Killing Cousins by Fletcher Flora Page A

bosom and stood looking sternly at Willie in her brief swimming suit. It was more of a glare than a look, to be precise. Mother Hogan, it was plain, was in no mood to tolerate equivocations.
    “Willie,” she said, “where are you going naked?”
    “I’m not naked. I’m wearing my swimming suit, as you can see, and it should be perfectly obvious, consequently, that I’m going swimming.”
    “Shame on you, Willie! You’re as nearly naked as it’s possible to be publicly without being arrested, and in my opinion it shows extremely poor taste to go about in that condition when poor Howard has disappeared without a word to anyone.”
    “He didn’t disappear without a word. He said a great many words that he damn well may be sorry for, and I’m determined that he must at least apologize for saying them when he returns, if he ever does.”
    “Whatever he said, he must have been justified. Moreover, Willie, I believe that you know exactly where he went and where he is now. You’re refusing to tell me out of spite, and I demand that you tell me the truth at once.”
    “Go ahead and demand as much as you please. I’ve told you and told you that I don’t know, and I don’t. It’s true, however, that I probably wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
    “You see? You’re a spiteful creature, Willie, and probably worse. Have you been carrying on some disgusting affair with someone?”
    “I don’t believe I care to discuss my affairs with you, disgusting or otherwise, and you had better be careful what you say unless you want to be sued for slander or something. It’s well known that you’re one of the worst scandalmongers in town, and care nothing whatever for the truth.”
    Mother Hogan began to swell in the area of the bosom, which was already swollen enough, and to turn a kind of pale lavender in the face. Willie watched her uneasily in the fear that there might suddenly be another Hogan to dispose of, which would have made one more than she could possibly stand, and two too many. Mother Hogan wouldn’t breathe, that was the alarming thing. She simply stood there and kept swelling and swelling and turning that odd lavender in the face and refusing absolutely to breathe. Finally, however, just when it seemed that she must surely burst, she merely deflated instead in a kind of hissing anticlimax, like a punctured inner tube.
    “Willie,” she said, “you’re a wicked girl to talk that way to a mother who is worried to distraction about her only son. However, I refuse to engage in further acrimonies. What I want to know is, do you propose to be reasonable and help me find Howard or not?”
    “No, I don’t. Let Howard take care of himself. He has run away with three bags and the Buick and what else I don’t know, and he can come back when he gets ready, if he ever does, and I’m not sure at all that I give a damn if he doesn’t.”
    “Very well. Now I understand clearly how you feel, and I must say it’s not surprising in one with your background. I’ll tell you something, though. There’s something very odd in all this, including your attitude, and if I haven’t heard from Howard by tomorrow morning at the latest, I shall certainly consult the police.”
    “I wish you would. I’d like to consult them myself, as a matter of fact. I’m almost certain there must be some kind of law against desertion. It’s probable that I have all kinds of rights and advantages I’m not fully aware of.”
    Mother Hogan retreated, an affronted and quivering mass of indignation, and Willie waited until she had completely cleared the area before going on to the garage and backing out the station wagon. She was somewhat disturbed by the threatened consultation with the police, and she would have to be quite careful about what she said, if it actually became necessary to say anything. It might be rather difficult to explain things satisfactorily to someone inclined by his position to be suspicious, but then, on second thought,