Read Online The Grave Maurice by Martha Grimes - Free Book Online Page B

racing.”
    Browne, finding an opportunity to rain on Melrose’s parade, said, “Well, now, not everyone, Mr. Plant, not by a long chalk.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œIndeed not. Not your animal activists, no. And they’re getting more and more prevalent. There’s a group over in Sidbury who’ve done most unpleasant things. If you’re planning on drawing any of your horsey friends from there, best be advised. There’s a hunt tomorrow; you can go and see for yourself.”
    Melrose had no friends in Sidbury, horsey or otherwise. “There’s an even bigger group in Northampton. They’re really organized, they are. You’ll be harassed—don’t think you won’t. They’ll hound you right into the ground.” Theo covered his mouth with his hand, snorting with laughter. “Oh, that’s rich, now isn’t it?” When Melrose didn’t respond, he said it again: “Hound you,” and he laughed. “If you organize a hunt, they’ll be certain to picket; they’ll stand by the sidelines and jeer.”
    â€œJeering isn’t a particularly efficient way to put paid to anything. At least it wouldn’t be for me; with me they’d have to get physical—pull me off my horse.”
    â€œI certainly wouldn’t put it past them, me.”
    The rhythm of Theo’s speech often wound up back in North London if he didn’t keep an eye on it.
    â€œThen what I need is a Glock, not a book.”
    On their way from the shelves to the front of the store, they passed a window embrasure where three little children were sitting, unsmiling and silent. Two of them Melrose recognized as the Finch children, Bub and Sally, and although they must be a year or two older than when Melrose had last seen them in the bookshop, they still looked three and six. The third child he couldn’t recall seeing around the village, but he probably weighed in at some age between Bub and his sister. This child had a face so crowded with freckles it looked as though some of them had fallen on his faded T-shirt and made spots. The three smiled at Melrose, rather pathetically. It was clear they were all hugely unhappy tots and were perhaps thinking that Melrose (their hero), having delivered them once from the dreaded bookseller, might be counted on to do it again. Melrose returned their smiles and noticed that the three were holding hands, as if for a comfort none could sustain if the hands were separated.
    â€œHello, there. It’s Sally and Bub, isn’t it? And could this be Patrick the Painted Pig?” He said this to the third child, another fallen into the clutches of Mr. Browne.
    Theo immediately took the floor. “These kiddies, Mr. Plant, were back there defacing my books. They’ve been directed to sit right there until the book police come!” Roundly, Theo gave him an exaggerated wink, as if his clever fabrication would charm Melrose, who might form part of this conspiracy against the children.
    Was the man crazy? Melrose had bailed both Sally and later Bub out of trouble. “Well, now, Sally and Bub and Patrick—” Here the second little boy blushed, but still looked pleased.
    Sally chimed in, “He ain’t Patrick. His name’s Regis.”
    â€œRegis? Now there’s a kingly name. Now, tell me what this is all about.”
    All three spoke up at once. No, all four did. Theo was the first one in with a version of “events.” “They were tearing, tearing that book apart! Just malicious is what they are. I’ve a call in to Mrs. Finch but she hasn’t returned it.”
    â€œAh, then is Mrs. Finch with the book police?” Giggles all round.
    Melrose asked, “What happened?”
    Sally burst out: “Me and Regis found this book and we both wanted it, so he was pulling on it and so was I.” This was delivered in one spurt of breath.
    Regis frowned mightily. “No, that