Read Online A Steak in Murder by Claudia Bishop - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Claudia Bishop
Tags: Mystery
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"America the Beautiful."
O beautiful, that breed of cow
That gives your heart a boost
Their mighty horns stretch far across
Much larger than a moose
The longhorn cow
You ask me how . . .
"Marge?" Dina Muir timidly poked her head into the room. "Is Harvey in here? I thought I heard him singing. Harvey. There you are. Your Russians are here."
Chapter Four
"My God, Russkies!" said the mayor.
"There's no mistaking them for American," Colonel Calhoun said darkly.
This was true. The three men crowding into the conference room behind Dina were undeniably non-Americans. They wore cheap double-breasted suits and melancholy expressions. Their complexions reflected a diet heavy on carbohydrates and fats. They had a defin able, unmistakable otherness in the way they moved, stol idly, as if they each wore heavy boots.
"This your doin', Harve?" Harland Peterson asked.
"Um," Harvey said. "Ah. Yes. Marge?"
Marge heaved herself to her feet and advanced on the Russians like a fat Napoleon on Moscow. The tallest Russian backed up and bumped into the bald one. "Hey," Marge said. "One a you Leonid Mensh-a-something?"
"Menshivik," said the tall one. He ducked his head ingratiatingly and smiled.
"Menshvik," Marge said. "Welcome to the Dew Drop Inn, gentlemen."
"Men shi vik," he said. "How do you do. We are very glad to be in this country." Quill blinked. Her ear was better than Meg's (who was tone-deaf), but Mr. Menshivik's accent was so thick she heard, "Tch-how do yew due. Ve are wry glat to bee in theis khun-tree."
The thickness of the accent didn't seem to bother Marge, who nodded and said matter-of-factly, "Glad ta see ya. Betty? We got their rooms ready?"
"Who are these people, Marge?" Miriam asked nervously.
"From rice," said Mr. Menshivik. "Call me Leonid, pliz, but don't call me late for dinner."
"Ha-ha," chorused the Russians behind him.
Quill slid down in her chair and looked intently at the ceiling. If she concentrated hard enough, she wouldn't laugh.
"You see," Leonid said, "we haf picked up many gut things while we are in the country, American jokes are very funny."
"Rice?" said the mayor. "You all eat rice? I thought just Japs ate rice."
Quill forgot about giggling and glared at the mayor.
"Sorry. I mean the Japanese. Anyways," the mayor said, "anyways. You all on a tour or whatever?"
"R.I.C.E.," Marge said with more than her usual truculence, "stands for Russians in Capitalist Enterprise. Harvey got 'em here. You tell everyone what this is all about, Harve."
"Yes, well." Harvey smoothed his hair. "If maybe we all could sit down . . . are there enough chairs for everyone?" There was a short silence, then a general shifting of bodies. When everyone in the Chamber settled back in their seats, the three chairs next to Quill were empty. Leonid smiled, waved, and ushered his confreres to the seats.
Leonid sat next to Quill and dipped his head forward in acknowledgment of her presence. "And how do you do?"
"Very well, thank you." Quill extended her hand. Leonid enveloped it and shook it hard. "I'm Sarah Quilliam. Please call me Quill. Welcome to the Inn."
"Quill," he said, testing it. He gestured at the bald Russian on his left. "This is Simkhovitch. Vasily Simkhovitch. And behind him is Alexi, Alexi Kowlakowski."
"Kavlakavsky," Quill said. "And Mr. Simkhovitch."
"Pliz. Call them Alexi, who you will remember because he has this hair in his nose, like our Russian bear, and Vasily, who has no hair at all on his head. Like our skinned Russian bear."
"Ha-ha," said Vasily.
"Hair or no hair," the mayor said, "what are you all doin' in Hemlock Falls?"
"Yes. I tall you all right now." Leonid rose to his feet. "Thank you all. Thank you. I want to tall you this, that I have seen much we can do to improve our poor country since we have the bad luck to lose our way in the government. By this I mean that we are now no longer communis." An ominous movement, like a swell on a heretofore placid lake, rippled through
O beautiful, that breed of cow
That gives your heart a boost
Their mighty horns stretch far across
Much larger than a moose
The longhorn cow
You ask me how . . .
"Marge?" Dina Muir timidly poked her head into the room. "Is Harvey in here? I thought I heard him singing. Harvey. There you are. Your Russians are here."
Chapter Four
"My God, Russkies!" said the mayor.
"There's no mistaking them for American," Colonel Calhoun said darkly.
This was true. The three men crowding into the conference room behind Dina were undeniably non-Americans. They wore cheap double-breasted suits and melancholy expressions. Their complexions reflected a diet heavy on carbohydrates and fats. They had a defin able, unmistakable otherness in the way they moved, stol idly, as if they each wore heavy boots.
"This your doin', Harve?" Harland Peterson asked.
"Um," Harvey said. "Ah. Yes. Marge?"
Marge heaved herself to her feet and advanced on the Russians like a fat Napoleon on Moscow. The tallest Russian backed up and bumped into the bald one. "Hey," Marge said. "One a you Leonid Mensh-a-something?"
"Menshivik," said the tall one. He ducked his head ingratiatingly and smiled.
"Menshvik," Marge said. "Welcome to the Dew Drop Inn, gentlemen."
"Men shi vik," he said. "How do you do. We are very glad to be in this country." Quill blinked. Her ear was better than Meg's (who was tone-deaf), but Mr. Menshivik's accent was so thick she heard, "Tch-how do yew due. Ve are wry glat to bee in theis khun-tree."
The thickness of the accent didn't seem to bother Marge, who nodded and said matter-of-factly, "Glad ta see ya. Betty? We got their rooms ready?"
"Who are these people, Marge?" Miriam asked nervously.
"From rice," said Mr. Menshivik. "Call me Leonid, pliz, but don't call me late for dinner."
"Ha-ha," chorused the Russians behind him.
Quill slid down in her chair and looked intently at the ceiling. If she concentrated hard enough, she wouldn't laugh.
"You see," Leonid said, "we haf picked up many gut things while we are in the country, American jokes are very funny."
"Rice?" said the mayor. "You all eat rice? I thought just Japs ate rice."
Quill forgot about giggling and glared at the mayor.
"Sorry. I mean the Japanese. Anyways," the mayor said, "anyways. You all on a tour or whatever?"
"R.I.C.E.," Marge said with more than her usual truculence, "stands for Russians in Capitalist Enterprise. Harvey got 'em here. You tell everyone what this is all about, Harve."
"Yes, well." Harvey smoothed his hair. "If maybe we all could sit down . . . are there enough chairs for everyone?" There was a short silence, then a general shifting of bodies. When everyone in the Chamber settled back in their seats, the three chairs next to Quill were empty. Leonid smiled, waved, and ushered his confreres to the seats.
Leonid sat next to Quill and dipped his head forward in acknowledgment of her presence. "And how do you do?"
"Very well, thank you." Quill extended her hand. Leonid enveloped it and shook it hard. "I'm Sarah Quilliam. Please call me Quill. Welcome to the Inn."
"Quill," he said, testing it. He gestured at the bald Russian on his left. "This is Simkhovitch. Vasily Simkhovitch. And behind him is Alexi, Alexi Kowlakowski."
"Kavlakavsky," Quill said. "And Mr. Simkhovitch."
"Pliz. Call them Alexi, who you will remember because he has this hair in his nose, like our Russian bear, and Vasily, who has no hair at all on his head. Like our skinned Russian bear."
"Ha-ha," said Vasily.
"Hair or no hair," the mayor said, "what are you all doin' in Hemlock Falls?"
"Yes. I tall you all right now." Leonid rose to his feet. "Thank you all. Thank you. I want to tall you this, that I have seen much we can do to improve our poor country since we have the bad luck to lose our way in the government. By this I mean that we are now no longer communis." An ominous movement, like a swell on a heretofore placid lake, rippled through
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