Murder at the Cape Cod Bridge Tournament

By Ruth C. Howard

The primary venue for this novel is a bridge tournament on Cape Cod, although knowledge of bridge is not necessary for its enjoyment and understanding. The murder does not occur until well into this novel, but the reader should find the development of the characters a necesssary and fascinating read. Jennie Worth and Phil Waterman, the characters through whom the story develops; Marianne, the almost sociopathic narcissist; her daughter Lydia, whom she verbally abuses and who was sexually molested by her father; Sue Adams, Marianne's bridge partner; and the many others who populate their lives lead Police Chief Wells on the ride of his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruth C. Howard
• Release date: Aug 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476051437

Ruth C. Howard

After a lifetime of various occupations, I have at last found my niche - creative writing. Although I enjoyed most of the things I have done over the years and am proud of my accomplishments, nothing has given me more pleasure than sitting at my computer and bringing characters to life. I don't create them; they simply speak through me. I have been able to incorporate many of my personal experiences into the stories I tell, but naturally there is a lot of dramatic license necessary to make the stories happen. Brought up in Woodstock, NY during the 1940's and '50's, my formative years brought me in close contact with an abundance of music, theater and art. My parents imbued me with a true love of the arts. Aside from the fiction I have written, I also published a family history entitled "LONG TIME PASSING: History of a Jewish Family." For those who prefer more personal details, I have one son who is an attorney, a daughter-in-law who is also an attorney, and three lovely grandchildren, all teenagers at this writing. My original career was as a classical singer, which included a year at an opera house in Germany, followed by many less exciting endeavors. I ended my working life as a real estate agent, duplicate bridge director and teacher, and a brief stint as a legal assistant. But nothing has brought me the true pleasure I find in writing

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

North and South, East and West. To many people those words mean simply directions, points on a compass. To duplicate bridge players, however, the terms have totally different connotations.

For the uninitiated, a short explanation of duplicate bridge follows; those already in the know may want to skip this part and go on to Chapter l.

The card game of Bridge normally consists of four players, two sets of partners, each partner sitting opposite his own teammate. Partners communicate with each other through bids based on the value of cards held in their hands. The initial phase of the game is the competition for the contract, the final bid. The second phase is the play of the hand.

In the play of the hand, the partner who originally bid the suit in which the contract is being played is called the declarer. His partner, who is called the dummy, must lay his cards on the table for all to see. From that point on, the dummy is exactly that, a non-speaking participant playing no further part in the hand except, in duplicate bridge, to remove each card from the exposed hand at his partner's direction.

The agreed upon suit in a contract is called the trump suit. It is also possible to play in no-trump, which means that no suit takes precedence over any other.

In duplicate bridge, where one partnership moves from table to table and the other remains stationery, the two sides are designated by their directions. North and South remain in place while East and West move after each round. This way, everyone plays the same hands—just against different opponents.

After a hand is played, each player replaces the cards into what are called boards in the exact slot from which the hand was originally removed, so that all North players play the same hands, as do those sitting in the other three directions.

The boards are passed from table to table after each round, in the opposite direction from the moving East-West pairs so no pair ever plays the same hand twice.

After one gets past the very basic rules of bridge, each partnership chooses different variations on the basics and these variations are entered on what is called a Convention Card.

Bidding boxes allow all bids to be made silently, each player taking his bid printed on cards from a box. Aside from avoiding inferences being given and taken by voice bids, the silent bidding, which requires leaving all bids on the table until the final contract has been reached, makes mishearing a bid almost impossible, no matter how noisy the playing room might become.

As players become more experienced and begin winning at the club level, they often begin working toward specific designations, based on the number of points they can win at the club level as well as various tournaments.

Bridge tournaments consist of many different events, offering players a variety of choices each day. Most of the events require at least two sessions of play, but some are single session and allow players to schedule playing time as they desire.

The computer age has brought its changes to the bridge world, not only in the form of the computer generated hands, but also in the scoring on all levels of play.

Each duplicate bridge game is overseen by someone well versed in the rules of bridge, the director. In addition to ruling on disputes which might arise during a game, it is also the function of the director to enforce bridge etiquette.

As with any game (chess in particular comes to mind), bridge has its fanatics. There are those who cannot understand the tremendous fascination with which many players approach the game, but for those who love it, bridge is very special. It provides an excellent exercise for the mind and memory. It challenges the young to new mental heights and helps keep many older people alert and involved.

For whatever time one devotes to it--the three hours or so of a duplicate game or simply a couple of hours of friendly unsupervised bridge--it is easy to get totally involved in the bidding and the play and to forget whatever problems or duties one has away from the table.

Because of the seriousness with which some approach the game of bridge, tempers sometimes flare, and there are always those who tend to be nasty and unpleasant at the table. They criticize and yes, even yell at their partners, and sometimes their opponents as well. It is part of a director's job to see that these disturbing tendencies are kept well under control at the bridge table, often an insurmountable task...

The world of duplicate bridge therefore offers a more than fertile field for murder and mayhem. How could any writer resist?

CHAPTER 1

Seven no-trump.

Jenny almost jumped out of her chair when she heard her partner, Whit Edmonton, make his final bid. In her two years of playing serious bridge, she had never before had a hand which warranted the highest bid in the game.

She felt as if everyone at the table could hear the loud pounding of her heart as she quickly mentally reviewed her bidding to be sure she hadn't misled her partner into striving for a contract that simply couldn’t be made.

As the opening lead came down from her left-hand opponent, she suddenly became aware that she was the one who had to play this contract. Success or failure depended on her.

Not willing to give her opponents a chance to see how nervous she was, Jenny said quietly thank you, partner and started examining the cards in the dummy. She put them together them with the cards in her hand and counted her tricks. She needed all 13 to make her bid.

Twelve tricks were always there. The thirteenth would depend on one of two possibilities. They always said that seven no-trump should not be based on a finesse or squeeze. But there she was and whatever it took...

She decided to take some of her sure tricks first. Then she stopped to consider the situation. Her opponents each had seven cards unaccounted for.

Hank Govikian, her left hand opponent whose cards mattered most in this situation, was an excellent player, bridge columnist and teacher. Already well into his 80's, his reputation as a very sharp opponent had been well earned. His look and manner gave away nothing.

Her right hand opponent, Marianne Fleck, also considered an excellent bridge player, had in addition earned a reputation as a sore loser with a nasty disposition. She was a slim older woman with a rather sharp hooked nose and short gray hair. Her sharp black eyes bored into Jennie, willing her to make a mistake.

Ignoring Marianne, and with as much confidence as she could muster, Jennie completed her plan. At her turn to play, Marianne, in a short nervous movement typical of her manner of play, licked the thumb of her right hand before playing a card. Jennie played her card in turn.

When Hank could not come up with the last possible card to defeat the contract, the thirteenth trick was hers. She had made seven no trump.

Beautifully played, partner!

Thanks, but that was scary. I needed luck—and got it.

Jenny took the traveler out of the board to check previous scores and enter her score.

We're the only ones in seven, Whit. Everyone else is in six, with about half of those making seven. That's a top board for us.

Marianne glared at her partner and said snidely: Well, I guess we've been fixed.

Looking at Marianne almost with hatred, Whit defended Jennie.

Marianne, haven’t you done enough damage in your life? I’m surprised no one has shut you up and put in your place yet.

Marianne looked unaffected by Whit’s contribution to the conversation but Jennie stared at him in astonishment.

Hank, looking rather embarrassed by his partner’s remark and the by-play in general, smiled at Jennie. You played that hand nicely, Jennie. You deserved to make your contract.

Thanks, Hank. That means a lot coming from you.

Hank and Marianne moved on to their new table. The next pair to play against Whit and Jennie was still munching cookies in the kitchen, so Whit took the chance to praise Jenny again.

And don't let Marianne bother you. She's just a very angry person. I detest playing in the same room with her.

I understand, Whit. I appreciate your defense. I don't let her get to me, but I sometimes wonder why some people seem unable to be gracious. It shouldn't mean that much to her but I guess it does.

At that point the Martins sat down and both Jennie and Whit focused their attentions on the next round. Two more rounds brought the game to an end. Despite the crush of people milling around and looking over her shoulder while she worked, Lillian Benson, the director, finished entering the scores into her computer, punched in the request for a printout and bent over the sheet as it came out. "First, Edmonton and Worth, Second Connors and Cole, Third...

Whit and Jennie stopped listening. It wasn't a major tournament, but it was a club championship and they were thrilled with their win.

Not too bad for a couple of non-life masters playing a whole bunch of pros and almost pros!

Jennie could tell Whit was pleased with the results. They’d played a good game against good competition. They had plenty of reason to be proud of themselves.

As they turned to leave the bridge club, Grady Guinan came over to congratulate them.

Not bad, Jennie. You and Whit had a nice game.

Thanks, Grady, we did OK, thanks to a really gutsy bid on my partner's part. Jennie smiled at Whit who looked pleased with the compliment, in spite of his efforts to appear blasé.

And my partner's excellent playing brought it home.

Well, now that the mutual admiration society has spoken, it's time for me to head home. Give my best to Ellen. Ellen was Whit's non-bridge playing wife, a very understanding lady who didn't object to Whit's hobby. She had her own interests which occupied her time while Whit pursued his passion for bridge.

Jennie walked out into the parking lot, nodding and waving to some of the other players. Whit followed closely behind and then caught up with her.

I really meant that, Jennie. You played that hand beautifully. Your bridge has improved a great deal since you first started coming to the club.

I appreciate the vote of confidence, Whit. See you in Hyannis at the tournament.

He didn't seem to want to see her leave, as though her departure was anticlimactic after their success of the afternoon, but she got into her car and drove out of the parking lot heading toward home.

CHAPTER 2

As Jennie pulled into the driveway of her unpretentious but comfortable home, her two dogs barked their welcome and their admonitions that she had better get in there and feed them soon.

Since it was still early for their meals, Jennie gave them each some attention, got a couple of doggie snacks from the pantry and opened the sliding door out to the pool, giving the dogs free run of the fenced back yard.

After checking her answering machine for messages, she poured herself a glass of iced tea, picked up her portable phone, kicked off her shoes, and plopped into the chaise on the back terrace, reveling in the breeze that added just a touch of coolness to an otherwise warm but pleasant evening.

Just as she was beginning to relax the phone rang. Congratulating herself that for once she had remembered to bring the phone outside with her, Jennie pushed the talk button and put the receiver to her ear.

Hi, hon she heard almost before she had spoken. It was Jeff. A tingle of excitement went through her as it did every time she heard his voice. Are you packed yet?

Would you believe that I almost forgot about it?

No, I wouldn't. You've been looking forward to this trip too long to forget.

Well, I guess that's true. But I really had forgotten about it for the moment.

He asked about her afternoon and she went on to tell him about the successful bridge game. Jeff played party bridge but didn't take the game as seriously as Jennie. He was too busy with his work to get involved in what he knew could consume far too much of his time. They rarely played together but he showed a real feel for the cards and the game, which helped him understand her obsession—and her explanations of various bridge situations she faced. Still, when she travelled to an out of town bridge tournament, she often wished they could go together as a bridge partnership as well as a romantic partnership.

Jeff's call reminded her that she had to get organized and pack to leave the next morning for the Regional in Hyannis, Mass. It had been quite a few years since she had been north and even longer since her last visit to Cape Cod. She was looking forward to it much more than she’d realized and anticipation came over her as she sat down to, in her usual organized way, make her packing list.

Jeff would be here in a little over an hour to take her to dinner and would drive her to the airport in the morning on his way to facing his usual hectic Monday morning at his office in Tampa.

Her plane left early, 7:30 a.m., but she knew that she could grab some sleep on the plane. She certainly didn't expect to get much sleep tonight if previous experience was any indicator. Despite an almost year-long relationship, their fascination with and desire for each other had, if anything, become more intense, something which completely amazed both of them.

Jenny was in her late 30's, about 5'8, large boned but with a proportioned though substantially larger than model-type figure, what they called full-figured in the dress shops. She had long dark blond hair and a full mouth, but deep green eyes were the first thing to catch one's attention.

Her nose had a small bump, which she had nicknamed her ski jump. She’d realized only recently, after getting to know her biological father and becoming aware of his contribution to her genealogy, that her nose was inherited from her father's side of the family. The overall impression was of an attractive, lively, capable, intelligent woman with a subtle sensuousness lying just below the surface, hinting at something more to be discovered.

Self-confidence radiated from her, enhancing the overall image. That she often didn't feel quite as sure of herself as she outwardly appeared was known only to Jennie herself and perhaps to those few whom she allowed to know her more intimately. But to them, her unexpected vulnerability and the knowledge that she was not always completely self-sufficient heightened her appeal.

Jeff, in his mid-40s, was a fitting partner for her in more ways than one. At 6'3" tall, broad shouldered and well built, he had a way of making Jennie feel small, despite her actual size. He had long legs and a cute butt, which Jennie always enjoyed watching as he walked away from her. His rather angular face with sharp dark eyes seemed able to pierce any facade put up by whomever he was dealing with at the moment. What could have been an overwhelmingly hard look was softened considerably by his almost unmanageable-looking curly brown hair and the crinkly lines radiating from the edges of the eyes, telling the world that this man enjoyed smiling a great deal. The soft lips also made clear that this mouth was used to laughing.

Jeff and Jennie discovered almost from the beginning that their senses of humor meshed perfectly, and both realized how valuable that was in their relationship. They were surprised at this discovery since the conditions under which they met evoked anything but humor. Still, both relied a great deal on laughter to keep life in perspective and they were able to apply that even when things became particularly difficult.

Despite an attempt to again concentrate on her list, Jennie found herself smiling as she realized that her whole being was just waiting for Jeff to arrive, and everything else somehow seemed secondary. Her smile turned to a mock anger.

This is ridiculous. No man should be able to make me feel like this. I shouldn't be thinking of anything except getting ready for my trip.

But even as she scolded herself, she was consciously watching the clock, waiting for Jeff's arrival. She already knew she was fighting a losing battle and any attempts to tell herself otherwise were far too late and quite futile.

Her rather haphazard list in her hand, Jennie wandered into her bedroom and pulled her luggage out of the closet. She laid the garment bag across the bed, reminding herself that very soon she needed to get a king-sized bed. The queen she now had worked well when she was alone, or when she and Jeff were engaged in other than non-sleeping activities; however they both liked lots of room for sleeping and this bed had already proved too narrow for that.

At this point, they didn't do a lot of sleeping when they were together, mostly because they weren't together more than a couple of nights a week. When Jeff's law firm opened its Sarasota office in a few months, that situation would change considerably. Jennie smiled happily at the thought that before Thanksgiving, Jeff would be living in Sarasota again--again, because he had lived here for quite a while before she ever knew him. But when they first met, and ever since, he had been living and working in Tampa.

Recently, and almost off-handedly, he’d suggested to his partners that they might want to consider opening a branch office in Sarasota. He had been pleasantly surprised when the idea met with almost general approval among the partners. Jeff had been asked to prepare a plan, to investigate office space, and to present it to the others as soon as he was ready. He had worked on it steadily during his off hours, and within three weeks had a proposal which seemed more than workable.

Since all of this had happened, he had been hinting to Jennie that his move back should and would mean some kind of change in their relationship, but she was unsure exactly what he had in mind. He had carefully avoided specifics.

Jennie managed, despite all her side thoughts, to get out the various items she planned to pack. Just as she stepped back with satisfaction and the knowledge that she had managed to get everything organized in such a short time, Jennie heard the dogs bark and the front door open.

There was a flurry of movement and whining as the animals welcomed Jeff. He stopped to return their greetings with much ruffling of fur and soft words. Everyone knew this ritual had to be performed or there would be no peace.

Then Jeff stood up and turned to take Jennie into his arms. They kissed, the usual greeting kiss turning, as it so often did, into one of passion and desire. Without further conversation, they walked arm in arm into the bedroom to fulfill the promise of that kiss. Both knew that any other communication between them had to wait until the needs of the moment, which had built up over the past six days apart, were met.

Sometime later, as she lay in his arms, Jennie looked up at the face she had come to know so well and to love, trying to remember every last detail of it to take with her on her trip. Feeling her scrutiny, Jeff turned to her, raising his eyebrows in unspoken question.

I'm just trying to remember you as you are now, she responded to the unasked query. I won't be gone long but you won't be only an hour away either.

But you've gone to tournaments before. Why is this any different?

I don't know. Most of the other tournaments I've gone to since we met have been here in Florida, and yet somehow, what's actually the same number of days just didn't seem as long. Going so far away from you...

She left words unspoken and he didn't press her, but instead held her very close and reassuringly kissed her hair and her neck. Then his kisses moved downward again and words became an unnecessary form of expression for the next half hour or so.

Finally Jeff sat up and turned to Jennie.

I don't know about you, but I'm absolutely starved. I skipped lunch because I was in the middle of that big brief and then all this physical activity...

Jennie smiled.

I'm ready for dinner too, so let's go.

Don't you think we ought to get dressed first?

Only if you're particularly modest, she countered.

He wasn't, but they showered and dressed anyhow, in jeans and tee shirts, planning a very informal outing. Jennie quickly fed the dogs while Jeff checked the Sunday paper. She realized that it really had been six days, longer than usual, since they had been together.

During Jeff’s visit last weekend, they had agreed that, since he had a major case working and a tremendous amount of work to do, he would take this quiet weekend at the office to get as caught up as possible and then come down on Sunday evening for the night.

As they climbed into Jeff's bright red Corvette convertible, which he’d bought only a couple of months earlier to celebrate making partner in his firm, both leaned back against the leather headrests and smiled comfortably at each other.

Jeff backed out of the driveway and turned the car toward Rt. 41, better known as the Trail. They chatted until the subject of that afternoon's bridge game came up again. She’d mentioned Marianne Fleck's behavior to him on the phone earlier, but when he brought it up again, she stiffened perceptibly.

I don't know why you let that woman's behavior bother you. You usually cope so well with people like that.

I know I do, and I can't explain my reaction, but she really seems to get to me in a way no one else ever has. Let's not talk about it anymore.

The subject closed, they finished the rest of the trip in companionable silence. They’d decided to go to one of their favorite restaurants, an oyster bar right on Phillippi Creek. It was one of those wonderfully informal places where you sat at picnic tables, used old newspapers as place mats and paper towels as napkins.

A pot of broasted oysters, along with a beer or two, made a perfect dinner for two people who enjoyed nothing more than being in each other's company.

CHAPTER 3

The morning was warm and sticky, a typical beginning for a summer day in Florida. The air conditioning had been turned up only slightly during the night and the ceiling fan had been on, but despite these precautions, the humidity had somehow insinuated itself into the bedroom. It was 5:30 a.m.

Naked, Jennie slipped quietly out of bed to finish packing but then decided she needed to cool off a bit first. She padded through the house, dogs at her heels, opened the sliding doors to the back patio and slid into the pool for a quick refresher. As she finished a couple of laps, she looked up to see Jeff just coming out of the house. He joined her in the water and they swam companionably for a few minutes.

Thank goodness for the fence and the vines that have made this backyard so private, he said, not for the first time since he began spending time at Jennie's. There is nothing as relaxing as swimming in the nude.

She nodded agreement, although in the still almost darkness he only felt rather than saw her assent. They held each other closely and kissed, the warm water caressing their bodies with small waves left over from their earlier movements. Both felt the start of something more, but Jennie pulled away quickly.

If I don't finish packing and take a quick shower, we'll never get to the airport in time.

Jeff reluctantly agreed. They toweled the pool water off lightly and while Jeff showered, Jennie finished packing, sipping some of the fresh coffee which had automatically been ready, on schedule, when she got up. Then it was her turn to shower and dress while Jeff packed her bags into the car. By 6:15 they were ready to leave.

The airport was only about 20 minutes away, an easy drive at that time of the morning. They talked quietly on the way, making plans for after her return in eight days.

When you get back, there are some things we really have to talk about, Jen.

Like what?

Mainly 'us', but there are a couple of things I have to do in the meantime, which is why we haven't had this talk before.

She looked puzzled but he didn't elaborate and by that time they’d pulled up into the hubbub of the Delta curbside check-in, making further conversation practically impossible.

Jeff gave her folded garment bag to the Skycap, along with her ticket and a generous tip.

Take good care of my girl. I want her back.

The Skycap grinned broadly and nodded.

Jeff turned to Jennie, kissed her, and pulling away with difficulty, jumped back into the car.

Give my best to Phil.

Jennie waved to him, picked up her overnight bag, slung it over her shoulder, got her ticket back from the Skycap who said Airside 2, Ma'am, and went through the automatic doors into the lobby. Jeff knew she preferred being dropped at the airport, rather than having someone come in to see her off.

Jennie was walking to the up escalator when a voice called her name. She turned and saw Marianne Fleck hurrying to catch up with her. She had on one of her usual long flowery caftans which always gave her a rather artsy look and which flowed along dramatically as she walked. Her travelling companion was her friend and bridge partner Sue Adams.

Not wanting to appear rude, despite the shivers which the sound of that voice caused in her, Jennie slowed down.

Well, where are you going this morning? Marianne asked. And who was that handsome man who let you off just now?

I'm on my way to Baltimore, and the man who let me off was a good friend.

Jennie kept her answers brief and as uninformative as possible. She had no desire for a prolonged conversation with Marianne and sincerely hoped they were not flying on the same plane. Still she felt compelled to finish her answer with the required question: And you?

Oh, we're going to the Regional in Hyannis this week.

Jennie wished she’d heard wrong, but she knew she hadn't. Over the years Marianne and Sue had developed a good partnership at the bridge table and often went to tournaments together, quite successfully, as Marianne so often pointed out to anyone who would listen.

I guess I'll see you there then.

Jennie saw no reason not to let them know that she was also planning to be in Hyannis. They would know soon enough anyhow.

Oh, who are you playing with?

Phil Waterman.

I haven't seen Phil around in quite a few months. Where has he been?

They had arrived at the security checkpoint and as they laid their carry on-bags and personal items on the conveyor belt to be X-rayed, Jennie hoped that Marianne would forget there was still a question in the air. No such luck, however.

So, where is Phil these days? I know you two had a pretty steady partnership when he was in Sarasota, she said, insinuating something more than bridge in the relationship.

Yes, I really enjoy playing bridge with him. We speak the same language and generally have a fairly good game.

Jennie ignored anything else implied in Marianne's question and deftly left out the fact that the reason she was flying to Baltimore was that Phil lived there and they were driving from there to Hyannis together.

Under Marianne's grilling, the short walk to Gate 2 seemed endless. The minute they reached the waiting area, Jennie, hoping to leave Marianne behind, hurried over to the check-in desk on the pretext of having to pick up her boarding passes for the rest of her trip. But Marianne and Sue followed, obviously booked for the same flight, at least for this first leg to Atlanta.

The plane was already being loaded and Jennie was able to board immediately. She was in her seat when Marianne and Sue came aboard. She smiled at them, comforted in knowing that they wouldn’t be sitting next to her since one of the other two seats was already occupied. Sue was a nice person, always friendly and polite. But Marianne..

Although Jennie didn't dislike many people and got along even with most of those whom she didn't care for particularly, she often found that she had to consciously force herself to be pleasant and polite to Marianne.

The plane left on time, the trip to Atlanta mercifully short and on schedule. There had been just about time for