Read Online The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 3: Red Reunion (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #3) by Michael Panush - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael Panush
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can dig it, teach!”
The other students smiled and a few clapped. The teacher removed her glasses in sudden disbelief. Weatherby grinned as he strode to the middle of class, and sat down behind Peggy. Butch wasn’t present, and Weatherby felt a little relief.
After he set down, and the teacher settled into her dull routine, Peggy turned around smiled at Weatherby. “Last night – did you like it?” she asked.
Weatherby nodded, one eye on the teacher.
“Well, there’s this little dance after school tonight. It’s called the Silver High Hop. Would you like to go?” She paused for a second, and Weatherby felt his pulse quicken. “With me?”
The boy had been to a few formal events when he was younger, always with his parents. They were always strange gatherings, where the bizarre friends of his father, in stylized opera masks and elaborate costumes, pinched his cheek and whispered half-true prophecies as they got drunk on absinthe. But Weatherby knew anything with Peggy involved couldn’t be bad.
“Of course,” he said. She nodded and turned back to the blackboard. Weatherby leaned back in his chair, feeling like he was sitting on a cloud, high in the heavens, and looking down at the world.
The day passed quickly. Weatherby paid almost no attention to the lessons, preferring to tap his pencil idly on the desk in a happy tune, as he imagined dancing slowly across a marble floor with Peggy, she in a shining white gown, he in a snappy black tuxedo. He didn’t think about Mort, or the case, or even his parents. He was just like any other teenage schoolboy, lovesick and happy.
Soon enough, the final bell rang, and Weatherby met Peggy outside. Weatherby kept an eye on the road, waiting for Mort to show up. He’d have to tell Mort not to pick him up, but the crimson Roadmaster wasn’t there. Weatherby wasn’t too worried. After all, Mort Candle could take care of himself. He was probably working on some other angle of the case, and the boy had more important things to worry about.
Peggy took him by the hand and they walked to her house, just across the street from Silver Hills High School. Weatherby politely greeted her mother, receiving a warm smile at his extreme formalities, and then waited as Peggy changed. She came out in a white dress, held up by only two thin straps. She smiled as she turned around, letting Weatherby see how well it clung to her. Weatherby sputtered and pushed up his glasses.
“What do you think?” she asked with a giggle.
“M-marvelous. I have beheld many things in my short life, but never such simple beauty.” He looked over his shoulder, back at the school. It was getting dark, the shadows falling on the cement structures. “Should we head to the dance now?”
“Yeah. Remember to take your shoes off. They don’t want us to scuff up the floors.”
They left Peggy’s house and crossed the street. Students were being dropped off by their parents, or getting out of their own cars, and making their way to the gymnasium in the center of Silver Hills High. The boys wore tuxedoes of various pastel shades, and the girls wore long dresses. Weatherby felt a little odd in his frock coat, but that was not a new feeling.
The tiled floor and walls of the gym were the color of cream. Low light cast long shadows around the gym, as the couples got together and started to dance. Refreshments, including a large bowl of cherry red punch, sat in the corner. A full Negro band in matching blue tuxedoes played in the corner. It was something slow with a warm melody, and Weatherby felt his heart beat faster as he looked at Peggy. He gulped as she took his hands and put them around her.
“Just follow my lead, Weatherby,” she said. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
“T-thank you,” Weatherby replied. They weaved to the middle of the dance floor, and Weatherby stared into her eyes, losing himself in their depths. He barely heard the footsteps outside, and the gym doors slamming open.
Slowly,
The other students smiled and a few clapped. The teacher removed her glasses in sudden disbelief. Weatherby grinned as he strode to the middle of class, and sat down behind Peggy. Butch wasn’t present, and Weatherby felt a little relief.
After he set down, and the teacher settled into her dull routine, Peggy turned around smiled at Weatherby. “Last night – did you like it?” she asked.
Weatherby nodded, one eye on the teacher.
“Well, there’s this little dance after school tonight. It’s called the Silver High Hop. Would you like to go?” She paused for a second, and Weatherby felt his pulse quicken. “With me?”
The boy had been to a few formal events when he was younger, always with his parents. They were always strange gatherings, where the bizarre friends of his father, in stylized opera masks and elaborate costumes, pinched his cheek and whispered half-true prophecies as they got drunk on absinthe. But Weatherby knew anything with Peggy involved couldn’t be bad.
“Of course,” he said. She nodded and turned back to the blackboard. Weatherby leaned back in his chair, feeling like he was sitting on a cloud, high in the heavens, and looking down at the world.
The day passed quickly. Weatherby paid almost no attention to the lessons, preferring to tap his pencil idly on the desk in a happy tune, as he imagined dancing slowly across a marble floor with Peggy, she in a shining white gown, he in a snappy black tuxedo. He didn’t think about Mort, or the case, or even his parents. He was just like any other teenage schoolboy, lovesick and happy.
Soon enough, the final bell rang, and Weatherby met Peggy outside. Weatherby kept an eye on the road, waiting for Mort to show up. He’d have to tell Mort not to pick him up, but the crimson Roadmaster wasn’t there. Weatherby wasn’t too worried. After all, Mort Candle could take care of himself. He was probably working on some other angle of the case, and the boy had more important things to worry about.
Peggy took him by the hand and they walked to her house, just across the street from Silver Hills High School. Weatherby politely greeted her mother, receiving a warm smile at his extreme formalities, and then waited as Peggy changed. She came out in a white dress, held up by only two thin straps. She smiled as she turned around, letting Weatherby see how well it clung to her. Weatherby sputtered and pushed up his glasses.
“What do you think?” she asked with a giggle.
“M-marvelous. I have beheld many things in my short life, but never such simple beauty.” He looked over his shoulder, back at the school. It was getting dark, the shadows falling on the cement structures. “Should we head to the dance now?”
“Yeah. Remember to take your shoes off. They don’t want us to scuff up the floors.”
They left Peggy’s house and crossed the street. Students were being dropped off by their parents, or getting out of their own cars, and making their way to the gymnasium in the center of Silver Hills High. The boys wore tuxedoes of various pastel shades, and the girls wore long dresses. Weatherby felt a little odd in his frock coat, but that was not a new feeling.
The tiled floor and walls of the gym were the color of cream. Low light cast long shadows around the gym, as the couples got together and started to dance. Refreshments, including a large bowl of cherry red punch, sat in the corner. A full Negro band in matching blue tuxedoes played in the corner. It was something slow with a warm melody, and Weatherby felt his heart beat faster as he looked at Peggy. He gulped as she took his hands and put them around her.
“Just follow my lead, Weatherby,” she said. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
“T-thank you,” Weatherby replied. They weaved to the middle of the dance floor, and Weatherby stared into her eyes, losing himself in their depths. He barely heard the footsteps outside, and the gym doors slamming open.
Slowly,
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