A Pint of Murder by Charlotte MacLeod Read Free Book Online Page A

pants, was taking his place at the table when somebody knocked timidly at the back door. Janet made a face.
    “There’s our star boarder again. I might have known.” She raised her voice. “Come in, Marion. We’re just sitting down.”
    A smaller voice replied, “It isn’t Marion.”
    Janet went over and opened the door. “Why, Gilly Bascom! I thought you’d be at your mother’s.”
    “I’ve been.” The unexpected visitor slumped into the wooden chair Bert pulled out for her. “I’ve been listening to my dear mother moan about being a poor, lone widow till I couldn’t endure another minute of it. If she’d said, ‘You know it was your dear, dead father’s wish’ one more time, I’d have hauled off and belted her one across the mouth. Mama doesn’t give two hoots, really. She’d never even notice Papa’s gone if he hadn’t given her another excuse to get at me about moving back with her.”
    Gilly’s birdclaw hand clutched at a fold of the clean tablecloth. “I wouldn’t go back there if she dragged me feet first. Before I’d let my kid grow up under the same roof with her, I’d kill myself and him, too!”
    Bert picked up the rum bottle again and splashed some into the fresh tumbler Janet quickly held out to him. “Here, take a swig of this. Good for what ails you.”
    He had to help her get the glass up to her mouth. She shuddered and coughed as she gulped down the spirit. “Ugh! Thanks, Bert. I’m okay.”
    She certainly didn’t look it. Janet eyed her old schoolmate worriedly, wondering not for the first time how the imposing Mrs. Druffitt had ever hatched out a lone chick as forlorn as this one.
    Gilly was about half her mother’s size, with her father’s washed-out coloring and small features framed in a frizz of bleached hair that showed an inch or so of mouse color at the roots. A ring of eaten-off lipstick outlined a soft, weak mouth. The huge gray eyes that should have been her real beauty were so plastered with makeup they looked like two burnt holes in a blanket. She had on a black pullover of sleazy nylon jersey and runover high-heeled shoes, white with dust from the road. She might have been a ten-year-old dressed up in her mother’s old clothes, instead of the mother of a ten-year-old son.
    She might also be a murderess. Nevertheless, the sight of her made Janet’s heart ache. “Here, Gilly, I’ll fix you a plate. What you need is a hot meal under your belt.”
    “Thanks, Janet, but I couldn’t, honest. I’ve got to get back before Mama sends a posse after me. What I came for was to ask you and Bert a favor.”
    “Of course, Gilly. Anything we can do.”
    “I was wondering if you’d let me bring Bobby up here till after the funeral. I’d like to keep him out of the hullabaloo as much as I can. Maybe,” she sniffled a bit, “he can feed the hens or something.”
    “Sure thing,” said Bert a shade too heartily. “Glad to have him. We’ll bed him down in the boys’ room and he can play with their trains and stuff. He’ll like that, I bet. You come, too, if you want.”
    “Don’t I ever! But I wouldn’t dare leave my own place. Schnitzi’s expecting her pups any time now and I’ve got to be right there when it happens in case anything goes wrong. If I lose that litter, I’m done. Every nickel I could scrape together is tied up in those pups.”
    She tried to laugh. “Papa used to slip me a few bucks now and then when he happened to hold a winning hand for a change, but of course I couldn’t expect a poor, lone widow to support two establishments on her few remaining pennies.”
    Gilly hauled herself out of the chair. “Well, I’d better get cracking. Mama wants me to go over to the funeral parlor in a while and help her heckle Ben Potts.”
    “I’m going down to the Owls later,” Bert offered. “I’d be glad to stop by your place after the rehearsal and bring Bobby back here, eh?”
    “That’s sweet of you, Bert, but I’d sort of like to keep