Murder in Mount Holly by Paul Theroux Read Free Book Online Page B

suds.”
    â€œAnd where were you?”
    â€œI was in bed! That’s where you belong at four in the morning—not taking coffeepots apart so your wife can’t have her coffee. But it doesn’t stop there,” said Miss Ball. “Not by a long shot it doesn’t stop there.”
    â€œHe does sound like a skunk,” Herbie offered.
    â€œHe was a regular S.O.B.,” said Miss Ball. “And I hope you know what that means.”
    â€œI guess . . .”
    â€œBut that wasn’t all, because then he had to yell in my room at the top of his lungs.”
    â€œHe had to?”
    â€œThat was part of the thing, the act he did. He always did the same thing every morning.”
    â€œSo what did he yell?”
    Miss Ball stood up from her wing-chair and cupped her hand to her mouth like an umpire. She even raised her other arm as if she were signaling a safe catch. She twisted her mouth and shouted in an ear-splitting voice, “ When your ole lady died and went straight to hell she should have taken you with her and such and such and so and so! ” Miss Ball recovered, stared wide-eyed and said, “I wouldn’t repeat some of the things he said to me those times.”
    â€œThen he left.”
    â€œThen he left,” said Miss Ball. “But he came back.”
    â€œReally?” Herbie steadied himself for another blast. He was getting worried.
    â€œHe left in the morning. In the night he came back. He went to church and work in between.”
    â€œChurch. Which church?”
    â€œThe stupid Irish church, that’s which church. He was what you might call a Catholic. He had to go to church.”
    â€œI thought they just had to go on Sunday.”
    â€œThey don’t.”
    â€œThat’s not what I thought.”
    â€œNot on Lent they don’t.”
    â€œBut Lent is only a month or two in the winter, isn’t it?”
    â€œDon’t ask me,” said Miss Ball. “It was always Lent in our house. Lent and hate.”
    â€œMaybe marriages can be based on hate instead of love,” Herbie said.
    â€œOurs was. The girls down at the D.A.R. said to stay away from Catholics if you want to stay tolerant. But I wouldn’t listen. Sure, he wasn’t all bad—he used to pick up stray cats and stuff. The girls said that’s a sign of loneliness. He was probably lonely.”
    â€œIt was his way,” said Herbie. He had been waiting for a good chance to say it.
    â€œMaybe that’s it. He was good about cats. And I really couldn’t divorce him for taking the coffeemaker apart. You don’t walk into a court and say, I want a divorce—my husband takes the coffeepot apart before church every morning. It doesn’t sound right. It wouldn’t even sound right in a movie if Ava Gardner said it. Besides, who else is there? There aren’t that many people in the world that you can just start tossing them away left and right just because they have a certain way about them. That’s what love is—sticking with the guy even though he has creepy habits. It’s learning to love the creepy habits so you can sleep in the same bed without killing the sonofabitch.”
    â€œI thought I’d hate this job at Kant-Brake, but now I like it.”
    Miss Ball turned all her face on Herbie. “Of course you’ll like it. It’ll be fun. You’ll learn to get the hang of it. Sure, you hated it at first, but every dog has his day. That’s part of living.”
    â€œMy mother needs the money. She’s getting along, getting old.”
    â€œI’m getting along myself,” said Miss Ball.
    â€œShe’s all alone now,” said Herbie. “My father’s gone. It’s the least I can do.”
    â€œI could have been in the movies. Don’t think I didn’t have lots of chances. But I sacrificed and here I am.”
    â€œMy mother just can’t stop eating because my father