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

wandered around with a flashlight at the foot of the ladder, pointing out things to Parker. Mrs. Pennyweight and I got bored watching them and went inside for a drink.
    The lawmen found us in the library later.
    The sheriff cleared his throat and held his hat in his hands as he made his report. By then he’d pulled himself together and tried to sound like he knew exactly what he was talking about. “I make out two sets of footprints outside. One of them goes out into the woods. The way I see it, they abandoned the ladder and took off when they saw your car approaching. They went down the service road around back to the driveway. There are fresh tire tracks there and we found something—a bloody steel pail.
    â€œWe talked to the staff. They were downstairs and didn’t hear anything. According to Mrs. Conway, the doll isn’t one of the boy’s toys, and Dietz says the ladder doesn’t belong here either.
    â€œNow, you say that you were gone for an hour. Where were you—”
    â€œThat’s right, about an hour,” Catherine Pennyweight said before he could go on, and he knew not to ask where she’d been.
    Deputy Parker took over, sounding embarrassed and unsure. “Mrs. Pennyweight, I’ve taken a look at the pail we found and I’m pretty sure it came from Bartham’s Butcher Shop. He uses it for slop.”
    She gave him a sharp look.
    â€œI hear talk in town,” he continued. “Some of the merchants are unhappy. Well, they’re more than unhappy, some of them, about payment. When they’ve had enough to drink, they talk about coming out here and getting what they’re owed. Have any of them bothered you?”
    She stared hard at both of them, letting them stew for a long moment before she snapped back, “I will not hear this kind of talk in my own home. Yes, it is true that the household finances have been a bit disorganized since my husband’s death, but everyone knows that the Pennyweights pay their bills. We have been the best customers that many of these men have ever had and if they are displeased in any way, I will be happy to take my business elsewhere. But I refuse to believe that any of them would do something this vicious, particularly Mr. Bartham.”
    The sheriff said, “We’ll see what the state police think.”
    â€œNo,” she interrupted. “I will not have them trampling around my property. That’s simply out of the question.”
    â€œBut Mrs. Pennyweight,” the sheriff protested, “we have to let them know about this. It’s part of the Lindbergh investigation, I’m certain.”
    â€œNo,” she repeated, more firmly. By then, she’d lost patience with the man. “There’s nothing more to be done here tonight. You may go now.”
    They left.
    So, what did it mean? The first moment when I’d seen that damn doll and thought it was a real baby still churned my stomach. I didn’t believe that the Lindbergh kidnappers had come out to Spence’s place to steal little Ethan. Maybe, I thought, the deputy was right and somebody had bloodied up the room and the doll to scare Mrs. Pennyweight. But if that were so, all he’d done was make her really mad. Seemed more likely to me that it was just a threat, a damn nasty threat that I had to take seriously. But who’d done it and why?
    For the moment, I didn’t really care. I went downstairs to the kitchen, where I found Mr. Mears and asked him to take me around and show me all of the doors that gave access to the house.
    Back up in the main room were the big double front doors. They were always kept locked unless visitors were expected. Smaller single doors off the conservatory and dining room opened onto porches and were always locked. Another set of wide double doors led to a ballroom. He opened them and I saw a wide, dim cold room with several sets of French doors on the far wall. The wind whistled