After arriving at the motel, the cousins went directly up to Trixie’s room. Judith knocked on the door. There was no response.
“Maybe she’s still asleep,” Renie said.
“Maybe.” Judith knocked again and called out, “Trixie?”
“Mrs. Flynn?” The voice was faint, but steady. “Wait a sec.”
It seemed like a lot more than that to Judith and Renie when a pale, almost gaunt Trixie opened the door. “I just woke up a little while ago,” she said, stepping aside. “I still feel weak.”
“You need to eat,” Judith declared. “Do you feel like getting dressed?”
Trixie shook her head. “Not quite yet. In fact, I’d better sit down.” She made her slow way to the bed and sat down but didn’t get under the covers. “What’s wrong with me? I mean, Dr. Patel didn’t really say. Am I dying?”
“No,” Judith assured her. “Someone apparently gave you a drug that knocked you out. Do you have any idea who’d do something like that?”
Trixie shook her head. “The only thing I can think of is . . . Where’s my purse?”
Judith pointed to the nightstand. “Try the drawer. Dr. Patel may’ve put it there for safekeeping.”
Sure enough, the purse was right on top of some toiletry items. Trixie fumbled a bit before hugging the purse to her breast. “Thank goodness!” she exclaimed, shutting her eyes and smiling. “Now everything will be okay.”
“You must be hungry,” Judith said. “Do you feel like getting dressed or should we get you something from Wild Flour?”
“Um . . .” Trixie frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe I should try to get dressed and see if I can go back to work. I don’t want to get fired. Oh!” Her eyes grew big. “My money! I must make sure it’s here.” She snatched up her purse.
“Wait,” Judith urged. “We have your money.” She turned to Renie. “Get out your half of it.”
“What . . . ?” Trixie looked disturbed. “Why does she have some of my money?”
“I’ve got the rest of it,” Judith assured her, and went on to explain how the other hundred-dollar bills had ended up in Renie’s makeup kit.
Trixie remained aghast as both cousins counted out the money. “That’s crazy,” she gasped. “Who steals money and then doesn’t keep it?”
“I don’t know,” Judith admitted. “But maybe you do, Trixie. Who was the man you came here to marry?”
Trixie bowed her head. “I can’t tell you.”
“You’re going to have to tell the police,” Judith said, “so you might as well tell us.”
Head still down, Trixie seemed to shiver. “It was an older man. His name was John.”
“Did he have a last name?”
Trixie nodded, but didn’t look up. “It was Jones.”
Renie practically fell out of the chair she’d been sitting in. “Jones? That’s my last name!”
“So?” Trixie finally looked up. “A lot of people are named Jones. Besides, it doesn’t matter what his name is. He’s dead.”
Judith’s efforts to get more information failed. Trixie wanted to be left alone for a while. The return of her money was all very well, but it brought back too many memories of her hopes to marry a kind, generous, yet older man. The cousins left her to mourn.
“Okay,” Renie said after they were back in the Flynns’ suite. “Who was the old coot? Codger?”
Judith sighed. “That’s my best guess. Trixie passed out when she heard Codger was dead, which indicates she knew him. If he really was murdered, she’d be the last person to do him in. Unless he reneged on the offer and the money was a payoff.”
“How about payback?” Renie said. “Maybe she wanted more.”
“This case is the most confusing we’ve ever encountered.” Judith got up from the chair she’d been sitting in and took the cell out of her purse. “I’m calling Doris in Big Stove. Let’s hope she’s home and up to talking on the phone.”
“Don’t forget to call the Big Stove postmaster,” Renie reminded her.
“I won’t. I . . . Hello, Doris. Are you feeling better today?”
“A little,” she replied, sounding weak. “Who is this?”
“Mrs. McMonigle. The magazine person. I understand you’ve been ill. Are you improved today?”
“A little,” Doris replied. “But I stayed home from work.”
“Very wise,” Judith commented. “People are often compelled to rush back to the job and then they have a relapse.”
“It isn’t just that,” Doris said. “We had some bad news a few days ago. Very upsetting. I really should hang up now. I’m expecting a long-distance call from relatives.”
“The travelers?” Judith asked artlessly.
Doris sniffled. “Yes. I wish they’d never taken that trip! I had such a bad feeling about it. I really must go.”
“Oh dear!” Judith cried. “Did someone . . . die?”
“No, no,” Doris replied in a choked voice. “But Grandpa disappeared not long after they left here. We all thought he’d love Disneyland. Even if he didn’t go on the rides, we knew he’d get pleasure out of watching the children on them. He’s not senile, but still . . . There’s someone at the door. I must see who it is.” The line went dead.
Renie looked bemused. “Did I hear the dreaded word ‘grandpa’?”
“Yes.” Judith sighed. “He never got to Disneyland.”
“Hold it.” Renie sat down in the other armchair. “Who’s kidding who?”
“I wish I knew,” Judith said. “Maybe the Stokeses lied to Doris and Jens about where they were going. But why?”
Renie frowned. “They wouldn’t approve of the barrel stunt?”
“That’s possible. I wouldn’t blame them.”
“Maybe the postmaster can enlighten you. It’s a small town. He’d know most of the locals.”
“I wrote down his name and number somewhere,” Judith muttered, digging through her purse. “Here it is—Reginald Upton, also known as Reggie.” She checked her watch. “It’s after ten in Big Stove, so he should be on the job.”
But an impatient female voice informed Judith that Mr. Upton was on vacation. “Even postal workers have to get time off. Call back after Labor Day.”
“She hung up on me,” Judith said, faintly dismayed.
“You expected good service from the post office? Don’t you remember some of the mailmen we used to have years ago, especially the one who read all of the family’s magazines on his lunch hour and the issues arrived three days late smeared with mustard, ketchup, and God only knows what else?”
“I’ve been trying to forget,” Judith said. “I’m having enough trouble with our new one, Chad.”
“We had one last winter who came so late that he wore a miner’s hat with a lamp on it. At least we could see where he was when he got to our part of the hill.” Renie paused, looking speculatively at her cousin. “Well? What’s our next move? Securing a place under a roof for tonight, I hope?”
Judith looked contrite. “I forgot. I’ll call the front desk now.” She picked up the house phone.
Niall had bad news. “We’re booked,” he said with what sounded like regret. “I guess a lot of visitors wanted to stay this week instead of coping with all the Yanks who show up for the long Labor Day weekend.”
“I get it,” Judith said, giving Renie a negative shake of the head. “What about Mr. Barnes’s three other motels? Are they also full?”
“I’m afraid so,” Niall replied. “We’ve already had to turn away a few tourists.”
Judith thanked Niall and hung up. “Want to camp out with the Stokes folks?”
“Sure,” Renie responded with a dour expression. “Then I can have even more fun by shaving my head with a cheese grater.”
“There are other motels,” Judith pointed out.
Renie looked unconvinced. “If only our idiot husbands hadn’t screwed up in the first place. We could have spent all our time in luxurious splendor at the Banff Springs Hotel. Of course, you would have missed out on encountering the latest corpse.”
Judith felt uncharacteristically glum. “This is a discouraging way to end our vacation. No lodging and no solution to our mystery. I feel like a big flop.”
“You don’t even know if there is a mystery,” Renie asserted. “Codger was ancient and probably died of natural causes. The knives were just a very bad joke.”
“Some joke,” Judith muttered. “What was the point?”
“An insurance scam?” Renie suggested.
“Maybe.” Judith stood up. “Let’s get out of here for a while. Checkout time isn’t until noon. It won’t take more than ten minutes to clear out our belongings. We can have a look at the golf course.”
“We don’t play golf,” Renie said.
“So? It’s one of the sights we haven’t seen.”
“Golf courses all look alike. They have greens and tees and roughs and . . .”
“Move,” Judith interrupted. “I don’t want to argue about golf courses.”
“Fine,” Renie said, heading into the hall. “How about tennis courts? They have tennis courts—”
“Stop!” Judith cried as the elevator door closed. “You’re driving me crazy!”
“That cuts both ways,” Renie responded.
They both stopped talking after they exited the elevator and went through the lobby. Niall was on the phone, but he acknowledged the cousins with a nod.
Outside, Judith noticed that a few streaked cirrus clouds moved slowly against the vast blue sky. She could always remember a few of the more common cloud names. One of her fellow librarians had been married to a local TV weatherman and she often pointed out the different formations.
Closer at hand, Judith saw Martha Lou appear from around the shrubbery. She called out to the cousins.
“You seen Teddy?” Martha Lou slowed her step, breathing hard. Her pretty freckled face was very red.
“No,” Judith replied. “Was he supposed to be coming this way?”
Martha Lou reached into her low-cut polyester top and pulled out a wad of Kleenex from her cleavage. “Yes! If he ain’t showed up yet, he will, damn his cheatin’ hide!” She dabbed at her eyes with the tissues.
“Are you going to ask your aunt and uncle if they’ve seen him?” Judith asked. “I think they’re still at the motel, though they may have gone out.”
“Dela and Norm won’t know nothin’,” Martha Lou asserted. “How could they? It just happened.” She stuffed the Kleenex wad back into her cleavage. “But I’ll look for that two-timin’ rat there anyway.” She brushed past the cousins and hustled off to the motel.
Renie smiled wryly. “What’s that all about?”
“No clue,” Judith admitted as they reached the SUV. “Did Teddy come on to one of the motel guests?”
Renie shook her head. “I haven’t seen a female at the motel who’d appeal to Teddy except maybe Jennifer.”
“Most of the guests seem middle-aged or even older. Like us.”
“Yes, the twins are the only young ones I’ve noticed, but they’re back home in Ankeny.” Judith shrugged. “It’s not our problem.”
Traffic was heavy in Banff that morning. It took almost ten minutes to reach the golf course. Renie was first to espy the clubhouse. “Want to inspect it? Maybe they serve a midmorning snack.”
“You can’t possibly be hungry so soon,” Judith said. “It’s not quite ten thirty. Besides, we should probably go back to the motel and find out if there are any vacancies in town. Some motels keep a room open for guests who have an emergency.”
“Not having a bed is an emergency,” Renie declared.
Judith sighed as they retraced their route. “You’re right. I just had to get outside for a few minutes. I’m frustrated. I still have to call Arlene and deliver the bad news. They may have their own family plans coming up with the long weekend.”
“Very close-knit,” Renie remarked. “That’s great. I wish my offspring were nearby.”
“I feel the same way about Mike and his family,” Judith said. “Maybe we should’ve gone to Maine to visit them instead of coming here and . . .” She stopped, staring at a car that had just passed them. “That blue BMW . . . where have I seen it before?”
“There was one parked next to us at the motel yesterday,” Renie reminded her. “What about it?”
“I could swear Teddy was driving it. Or one like it. But the only vehicle we saw by their camp was the VW bus. It definitely had that lived-in look. I assumed all of the Stokes family rode here in it.”
“They probably did,” Renie said. “Are you sure you saw Teddy? That car was going fairly fast.”
“It looked like him. But I could be wrong.” They’d reached the motel. “Let’s go in the back way. I’d like to see if that BMW is still there.”
Renie scowled. “There are probably a half dozen . . . never mind. I can’t squelch your curiosity.”
There was no sign of the blue BMW behind the motel. Judith decided to ask Niall about the owner. He was on the phone, but held up a finger to signal for the cousins to wait. After a few more words, he hung up.
“That was Mr. Barnes,” he said. “I can’t interrupt the boss. Are you checking out now?” His expression was apologetic.
Judith looked at Renie, who merely shrugged.
“We might as well,” Judith said. “But I’d like to make sure Trixie’s okay. Have you seen her this morning?”
“No,” Niall replied ruefully. “Jenny and I have been busy. Do you want a passkey to her room?”
Judith refrained from saying she didn’t need it. “Yes, thanks.”
Niall opened a drawer and handed over the key. “You can drop it off on your way out, eh? I’m really sorry about not being able to accommodate you and Mrs. Jones tonight.”
“That’s not your fault,” Judith said.
“Right,” Renie put in. “Blame it on our husbands. They can’t stop fishing and admiring glaciers. We both intend to file for divorce when we get home.”
Seeing Niall’s startled face, Judith told him her cousin was kidding. “By the way, who owns the blue BMW that’s been parked out back?”
“Nobody,” Niall replied. “It’s Trixie’s rental. It has Alberta plates because she rented it after she got here. I think she came to Banff by bus.”
“From Nebraska?” Judith said.
Niall shook his head. “She mentioned Winnipeg. I guess that’s not all that far from Nebraska, is it?”
Judith wondered if Canadians were as vague about geography as Americans. “Both places are sort of in the middle,” she said. “Should we settle up with our bill now?”
Niall told them they could. After the paperwork was finished and the cousins prayed that their credit-card charges would be approved, they went up to Trixie’s room. Judith knocked, but got no response.
“She’s probably still asleep,” she said, using the passkey.
“Who do you think drugged her?” Renie asked.
“Honestly? I can’t imagine.” Judith opened the door. And gasped.
There was no sign of Trixie—not in the bed, not in the room, not in the bathroom or the closet. Her clothes and other personal belongings were gone. Except for the rumpled bed and the soup container, it was as if Trixie O’Hara had never existed. Judith said as much.
Renie merely shook her head. “Maybe she didn’t.”