By John D. MacDonald
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Extra info for April Evil
Furniture appeared in more pleasing arrangements. The entire house seemed lighter and more alive. He remembered the day the couple had arrived, a cold day of rain two days after Christmas. The fat-pine fire Arnold had built crackled in the study fireplace. Arnold had come in, dark face both thoughtful and dubious to say, "They's a couple of young folks here says they's kin to you, Doctor. " He remembered a letter that had come nearly two months before, a letter written in pencil, mailed in California, and signed Joseph Preston.
Where they scatter is their problem. " "I'm going to be able to use you. I figured it all out. When it's time I'll tell you what you have to do. " "Can I ask just one question? " "All right. " He buttoned his aqua shirt slowly. "I hope not, honey. I hope nobody gets killed. " Chapter Two Ben Piersall was late getting to the Flamingo Country Club and knew he would only have time for nine holes before dusk. He had phoned the club when he knew he would be late, and left word for the other members of the regular Monday foursome to tee off without him.
There was no one in the other cars. The other customers were all inside the restaurant. A waitress in a green cotton uniform stood in the angular patch of shade made by the building itself, her back against the pink wall, and watched the couple as they got out of the gray car. She smoked a cigarette and watched them and wondered idly about them. The man was tall. He was about thirty years old. He had the look of someone still recovering from a serious illness. He slid carefully out from behind the wheel and stood by the car, his posture bad, shoulders thrust forward.
April Evil by John D. MacDonald