Read Online Sweet and Deadly by Charlaine Harris - Free Book Online Page A

Carl is so excited. About that, and Josh is doing well in L.A.”
    â€œI know Mr. Perkins is proud of him,” Catherine murmured. Her conversation with Perkins at the tenant shack was the only one she could remember that didn’t feature Josh: his job, his wife (beautiful and of good family), and his brilliant prospects.
    â€œI do wish they were settled here,” Mrs. Perkins said wistfully. “That’s why we built that big house. Not many young people do stay in Lowfield, seems like.”
    Catherine slid the gumbo dish back against the wall. She couldn’t think of anything to say. As she remembered Josh, who was a few years older, the last thing he’d do would be to settle down quietly in Lowfield.
    â€œI thought I saw a police car here this morning. I hope you haven’t had any trouble?” asked Molly Perkins with a forced air of casualness.
    So that was the “company”; that was the purpose of this visit. The food, Catherine thought quickly, was an excuse to unearth interesting facts to relate at the beauty parlor.
    â€œNo,” said Catherine calmly. “No trouble.”
    Against the stone wall of Catherine’s face, the little woman was visibly stymied.
    â€œI guess Jimmy Galton has been mighty busy,” she said nervously.
    â€œI imagine,” said Catherine.
    The ensuing silence lasted a moment too long to be comfortable. Damned if I’ll break it, Catherine thought.
    â€œWell, I’ve got to be getting back; I hope you enjoy that gumbo.”
    And Mrs. Perkins trotted top-heavily to the front door, with Catherine again trailing behind.
    â€œI got a post card from the Drummonds,” Mrs. Perkins said abruptly.
    â€œOh?”
    â€œThey’re in Florence, Italy. They’ll be back in another week,” Mrs. Perkins offered. “They’re having a wonderful time, they say.”
    Catherine nodded.
    â€œWell, I hope you enjoy the gumbo,” Mrs. Perkins repeated desperately.
    â€œI’m sure I will.” She noticed that Molly Perkins did not offer the quick hug and kiss that was customary on food-bringing visits.
    â€œCan’t let all your air conditioning run out the door!” Mrs. Perkins concluded with artificial gaiety.
    And off she trotted with an anxious backward glance at Catherine, who remained in the doorway with her arms folded across her chest until the woman had gotten down the walkway and turned right to cross the street to her own house.
    When Miss Molly had entered the mansion’s front door, Catherine slammed her own violently. “Talk talk talk,” she muttered. Miss Molly had come to spy and pry, to report on Catherine’s mental state and demeanor. And yet Catherine knew the pigeon-breasted little lady had also been genuinely worried about her well-being.
    The phone rang as Catherine stood in the middle of the living room brooding over this duality in small-town life. She was bitterly sure the caller was not Randall: How could it be? That was who she wanted to talk to. She decided it was another sympathy call from some high school classmate she hadn’t seen in years.
    The irritating sound served to trigger the anger Galton and Molly Perkins had generated. Catherine said something that undoubtedly shocked the very curtains in her mother’s living room. She had never in her life been able to take a telephone off the hook. The alternative was to leave the telephone. Catherine marched out her back door and across the lawn to Tom’s house.
    She pounded, rather than knocked, on the back door.
    She was holding her heavy hair up off her neck, to take advantage of a slight breeze—maybe it would cool her down—when Tom answered. He was almost as surprised to receive a visit from Catherine as she was to be making one.
    She had not entered the old office since Tom had moved in.
    â€œWell, the landlady comes to call,” he said easily, opening the screen door for her to enter.