Read Online Bantam of the Opera by Mary Daheim - Free Book Online

a glorified file clerk, but obviously her talents lay elsewhere. Literally , thought Judith not without a touch of feline venom. On the other hand, she couldn’t see the bloodless Winston Plunkett bouncing around in the buff with Tippy. Or anyone else, actually. And come to think of it, she realized that on neither night of their stay had she heard telltale footsteps after lights-out on the second floor. Judith was puzzled, but there wasn’t time for further conjecture. She began bringing breakfast out to the Pacettis, who were head-to-head in deep, whispered conversation. Since they spoke in Italian, Judith had no idea what they were talking about. But, she reflected, Winston Plunkett would, and so maybe would Bruno Schutzendorf. Since the two men were still in the living room, Judith had to presume that the Pacettis didn’t wish to be overheard.
    A horn honked outside just as Judith dished up the scrambled eggs. She hurried through the entry hall to look out the front door and make sure it was Renie and Bill. The blue Chevrolet sedan stood parked in the drive. Bill had popped the trunk open; Renie was waving through the windshield. Judith started to wave back, then noticed that she had forgotten to bring in the morning paper. She reached down to get it and saw something stuck under the welcome mat.
    The sheet of paper was ordinary white stationery, torn off a writing tablet. The message, however, was not so ordinary. A crudely drawn dagger, dripping with blood, filled the center of the page. At the bottom, was another snatch of music. Judith noted there were five notes in the treble. She juggled the paper, trying not to smudge it with her own fingerprints. She was torn between showing Bill and Renie and returning to the house, when Joe came down the front stairs with his suitcase in one hand and a briefcase in the other.
    â€œYou ready?” he said to Judith, then saw her startled expression. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œThis,” replied Judith, holding the paper in front of him. “It was under the mat.”
    Joe sucked in his breath. “Oh, great!” He stared at thepaper, then set down both suitcase and briefcase before turning back into the house. “I’m calling Woody,” he said over his shoulder.
    Judith went out to the Jones’ car. Renie had rolled down the window. “What’s up, coz? You look like the pigs ate your little brother, as Grandma Grover used to say.”
    Judith acknowledged Bill Jones with a weak smile. She showed them the piece of paper, then recounted the story of the rock.
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me that before?” asked Renie with a scowl.
    â€œYou’ve been busy with your cancer research project; I’ve been up to my ears with this gang of goonies. No Phyliss, either. I haven’t had a chance to turn around for the last two days,” Judith explained. “I’ve only talked to Mother once.”
    â€œLucky,” sighed Renie. “The reason we’re five minutes late is because I couldn’t get my mother off the phone. I think she was afraid I might have a sudden violent urge to hop on the plane with Bill and Joe.”
    Bill leaned across his wife. “Let me see that, Judith, please. Hold it up closer.” His square, solid face was more earnest than usual. “The musical part is very precise, even if the drawing isn’t. But an adult did both,” he said after a considerable silence. “It may be crude, but it’s not childlike.”
    Judith wasn’t comforted by Bill’s words. If anyone could decipher anything out of a wretched drawing, it would be William Jones, PhD, Clinical Psychologist, University Professor, and Counselor to the Severely Disturbed.
    â€œBut is it dangerous?” asked Judith.
    Bill’s sandy eyebrows lifted slightly above the rims of his glasses. “That’s impossible to say, on the face of it. I’d have to go more by the method than