Read Online Spiderweb for Two - A Melendy Maze by Elizabeth Enright - Free Book Online

the big pale carcasses on the meathooks, the picked chickens lined up like little arks under the counter glass, the calendar high on the wall—and then, yes, his heart stopped, or almost did—for just below the calendar was an old-fashioned wall clock in a hexagonal wooden case, with a brass pendulum stepping sedately below it. The picture on the calendar above it was the thing! For, believe it or not, it was a picture of George Washington! Oliver felt that this was definitely an omen, and he was certain that on top of the clockcase a clue was waiting to be found. He kicked Randy, who said “Ow,” and when Mr. Frederick had turned aside to grind the round steak he pointed to the calendar.
    â€œGeorge Washington, like I said,” he whispered.
    â€œI know, I noticed,” Randy murmured, looking at him in awe. “Oliver, I wonder if you’ve got second sight? Because you could be rich and famous if—”
    But Oliver was not interested in such speculations.
    â€œHow’ll we get it?” he demanded in a whisper. Mr. Frederick, they both knew, would probably not be cooperative about letting them examine the clock. He would want to know why. He might be indignant. Nevertheless, Oliver decided to try to win him to friendliness.
    â€œThis certainly is a nice store,” he said enthusiastically. “It certainly is nice and clean and everything.”
    Mr. Frederick did not reply. He slapped the ground meat onto a sheet of brown paper and twiddled some string off of a big spool on the counter.
    â€œIs this your abode?” inquired Oliver.
    This time Mr. Frederick looked up, possibly startled. “My what?” he said.
    â€œYour ab—your house. Where you live.”
    Mr. Frederick counted out six pork chops, slapped them onto another piece of brown paper, twiddled more string off the spool, and tied up the parcel. He took the pencil from behind his ear and holding it between his blunt red fingers—like frankfurters—he looked at Oliver.
    â€œYou kidding?” he said.
    â€œWhy, no,” said Oliver hastily. “Gee, no, I just—”
    â€œAnd the beef heart, please,” said Randy firmly, interrupting. “For our dogs.”
    Oliver stared at the clock in anguish. His attempt to placate Mr. Frederick had failed conspicuously. How would they ever, now, be able to reach the clue?
    Mr. Frederick slapped the beef heart onto still another piece of paper, tied it up, and once again took the pencil from behind his ear.
    â€œThat’ll be three fifty,” he said. “Hope you kids got it. We don’t give no credit here.”
    â€œHere’s a five-dollar bill,” said Randy haughtily. “I hope you have change. ”
    She felt discouraged; so did Oliver. Nothing had been accomplished, and Cuffy would be cross at the price they’d paid for the meat.
    At that moment a telephone rang in the room behind the shop. Mr. Frederick went to answer it. Halfway there he turned and came back, carefully picking up the five-dollar bill from the counter where Randy had laid it and taking it with him. He’s afraid we’d run off with it and the meat too, thought Randy, shocked.
    â€œNow!” said Oliver as they heard Mr. Frederick say “hello” into the phone.
    The clock was high on the wall; there was no chair or stool behind the counter. As though they had rehearsed it, Randy lifted Oliver as high as she could (he was heavy, rather a fat little boy, and she couldn’t help grunting with effort), and Oliver deftly ran his hand along the top of the clockcase. He felt a deposit of dust and grit, touched something hard and small, and clenched it in his fist just as Mr. Frederick came back into the shop.
    For a second no one moved. They stood as they were, ridiculously; Oliver still lifted from the floor in Randy’s aching arms; Mr. Frederick transfixed in the doorway. His red face grew purple, eggplant color; his little