Eye in the Sky (1957) Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Haven’t I had enough trouble?”
    The
physician had pulled the car quickly to the side of the road. “You killed it? Those things get in while the car’s parked. I’m sorry—will you be all right? I
have some salve we can put on it.”
    “Ill live,” Hamilton muttered, gingerly massaging the welt. “A bee. As if we hadn’t had enough trouble for one day.”
    “We’ll be home, soon,” Marsha said soothingly, peering out the car window. “Miss Reiss,
come on in and have a drink
with us.”
    “Well,”
Miss Reiss equivocated, plucking at her lip with a thin, bony finger, “I
could use a cup of coffee. If you can spare it”
    “We
certainly can,” Marsha said quickly. “We ought to stick together, all
eight of us. We’ve had such an aw ful
experience.”
    “Let’s
hope it’s over,” Miss Reiss said uneasily.
    “Amen
to that,” Hamilton added. A moment later, the car pulled up to the curb
and halted: they were home.

    * * * * *

    “What
a nice little place you have,” Miss Reiss commented as they clambered
from the car. In the evening twilight, the
modern two-bedroom California ranch- style house sat quietly waiting for
them to ascend the path to the front porch. And sitting on the porch, also
waiting, was a large yellow tomcat, his paws tucked under his bosom.
    There’s
Jack’s cat,” Marsha said, fishing in her purse for her key. “He wants
to be fed.” To the cat she instructed, “Go on inside, Ninny Numbcat.
You don’t get fed out here.”
    “What
a quaint name,” Miss Reiss observed, with a touch of aversion. “Why
do you call him that?”
    “Because
he’s stupid,” Hamilton answered briefly.
    “Jack
has names like that for all his cats,” Marsha explained. “The last
one was called Parnassus Nump.”
    The big,
disreputable-looking tomcat had got to his feet and jumped down onto the walk.
Sidling up to Hamilton, he rubbed loudly against his leg. Miss Reiss retreated
with overt distaste. “I never could get used to cats,” she revealed. “They’re so sneaky and underhanded.”
    Normally, Hamilton would have delivered a short sermon on stereotypy. But at the moment, he didn’t
particularly care what Miss Reiss thought about cats. Sticking his key in the
lock, he pushed open the front door and clicked on the living room lights. The
bright little house flooded into being, and the ladies entered. After them came
Ninny Numbcat, heading straight for the kitchen, his ragged tail stuck up like
a yellow ramrod.
    Still in
her hospital smock, Marsha opened the refrigerator and got out a green plastic
bowl of boiled beef hearts. As she cut up the meat and dropped the pieces to
the cat, she commented: “Most electronics geniuses have mechanical pets—those
phototropic moths and the like, things that go running and bumping around. Jack
built one when we were first married, one that caught mice and flies. But that
wasn’t good enough; he had to build another that caught it.”
    “Cosmic
justice,” Hamilton said, taking off his hat and coat. “I didn’t want
them to populate the world.”
    While
Ninny Numbcat greedily finished his dinner, Marsha went into the bedroom to
change. Miss Reiss prowled around the living room, expertly inspecting the vases,
prints, furnishings.
    “Cats
have no souls,” Hamilton said morbidly, watching his tomcat avidly feed.
“The most majestic cat in the universe would balance a carrot on his head
for a bite of pork liver.”
    “They’re
animals,” Miss Reiss acknowledged from the living room. “Did you get
this Paul Klee print from us?”
    “Probably.”
    “I’ve
never been able to decide what Klee is trying to say.” “Maybe he’s not trying to say anything. Maybe
he’s just having a good time.” Hamilton’s arm had begun to ache; he
wondered how it looked under the bandage. “You
say you want coffee?”
    “Coffee—and strong,” Miss Reiss corroborated. “Can I help you fix it?”
    “Just make yourself comfortable.” Mechanically,