Read Online Rex Stout by The Mountain Cat - Free Book Online Page B

little Annie Welch had tumbled downstairs at school and had bitten a hole in her tongue, Delia had driven her home in her car.
    At that moment, in the principal’s office of the Pendleton School, the large woman with sweat on her brow who had glanced in at the door during the assembly for Rhythmic Movement the preceding day, was seated at her desk regarding with grim disapproval a young man who stood before her with a notebook and pencil in his hand. She was saying:
    “… and you might as well get out of the building and stay out. It won’t do you any good to snoop around anyhow, because I’m sending a memo around to the teachers that they are not to speak with you. I’ve told you that Delia Brand’s work and character and personality have been completely satisfactory and that’s all I have to say.”
    “But Miss Henckel, I tell you we want to give her a break! Comments by you and all the teachers, quoting them by name, would help to sway public opinion—”
    “Of course you do,” said the principal sarcastically. “You mean you want to break her. I read the
Times-Star
this morning, didn’t I? I ask you once more to leave this building.”
    He soon accepted defeat and departed, hoping for better luck at one of the six other schools, since Delia had had a class in each of them. It was his own idea.
    At the Brand home on Vulcan Street, Clara sat on the bench in the breakfast nook in the kitchen, herelbows on the table and her forehead resting on her palms with a plate of three greasy-looking fried eggs, untouched, in front of her. The floor began to shake from a ponderous tread and the form of Mrs. Lemuel Sammis came through the swinging door.
    “That was someone like Vatter or Vitter on the phone,” Evelina Sammis announced.
    Clara said without looking up, “Mag Vawter.”
    “Mebbe. I told her I was here and you don’t want any company. Also I called the ranch and told Pete to drive in and bring a turkey. We’ve always got a roast turkey or two. There’s no use cooking anything because you won’t eat it while it’s hot, like those eggs, and with a turkey around, any time you’re ready to swallow there it is. Pete can stay here today at least and answer the door and the phone. I’m not built for a canter any more.”
    “Thank you so much, Mrs. Sammis, but I’m perfectly able—”
    “Forget it, girlie.” She sat down. “I’m taking my shoes off.” She did so and wiggled her toes. “On the ranch I can keep my shoes on all day, but these town shoes start turning on me. Now listen. Lem’ll have her out of there before night, don’t you worry. What’s the use of his owning the state nearly, if he can’t get a girl out of jail? As for her shooting Dan Jackson, that was only a question—”
    “I tell you she didn’t do it!”
    “All
right.”
Evelina looked annoyed. “Don’t start an argument. Her shooting Dan Jackson was nothing more nor less than a blessing. I’m surprised Lem didn’t do it himself years ago. My Amy is in a state fit to be tied, but she’ll get over it. As soon as Pete gets here I’ll put my shoes back on and go back over to Amy’s and see if she’s eating yet. She’s going to be a differentwoman. After all, she’s half Sammis and half Freyvogel—There’s that damn bell again.” She got up with a grunt.
    “I don’t want to see anyone, please,” said Clara as Evelina made off in her stocking feet.
    But it became evident in less than a minute that Evelina had met her match at the front door. Her raised voice was heard, and other footsteps approaching down the hall, and when Clara lifted her head a young man was standing there.
    “Oh.” She nodded.
    As the man opened his mouth to speak Evelina appeared. “He shoved past,” she declared indignantly. “I grabbed for him, but he tore loose—”
    “It’s all right, Mrs. Sammis,” said Clara. “This is Mr. Dillon. Tyler Dillon.”
    “Oh, Phil Escott’s fellow from the coast?” She put out a hand and they