Read Online Jimmy the Stick by Michael Mayo - Free Book Online

plane lumbered into the darkness at the far end of the runway so slowly I couldn’t believe it would ever leave the ground. But then the throb of the engines became much louder, and we watched as the glittering silvery thing turned around and rumbled back down the runway. The tail lifted slowly and the plane floated up into the night.
    I was about to get into the front seat of the Duesenberg again when Mrs. Pennyweight gestured for me to sit in the back. I took the jump seat beside a polished wooden cabinet, facing the three women and the little boy. Flora fished a cigarette out of her purse. For a moment she seemed to be waiting for me to offer a light. Then her mother pinched her arm and demanded, “Give.”
    Flora winced, handed over a smoke, and they both fired up. Connie Nix shifted farther into the corner.
    â€œWalter will be gone for at least five days, probably more. I believe that we’re safe enough during daylight in our home,” Mrs. Pennyweight told me.
    â€œBut at night . . .”
    â€œPrecisely.”
    â€œI’m used to night work. Flora, can you handle a gun?”
    Her eyes widened in alarm, and her mother shook her head.
    â€œMiss Nix?”
    She cut her eyes to Mrs. Pennyweight, who nodded.
    â€œYes, a rifle. I’m not as familiar with pistols.”
    Mrs. Pennyweight said, “We have guns. Walter refurbished the shooting gallery.”
    I almost smiled. Of course. Spence would.
    Oh Boy stopped in front of the house. Flora and her mother got out first and Flora immediately let out a shriek so loud it hurt my ears. Connie Nix held the baby close and sat tight. I hustled out and saw what had Flora so upset. It was a ladder, a tall ladder leaning against the side of the house and reaching up to an open second-story window. A white curtain was fluttering through it. I guess I should have stayed there, but I told Oh Boy and Connie Nix to lock the doors, and then followed Mrs. Pennyweight into the house. Flora kept screaming.
    The older woman detoured into the library for the Purdey. I went straight upstairs. On the second floor I turned away from the hallway that led to my room and gimped to the balcony that overlooked the main room. There were more rooms on the other side. I thought that the closed door straight ahead led to the room with the open window. I had the little Mauser in my mitt when I threw open the door. It was dark and something smelled god-awful bad. Mrs. Pennyweight shoved me aside and hit the light switch.
    In that first second when the light came on, I saw all the blood and what I thought was a dead baby. Gorge rose in my throat and I fought it back. The room was a nursery with a bed and an open cabinet with stacks of diapers, blankets, baby clothes, and more cardboard boxes of the baby food I’d seen in the kitchen. There was a waist-high table next to the open window. Sticky blackish red blood had soaked through a white blanket on the table and pooled on the floor beneath it. It also covered a doll, a headless doll that was pinned to the table with a knife through its belly. Bloody handprints were smeared on the wall, the windowsill, and the gauzy curtain.
    Even across the room, I could see that the knife was a cheap piece of work with a fake mother-of-pearl handle. It folded down to about five inches long, easy to hide and easy to throw away. Just about every cheap mug who couldn’t afford a piece carried something like it. At one time, so had I.
    The doll and the blood and the slaughterhouse smell got to Mrs. Pennyweight the same way they got to me. I heard her sharp gasp when she saw it too. She recovered quickly and her expression settled into a hard, angry frown.
    Sheriff Kittner and Deputy Parker showed up a few minutes after she called them. We were waiting outside. The sheriff looked like he’d been rousted from his bed or a barstool. He was boozy and bleary in a rumpled blue suit. Parker was still in his spiffy uniform. The sheriff