Read Online Death of a Political Plant by Ann Ripley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ann Ripley
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for she remembered the way Nixon was brought down for lying about the Watergate affair.
“Womanizing, maybe” murmured Bill. “Excessive drinking, probably. But that last one sounds like bullpucky to me. Well, Jay, what do you think of that story?” Jay stood at the door, leaning against the door frame, a bland expression on his face.
“It’s pretty bad stuff, especially that charge about knocking off the army clerk,” He looked at Bill warily. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go in and do a little more work tonight.” He waved at Chris. “Nice to meet a friend of Janie’s.”
Louise watched him disappear through the dining room. What a strange reaction for a man who had been as attracted to political events as a dog was to a bone. What had happened to him over the years? And what was he writing there in his room, anyway? She suspected that, in spite of his seeming indifference, it could be politics. Or maybe it was about the bitter argument currently splitting the U.S. Supreme Courtabout overturning prisoner rights: That would be right up his alley.
With Bill leaving Sunday, she would be left to say the unpleasant words to their difficult guest. She would have to inform him he was being kicked out of his digs in just three short days. How did one put that tactfully?
Eight
O NE THING ABOUT N ORA R ADE baugh, no matter how funny something was, she rarely laughed: If one could get a smile out of Nora, that was considered the maximum reward. The smoky woman with the handsome looks so attractive to men, and who had loved her share of them, according to stories, had become one of Louise’s close friends.
When Louise came to call on this Tuesday morning, Nora, wearing stripedbib overalls, was on both knees in her backyard herb garden. She was doing some serious weeding and pruning of the plants; an aromatic cloud of released herb oils surrounded her. More enchanting, Louise thought, than any perfume. Nora looked up and pulled the black earplugs out of her ears and let them fall down around her neck; they were attached to a tape player that made a lump in the breastbone pocket of her overalls. “Buon giorno” she said, a playful light in her eyes as she sat back on her haunches.
“Sorry to bother you when you’re working,” said Louise.
“No bother. I’m refreshing my Italian while I weed my fretty chervil and rosemary. Ron and I leave tomorrow for our trip to Tuscany.”
“I just have a little news. Wanted you to know I’m moving a houseguest over to the Mougeys’.”
With glossy brown hair falling gracefully over her face, Nora looked up at Louise, her amusement just barely detectable in the faint smile around her mouth. “Grazie,” she said, in a low, throaty Italian accent. “I’ve been watching your friend come and go for a few days now and wanted to meet him. He’s very attractive. Un buon uomo. Irish, perhaps?”
Louise laughed and crouched down beside her neighbor. “Irish as the Blarney stone: Jay McCormick. But let me warn you: he’s not very sociable. Too busy with his, uh, writing and so forth. I’ve been feeding the koi while the Mougeys are gone, and Mary said to use the house if we needed it, and we do—we’re overflowing with guests.”
Nora stopped her work and slid to a sitting position on the ground, thoughtfully waving the weeder still clutched in her hand as if she might give Louise a good spanking with it.
Her admonishment was gentle: “My dear, is there no end to these houseguests?”
“But they insisted on staying with me.”
Nora became more direct. “Maybe it’s time you learn that you have a life of your own. You deserve some privacy. What are you doing with your life, Louise?”
“All the company were relatives—both sets of parents, cousins, second cousins. And as for Jay, he was a surprise. I haven’t seen him in twenty years and certainly didn’t expect him to drop in. And the people coming tomorrow, well, that’s all
“Womanizing, maybe” murmured Bill. “Excessive drinking, probably. But that last one sounds like bullpucky to me. Well, Jay, what do you think of that story?” Jay stood at the door, leaning against the door frame, a bland expression on his face.
“It’s pretty bad stuff, especially that charge about knocking off the army clerk,” He looked at Bill warily. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go in and do a little more work tonight.” He waved at Chris. “Nice to meet a friend of Janie’s.”
Louise watched him disappear through the dining room. What a strange reaction for a man who had been as attracted to political events as a dog was to a bone. What had happened to him over the years? And what was he writing there in his room, anyway? She suspected that, in spite of his seeming indifference, it could be politics. Or maybe it was about the bitter argument currently splitting the U.S. Supreme Courtabout overturning prisoner rights: That would be right up his alley.
With Bill leaving Sunday, she would be left to say the unpleasant words to their difficult guest. She would have to inform him he was being kicked out of his digs in just three short days. How did one put that tactfully?
Eight
O NE THING ABOUT N ORA R ADE baugh, no matter how funny something was, she rarely laughed: If one could get a smile out of Nora, that was considered the maximum reward. The smoky woman with the handsome looks so attractive to men, and who had loved her share of them, according to stories, had become one of Louise’s close friends.
When Louise came to call on this Tuesday morning, Nora, wearing stripedbib overalls, was on both knees in her backyard herb garden. She was doing some serious weeding and pruning of the plants; an aromatic cloud of released herb oils surrounded her. More enchanting, Louise thought, than any perfume. Nora looked up and pulled the black earplugs out of her ears and let them fall down around her neck; they were attached to a tape player that made a lump in the breastbone pocket of her overalls. “Buon giorno” she said, a playful light in her eyes as she sat back on her haunches.
“Sorry to bother you when you’re working,” said Louise.
“No bother. I’m refreshing my Italian while I weed my fretty chervil and rosemary. Ron and I leave tomorrow for our trip to Tuscany.”
“I just have a little news. Wanted you to know I’m moving a houseguest over to the Mougeys’.”
With glossy brown hair falling gracefully over her face, Nora looked up at Louise, her amusement just barely detectable in the faint smile around her mouth. “Grazie,” she said, in a low, throaty Italian accent. “I’ve been watching your friend come and go for a few days now and wanted to meet him. He’s very attractive. Un buon uomo. Irish, perhaps?”
Louise laughed and crouched down beside her neighbor. “Irish as the Blarney stone: Jay McCormick. But let me warn you: he’s not very sociable. Too busy with his, uh, writing and so forth. I’ve been feeding the koi while the Mougeys are gone, and Mary said to use the house if we needed it, and we do—we’re overflowing with guests.”
Nora stopped her work and slid to a sitting position on the ground, thoughtfully waving the weeder still clutched in her hand as if she might give Louise a good spanking with it.
Her admonishment was gentle: “My dear, is there no end to these houseguests?”
“But they insisted on staying with me.”
Nora became more direct. “Maybe it’s time you learn that you have a life of your own. You deserve some privacy. What are you doing with your life, Louise?”
“All the company were relatives—both sets of parents, cousins, second cousins. And as for Jay, he was a surprise. I haven’t seen him in twenty years and certainly didn’t expect him to drop in. And the people coming tomorrow, well, that’s all
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