Read Online The Case of the Ill-Gotten Goat by Claudia Bishop - Free Book Online Page B

becoming.
    â€œI know very little about trailer parks,” I admitted. “I could hazard a guess, however, that the application of the lemon pie did little for our chances at a reduction in fees.”
    â€œThe archangel Gabriel himself couldn’t get that little bum to roll his assessment back,” Madeline said matter-of-factly. “The man’s a pinhead and a bozo. If I were back in Memphis, I’d make a few calls about tar and feathers.”
    I looked at her in some alarm. She patted my hand reassuringly, sighed, and took a large bite of the Monrovian Special. (Madeline does not have a problem with cholesterol.) “I did find something else out, though,” she said through the hamburger. “He has it in for Tre Sorelle, too.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œâ€˜Look, fatty!’ he said to me, in this snippy way. ‘That old bat Capretti didn’t get anywhere with me and neither will you.’”
    â€œI beg your pardon? He called you what ?”
    Madeline patted my hand again. “Don’t fuss, darlin’. That’s when I grabbed the pie and clocked him with it.”
    â€œIt was your magnificent figure, my dear, that first attracted me to you,” I said with some emotion. “I have told you, often, that you remind me of those great beauties of the past. Lillie Langtry, for example.”
    â€œThank you, Austin.” She finished the hamburger with a sigh and toyed idly with an onion ring. “Anyway, short of getting the crumb a job somewhere else—like Siberia—we seem to be stuck with him for the moment. But it’s interesting, don’t you think? That he had this go-round with Doucetta the very day the milk inspector ends up in the bulk tank? I hear she took a swing at him with that cane of hers. Brian Folk, not Melvin Staples. Maybe she missed and got Staples by mistake.”
    I ignored this little joke. “At the moment, we have bits and pieces of seemingly unrelated information. The Brandstetters’ fractured marriage. The confrontation between Doucetta and the tax inspector. The mysteriously high somatic cell counts. As you know, it is a tenet of Cases Closed that random facts in a case do come together to form a pattern. A murder investigation is much like diagnosing an underlying pathology in a cow or a horse. One observes and assesses the overt symptoms….”
    â€œOh, glory,” Madeline said. “There’s Simon. And look who’s with him.”
    We were in our usual booth, which is halfway down the length of the restaurant, and I was on the side that faced the Gents. I turned around, the better to see the front door. Simon had entered and was in quiet colloquy with Deirdre at the bar. She gestured toward us. Simon raised his hand in greeting, nodded to Deirdre, and headed our way. She then turned to the phone behind the bar and picked up the receiver.
    I was usually glad to see Simon. My pleasure was considerably tempered by the fact that he was accompanied by a short, ferret-faced fellow who looked weaselly enough to be a tax assessor. My guess was buttressed by the fact that a dollop of lemon pie adhered to his shirt collar. I raised my eyebrows and looked at Madeline.
    â€œYep,” she said cheekily.
    â€œPerhaps Simon has obtained the autopsy results and is bringing them over to us and he fell in with Folk on the way,” I said. “I don’t know how you feel about it, my dear, but I find the forensics to be absolutely essential to the intelligent progress of a case.”
    â€œIt’s way too soon to have any forensic results. And what would Brian Folk be doin’ with him if he did? Nope.” She smiled. “Simon’s come to arrest me.”
    Simon looked rather grim. Brian Folk looked smug. Simon sat down next to me and addressed my wife. “Mrs. McKenzie. Maddy. Did you assault Brian Folk with a pie?” Brian Folk leaned against a nearby booth, his arms folded