The Late Clara Beame
““What’s going on here? Who shot off that gun?”
He looked at the two silent women, and at Henry, in his plaid lumberjacket, his boots and legs dappled with snow. Henry took off his plaid cap and stared at it as if it were an object he had never seen before. He was shaking badly. Evelyn, the little wizened handyman, breathed loudly in the sudden quiet. David turned to him.
“What’s the matter?”
“Well, sir,” Evelyn wheezed, “we was just coming out of the woodshed — Mr. Frazier here said... we had enough up from the freezers — and then we heard this bang. Sounded right close by. Mr. Frazier ducked; not that it’d done much good if he’d really been hit. You know, you don’t hear the bang first, it’s the bullet you get. Then comes the bang. And there’s the bullet, yessir, right in the door of the woodshed. Still there, matter of fact. What I’d like to know, who tried to kill Mr. Frazier?”
There were running footsteps, and John Carr appeared.MoreLess
He looked at the two silent women, and at Henry, in his plaid lumberjacket, his boots and legs dappled with snow. Henry took off his plaid cap and stared at it as if it were an object he had never seen before. He was shaking badly. Evelyn, the little wizened handyman, breathed loudly in the sudden quiet. David turned to him.
“What’s the matter?”
“Well, sir,” Evelyn wheezed, “we was just coming out of the woodshed — Mr. Frazier here said... we had enough up from the freezers — and then we heard this bang. Sounded right close by. Mr. Frazier ducked; not that it’d done much good if he’d really been hit. You know, you don’t hear the bang first, it’s the bullet you get. Then comes the bang. And there’s the bullet, yessir, right in the door of the woodshed. Still there, matter of fact. What I’d like to know, who tried to kill Mr. Frazier?”
There were running footsteps, and John Carr appeared.MoreLess
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