The Dragon in the Ghetto Caper Read Online Free PDF Page B

the Grants’ house. An old church pew and odd colors painted on the walls.”
    â€œIn the kitchen,” Andy volunteered.
    â€œThe odd colors or the church pew?” Mr. Chronister asked.
    â€œBoth.”
    â€œSave your voice, dear,” Mrs. Chronister continued. “Jan said that the Yakots woman went to the January meeting of the Garden Circle. I was sorry that I couldn’t go to that one. It happened to fall on the same day that theFreemans had that champagne brunch for Mary Jane. Anyway, Jan said that the woman seems to be about Mary Jane’s age, poor thing. Here she is, saddled with a husband old enough to be her father, and a house that everyone says they’re only renting and that she’s painted all these strange colors and no one around that she can talk to, that is, if she could talk …”
    â€œShe can talk,” Andy said. “She can talk just fine, only she happens to take more listening to than most people. It’s not like listening to you. A person doesn’t have to listen to you very hard because you never say much even when you say a lot. Mrs. Yakots happens to be better at making sense than at making sentences.”
    â€œAndrew, you will apologize to your mother.”
    Andy turned to his father, “What for, for God’s sake?”
    â€œFor the rudeness of your manner and for saying that your mother never says much.”
    â€œI apologize,” Andy shouted.
    â€œAndrew seems to have lost his laryngitis along with his temper,” Mary Jane said. It was the first thing she had said all during the meal, and, of course, being Mary Jane, it was the worst. Mary Jane always managed to say the first worst thing.
    Mr. Chronister looked at his son, interested. “You seem to know this Mrs. Yakots quite well.”
    â€œShe happens to be a person who admires dragons and who is willing to buy one. And she happens to be a person who is willing to take time out to help a future detective with his training.”
    â€œOh,” said Mr. Chronister.
    â€œOh,” said Mrs. Chronister.
    â€œOh,” said Ms. Chronister.
    â€œUh-oh,” said Andy. He realized that in the defense of Edie Yakots he had not only destroyed his disguise, but had also destroyed his excuse for not having her help him. He had not only admitted knowing her, he had committed himself to her. In front of his whole family. At the supper table, for God’s sake.
    When Andy went to his room, he took his catalogs down from his bookshelf. He began to sort them. He wouldn’t take them all over to Edie’s. He had too many. When he had started his training, he had also begun collecting catalogs and the Thursday editions of the local paper. The Thursday edition ran the grocery ads. Sometimes Andy made charts of the cost of Ivory soap or paper towels, pricing out the cost per sheet, not the cost per roll. He had thought that it would be good analytical training. But he hadn’t had time to do that lately, what with helping Edie with the garden and carrying Sister Henderson every Thursday afternoon. The research he did on the grocery ads never mattered to his mother, anyway. She went to one grocery store and 400 dress shops per week and bought whatever she needed. If the grocery store was out of something, she waited until she went back the next week. “Better the stores should run their legs off than I should,” she explained. People in Foxmeadow hated walking unless it was for some jock thing like golf or for shopping for no purpose—like dresses.
    * * * *
    When Edie answered the door the next day, Andy handed her the catalogs. He was curt and businesslike. He explained that he had chosen J.C. Penney because the descriptions were short and full of detail. He particularly recommended the hardware section. It was the way most conversation was: short and detailed like hardware.
    â€œNot in real life,” Edie replied. “Sometimes a lot of people