Read Online Legs Benedict by Mary Daheim - Free Book Online Page A

pouring out what was left of the coffee. “That’s why I didn’t tell him I was a cop.”
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    It rained again during the night. When Judith got up at six o’clock she felt sluggish. Maybe it was the weather: As a native Pacific Northwesterner, rain during the fall, winter, and early spring didn’t bother her. But in June, gray skies and relentless drizzle could get depressing.
    Or perhaps she was tired. Because they waited up for the Smiths, she and Joe hadn’t gotten to bed until almost midnight. Judith didn’t feel rested. Indeed, she had a sense of having her sleep interrupted, though she didn’t recall waking up during the night.
    Listlessly, she prepared breakfast for the guests as well as for Joe, Gertrude, and herself. The fare would be simpler than usual. Instead of pancakes or waffles, Judith would serve toast, rolls, an egg dish, ham, fresh fruit, three kinds of juice, and coffee and tea. The informal sit-down breakfast for guests in the dining room started at eight, though often stragglers didn’t show up until going on ten.
    Joe, also looking sleepy, came down at seven, his usual time. He seemed uncharacteristically quiet as they ate, concentrating on the morning paper.
    â€œThe front door was unlocked this morning when I went out to get the paper,” Judith remarked, pouring more coffee. “Mr. du Turque must have forgotten.”
    â€œRemind him,” Joe murmured over the local news section.
    â€œI will.” Judith removed her plate and put it in the dishwasher, then began to put Gertrude’s meal together. “Mother won’t like this egg dish with the cheese and bacon in it. She’ll say it’s too fancy for breakfast. Scrambled eggs are about as exotic as she likes.”
    â€œThen give her the ham and scramble some eggs,” Joe suggested.
    â€œNo. It’s a matter of principle. Though,” Judith allowed, filling a carafe with coffee, “it’s hard enough these days to get her to eat anything wholesome. She’d probably prefer the rest of the cake.”
    At the back door, the screen rattled, signaling Sweetums’s arrival. “He’s early,” Judith remarked. “That probably means Mother is up and has already thrown him out.”
    Sweetums entered the hallway looking wet and bedraggled. He mewed angrily, and tried to claw Judith’s leg. “You look like you’ve been out all night,” she said in reproach, then reached down to pet the cat. “Joe, we’ve got to fix that little flap out here so Sweetums can get in when Mother ignores him. The pet door has been broken since Memorial Day when Auntie Vance tried to kick Sweetums and got her foot stuck.”
    â€œOkay, come the weekend,” Joe said without looking up from the paper. “Tell me about it then.”
    Judith hurriedly got out a can of cat food and poured milk into a bowl. Sweetums was shaking himself, sending wet drops all over Judith’s shoes. She reached down to wipe them off and let out a little shriek.
    â€œYikes! I must have cut myself opening that cat food.” Peering at her hand, Judith started for the sink, then stopped. “It’s not me. It must be Sweetums.” She grabbed the cat and pulled him onto her knee. “Did you get into another fight, you bellicose little beast?”
    Sure enough, there was blood on Sweetums’s fur. But upon closer inspection, Judith saw no sign of a wound. “Weird,” she breathed. “Where did this come from?” Setting the cat back on his feet, she quickly washed her hands. “Could it be Mother?” Her voice had risen. “Good God, what now?” Without bothering to grab Gertrude’s tray, Judith raced out of the house.
    Oblivious to the rain, she ran down the porch stairs and along the walk to the toolshed. She got only halfway when she saw a huddled form in front of Gertrude’s door.
    â€œMother!” Judith