Read Online Crime is Murder by Helen Nielsen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Helen Nielsen
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hesitated. She couldn’t afford to be too subtle with this child. “Something to get the book off with a bang!”
The professor couldn’t have done better. She watched the seed of thought take root and grow. With it grew a brightness in the eyes.
“Oh, you mean like last year.”
And then the brightness faded and became a scowl.
“But you wouldn’t get very far with that. Nydia Cornish wouldn’t stand for it.”
“Why not?”
“Are you kidding?” Lisa’s stupidity netted her one long, incredulous stare. “Nydia Cornish just about runs this town, Miss Bancroft. She wouldn’t let anybody tell you anything about her darling daughter. After all, Marta was engaged to be married to Howard Gleason.”
When in doubt, full speed ahead. “She was?” Lisa asked.
“Of course she was. Didn’t you know? That’s why he stayed on in Bellville and took a teaching job at the high school. He was in love with Marta from the very beginning. Naturally, Mrs. Cornish denied it afterwards. She said Marta and Howard Gleason had just been good friends, but the whole town knew better. But you don’t fight Nydia Cornish in this town, Miss Bancroft. Not in this town!”
After the session in the board room, Lisa could almost believe that. But fight her over what? She’d done everything short of asking point-blank what had happened at the festival last year. It sounded drastic. She took a chance.
“It must have been terrible,” she said.
“I’ll say it was. And to think, I had to miss it!” The girl shook her head sadly, and Lisa held her breath. “The one year I’m off to summer school and miss the festival, Howard Gleason gets up just as they’re about to announce the award winner and puts a bullet through his head!”
Once upon a rainy day, Lisa had sought shelter in a little tearoom. Shelter was a good word. It could mean a covering for the head, or a place to put the heart. It could be a fortress, or it could be a purpose. She wasn’t sure why these thoughts came to her as she stood there on the wide porch of an elegant old house that belonged to yesterday and exchanged words with a bright young girl who belonged to tomorrow. The blossoms were dead on the lilac tree. All of the blossoms were dead. She could see that now.
And now the words were dead, too. Foolish questions, foolish answers, until the foolish child was finished with her foolish interview and was racing off down the gravel drive with a notebook full of copy. Lisa was relieved. Johnny might return for her at any moment, and there was something she must do first. Something she must verify.
It was noonday now. The interior of the white tile hall was refreshingly cool, and empty. Miss Pratt was nowhere in sight. She must have gone to lunch. Lisa moved slowly past the stairway on her way back to the museum, but then she stopped to listen. Voices came to her from the stairwell, loud, angry voices that couldn’t be ignored.
“Tod, what are you trying to do with Nydia? What have you already done?”
Demanding voices. The first she didn’t recognize immediately, but there was no disguising Tod’s.
“What am I trying to do? I’ll tell you what I’m trying to do! I’m trying to do a damned thankless job for a damned thankless town! And I’m trying to get along with a tyrannical woman as well!”
“Tyrannical! You’ve got her eating out of your hand. You’ve flattered her until—”
“And you haven’t, I suppose?”
Now the silence answered. The guilty silence. And then, “But Nydia’s my friend, Tod. I’ve known her all my life. I knew her father—”
“—and her grandfather, who founded your father’s bank. Oh, I know all the historical facts of this town, Stanley. I know a few of the skeletons in the closet, too. I may be just a newcomer in your eyes. I may be just an interloper—”
“I never said that, Tod!”
“But you’ve thought it, haven’t you? Don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been gunning for me ever
The professor couldn’t have done better. She watched the seed of thought take root and grow. With it grew a brightness in the eyes.
“Oh, you mean like last year.”
And then the brightness faded and became a scowl.
“But you wouldn’t get very far with that. Nydia Cornish wouldn’t stand for it.”
“Why not?”
“Are you kidding?” Lisa’s stupidity netted her one long, incredulous stare. “Nydia Cornish just about runs this town, Miss Bancroft. She wouldn’t let anybody tell you anything about her darling daughter. After all, Marta was engaged to be married to Howard Gleason.”
When in doubt, full speed ahead. “She was?” Lisa asked.
“Of course she was. Didn’t you know? That’s why he stayed on in Bellville and took a teaching job at the high school. He was in love with Marta from the very beginning. Naturally, Mrs. Cornish denied it afterwards. She said Marta and Howard Gleason had just been good friends, but the whole town knew better. But you don’t fight Nydia Cornish in this town, Miss Bancroft. Not in this town!”
After the session in the board room, Lisa could almost believe that. But fight her over what? She’d done everything short of asking point-blank what had happened at the festival last year. It sounded drastic. She took a chance.
“It must have been terrible,” she said.
“I’ll say it was. And to think, I had to miss it!” The girl shook her head sadly, and Lisa held her breath. “The one year I’m off to summer school and miss the festival, Howard Gleason gets up just as they’re about to announce the award winner and puts a bullet through his head!”
Once upon a rainy day, Lisa had sought shelter in a little tearoom. Shelter was a good word. It could mean a covering for the head, or a place to put the heart. It could be a fortress, or it could be a purpose. She wasn’t sure why these thoughts came to her as she stood there on the wide porch of an elegant old house that belonged to yesterday and exchanged words with a bright young girl who belonged to tomorrow. The blossoms were dead on the lilac tree. All of the blossoms were dead. She could see that now.
And now the words were dead, too. Foolish questions, foolish answers, until the foolish child was finished with her foolish interview and was racing off down the gravel drive with a notebook full of copy. Lisa was relieved. Johnny might return for her at any moment, and there was something she must do first. Something she must verify.
It was noonday now. The interior of the white tile hall was refreshingly cool, and empty. Miss Pratt was nowhere in sight. She must have gone to lunch. Lisa moved slowly past the stairway on her way back to the museum, but then she stopped to listen. Voices came to her from the stairwell, loud, angry voices that couldn’t be ignored.
“Tod, what are you trying to do with Nydia? What have you already done?”
Demanding voices. The first she didn’t recognize immediately, but there was no disguising Tod’s.
“What am I trying to do? I’ll tell you what I’m trying to do! I’m trying to do a damned thankless job for a damned thankless town! And I’m trying to get along with a tyrannical woman as well!”
“Tyrannical! You’ve got her eating out of your hand. You’ve flattered her until—”
“And you haven’t, I suppose?”
Now the silence answered. The guilty silence. And then, “But Nydia’s my friend, Tod. I’ve known her all my life. I knew her father—”
“—and her grandfather, who founded your father’s bank. Oh, I know all the historical facts of this town, Stanley. I know a few of the skeletons in the closet, too. I may be just a newcomer in your eyes. I may be just an interloper—”
“I never said that, Tod!”
“But you’ve thought it, haven’t you? Don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been gunning for me ever
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