"Oh." Renie sounded indifferent. "That's a useless effort."

"They don't know that." Judith slowed down as they passed their aunt and uncle's house. "Are you sure the people you saw were going up farther than this?"

"I'm not even sure they were people," Renie replied. "They could be poltergeists who can't see so well in the dark. But whatever or whoever, they went past the Sedgewicks'. I couldn't see anything beyond that."

Judith almost came to a stop by the octagonal-shaped home above the Weber property. "Who lives there?"

"Summer people," Renie said. "I forget their name. There's only one other house behind the Webers' on this side of the road. It's a vacation retreat, too. I suppose that's why Auntie Vance never talks much about either of the owners. They don't stick around long enough to annoy her."

Judith turned the Subaru to the left, creeping along past the darkened Quimby residence. "That place looks better in the dark," she murmured. "Do you see a sign of anybody around there?"

"No." Renie frowned. "Where could they go? There's nothing else up this far except that vacant lot-and the remains of the late Mrs. Quimby."

"Did you have to say that?" Judith asked. "I told you, I don't like that piece of turf."

"That's stupid," Renie declared. "Your father liked it well enough to want to buy it. Where's your usual rock-solid logic?"

"Okay, so for once I let my imagination get the better of me," Judith shot back. "Your flashlight friends must've gone into somebody else's house. I'm turning around."

"Good," Renie said, leaning back in the passenger seat. "I'm beat."

Judith couldn't find a place to turn the car around. She decided to go to the road's end and hope for more maneuvering room. But as she reached the vacant lot, she saw several bobbing lights-and people. "What on earth . . . ?" She hit the brake.

Renie sat up. "They're not poltergeists! I'll be darned."

Apparently, no one in the small gathering had heard the car's approach. "They're digging," Judith whispered. "Why?"

Her cousin didn't answer right away. "I don't mean to creep you out," she finally whispered back, "but it looks as if they're disinterring Mrs. Quimby. Here comes the casket."

Chapter 21.

Gruesome!" Judith said under her breath, leaning to look out through the passenger window. "Why?"

"How do I know?" Renie muttered. "I'm rolling down the window to see if we can hear anything."

Before she could get the window more than halfway down, a voice called out to her. "Hey-who's there?"

The cousins exchanged quick looks. "Hank Hilderschmidt?" Judith whispered.

Renie nodded. Hank and Hilda were hurrying toward the Subaru. Judith and Renie froze in place.

Hank leaned down to look into the car. "The nieces? What are you doing up here?"

"That's our question," Renie shot back. "You go first."

Hank looked conflicted. Hilda sighed heavily. "We're righting a wrong, that's what. If you want to call the cops, go ahead."

Judith found her voice. "We won't do that. It's none of our business. But we sure are curious. Is it okay if we get out of the car?"

Renie was aghast. "Coz, are you nuts? Aren't you going too far to look at a dead body?"

Judith shook her head. "Check out what they dug up. It's a casket all right, but not big enough for Blanche Quimby." She leaned to her left to look at Hank. "Am I right about that?"

Hank chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, but forget you ever saw it. We're done here. How about a ride for me and Hilda, at least as far as the Weber place? My back's killing me."

"Get in," Judith said. "I can drive you home, but I don't know where you live."

Hilda didn't answer until she was settled in the backseat. "Two houses this side of the clubhouse on the street below your aunt and uncle's place. Come on, Hank, untangle those long legs of yours."

"Right, sure . . . ahhh!" Hank finally arranged himself. "That was something."

Judith struggled trying to turn the car around without running into the other people who were coming away from the vacant lot. She recognized the Bendareks, the Logans, the Bennetts, and Edna Glover, who was carrying the little casket that up closer looked like a big jewelry box.

"What was that?" Renie inquired, taking up the slack for Judith.

"Hey," Hank said, sounding weary, "it's a long story. We're worn out. We had to wait to do all this until we were sure the Quimbys-especially cuckoo Betsy-weren't outside."

Judith finally switched on the headlights and got the Subaru turned around, but still had to be careful not to run over the more than two dozen people who were walking along the road. "Is Blanche Quimby really buried in that vacant lot?"

"Blanche!" Hilda exclaimed. "What a greedy woman. I think she drove Quentin insane. It was her idea to sell off all this property. She ruled that family with an iron fist."

Hank snorted. "A golden fist is more like it," he grumbled. "That's what she was all about-money. Meanest woman I ever met."

Turning onto the main road, Judith couldn't stifle her natural empathy. "Having a daughter with mental problems may have affected her adversely. A tragedy like that can change a person's outlook on life."

"Dubious," Hilda murmured. "The son, Quincy, let it slip some time ago that he thought his mother had coerced his father into marrying her after the war and bringing her to this country. Once the Germans were out of France, the authorities might've been on her trail."

"Why?" Judith asked. "Had Blanche collaborated with the Nazis?"

"Hell no," Hank asserted. "She was still real young, but she'd worked at one of those big Paris museums. Blanche made off with a bunch of rare coins. Something to do with Napoleon."

Renie turned to look at the Hilderschmidts. "Is that what was buried in the case you guys dug up?"

"No," Hank said. "It's . . ." He paused. "Should I shut up, Hilda?"

"Yes," his wife replied. "Wait until Kent Logan and Edna open the case. Kent's a lawyer, so he can advise us on what to do. We won't know what's in that box until they see it."

Judith took a left onto the Hilderschmidts' street. "Would I be right in guessing that you think those Napoleon coins are inside?"

"That was our idea," Hilda responded. "It doesn't rattle like it's coins, though. But what else would the Quimbys bury in it? It sure isn't Blanche's ashes. She wasn't cremated. I wouldn't be surprised if they dumped her body out in the bay."

"Is that legal?" Renie asked.

"Burial at sea?" Hank chuckled. "Only if you don't get caught. Or if you get permission. Hell, I remember a couple of ferryboat skippers who were asked to do it over the years. Hey, we're on the right-hand side of the road just up ahead. See the big stone chimney? That's us."

Judith could barely make it out, but slowed down. "Good luck," she said, pulling up by the cement walk.

Hilda waited for Hank to extricate his gangling frame from the car. When he finally got out, she looked Judith in the eye. "We don't care about luck. We want justice. Thanks for the ride."

"Could I be more confused?" Renie said while Judith reversed the car. "What's the point of digging up a bunch of coins that belong to a dead woman? She may've stolen them from a French museum, but it's too late to bring her to justice if she's at the bottom of the bay."

"It sounds more like a grudge," Judith said, slowing to a stop before they reached the main road. "Now we wait."

"For what?" Renie yipped. "Are you insane?"

Judith gestured to her left. "See that green house? It's where the Logans live. They ought to be arriving any minute."

Renie slumped in her seat. "Damn, why didn't I stay at the Webers'?"

"Go ahead, take off," Judith said. "I can do this alone."

"You know I won't leave you," Renie retorted, sitting up again. "For all I know, Kent and Suzie are a couple of crazed killers."

"I'm not sure about that," Judith murmured. "What's taking them so long? Unless . . ." She paused. "Of course. They walked Edna home. They wouldn't let her go by herself."

"Because she's a crazed killer?"

"Coz," Judith said earnestly, "I don't know who the crazed killer is. That's what really bugs me. I still can't figure out the motive for Ernie's murder. Maybe I am losing my knack."

"So we sit here while you hunt for your self-esteem," Renie muttered. "Fine. Why not let Jacobson solve this? He might get promoted. All you'll get is an urge to find another corpse."

Judith started to defend herself, but decided not to argue. Five minutes passed in silence except for the first few drops of rain sprinkling the windshield. In between the Logans' contemporary home and a shake-covered cottage, she saw a large ship gliding north to open water. As she was about to check her watch, Kent and Suzie came around the corner. He was carrying the mysterious rectangular case.

Judith got out of the car. "Hi," she called in her friendliest fashion. "You can't blame me for wondering what's in that thing. Do you mind if I come in?"

The Logans exchanged puzzled glances. "It's rather late," Kent finally said. "Why are you so interested?"

Judith shrugged. "You know Auntie Vance. If we don't give her a full report of what's happened while she and Uncle Vince have been away, she'll kill us. Excuse the expression, of course."

Suzie poked her husband's arm. "Why not? It turns out to be much ado about nothing. Edna's so disgusted."

"You're right, Suze," Kent agreed. "When everybody finds out about the contents, it'll be a big letdown."

Judith started to follow the Logans into the house, but paused as Renie called to her. "Wait. I'm not sitting out here in the dark. You want me to get bumped off?"

Suzie flipped on the hall light. "Come into the kitchen," she said. "I wouldn't mind a nightcap. How about you two?"

"I never wear them," Renie replied. "They ruin my coiffure." For emphasis, she ran a hand through her unruly chestnut hair.

"Ignore her," Judith said with a stern glance at her cousin. "Thank you for the offer, but no. It's a bit late for us."

Kent pulled out a chair for Judith. "Have a seat. This whole endeavor has been disappointing. But we couldn't refuse Edna's request. She was certain that whatever was buried in the vacant lot was connected to Ernie's murder. As you'll see, that's very unlikely."

The cousins and Kent sat down. Suzie busied herself with getting out snifters and a bottle of brandy. Judith realized that the buried item actually was a jewelry box. The lock had been pried open, probably by Kent, since the faint scratches looked recent. The leather case, however, was mottled, moldy, and rotting around the edges.

"There," Kent said, flipping open the lid. "Polaroid photos and unopened letters returned to Blanche Quimby. Probably a case of unrequited love. Sad, but neither interesting nor valuable."

Judith picked up one of the Polaroids, gasped, and turned pale. With trembling fingers, she handed the picture to Renie.

"What the . . . ?" Renie gaped at her cousin. She reached in the case to remove more photos. "Good Lord! These are all of your father!"

Instead of saying anything to Renie, Judith turned to Kent. "Maybe," she said in a trembling voice, "I should have some of that brandy after all."

All four of them seemed to be talking at once. Kent shut up and raised his hands to silence the women. "What about your father?" he inquired. "Is he this Donald Grover that the letters are addressed to?"

Judith nodded, but didn't speak until Suzie handed her a snifter of brandy. "Yes. That's my mother's handwriting on the envelopes. She and my father considered buying property up here when the Webers did. But he died suddenly of a heart attack. I noticed that all these photos were taken from a distance. At first, I wasn't sure it was him, but I recognized his duffel coat. My mother had given it to him the previous Christmas."

Renie smiled. "I remember the duffel coat, too. He's wearing that snazzy tweed cap Uncle Al gave him to go with the coat. Your father always dressed so conservatively. The rest of the family wondered if he was having a midlife crisis. Or Aunt Gert was."

Judith nodded vaguely, still trying to marshal her thoughts. "Does this mean Blanche was infatuated with my father? Or . . ." She picked up one of the half-dozen letters sent to Hillside Manor's address long before it became a B&B. "This one was mailed after my father passed away."

"Maybe they all were," Kent said, handing the other letters to Judith. "How soon did he die after they considered buying in here?"

Judith frowned, trying to remember. "Not very long."

Kent smiled faintly. "Blanche must've fallen for him at first sight. Maybe she'd never been in love before. He must've been a charmer."

Judith laughed. "Dad was a schoolteacher, quite prim and proper. But he had a wonderful sense of humor and he was very smart. Mother certainly fell for him and she's a bit of a hardcase."

"Speaking of a case," Suzie said, "maybe you should have that one. Or at least the contents. It doesn't mean much to the rest of us."

Judith hesitated. "Well . . . I am curious as to what Blanche wrote. I wouldn't mind keeping the Polaroids, though. But the case belongs to the Quimbys. Renie and I should go. It's very late."

Suzie found a big manila envelope for the letters and photos before seeing the cousins to the door. Once they were in the car, Renie couldn't help but needle Judith. "Wait until I tell Auntie Vance that her brother was a real heartthrob. Are you going to reveal all this to Aunt Gert?"

Judith grimaced. "I don't know. She might have a stroke."

"No, she won't," Renie asserted. "She may've guessed Blanche was infatuated with your father. Women are often more perceptive than men. It'd also explain why she didn't want to buy the property."

"True," Judith allowed, turning into the Webers' garage. "Weird."

"Why?" Renie asked before opening the passenger door. "Uncle Donald wasn't exactly homely."

"I don't mean that," Judith said. "In fact, I'm not referring to Blanche's alleged infatuation. But I know who killed Ernie Glover."

She bit her lip, got out of the Subaru, and headed for the house.

You," Renie shrieked, practically on Judith's heels as they went inside, "aren't getting away with your I-can't-tell-you-until-I'm-one-hundred-percent-sure stunt this time. Unload or I pitch a five-star fit."

Shoulders slumping, Judith looked at her cousin with a wan expression. "What if I told you I think I must be nuts?"