Read Online A Dismal Thing To Do by Charlotte MacLeod - Free Book Online Page B

noticed. Being together was what counted.
    Out in the barn, more serious conversation was going on.
    “So that’s why I want Jenny out of Fredericton, Bert,” Madoc wound up. “This case is so damned hush-hush that I’m to handle it by myself and they won’t even tell me what it is I’m supposed to be looking for. What matters most to me is that I don’t know whether somebody’s also looking for Janet, and I don’t dare leave her there alone to find out.”
    “I should damn well think not,” Bert replied. “But will she stay? You know Jen.”
    “It was her own idea to come here. She knew she’d be safe with you and Annabelle and Sam Neddick. If I honestly thought I was putting any of you in danger, I’d have bunged her straight into hospital under guard and kept her there. I still will if it becomes necessary, so if you see the least little sign of anything out of the way, you damn well let me know in a hurry. Do you think it’s safe to tell Sam?”
    Bert grinned. “Hell, he probably knows more than you do already. But Sam will keep his mouth shut, unless there’s something he thinks you or I ought to know. So all you want from Belle and me is to keep Janet safe and quiet till she gets better, eh? She’s not hurt bad, is she, Madoc?”
    “As far as we can tell, it’s mostly bruises and a few superficial cuts from the broken glass. That’s part of the problem. It won’t take her long to get back on her feet, and I don’t want her going anywhere, not even down into the village. Maybe you can put Annabelle up to starting her piecing a quilt, or something of the sort that will keep her indoors and occupied. I may be around for a few days myself, if you can stand me.”
    “Tickled to have you. Matter of fact, Fred Olson was telling me just yesterday that we might have to call you out here again. Seems Pitcherville’s in the midst of a major crime wave.”
    “Why? What’s happened?”
    Bert grinned. “Somebody stole Perce Bergeron’s old truck.”
    “The one his father used to carry the stud bull around in?”
    “Hell, Madoc, how’d you know that?”
    “We have our methods. What color was this truck?”
    “Kind of a dirty barn red, or used to be.”
    Janet had said the truck she saw was painted dark green. The first thing any sensible thief would have done would have been to repaint it a different color.
    “Could you describe the truck for me?”
    Bert could describe the bull who’d served the Bergerons, not to mention the lady Guernseys and Holsteins of the area, so long and so well. He was clear on every detail from the horns to the hooves, but when it came to what make and year the truck was, he couldn’t rightly recollect. “Fred Olson could tell you better than I,” he apologized. “It’s more in his line of work than mine.”
    That was true, Fred being not only Pitcherville’s town constable but also its town mechanic, and its blacksmith when there was any smithing to be done. “Then I’ll take a run down there,” said Madoc. “I owe him a courtesy call anyway. Does Annabelle need anything from the village?”
    “I hardly think likely. If there is, one of the boys can scoot down for it after school. Young Bert, most likely. He’s in love with the little Williamson girl. Or was, last I heard. Cripes, they grow up fast nowadays.”
    Madoc said he supposed he’d be saying the same thing himself in a few years’ time, and got into the motor pool car he’d borrowed instead of the Winnebago. He hadn’t wanted to shake Janet up in the old Renault. As for her own car, it was in a garage somewhere near Harvey Station and it could damned well stay there, as far as he was concerned, till his birds were safely in the bag.
    Fred was glad to see him. Madoc was equally glad to see Fred. He had considerable respect for the overweight, middle-aged, one-man police force who’d braved Pitcherville public opinion—and that took some braving—to call in the Mounties on the off-chance there