Murder in Mount Holly Read Online Free PDF

fool Him.
    So Miss Ball got a new tenant, Herbie, and she was able to raise Juan’s allowance, and she found that she was better natured to her kindergarten. Everything was rosy. All the money that Herbie would pay for room and board Miss Ball would turn over to Juan. It all came out in the end. She was no Jew. Why should she try to make a buck on a kid that didn’t have beans to start with? That wasn’t her way. Not Miss Ball. Maybe some people, but not Miss Ball.

4
    â€œSo what, he’s nice,” Mr. Gibbon said. Herbie had not come at six. Mr. Gibbon had his cold greens and grumbled about them, and now, at breakfast, he was still grumbling. Herbie had arrived late and Mr. Gibbon had heard the racket. He was awakened from a vicious dream: a Dark Stranger was trying to steal his paper bags. The Dark Stranger had snatched nearly every one of them. It was a Negro, a tall one, who wanted the bags to put watermelons in. Mr. Gibbon had fought with him, and during the fight woke to the noise of Herbie banging the bureau drawers in the next room.
    â€œThat’s his name.” Miss Ball spelled it out and pronounced it. “Gneiss.”
    â€œIt sounds Jewish if you ask me.”
    â€œEverything sounds Jewish if you say it a certain way,” said Miss Ball, trying for a little wisdom. “But he’s not. He’s not Jewish.”
    â€œProbably changed it.”
    â€œHe said he’s American.”
    â€œAll Jews think they’re Americans. Everybody does. That’s the only fault I can find with this country. Everybody thinks they’re so damn big. Like this Gneiss.”
    â€œDon’t be so cranky. You don’t even know him.”
    â€œYou’re the one who’s cranky.”
    â€œHe’s okay. He looks tip-top. Very clean-looking.”
    â€œThat’s not like you, Miss Ball. Sticking up for a Jew.”
    â€œI’m not sticking up for a Jew. I’m sticking up for my new boarder.”
    â€œHe’s a Jew.”
    â€œHe’s not. He’s a fine young man with a remarkably small nose.”
    â€œWhat’s the difference. They’ll take over the country, like everyone else, I suppose. They’ll come.” Mr. Gibbon heaved a sigh. “But I hope to God they don’t come in my lifetime.”
    â€œShush,” said Miss Ball. “You’re big and strong. You’ve got a lot of time left.”
    â€œI hate that expression you’ve got a lot of time left . Like you’re waiting to punch the time clock and drop dead.”
    â€œHe must be dead tired. He came by bus all the way from Holly Heights.”
    â€œUsed to have a guy in the platoon named Gnefsky, or some­thing like that. He was a Jew.”
    â€œHe’s not a Jew.”
    â€œDon’t tell me! He was in my platoon, not yours. I should know.”
    â€œI mean Herbie, the new boy.”
    Mr. Gibbon muttered. He couldn’t grit his teeth. He didn’t have enough of them to grit.
    â€œHe wanted to know what the boy’s room was. Isn’t that precious ?”
    â€œIn the army we used to call it the crapper. He probably doesn’t know what that means either.”
    â€œNow you just be careful what you say,” said Miss Ball. She clapped her hands and then said, “Oh, I’m so excited! It’s like opening night!”
    â€œHe probably smokes in bed.”
    â€œIt reminds me of the day I saw the playback of my movie. That was in . . . let’s see . . .”
    For, the next few minutes Miss Ball relived a story she had told so many times that Mr. Gibbon was actually interested to see what changes she had made since the last time he heard it. There she was, Miss Ball in her first starring role, madly in love with the dashing special agent. He was an undercover man but, unlike most undercover men, everyone knew him and feared him. He was big and strong, liked good wine and luscious women and was always forking