SILVER SCREAM
21
“What,” Judith asked Renie, “were you going as?
Ichabod’s horse?”
“A tree,” Renie said with a lift of her short chin.
“You know—the scary kind with a twisted trunk and
clawlike branches.”
“Don’t,” Judith advised. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
She glanced at Bill. “One of you already has. I’m
going home now. In fact, I might as well stop at Falstaff’s Grocery on the way to stock up for the party.
Bruno Zepf gave me a list. Some of the items had to
come from specialty stores. I hope he can pay all
these bills.”
“He can,” Bill said, his clean-cut Midwestern features finally free of pumpkin debris. “The man’s
movies make millions. The Gasman may hit a billion.”
“Good for him,” Judith said on a bitter note. “I just
wish he wasn’t staying at Hillside Manor.”
“It’s only two nights,” Renie soothed. “Look at it as
an adventure. A big-time Hollywood producer. Glamorous stars. A famous director. It’ll be like having
Oscar night in your living room.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Judith said, making her
way to the door. “Glad you’re not dead. See you tomorrow night.”
“I’m coming to help at five,” Renie announced. “I’ll
change into my tree suit later.”
“Goody,” Judith said in a lifeless voice. “Maybe I’ll
turn into a pumpkin.”
“Hey!” Bill called after her. “I’m wearing the pumpkin!”
Judith glanced back at the orange glop that littered
the kitchen. “You mean, you were.”
*
*
*
22
Mary Daheim
An hour later Judith arrived at Hillside Manor with
fourteen grocery bags and an entry on the debit side of
her checking account for almost four hundred dollars.
“What are you feeding?” Phyliss asked as she put on
her shapeless black raincoat. “An army?”
Judith gazed at the paper-in-plastic bags and shook
her head. “The problem is, I don’t know how many
will come here after the premiere and the costume ball
at the Cascadia Hotel. Most of the movie people are
staying at the hotel. But Mr. Zepf had one of his staff
members send me a list of what he’d like served at the
midnight supper party. I don’t want to run short. He’s
also been shipping some things that I wouldn’t be able
to find here in town.”
Phyliss gave a toss of her gray sausage curls. “More
money than sense,” she declared. “What’s wrong with
meat and potatoes? As for all this shipping, at least two
more express trucks showed up today. There may have
been another one, but I was upstairs and my lumbago was
giving me fits, so I didn’t bother myself to come down.”
Judith eyed Phyliss. “Are you sure?”
“No, I’m not sure,” Phyliss answered crossly. “I’ve
no time for all this fancy-pants stuff. It’s gluttony, if
you ask me. That’s one of the Seven Deadly Sins. I
wonder how many of the others they’ll commit while
they’re here.”
Judith winced, and based on past history, hoped
murder wasn’t one of them.
The doorbell rang at precisely five o’clock. By that
time Judith had finished organizing and storing the
groceries. Feeling nervous, she hurried to greet her
first guests.
SILVER SCREAM
23
The middle-aged couple who stood on the front
porch didn’t look much like Hollywood to Judith. In
fact, they seemed more like Grant Wood, or at least his
famous painting of American Gothic. The thin sourlooking woman with her fair hair pulled back in a bun
and the balding gaunt-faced man needed only a pitchfork to complete the image.
“May I help you?” Judith inquired.
“You sure didn’t help us before,” the woman asserted, “so I don’t expect you can help us now.”
The voice sounded familiar, but Judith couldn’t
place it. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. This is a B&B.
Have you been a guest here on a previous occasion?”
“Hell, no,” the man responded in a deep bass. “We
tried, though.”
“We need to find the place where they put us instead,” the woman said. “Some fool sent the directions
to your B&B instead of the one we got changed to.”
“Oh!” Judith exclaimed in relief, noticing what appeared to be a rental compact car out in the cul-de-sac.
“You must be the Izards. Of course, come in, let me
figure out how you can get where you’re going.”
City maps and guidebooks were kept at the registration desk in the entry hall. Walt Izard showed Judith
the address of the substitute inn, which was located
about four miles away, near the zoo. She gave him directions while Meg Izard wandered around the big living room.
“I’d like to check out your place,” she declared, returning to the entry hall. “I want to make sure we’re
not getting cheated in case this other B&B isn’t up to
snuff. We’d stay with my brother, Will, but his place is
too small.”
24
Mary Daheim
“Well . . .” Judith hesitated. “All right, but don’t take
too long. My guests are due at any moment.”
Meg gave a snort. “Movie folks, right? Think
they’re big stuff. Bunch of phonies, if you ask me.”
Judith hadn’t asked, so she didn’t comment. “The
guest rooms are on the second floor. They’re unlocked
at present, but please just take a quick look. I have to
stay downstairs.”
“Will do,” Walt replied in the deep voice that
seemed too large for his skinny frame.
Judith stayed by the front door, but the phone rang
just as the Izards disappeared around the corner of the
second landing.
It was Alice Kidd, the wife of the other displaced
couple. “We’re at Cozy Fan Tutte,” she said, “and I
wanted to let you know it’s not nearly as nice as Hillside Manor.”
Judith knew the establishment, which was located
north of the university. It was a veritable stately mansion, Georgian in design, and featured amenities not
possessed by Hillside Manor, including a sauna and a
whirlpool.
“That’s very kind of you,” Judith said, hearing the
Izards’ footsteps overhead. “I’d love to have you come
to Hillside Manor again. I can’t say how sorry I am
about the inconvenience.”
“I suppose,” Alice Kidd said in a slightly wistful
voice, “the filmmakers have been given a warm welcome.”
“They’re not here yet,” Judith replied, jumping
slightly as the back door banged open. “Excuse me,
Mrs. Kidd, but someone has just arrived. Remember us
the next time you visit the area, and enjoy your stay.”
SILVER SCREAM
25
Clicking off, Judith saw Renie charge out of the dining room. “I’m here. Where’s Hollywood?”
“They’re late,” Judith noted, glancing at her watch,
which told her it was almost five-fifteen. “They probably got stuck in Friday rush-hour traffic coming from
the airport.”
“Probably,” Renie remarked, opening the oven. “No
appetizers?”
“No guests,” Judith said. “I’ll wait until they arrive.