The Judge Is Reversed by Frances Lockridge Read Free Book Online

like—all right, call some people named North. Mr. and Mrs. Gerald. They just might—”
    He stopped, because Mullins’s face had changed. It seemed to Oscar Gebhardt, D.V.S., that it had changed for the worse.
    The telephone bell rang shrilly, unexpectedly. It is unusual for telephone bells to ring in the North apartment at one thirty on Sunday afternoons. Jerry was carrying pre-lunch martinis on a tray and jumped slightly, but managed not to slosh, being a man of experience. Pam looked at him, and was looked at. Then Jerry looked at the tray, with the expression of a man up to his neck in labors. Pam said, “Oh all right, but I don’t see why it’s always me,” and answered the telephone.
    â€œMrs. North?” a familiar voice said—a voice familiar, but now evidently under strain of some sort. Pam said, “Why Sergeant Mullins! Hello.”
    â€œThere’s a man here,” Mullins said, “says you know him. A short sort of man sort of bald, with sort of bushy eyebrows. He’s got on a red coat and—”
    â€œOf course,” Pam said. “Dr. Gebhardt. He always wears a red coat on Sunday. To make it feel like Sunday, because otherwise it’s just another—” She stopped herself. “There’s a man where, sergeant?” Pam said.
    â€œHe found a body,” Mullins said. “Says he found a body. Says he’s a doctor. That is, cat doctor. Says he came to give reju—” Mullins paused, “Rejuvenation shots,” he said with great clarity, but as if he were quoting something preposterous, “to a cat.”
    â€œWell,” Pam said, “why not? Wait—what body? I mean, whose body?”
    â€œOh,” Mullins said, “man named Blanchard—John Blanchard. But the point is, this man who says he’s a vet named Gebhardt says you can identify him. And I guess—”
    â€œI’m sure we can,” Pam North said. “We’ll come right—where, sergeant?”
    â€œIt isn’t really nec—”
    â€œOf course it is,” Pam said. “How can we tell if we don’t see him?”
    â€œMrs. North,” Mullins said, “all I told you was what he looked like and about the coat and right away—”
    â€œSergeant,” Pam said. “How can I really know? Over the telephone. There might be a hundred short bald men wearing reddish sport jackets. Pretending to be—”
    â€œBut right off—” Sergeant Mullins said.
    â€œWhere?” Pam said.
    Mullins hesitated a moment. He accepted the inevitable. He told Pam where.
    â€œAs soon as we can,” Pam said, and hung up and said, “ Jerry! Gebby’s found a body and it’s that Mr. Blanchard of course. And Mullins wants us to come up there and tell him whether it’s really Gebby and I knew all along—”
    Mutely, Jerry North handed his wife a martini. She took it.
    â€œBut we haven’t much time,” Pam said.
    â€œMy dear,” Jerry said, “I’m afraid—I’m afraid it’s growing on you. Does Mullins really want us in on it? Because you know how—”
    â€œOf course,” Pam said. “Didn’t he call us?” But she looked at Jerry more carefully, and saw that he was looking at her thoughtfully.
    â€œI know,” she said. “But—it isn’t as if we could make it not have happened. Because it already has. So when Mullins wants us to say Gebby is Gebby—”
    â€œYou know he is,” Jerry said. “You said he was right off the bat. Pam—before Mullins gave you his name?”
    â€œWell,” Pam said. “Perhaps a little. But—”
    â€œSeeing’s believing,” Jerry said. “I know, my dear. And one of these days we’re going to get us both killed. However—”
    Cabs move freely in New York on Sundays. The one the Norths captured moved with somewhat breathtaking