The Animal-Lover's Book of Beastly Murder by Patricia Highsmith Read Free Book Online Page A

raw steak cut into convenient pieces, followed by a walk during which Bubsy talked to him in amiable tones. Then they got into a taxi. They rode quite a distance. Could they be going to Marion’s apartment? Her apartment was a long way away, the Baron remembered from the days when Eddie had been alive. But Bubsy never went to Marion’s house. Then when the taxi stopped and they got out, the Baron recognized the butcher’s shop, still open, that smelled of spices as well as meat. They were at Marion’s building! The Baron’s tail began to wag. He lifted his head higher, and led Bubsy to the right door.
    Bubsy pushed a bell, the door buzzed, then they went in and climbed three flights, the Baron pulling Bubsy up, panting, happy.
    Marion opened the door. The Baron stood on his hind legs, careful not to scratch her dress with his nails, and Marion took his paws.
    “Hello, Baron! Hel- lo , hello!—Come in!”
    Marion’s apartment had a high ceiling and smelled of oil paint and turpentine. There were big comfortable sofas and chairs which the Baron knew he was allowed to lie on if he wished to. Now there was a strange man who stood up from a chair as they went in. Marion introduced Bubsy to him, and they shook hands. The men talked. Marion went into the kitchen and poured a bowl of milk for the Baron, and gave him a steak bone which had been wrapped in wax paper in the refrigerator. Marion said something which the Baron took to mean, “Make yourself at home. Chew the bone anywhere.”
    The Baron chose to chew it at Marion’s feet, once she had sat down in a chair.
    The conversation grew more heated. Bubsy whipped some papers out of his pocket, and now he was on his feet, his face pinker, his thin blond curls tossing.
    “There is not a thing . . . No . . . No .”
    Bubsy’s favorite word, “No.”
    “That is not the point ,” Marion said.
    Then the other man said something more calmly than either Marion or Bubsy. The Baron chewed on his bone, sparing the sore tooth. The strange man made quite a long speech, which Bubsy interrupted a couple of times, but Bubsy finally stopped talking and listened. Marion was very tense.
    “No . . . ?”
    “No . . . now . . .”
    That was a word the Baron knew. He looked up at Marion, whose face was a little flushed also, but nothing like Bubsy’s. Only the other man was calm. He had papers in his hand, too. What was going to happen now ? The Baron associated the word with rather important commands to himself.
    Bubsy spread his hands palm down and said, “ No .” And many more words.
    A very few minutes later, the Baron’s leash was attached to his collar and he was dragged—gently but still dragged—towards the door by Bubsy. The Baron braced all four feet when he realized what was happening. He didn’t want to go! He’d hardly begun to visit with Marion. The Baron looked over his shoulder and pled for her assistance. The strange man shook his head and lit a cigarette. Bubsy and Marion were talking to each other at the same time, almost shouting. Marion clenched her fists. But she opened one hand to pat the Baron, and said something kind to him before he was out in the hall, and the door shut.
    Bubsy and the Baron crossed a wide street, and entered a bar. Loud music, awful smells, except for a whiff of freshly broiled steak. Bubsy drank, and twice muttered to himself.
    Then he yanked the Baron into a taxi, yanked him because the Baron missed his footing and sprawled in an undignified way, banging his jaw on the floor of the taxi. Bubsy was in the foulest of moods. And the Baron’s heart was pounding with several emotions: outrage, regret he had not spent longer with Marion, hatred of Bubsy. The Baron glanced at the windows (both nearly closed) as if he might jump out of one of them, though Bubsy had the leash wrapped twice around his wrist, and the buildings on either side flashed by at great speed. Bubsy let out the leash a little for the benefit of the doormen who