Killing Cousins by Fletcher Flora Read Free Book Online Page A

She took the money out of the envelope and counted it, but it was no use, it did not help much at the moment, and so she put it back into the envelope and the envelope into a drawer of her dressing table.
    She began thinking about what to do next, and she remembered all at once the little gun with which she’d shot Howard. She had carried it into the room with her last night, and there it was on the table by the bed, and it would be wise to clean it and put it away, or perhaps even wiser to dispose of it entirely. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that the latter would indeed be the wiser. The safest thing to do, she thought, would be to bury the gun with Howard that night, although there really didn’t seem to be any reason why the gun should ever become an issue if it was never known that Howard had been shot. Nevertheless, it was just as well to be as careful as possible and to anticipate contingencies. It would not be necessary, in any event, to do anything about the gun until it was time to do something about Howard, and this was certainly a relief, for it was something she didn’t relish doing.
    The truth was, the presence of Howard was becoming oppressive. Being so close, just beyond the bathroom, he persisted in being thought of, and she was constantly aware of him lying in there on the floor with his muscular proteins coagulating. Or were they, by this time, uncoagulating? Well, either way, coagulating or uncoagulating, Howard’s muscular proteins were not pleasant to think about, and she wished that it were possible to remove Howard from the house immediately, instead of tonight, but it wasn’t, of course, for obvious reasons. The next best thing would be to remove herself, which was possible, and she began to think about going somewhere, and where, specifically, she could go.
    While considering this, she went downstairs into the kitchen and got some ice out of the refrigerator and carried it in a little pink plastic bucket into the living room. She put some of the ice into a mixing glass, which she took from a liquor cabinet, and added four parts of gin to one part of vermouth. She stirred this briefly with a glass rod, and it came out a big Martini, which she began to drink slowly a small sip at a time. The Martini was refreshing, an important quality of Martinis in general, and she was feeling much better when the telephone began to ring. Carrying the Martini, she went out into the hall and answered the telephone, and it was Mother Hogan again.
    “Willie,” Mother Hogan said, “has Howard returned yet?”
    “No,” Willie said, “he hasn’t.”
    “Have you made any effort to find out where he went?”
    “No, I haven’t.”
    “I must say that you seem strangely indifferent.”
    “Well, he took three bags with him, and so I assume that he went quite a long way to stay quite a long while.”
    “What I want to know, Willie, is what you did to drive poor Howard away.”
    “I didn’t do anything to him. He simply packed and left after saying the nastiest kind of things that were all untrue.”
    “What things exactly?”
    “Never mind. I don’t care to repeat them.”
    “Howard has been very fair all his life, even as a small boy, and it’s my opinion that he must have had a good reason for saying anything he said.”
    “You may think as you please about it, but I have this splitting headache, and I prefer not to discuss it with you.”
    “Don’t think you can avoid your responsibilities, Willie. Honestly, you have not turned out a bit better than I thought you would. It seems to me that you have been treated exceedingly well for a girl with little to offer in return, and the least you could do is show a little appreciation and the proper concern for Howard. It would serve you right if he didn’t come back at all.”
    “As to that,” Willi said, “I’m not at all sure that he will, and I’m not sure, either, that I give a damn if he doesn’t.”
    Mother Hogan