunset Gang by Warren Adler

this?"
    "I saw it, Bernice," she pleaded. "I didn't
want to tell him, really I didn't."
    Seymour walked to the kitchen and
took the jar of baked beans from the trash can, where he had thrown it after first
replacing the top.
    "Is this what you saw?" he said, feeling his
superiority.
    "That's it," Judy said. She was taking no joy in
the discovery, a whining sound emitting from her mouth. "Oh, this is
terrible."
    Jake took it from him and held it up in front of Bernice's
face.
    "Is this what you took?" he scolded, as if he
were addressing a young child.
    "I took it," Bernice said indignantly, standing
stiffly, flaunting her pride. Seymour smiled, enjoying the spectacle.
    "And you feel no shame?" Jake asked. He seemed to
have calmed down, now that the confession had come. Bernice took the jar from
him and handed it to Judy.
    "Open it," she commanded.
    Judy looked sheepishly at Jake, then at Seymour, whose
smile must have thrown her into confusion. She looked down at the jar in her
hands and twisted the cap.
    "It's sand," she whispered, feeling the granules
between shaking fingers.
    "Let me see that," Jake said impatiently,
spilling some of the sand in the transfer.
    "And I'll thank you not to get sand on my
carpet."
    Jake felt it, looked into all of their faces, not
comprehending.
    "What does it mean?"
    "It means..." Bernice said, "...that you
don't trust your friends."
    "Really, Bernice," Seymour said, his smile
broadening. "Don't be too hard on them. It was an obvious conclusion. Judy
did see you take the jar." He turned toward Judy. "It was
Harriet," he said. "She took this from Harriet's larder." He
felt his happiness in the revelation of the secret.
    "Oh my God," Judy said, and turning to Bernice
added: "Can you ever forgive me?"
    It won't be easy, Bernice thought, agitation beginning as
she contemplated their future together.
    "The problem now is what we're all going to do about
Harriet Feldman," Seymour said.
    Jake looked at them dumbly, his breath gasping. He brought
a vial of pills from his pocket and popped one into his mouth.
    "I told him he shouldn't have done this," Judy
admonished. "I didn't want to come, Bernice. Really I didn't."
    The mystery was reaching a climax, Seymour thought. His
mind was calm. He imagined he was Father Brown, philosophically viewing the
follies of others, sensing his calm detachment, the clarity of his private
vision.
    "We should now consult Marcia Finkelstein," he
said. "We are in this together." Watching their faces, he knew that
he had transmitted the drama of the occasion.
    The Finkelsteins were still in bed when they rang the
buzzer. Phil Finkelstein answered the door, his eyes puffy with sleep, the gray
beard sprouting through his tanned face.
    They sat in the living room waiting for Marcia, whom they
could hear running water in the bathroom.
    "It's all right, Phil," Bernice said. "She
doesn't have to get all dolled up."
    "We have very serious business to discuss," Jake
said.
    "You look like a delegation from the Garment Workers
Union," Phil said, his frayed bathrobe stained and belted around his big
belly.
    Marcia had put on a little lipstick and brushed her
bleached hair. The smile disappeared as she viewed their serious faces.
    "You tell them, Seymour," Jake said.
    Seymour stood up and paced the floor,
feeling their eyes on him. He deliberately remained silent as he paced,
stroking his chin in an attitude of contemplation as the wily Maigret might
have done.
    "We have discovered a thief in our midst," he
said finally. The people in the room looked at each other. He could see Marcia
Finkelstein's face tighten.
    "A thief?" Phil said.
    "Someone is deliberately stealing food from all of us.
And tonight we've discovered who it is."
    They heard Marcia Finkelstein's long sigh.
    "So you've found out," she said quietly.
    They all looked at her. Seymour felt his joy drain as he
stopped his pacing and watched her expression, her head shaking. "It had
to come, sooner or later."
    "You knew?"