Judas Cat by Dorothy Salisbury Davis Read Free Book Online Page A

wondered if Matt was going to have competition. He didn’t. Whatever Andy did for a living, it wasn’t plumbing.”
    “He did a good job,” Alex said. “It’s still working.”
    “He was a big man then. Six-foot-two at least. Sharp black eyes that darted at you. And he had a sense of humor with a knife in it. He kept it to himself unless you pried into his business. Then God help you.”
    “Weren’t people curious about where he came from, Dad?”
    “Sure they were, but I don’t think they ever found out. He was as close-mouthed a man as I ever knew. There was a big increase in population about then—during the first war. By the time it was over people were used to Andy being around.”
    “Who sold him the property? He didn’t build that house.”
    “I think it was up for sale. That whole strip belonged to the Turnsbys once. Mike Turnsby lived there, and he moved to Chicago along about then. A lot of talk at the time. His wife couldn’t get along with his sister. That’s Mabel. Mike’s wife was sort of a flapper, and Mabel … well, she wasn’t much different then from what she is now. Norah Barnard, the vet’s wife is Mike’s daughter. She came back to Three Corners after her and Doc were married. I guess Mike left her that land out there. Turnsbys owned a lot of land around here once. She won’t speak to Mabel, though. Some tiff there.”
    “Mrs. Barnard doesn’t speak to anybody very much,” Mrs. Whiting said. “Gives herself airs like a duchess. You wouldn’t think she was a veterinary’s wife. Last year she came to the Hillside Anniversary dressed like a fashion model.”
    “I remember,” Alex said.
    “Doc’s a pretty well-known man in his field,” Mr. Whiting said. “He’s written a lot of stuff.”
    “I don’t care,” said Mrs. Whiting. “If you’d written Pilgrim’s Progress I wouldn’t go around that way.”
    “Mabel’s falling off her porch with curiosity,” Alex said.
    “I’ll bet she is,” said his father. “I’ll tell you one thing, son, if there’s a person in town knows anything about Andy, it’s Mabel Turnsby.”
    “How did she act when Andy moved in next door?”
    “Right neighborly, at first. There was talk. I think she helped it along. She was getting on to being an old maid then. If Andy bid her time of day, she could fix it up in her mind to look like a marriage proposal.”
    “The poor, unhappy soul,” Mrs. Whiting said.
    “Yes, it was kind of pathetic, especially with the kind of tongue Andy had. I remember once she got him to go to a social up at the church. He was a fine figure of a man, big shoulders, the head of a lion. You remember that, Laura?”
    Mrs. Whiting nodded.
    “He was dressed like a king—cravat, tie-pin, smooth-shaven, his fingernails clean. Everything perfect. He was what the women liked to call “grave.” He got a private amusement out of everything, and I didn’t think it was very funny. None of the men did.”
    “He could dance,” Mrs. Whiting said. “He was the best dancer on the floor, including your father.”
    Alex grinned.
    “That’s only because you danced with him that once. You’ve had to dance with me all your life. But he was proper, all right. Danced with half the women in the place. Shared his supper basket with Mabel. Bid handsome for it, too. But just the same there was something in his eyes … around the corners of his mouth that made you think he was sizing you up, thinking this is what good people call ‘church work.’”
    “That’s a terrible thing to say, Charles,” Mrs. Whiting said.
    “I’m just telling you how I felt about it, that’s all. I know I was mighty glad he never showed up for another shindig.”
    “I’ll bet old Turnsby was in heaven that night,” Alex said.
    “She was. He gave her the night of her life, and by gosh, she looked mighty pretty. I’ve never seen her look that way before or since.”
    Something about Mabel’s position in the community was hurting Alex