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

screamed. “Mother!”
    Judith fell to the ground, reaching out to the prone figure. Then she blinked and uttered a strangled cry.
    It wasn’t Gertrude Grover who lay at the toolshed’s door. It was John Smith, and judging from the blood that soaked his body, he was very dead.

FIVE
    J OE HEARD J UDITH scream. He came tearing out of the house, holster in one hand, .38 Special in the other.
    â€œWhat the hell…?” he shouted.
    Judith swallowed hard. “It’s John Smith. He’s dead.”
    Joe let out a stream of obscenities. The toolshed door flew open, revealing Gertrude, leaning on her walker.
    â€œWhat’s all this caterwauling?” she demanded. “Hey!” she snapped, narrowing her eyes at Joe. “How come you’re here? Where’s my breakfast?”
    â€œMother…” Judith began, struggling to her feet.
    Gertrude finally looked past her walker and down at the ground. “Who’s this bozo? He doesn’t look so good.”
    â€œIt’s one of my guests,” Judith replied, aware that her knees would hardly hold her up. “I think he’s dead.”
    â€œHunh,” Gertrude snorted. “That’ll make two of us if you don’t get my food out here, dummy. Where’s my breakfast ?”
    Joe, who had knelt beside the body, turned a grim face up to his wife. “You’re right. He’s dead, and has been for a while.” Rising, Joe put the gun in its holster, then glanced around the yard. “I doubt if the killer ishiding in the shrubbery. Go in the house, Jude-girl. Call nine-one-one. I’ll wait here.”
    â€œ Wait ?” Gertrude banged her walker on the threshold. “Get this stiff out of here, you moron! I can’t have a carcass lying around my front door! What next, Armenian war refugees?”
    â€œMrs. G.,” Joe began, never having felt up to calling Gertrude anything more intimate, “why don’t you go back inside and…”
    Judith didn’t hear the rest. She was forcing herself to move as quickly as possible, though her feet felt like lead. Finally reaching the hallway by the back stairs, she was startled to see Pete and Marie Santori in their bathrobes.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Marie demanded in a harsh voice.
    â€œAh…” Judith fumbled for words. “There’s been an accident. I’ll tell you later.” Tripping over her own feet, she made it to the phone and dialed the emergency number.
    Pete and Marie didn’t budge. “What kind of accident?” Marie asked in that same sharp tone after Judith hung up. “Did you tell whoever you called just now that somebody is dead?”
    Catching her breath, Judith nodded. “I’m afraid so. Mr. Smith. I found him outside.”
    â€œI’ll be damned,” Pete said in a tone that bordered on awe. Then, to Judith’s amazement, he turned away and covered his face.
    â€œRelax, Pete,” Marie said, patting her husband’s arm. “It’s nothing to do with us. Isn’t that right, Yummy-wummy?” The treacle had suddenly resurfaced in Marie’s voice.
    â€œI’d better go outside,” Judith said, more to herself than to the Santoris. “Excuse me.” She brushed past Pete and Marie, grabbing jackets off their pegs as she went.
    Joe had managed to get Gertrude back inside, though not without a fight. His mother-in-law had wedged her walker across the threshold, the removal of which had required some strongarm tactics on Joe’s part. When Judith returned, Gertrude’s muffled curses could be heard from inside thetoolshed. Joe was standing in the rain, looking angry and out of breath.
    â€œI don’t need this,” he panted. “A freaking homicide in my own backyard! How the hell did this happen?”
    â€œTo you?” Judith said meekly, trying to avoid looking at the body. “Or to John Smith?”
    Joe sighed as