Free Judas Cat by Dorothy Salisbury Davis Page B

boned, but without much flesh. He had huge eyebrows that moved a little every time he spoke. When Alex was a kid they had fascinated him, and when Doc was working on one of his many pups, Alex would watch them for signs of recovery or relapse. Some people’s mouths were expressive, Alex thought. With Doc you saw nothing but the eyebrows.
    “I’m sorry to bother you this late, Doc,” he started.
    “That’s all right, Alex. Jock?”
    Jock was the Whiting’s airedale. “No, it’s not,” Alex said. “I need your help on something and I don’t know whether it’s fair to ask you or not. You heard that old Andy Mattson was found dead today?”
    “Yes. Norah and I were talking about it at dinner. She lived in that house as a girl, you know.”
    “I know,” Alex said. “I might as well tell you the whole story, and if you don’t want to touch it … Well, we’ll see from there.”
    When he finished the veterinary nodded. “It’s a pretty thin case,” he said. “But then if somebody’s trying to cover up, it would be. Do you think Tobin is deliberately whitewashing the business?”
    “I’d have to have pretty strong evidence before I’d go as far as saying that.”
    “Naturally. I was asking for my own information. I’ve been around long enough to see some peculiar things happen up there. Well, let’s take a look at the animal and go from there. How long has it been dead?”
    “Since about noon.”
    “That’s ten hours. It may be hard to tell anything, but we’ll see.” He walked to the car with Alex and leaned over to see who was at the wheel.
    “You know Joan Elliot, Doc?”
    “Yes, of course. The girl with the molting turtle doves. How are you, Joan?”
    “Fine, Doctor. That’s a long time to remember. Fifteen years.”
    “They’ve been kinder to you than to me, my dear. Wouldn’t you like to wait in the house? I don’t believe Mrs. Barnard has gone to bed yet. I think she’d like to see you.”
    “Thank you, doctor, but it’s late, and I like it out here.”
    He nodded and went around to the trunk where Alex was taking out the packages. “I was in a hurry and took them both,” he said. “I think the heavier one’s the cat.”
    Barnard weighed them both in his hands. “This is it,” he said. “I can tell the dead weight of it.” Again he stopped at the car door. “We may be some time. You’ll be more comfortable indoors, Joan.”
    She went in with them then, and Barnard took them first to his laboratory. It was two large rooms and occupied a wing of the house. It was meticulously neat, and well equipped. He excused himself and went to find Mrs. Barnard. Joan examined the titles of the books in one of the cases. “He’s done a lot of writing,” she said. “Alex, we’re finding out more things about more people.”
    “I told you he was a scientist,” Alex said.
    “I know, but why is he in Hillside, Alex?”
    He shrugged. “Why not? This is the heart of the dairy country, and his specialty is cattle. He’s worked himself up what amounts to a practice. Gets an annual sustainer from all the farms around here.”
    Mrs. Barnard came in with her husband then. “I’m sorry we’re disturbing you this late, ma’m,” Alex said.
    “Not at all. I rarely go to bed before twelve, and I’m delighted to have company. When Jeff’s working hard he’s not the best of company, and he’s been very busy lately. Won’t you come in and have some tea with me, Miss Elliot?”
    Alex watched them leave the room. There was a resemblance between Mrs. Barnard and Mabel Turnsby, he thought, but there was more refinement in her features. She walked in the grand manner, rather as though she were carrying a book on her head, and he remembered his mother’s comments on the way she “gave herself airs.” She might have been twenty-five or forty-five with the smoothness of her skin, the light eyes, and the straw-colored hair. She had a set little smile, and never, never laughed out loud, he