think.”
11
LOUISE MUSCLES NICKEL
SATURDAY … 4 APRIL
B right but cool, the morning invigorated me. I was awake at six-thirty, fed the animals, and endured a fit of home improvement. I painted the kickboards on my stairwell white. Sometime during World War I the stairs themselves had been painted sky-blue by Cora. I kept them sky-blue. Then I really lost my head and painted the baseboards and quarter-rounds in the kitchen. By now it was nine A. M . and I figured I’d buzz by the
Clarion
before going to the stable. Roger Davis had weekend duty this week and I thought I’d pop in and see if he needed any help.
It turned out he didn’t but I did. When I got to the
Clarion
office Roger was embroiled in a huge discussion about the Homearama ad placed by one of our odious local developers. This commercial worthy paid for an Easter insert. The layout, color, and copy were terrific. What Nils Nordness wanted now were little Easter bunnies on the corners of the pages. I winked at Roger and he winked back.
Bucky Nordness, Nils’s brother, sauntered through the door. Bucky, North Runnymede’s chief of police, painted little cars on his fender—like notches on a gun. This was Bucky’s idea of humor. His other peculiarity was that he was much given to conspiracy theories.
“Just the woman I wanted to see.”
“Hello, Bucky. What can we do for you?”
“I’m investigating a weapons incident of March twenty-seventh. That’s Friday a week ago at Saint Rose of Lima’s.”
“Someone steal the collection plate?” I hadn’t heard about it.
“I have it from a reliable source that Mutzi Elliott threatened your mother and aunt with a thirty-eight.”
“Oh, that.” I’d completely forgotten. “Bucky, he didn’t really brandish the gun. He only displayed it.”
“I’ve warned him before about that thing.”
“Mutzi has a permit. He’s very responsible. Besides that, he was a marksman in the Korean War, so he knows what he’s doing.”
“He shouldn’t oughta have it.” Bucky shifted his weight. “I know he’s got a permit but the way you all carry on over there, someone’s liable to get hurt.”
“Have you talked to Mutzi?”
“Yes, I have. He was not cooperative.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Actually, I was thrilled to hear it. Mutzi probably wanted to wrap a string tie around Bucky’s neck and slide the clasp up until his eyes bugged out.
“The pots are getting larger and we’re going to have a giant one for blackout bingo. It’s not such a bad idea for Mutzi to be armed.”
This didn’t go down well with Bucky. After giving me a lecture on the use of firearms and what might happen if they fell into the wrong hands, he wanted to know about blackout bingo. I told him what I could. He allowed as how he’d better be there for that game and I, lying, said that was a wonderful idea. Why, he might even win. Then I tactfully suggested that he drop his inquiry lest Saint Rose of Lima’s suffer undue embarrassment. He grunted and went over to Nils. I left for the stables. Regina wasn’t there, so I drove over to the club.
The club’s proper name is South Runnymede Tennis and Racquet Club. There aren’t enough people here with money to pay for a golf course but we have a lively group of tennis, squash, and platform-tennis players. The real country club, Willow Bend, is north of town. They’ve got a beautiful eighteen-hole golf course, an Olympic-size pool, and composition tennis courts.However, we’ve got true red clay courts—twelve—and two grass courts, so people who care for the old game come to South Runnymede Tennis and Racquet. We’ve also got two outdoor and four indoor squash courts. Indoor squash and fox-hunting keep us sane in the winters, which seem to be getting worse or else I’m minding them more.
Each clay court is divided from every other court by lovely boxwoods. Every court is also fenced, and great tubs of geraniums and petunias blossom during the summer. The little
11
LOUISE MUSCLES NICKEL
SATURDAY … 4 APRIL
B right but cool, the morning invigorated me. I was awake at six-thirty, fed the animals, and endured a fit of home improvement. I painted the kickboards on my stairwell white. Sometime during World War I the stairs themselves had been painted sky-blue by Cora. I kept them sky-blue. Then I really lost my head and painted the baseboards and quarter-rounds in the kitchen. By now it was nine A. M . and I figured I’d buzz by the
Clarion
before going to the stable. Roger Davis had weekend duty this week and I thought I’d pop in and see if he needed any help.
It turned out he didn’t but I did. When I got to the
Clarion
office Roger was embroiled in a huge discussion about the Homearama ad placed by one of our odious local developers. This commercial worthy paid for an Easter insert. The layout, color, and copy were terrific. What Nils Nordness wanted now were little Easter bunnies on the corners of the pages. I winked at Roger and he winked back.
Bucky Nordness, Nils’s brother, sauntered through the door. Bucky, North Runnymede’s chief of police, painted little cars on his fender—like notches on a gun. This was Bucky’s idea of humor. His other peculiarity was that he was much given to conspiracy theories.
“Just the woman I wanted to see.”
“Hello, Bucky. What can we do for you?”
“I’m investigating a weapons incident of March twenty-seventh. That’s Friday a week ago at Saint Rose of Lima’s.”
“Someone steal the collection plate?” I hadn’t heard about it.
“I have it from a reliable source that Mutzi Elliott threatened your mother and aunt with a thirty-eight.”
“Oh, that.” I’d completely forgotten. “Bucky, he didn’t really brandish the gun. He only displayed it.”
“I’ve warned him before about that thing.”
“Mutzi has a permit. He’s very responsible. Besides that, he was a marksman in the Korean War, so he knows what he’s doing.”
“He shouldn’t oughta have it.” Bucky shifted his weight. “I know he’s got a permit but the way you all carry on over there, someone’s liable to get hurt.”
“Have you talked to Mutzi?”
“Yes, I have. He was not cooperative.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Actually, I was thrilled to hear it. Mutzi probably wanted to wrap a string tie around Bucky’s neck and slide the clasp up until his eyes bugged out.
“The pots are getting larger and we’re going to have a giant one for blackout bingo. It’s not such a bad idea for Mutzi to be armed.”
This didn’t go down well with Bucky. After giving me a lecture on the use of firearms and what might happen if they fell into the wrong hands, he wanted to know about blackout bingo. I told him what I could. He allowed as how he’d better be there for that game and I, lying, said that was a wonderful idea. Why, he might even win. Then I tactfully suggested that he drop his inquiry lest Saint Rose of Lima’s suffer undue embarrassment. He grunted and went over to Nils. I left for the stables. Regina wasn’t there, so I drove over to the club.
The club’s proper name is South Runnymede Tennis and Racquet Club. There aren’t enough people here with money to pay for a golf course but we have a lively group of tennis, squash, and platform-tennis players. The real country club, Willow Bend, is north of town. They’ve got a beautiful eighteen-hole golf course, an Olympic-size pool, and composition tennis courts.However, we’ve got true red clay courts—twelve—and two grass courts, so people who care for the old game come to South Runnymede Tennis and Racquet. We’ve also got two outdoor and four indoor squash courts. Indoor squash and fox-hunting keep us sane in the winters, which seem to be getting worse or else I’m minding them more.
Each clay court is divided from every other court by lovely boxwoods. Every court is also fenced, and great tubs of geraniums and petunias blossom during the summer. The little
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