Anne Perry's Christmas Vigil by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online Page B

they ’ad ter take the cart an’ they couldn’t pull it without ’im.”
    â€œWhy’d they kill Uncle Alf? ’E should a jus’ give it back ter ’em.”
    â€œI dunno. Mebbe they di’n’t mean ter,” Gracie suggested. “Mebbe ’e argued wif ’em, cos ’e wanted ter keep it.”
    Minnie Maude shook her head. “ ’E weren’t like that. Less, o’ course, ’e knew as they were wicked?” Minnie Maude blinked. “D’yer reckon as’e knew? ’E were wise. ’E knew when people told the truth an’ when they was lyin’, even strangers. An’ ’e could tell the time, an’ wot the weather were gonna do.”
    Gracie had no idea. She tried to visualize Uncle Alf from what Minnie Maude had told her, and all she could see was a man with white hair and blue eyes who liked to make children laugh, who did a favor for Jimmy Quick, and who kept his donkey in a warm stable that smelled of hay—and pigeons. What kind of person understood evil? Good people? Wise people? People who had faced it and come out hurt but had ultimately survived?
    â€œMebbe,” she said at length. “If ’e ’ad it, an’ ’e knew wot it were, then wot’d ’e do wif it?”
    Minnie Maude thought about it for so long that Gracie had just about decided she was not going to answer, when finally she did. “ ’E ’ad a special place where ’e put secret things. We could look there. If ’e got ’ome wif it, ’e’d a put it there.”
    Gracie thought it unlikely that poor Alf hadever reached his home, but it would be silly not to at least try. There might be something else that would give them a clue.
    Minnie Maude stood up and went back to the ladder.
    Gracie’s stomach clenched at the thought of going down it again. It would be even worse than going up. She watched Minnie Maude’s hands on the uprights. She was holding on, but her knuckles were not white. She moved as easily as if it were a perfectly ordinary staircase. Gracie would have to do the same. If Minnie Maude knew she was afraid, how could the little girl have any confidence in her? How could she feel any better, and believe Gracie could fight real evil, if she couldn’t even go backward down a rickety ladder?
    â€œAre yer comin’?” Minnie Maude called from the stable floor.
    There was a flurry of wings, and another pigeon landed and strutted across the floor, looking at Gracie curiously.
    â€œYeah,” Gracie answered, and gritted her teeth. Tucking her skirt up, she went down the steps with barely a hesitation.
    â€œThis way,” Minnie Maude said, and started across the floor, kicking the straw out of the way with her scuffed boots. There was a half archway leading into another room where bales of straw were stacked on one side, and harnesses hung on hooks on the wall on the other side.
    â€œThey’re extra,” Minnie Maude said, swallowing back a sudden rush of tears. “Yer always need extra pieces, in case summink gets broke. Charlie’ll ’ave the real harness on ’im.”
    Gracie looked at the worn leather, the old brasses polished thin, the rings, buckles, and bits, and felt the overwhelming loss wash over her. These were like the clothes of a person who was missing, maybe even hurt or dead. She stared at the objects, trying to think of something to say, and she noticed the scars on the whitewash of the wall. It looked as if somebody had banged againstit, and then drawn something sharp for a couple of inches, digging into the stone. The white of the lime covering it was cut through and flaking.
    She turned slowly. Minnie Maude was staring at it too.
    Gracie’s eyes went to the floor. It was flat cement, uneven, half-covered now with loose pieces of hay from the bales. There were more scuff marks, scratches, and brown stains, as if something wet