Read Online The Perennial Killer: A Gardening Mystery by Ann Ripley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ann Ripley
Ads: Link
overheard her. “Life in the mountains is kind of different. It attracts all sorts of people who don’t like to do things the way other people do them. What d’you call that, now—non-conformists is what I mean.”
“Yes. But Porter Ranch isn’t really in the mountains—”
“Foothills or mountains, it doesn’t matter,” said Ruthie. “It’s five-six miles back, and that’s all it takes to give ’em a mountain mentality. Mountain living is good for people on the edge of the law—course, I wouldn’t mention names. They’re also people who want total privacy.” She laughed heartily. “Why, Lyons is
civilized
in comparison to some of those mountain towns. And in some people’s opinion, Lyons is gettin’ way
too
civilized, judging from all the wealthy people movin’ in. Why, sometimes you can’t park on High Street for the BMW’s clogging the spaces.”
At that moment, a heavyset man of about forty clumped in the door. He had thinning brown hair with a cowlick at the crown of the head that gave him a faintly comical air,almost like a baby. His scuffed, square-toed boots made a noisy statement as he swaggered to the end of the counter.
“Eddie,” said Ruthie patiently, “you know we’re closing.”
The man seemed distracted. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter and cajoled the woman, as if she were his mother. “Gosh darn, Ruthie,” he wheedled, “all I want is a couple of quick ham sandwiches and some coffee and chips.”
“Oh, well, I can do that much for you. How about some pie?”
“Y’ forgot I don’t care for sweets.”
“People change their minds all the time about things like that,” said Ruthie, smiling, as she turned to make the sandwiches.
Eddie’s glance took in the remains of the crowd, finally landing on Louise. He didn’t smile.
The proprietor brought the food to him in a small paper bag. “Awful sorry, Eddie, about your loss.”
“Well, somebody killed’im, and we don’t know who,” said Eddie, and dropped some bills on the counter. “Anyway, thanks.” He slammed the screen door on his way out.
Ruthie smoothed the bills with competent fingers, rang open the cash register, and put them in. She leaned closer so only Louise could hear her next words. “Well, as I was saying, some people are always on the edge of the law.” She cocked her head toward the empty door. “Jimmy Porter’s boy there, Eddie, for one. Can’t help feeling a little sorry for him. The other two kids, Sally and Frank, they’re, well, they’ve had their problems, too. Why, they didn’t start socializing with other kids ’til they were way up in their teens. But they’re not as
rough
as Eddie. Frank’s turned into a fine man. Sally, now, she comes in here now and then, sits right where you’re sittin’, and has her pieceof pie—apple. I think Sally’s never had much fun in life, maybe because she doted on her dad too much. Not so unusual, seein’ as how her mom died when she was little, but too much of a daddy’s girl doesn’t get you anywhere. I’m sure she hurts bad right now. I feel sorry for her.”
She turned back to the grill and scraped the grill with her spatula, then turned back to Louise to continue her story. “But Eddie, well, what’s wrong with Eddie is partly his father’s fault. Now, I don’t want to talk bad about a dead man, but I can tell you some things from personal experience.” Still holding her broad spatula in one hand, Ruthie made a wide gesture with her arms, as if doing the breast stroke. “Jimmy spread out his charm like a big net and captured every lady he ever met. I’m not saying
womanizer
, but don’t think he was the paragon of virtue he wanted people to make out he was—and
that’s
why he got shot. A flirty man, and a hard man at business to boot.” The way Ruthie said it, “hard” had three
r
’s.
“Now, Jimmy’s wife, Bonnie,” she said, “she died in a fire up there, y’know—maybe forty years ago. She
“Yes. But Porter Ranch isn’t really in the mountains—”
“Foothills or mountains, it doesn’t matter,” said Ruthie. “It’s five-six miles back, and that’s all it takes to give ’em a mountain mentality. Mountain living is good for people on the edge of the law—course, I wouldn’t mention names. They’re also people who want total privacy.” She laughed heartily. “Why, Lyons is
civilized
in comparison to some of those mountain towns. And in some people’s opinion, Lyons is gettin’ way
too
civilized, judging from all the wealthy people movin’ in. Why, sometimes you can’t park on High Street for the BMW’s clogging the spaces.”
At that moment, a heavyset man of about forty clumped in the door. He had thinning brown hair with a cowlick at the crown of the head that gave him a faintly comical air,almost like a baby. His scuffed, square-toed boots made a noisy statement as he swaggered to the end of the counter.
“Eddie,” said Ruthie patiently, “you know we’re closing.”
The man seemed distracted. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter and cajoled the woman, as if she were his mother. “Gosh darn, Ruthie,” he wheedled, “all I want is a couple of quick ham sandwiches and some coffee and chips.”
“Oh, well, I can do that much for you. How about some pie?”
“Y’ forgot I don’t care for sweets.”
“People change their minds all the time about things like that,” said Ruthie, smiling, as she turned to make the sandwiches.
Eddie’s glance took in the remains of the crowd, finally landing on Louise. He didn’t smile.
The proprietor brought the food to him in a small paper bag. “Awful sorry, Eddie, about your loss.”
“Well, somebody killed’im, and we don’t know who,” said Eddie, and dropped some bills on the counter. “Anyway, thanks.” He slammed the screen door on his way out.
Ruthie smoothed the bills with competent fingers, rang open the cash register, and put them in. She leaned closer so only Louise could hear her next words. “Well, as I was saying, some people are always on the edge of the law.” She cocked her head toward the empty door. “Jimmy Porter’s boy there, Eddie, for one. Can’t help feeling a little sorry for him. The other two kids, Sally and Frank, they’re, well, they’ve had their problems, too. Why, they didn’t start socializing with other kids ’til they were way up in their teens. But they’re not as
rough
as Eddie. Frank’s turned into a fine man. Sally, now, she comes in here now and then, sits right where you’re sittin’, and has her pieceof pie—apple. I think Sally’s never had much fun in life, maybe because she doted on her dad too much. Not so unusual, seein’ as how her mom died when she was little, but too much of a daddy’s girl doesn’t get you anywhere. I’m sure she hurts bad right now. I feel sorry for her.”
She turned back to the grill and scraped the grill with her spatula, then turned back to Louise to continue her story. “But Eddie, well, what’s wrong with Eddie is partly his father’s fault. Now, I don’t want to talk bad about a dead man, but I can tell you some things from personal experience.” Still holding her broad spatula in one hand, Ruthie made a wide gesture with her arms, as if doing the breast stroke. “Jimmy spread out his charm like a big net and captured every lady he ever met. I’m not saying
womanizer
, but don’t think he was the paragon of virtue he wanted people to make out he was—and
that’s
why he got shot. A flirty man, and a hard man at business to boot.” The way Ruthie said it, “hard” had three
r
’s.
“Now, Jimmy’s wife, Bonnie,” she said, “she died in a fire up there, y’know—maybe forty years ago. She
Similar Books
