Murder in Mount Holly Read Online Free PDF Page A

one time he had told her a hundred: You’re young at heart.
    â€œYou’re young too, ” Miss Ball cheeped, when Mr. Gibbon gave his consent to the unsavory business with Juan.
    â€œNot me, Toots,” Mr. Gibbon said gruffly.
    Miss Ball had said he could have it his way. And he did have it his way. He could see what was going on in Miss Ball’s head, thinking all those crazy things. But still, he knew she was in no danger. It was her way. She was young at heart; why else did she stay up late reading all those movie magazines? But you’d never catch Mr. Gibbon making a damn fool out of himself with any two-bit big-assed movie queen (both Miss Ball and the magazines called them “starlets”).
    Miss Ball believed that she was a starlet, although a little older than most of the other starlets. After her hysterectomy she believed it even more. And that was when Juan came onstage and left his broom behind. A few months later she placed the ad. It was all nice.
    The ad clicked, as Miss Ball had predicted, to Mr. Gibbon.
    After one day the phone rang.
    The voice was young. A young gentleman. Perfect.
    â€œHerbie what?” Miss Ball asked.
    â€œGneiss,” said Herbie. He spelled it out and then pronounced it.
    This bewildered Miss Ball. She asked him his nationality.
    â€œAmerican, I guess.”
    â€œYou guess?”
    â€œAmerican.”
    â€œWe’re all Americans in this house,” said Miss Ball triumph­antly. “Me and Mr. Gibbon—he’s the most American one of all. You’ll like him lots.”
    â€œI’m sure I will,” said Herbie.
    Herbie went on to inquire about the “boy’s room” that was mentioned in the ad. What exactly was the boy’s room and who would he have to share it with?
    â€œI should have explained,” said Miss Ball. “I’m a teacher . I teach kindergarten in the basement of Mount Holly High. We call the boy’s room the boy’s room. I should have explained. How silly of me!” She giggled.
    â€œOh,” said Herbie.
    â€œWhat do you do?”
    â€œWell, I’m not working at present. But I think I’ll be working at Kant-Brake. The toy factory.”
    â€œHoly mackerel! That’s where Mr. Gibbon works! What a co- in -cidence!”
    â€œFabulous,” said Herbie dryly.
    â€œWhy, you can’t turn me down now !” Miss Ball said with glee. “Mr. Gibbon’ll be sore as a boil if you don’t come.”
    â€œI see,” said Herbie.
    â€œWe’ve got something in com -mon!” exclaimed Miss Ball as if she had found her son, lost these many years.
    â€œSo we do,” said Herbie.
    â€œI’ll expect you for supper. At six. Don’t be a minute late, Mr. Gibbon doesn’t like cold greens.”
    â€œWho is this Mr. Gibbon?” Herbie asked. But Miss Ball had already hung up.
    A new tenant! It was like a gift from above. He will provide . That was Miss Ball’s motto. He always provided. First the operation, then Juan, then Herbie, who worked at the very same place as Mr. Gibbon! Wonders never did cease as long as He provided in the moment of need. He could positively move mountains. Good Old Providence.
    In Miss Ball’s case He had moved something considerably more spherical than a mountain. He did just that from His Dwelling Place Up There where things were white mostly, soft, and didn’t cost a cent. It really was as simple as all that. If only people knew what the very simple secret was: make yourself like a little child. You had to make yourself tiny and really believe in that Big Man Up There. Making herself like a starlet was, in her mind, the same thing as making herself like a little child, pleasing and fresh as a daisy to The Big Fellow In The Sky. And why not a starlet? Especially since she had a natural bent in that direction, a gift, so to speak. It was all the same. He knew what was in your heart. You couldn’t