Read Online Nutty As a Fruitcake by Mary Daheim - Free Book Online Page B

morning.”
    An uneasy quiet now engulfed the neighborhood. Judith considered going back inside to get a jacket. The morning was cool and her sweats were growing damp. She was still mulling when another police car turned into the cul-de-sac, followed by an ambulance. Neither vehicle flashed its lights or sounded its siren.
    â€œGood God,” Judith gasped. She knew from harsh experience what the unheralded arrival meant.
    Arlene and Ted stared at her. Judith clamped her lips shut, gazing stonily at the Goodrich house. She was afraid to explainthe significance of the muted vehicles. If she kept silent, an improbable miracle might prove her wrong.
    Two plainclothes police officers got out of the car. Detectives, Judith guessed, sinking deeper into the gloom. The woman was young, striking, and raven-haired. The man was older, tall and broad, with a luxuriant mustache and a black patch over his left eye. Judith thought she recognized him from one of the department functions she’d attended with Joe.
    The pair paid no attention to the onlookers but marched swiftly up to the Goodrich front door. The ambulance attendants remained in their vehicle.
    â€œI can’t stand this!” Arlene declared, verging on an explosion. “I have to know! I need to know! I always know!”
    It was true. Arlene Rankers had an incredible nose for news. On Heraldsgate Hill, she was famous for hearing everything first. Accuracy was another matter. But when called by Judith on some of her erroneous reporting, Arlene defended herself by insisting that she had a right to interpret what she heard, just like any network analyst.
    But on this damp December morning, Judith agreed whole-heartedly with Arlene. Her own curiosity was about to burst. She was contemplating an assault on the front door when Art Goodrich staggered across the threshold. He clung to the brick porch pillar like a man holding onto the mast of a sinking ship. Judith and Arlene charged up the walk.
    Art stared at them as if they were strangers. Ted approached cautiously, and out of the corner of her eye, Judith saw Mrs. Swanson virtually tiptoeing out of her yard. At that moment, Naomi Stein turned the corner in her Dodge station wagon.
    â€œMama’s dead.” Art’s voice was high and thin. He was gazing above his audience’s head, with empty eyes lost in the curtain of rain. “Mama’s dead,” he repeated. “She was hacked to death and Pappy did it.”
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    The awful silence that followed was broken when Art began to laugh. “Isn’t that something? I can’t believe it!” His head swiveled in all directions; then he tapped his feet on the front porch, like a song-and-dance-man. “Wild! It’s just wild! Mama’s dead and I used the front door! Is that crazy or what?”
    Strangely, it was Mrs. Swanson who reached Art first. She went up to the porch with a careful, steady tread, her small figure exuding courage. Judith couldn’t hear what she said to the distraught man, but a moment later, Mrs. Swanson and Art went into the house.
    Arlene was uncharacteristically speechless. Ted Ericson was walking in circles, holding his head. Naomi Stein had crossed the street and was standing next to Judith.
    â€œIs it true?” she asked in a shocked voice. “Is Enid really dead?”
    Judith ran a trembling hand through her wet hair. “I guess so. But the medics hauled somebody off in a hurry. I assumed it was Enid, and that she must still be alive.”
    Mrs. Swanson was coming back out of the house. Now her step faltered as she made her way to the sidewalk. “The police, they want no outsiders,” she said quietly. “So I must leave. Oh, oh, this is a terrible day!”
    Arlene almost controlled her rampant curiosity, putting only the gentlest of hammerlocks on Mrs. Swanson. “Is Enid really dead?”
    Sadly, Mrs. Swanson nodded.
    â€œThen why,” Judith asked, “did the