Read Online A Fit of Tempera by Mary Daheim - Free Book Online Page B

as I recall. In fact, they got stuck in one of those awful internment camps during World War Two. Where were you, Costello? Leading your Boy Scout troop on a raid of the sauerkraut section at the local Safeway?”
    Costello had stiffened. “I was a babe in arms,” he retorted.
    â€œAn armed babe is more like it,” Renie snapped back.“I can see you in the hospital nursery, demanding that the black babies be put in isolettes. Wake up, this is almost the twenty-first century!”
    Instead of roaring at Renie, Costello looked mystified. “What’s an isolette?” he asked of Dabney Plummer. The deputy merely shrugged. Renie retreated to the sofa, shaking her head.
    â€œOkay, okay,” huffed Costello, momentarily distracted. “Now about this lurker—you never saw him?”
    â€œOr her,” Judith said mildly. “It’s almost the twenty-first century, remember?”
    Costello made an impatient gesture. “Whatever. Well? A no-show, you say?”
    â€œThat’s right,” Judith replied calmly. “He—or she—apparently left or hid. Naturally, we can’t be certain that the person who killed Riley is the same one Iris spotted over at Nella’s.”
    â€œNaturally.” Costello’s voice was coated in sarcasm. “You see anybody else lurking around this afternoon?”
    Judith said they hadn’t. The ear-shattering arrival of Lazlo Gamm’s helicopter hardly qualified for Costello’s description. “Hovering, not lurking. An art dealer from Hungary landed his helicopter in the meadow just as we were leaving earlier.”
    Costello was wreathed in skepticism. “Boy, you people up here on the South Fork sure put on airs. What’s wrong with a good old Chevy?”
    â€œFunny you should ask,” Renie snapped, looking up from her place on the sofa. “First it was a leak in the brake fluid, then it was the power steering, and finally the whole damned transmission went out. Seventeen hundred bucks later, and it still doesn’t reverse like it should. That’s why we brought my cousin’s compact. Any more dumb car questions?”
    It seemed to Judith that Renie and the undersheriff weren’t hitting it off. “Rhetorical,” she murmured, moving toward the sofa and attempting to jab at Renie’s upper arm. “Shut up.” Judith turned back to the gloweringCostello. “Lazlo Gamm—he’s the art dealer—landed just as we were leaving with our water buckets. Riley Tobias greeted him like a long-lost pal.”
    Costello finally stopped giving Renie the Evil Eye. “Hungarian, huh? They’re pretty sinister, aren’t they? What did he have against Tobias?”
    â€œNothing,” Judith answered hastily. “As I said, they seemed to be friends from way back. The helicopter took off about an hour later, maybe less.”
    Costello fixed his steely-eyed gaze on Dabney Plummer. “You know how to spell ‘Lazlo’?” Plummer nodded. “Who else?” demanded the undersheriff.
    Judith considered; Ward Kimball’s visit was hearsay. She decided not to mention it. “Iris Takisaki came down from the Green Mountain Inn along the river, but that was later—just before she came back to tell us about the prowler. You certainly don’t have a problem with time of death—it had to be in that five- or ten-minute interval while Iris and my cousin and I were over at Mrs. Lablatt’s.”
    Costello gave Judith a disparaging look. “Hey, this isn’t television. All we can say right now is that Riley Tobias died somewhere between four-fifteen and five-forty-five this afternoon. Maybe we’ll never come any closer. It’s a shame we couldn’t get here sooner, but whoever reported this homicide was either on drugs or slow in the upper story.” He tapped his graying temple.
    â€œHey,” Renie exclaimed, “what