Goat Mother and Others: The Collected Mythos Fiction of Pierre Comtois Read Free Page A

been an improvement when the supermarket, small sized though it was, first came to town. She remembered when her mother used to have to go all the way in to Boxton to do her weekly food shopping. And with the supermarket came a branch of the local 5 cent savings bank and even a laundromat!
    “Hello, Mrs. Mills,” said Cindy Stewart from behind one of the store’s two cash registers.
    “Good morning, Cindy,” replied Ruth. “How’s your mother? Up and around yet?”
    “Oh, you know her, Mrs. Mills, a few hours after the delivery, she was up making dinner!”
    Ruth laughed. “She hasn’t changed since high school!”
    Some time later, Ruth was just finishing up her shopping and had stopped in the canned fruit aisle when she heard a familiar voice. Standing with a can of peaches in her hand, she listened and discovered that the voices were carrying over the shelves from the next aisle.
    “…visiting with my brother in Arkham,” said one person. “You know he’s an attorney there? And he was telling me about having to settle an estate issue in Dunwich and how it was a nightmare to figure out because of either poor record keeping at the registry of deeds or there being no records at all!”
    “That doesn’t surprise me one bit,” replied the second person, whose voice Ruth recognized immediately as Myrtle Potter’s. “Dunwich has disintegrated to the point where the state is considering discontinuing it as a legal township…read it in the
Boston Oracle
. If it happens, it’ll be the first time that’s happened in who knows how long. What with no Fire Department, no Police Department and hardly any town government to speak of and only a two room schoolhouse that’s always looking for a new teacher, it’s no wonder.”
    “How did that town ever get so bad, I wonder?”
    “Pshaw, Janey, you’ve heard all the same stories as I have…”
    “But they don’t explain such neglect…”
    “Well, I’ll tell you, things weren’t always so bad,” went on Myrtle. “It mostly happened after that business with the Whateley’s years ago. Tossed such a scare in folks that a lot of ‘em sold their farms and moved away. Those that stayed…well, it’s not polite to speak in such terms, but those that stayed was never regarded as being the sharpest needles in the old pin cushion if you know what I mean.”
    Janey Sawtelle chuckled guiltily, but agreed.
    “’Course, that doesn’t mean that there still ain’t a few folks there that knows what they’re about. Take Josh Turner’s wife, Adele for instance…”
    At the name, Ruth straightened and listened more intently.
    “What about her?” asked Janey.
    “Not as slow on the uptake as a lot of those other Dunwich folk,” said Myrtle. “I heard from Emmaline Craddock that her family’s not from Dunwich at all but from somewheres else. Not sure where. Boston maybe or out of state.”
    “Why’d they move to Dunwich of all places?”
    “Emmaline said she heard that Adele’s grandfather came to Dunwich to research the Indian tribes that used to live around here in olden times,” Myrtle explained. “He bought the old Coburn place up near Dead Indian Road and fixed it up some.”
    “And Adele married Josh Turner? Didn’t set her sights too high, did she?” said Janey, unkindly.
    “Ain’t that so? And her being such an attractive thing too. I mean, there might not’ve been much stock to choose from in Dunwich, but there was no reason she couldn’t do some shopping in Dean’s Corners or Boxton for that matter. Anyway, I hear she’s come to her senses somewhat lately…”
    Janey giggled. “Oh, I know what that means! Who’s she takin’ up with?”
    Here, Myrtle lowered her voice somewhat so that Ruth was forced to listen very carefully to hear what she said.
    “Well, I hear from very reliable sources…Lizzy Doderholz, who works for the telephone company manning the old switchboard for Dunwich…they still haven’t got a modern phone system up