Groucho Marx 02 Private Eye by Ron Goulart

Author:Ron Goulart [Goulart, Ron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250090942
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

“No, it doesn’t bother me,” I said to Jane. “I’ve been doing this for months now, remember?”

“True, but since we’re going to be moving into new quarters soon, I wanted to make sure.”

I handed her another freshly washed soup bowl. “I haven’t been helping with the household chores because I was trying to worm my way into your affections,” I assured her as she dried the bowl with one of those embroidered dishtowels her aunt up in Fresno kept sending her.

“Some men, you know, resent housework, consider it beneath them.”

“I don’t know about them other fellers you’ve lived with, ma’am, but far as I’m concerned—and I can’t speak for the other wranglers—I sure don’t feel like no sissy ’cause I do these here dishes.”

“There you go again, getting silly when I’m trying to be serious.”

I passed her the saucepan I’d just scrubbed. “What you’ve got is opening night jitters,” I suggested. “We’ve lived together peaceably since way last fall. Moving into a new and bigger house isn’t going to affect how—”

“Up until now, though, you’ve had a separate house of your own and so have I,” Jane persisted while drying the pan. “When we move next month, we’ll be committed to one house. If you want to be by yourself for some reason, you won’t have a spare place to go to. Neither will I.”

I gestured in the direction of the Pacific Ocean with the hand that wasn’t holding the sponge. “I can always sleep on the beach if we have a quarrel,” I told her. “You aren’t having second thoughts about this merger, are you?”

“No, but I want to make sure that you aren’t.”

Dropping the sponge in the sink, I wiped my hands on her dishtowel and then put them on her shoulders. I leaned and kissed her.

The phone in the living room commenced ringing.

We continued kissing for six more rings and then I moved back and away. “Better answer.”

I picked it up on the ninth ring. “Okay,” I said.

“Hello, Frank, how are you?”

“I’m okay, Polly. Did your mother come home?”

Polly Pilgrim sounded both polite and happy. “Yes, and I’m at her house now with her,” she replied. “I tried to telephone Groucho to tell him the news, but his son answered and said he was out and probably wouldn’t be back all afternoon.”

“He’s tracking down clues, Polly.”

The young singer asked, “Are you getting anywhere? What I mean is, do you have any evidence that she’s innocent?”

Jane was leaning in the doorway, watching me. I smiled at her. To Polly I said, “We haven’t got anything to take to the law yet, but we’re finding out quite a bit.”

“Like what, Frank?”

“Groucho and I want to talk to your mother—sometime today if possible—and we’ll go over everything then, Polly.”

“She can’t see you today.”

“How come?”

“She’s not feeling very well, she’s sick really.”

“You talk to a doctor?”

“Yes, my father sent Dr. Steinberg over. That’s our family doctor.”

“And he says?”

“Probably influenza, but not a serious case. Though maybe it’s food poisoning from the jail meals.

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