The Fiend by Margaret Millar Read Free Book Online

doorway looking hot and fretful as she always did when she worked in the kitchen. “I didn’t hear you.”
    â€œIt’s all right, it’s not important. I just—” I just wanted to talk to somebody. “I just wanted to tell you that dinner will be a little late. It’s taking the hamburgers longer to thaw than I reckoned it would. . . . Stop letting the cat bite your ponytail. It’s not sanitary.”
    â€œHe’s as clean as I am.”
    â€œNo, he isn’t. Besides, he should go outside now. He doesn’t get enough fresh air and sunshine.”
    Mrs. Oakley leaned over to pick up the cat and it was then that she saw the old green coupé parked at the curb across the street. At noon when she’d unlatched the front screen door to let the girls in, she’d seen it too, but this time she knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. She knew who was behind the wheel, who was staring out through the closed, dirty window and what was going on in his closed, dirty mind.
    Her hands tightened around the cat’s body so hard that he let out a meow of pain, but she kept her voice very casual. “Mary Martha, I’ve been concerned about those book reports that were assigned to you for summer work. How many do you have to write?”
    â€œTen. But I’ve got a whole month left.”
    â€œA month isn’t as long as you think, lamb. I suggest you go up to your room right now and start working on one. After all, you want to make a good first impression on your new teacher.”
    â€œShe already knows me. It’s just Mrs. Valdez.”
    â€œAre you going to argue with me, lamb?”
    â€œI guess not.”
    â€œThat’s my angel. You may take Pudding up with you if you like.”
    Mary Martha went toward the hallway with the cat at her heels. Though she couldn’t have put her awareness into words, she realized that the more pet names her mother called her, the more remote from her she actually was. Behind every lamb and angel lurked a black sheep and a devil.
    â€œMother—”
    â€œYes, sweetikins?”
    â€œNothing,” Mary Martha said. “Nothing.”
    As soon as Kate Oakley heard Mary Martha’s bedroom door slam shut, she rushed out to the telephone in the front hall. With the child out of the way she no longer had to exercise such rigid control over her body. It was almost a relief to let her hands tremble and her shoulders sag as they wanted to.
    She dialed a number. It rang ten, twelve, fifteen times and no one answered. She was sure, then, that her suspicions were correct.
    She dialed another number, her mouth moving in a silent prayer that Mac would still be in his office, detained by a client or finishing a brief. She thought of how many times she had been the one who detained him, and how many tears she had shed sitting across the desk from him. If they had been allowed to collect, Mac’s office would be knee-deep in brine, yet they had all been in vain. She had been weeping for yesterday as though it were a person and would be moved to pity by her tears and would promise to return ... Don’t cry, Kate. You will be loved and cherished forever, and forever young. Nothing will change for you.
    Mac’s secretary answered, sounding as she always did, cool on the hottest day, dry on the wettest. “Rhodes and MacPherson. Miss Edgeworth speaking.”
    â€œThis is Mrs. Oakley. Is Mr. MacPherson in?”
    â€œHe’s just going out the door now, Mrs. Oakley.”
    â€œCall him back, will you? Please.”
    â€œI’ll try. Hold on.”
    A minute later Mac came on the line, speaking in the brisk, confident voice that had been familiar to her since she was Mary Martha’s age and her father had died. “Hello, Kate. Any­thing the matter?”
    â€œSheridan’s here.”
    â€œIn the house? That’s a violation of the injunction.”
    â€œNot in the house. He’s