Johnnie (20 page)

Magda choked on crumbs. “What about the missing papers?”

“I know nothing of them. Doubtless one of you do. If they are ever found, I suggest sending them to Rudolph, in internment. With my compliments.” He pushed up. “Good night.”

Dorp jumped to face him. “I do not think you should leave us like this.”

“Do I care what you think?” He drew himself up to six foot two inches of floppy dignity. “I am Ferenz Lessering.”

“What’s up now?” Ruprecht asked mildly.

Johnnie could have cheered. Good old Rupe! He hadn’t ratted. Neither had Trudy. She was right behind him, pink and pretty and curious.

“Rudolph’s skipped,” Johnnie explained.

“Skipped? What do you mean?”

Ferenz said, “Just what he says. Rudolph has gone. Coat, hat, luggage—gone.” His chest began to heave. “All my money gone. Gone with one who sneaks away to tell the F.B.I, what I have done for him.”

Ruprecht began to laugh. Trudy looked at him and she began to laugh too.

“I wouldn’t have thought he had enough guts,” Rupe chortled. “Good old Rudo. I’ll buy him a drink when he gets out of internment.” He became straight-faced. “Maybe he didn’t like your plans.” He looked at each one of them in turn.

“What do you mean?” Ferenz asked haughtily.

“Maybe he figured he’d rather be a live duck under suspicion than a dead one under the plans.”

Ferenz shook his head. “There was the risk, Ruprecht, always the risk in king-making. But a throne is worth the gamble. And Dorp had it directly from Europe—”

“How do you know?” Ruprecht demanded. “Anybody could tell you anything so long as you agreed with it. How do you know what Dorp dreamed up?”

“You are speaking of me?” Dorp squawked.

Johnnie liked this.

“Yeah, you. Why wouldn’t you dream them pretty when you’d found a sucker who didn’t care what he put out for as long as he could play Metternich. But murder’s a different story.”

“So are Nazis,” Johnnie allowed.

Magda commanded, “Quiet!”

It was the first time she’d pulled that in hours. Johnnie was so surprised he turned and looked at her. She wasn’t paying any attention to him though. She’d said it automatically. She was watching Ferenz. Johnnie was thankful he wasn’t Ferenz. Those green eyes were more like the eyes of a rattler than of a glamour girl. If he hadn’t been on the wrong side of the table, Johnnie would have made a dive for her gun pocket. He didn’t think she was safe having it at the moment.

Ferenz didn’t seem worried though. He was merely tired of it all. He droned, “I am leaving here, Ruprecht. Find out what you can, dear, and let me know. I am writing this project off as a bad debt. Perhaps the Rudamian
Republic
will some day reimburse me.”

“What makes you think you’re leaving?” Magda asked softly. “You’re in this too, Furry. Don’t think you’re not. If the rest of us are investigated, we’re not going to pretend we dug up the money out of Fort Knox to send Rudolph back to Rudamia.”

“I do not intend to figure in this, Magda.” Ferenz’s voice rose. “Whatever lies you choose to tell about me, my lawyers and I shall refute with ease.”

He walked to the door. Ruprecht still blocked it. Magda’s hand was in her pocket. Dorp spoke. “Let him go.” It was an order.

Ruprecht stepped aside. Now Trudy barred the way. Ferenz could squash Trudy like she was a crocus. He didn’t. She raised her big blue eyes to him. “Don’t you want to help us find Theo? And whoever murdered him?”

“Theo is of no possible interest to me,” Ferenz answered loftily. “I am leaving here at once. I would advise the rest of you to do the same as quickly as possible. Once Rudolph reaches the government-in-exile, I fear the F.B.I. will be headed this way. Even if they do not come, I am supporting this house no longer. You have bungled. All of you. Good night.” He pushed her aside.

Dorp repeated, “Let him go.”

Trudy grinned. “He won’t get far. Mike’s got integrity.”

Dorp’s fat face split. “I too remembered Mike.”

Even Ottomkopf simulated their giggles.

Dorp brushed the crumbs off his vest and belched. “I do not believe Mr. Lessering should be allowed to leave without us.” He trotted into the throne room. The others followed. “Phew,” he said. “Phew.” His nose wrinkled. “This room. It smells.” He pulled the red curtains away from the front windows, flung the windows wide.

“Is this wise?” Ottomkopf asked dubiously.

“Why not? It is almost daylight. The prize has vanished. The rest of us too must vanish.”

From below there were voices. The injured bleat was Ferenz. The bluster was Mike.

Magda smiled. “You think we should prepare to leave with Ferenz?”

“I believe this would be the wise move,” Dorp stated.

From below there rose the plaint, “Ruprecht, this fellow refuses to allow me to depart.”

Mike’s voice climbed over it. “I got my orders, Bub.”

Johnnie slid along to the banisters, leaned over. It was just like it sounded. The big Lessering stood at bay at the foot of the stairs, trembling with rage. Mike was on both feet by the door, twirling his service revolver and looking pleased as Punch. Johnnie cheered, “At-a-boy!”

“Ruprecht!” Ferenz wailed.

Ruprecht hadn’t come out of the throne room yet. The others had, all but Trudy. They were bustling around, upstairs, in rooms, out of rooms. All the while Ferenz kept howling for Ruprecht. Johnnie felt a nudge on his arm. It was Trudy squeezing up beside him. That felt good. It would have felt better if Rupe hadn’t come along pushing on the other side of her. She didn’t honey up to him though. She urged, “Go on, Rupe.”

“And miss the fun? Not yet. Don’t worry about me.”

Mike was finally making himself heard above the din. He spoke to the point. “Aw, shut up before I let you have it.”

By that time Dorp and Ottomkopf were hurrying down the stairs, bowlered and coated. After them came Janssen, his uniform enveloped by the dark coat again, and Magda, a polo coat over her yellow slacks. At the same moment the pounding at the front door broke through the racket.

Johnnie felt relieved. Some way Mike had got word through to headquarters. If it weren’t the police, it must be the Marines. This was the spot for them.

Mike pointed a steady gun to the crowd on the staircase. “Stay right where you are,” he said.

Johnnie whispered to Trudy. “Might as well see the show in comfort.” He took her by the hand and hurried her to the top step. “Box seats,” he offered. They sat down. The only trouble was that Rupe followed, sitting down on the other side of Trudy.

“You are no longer to guard,” Dorp was announcing to Mike but he didn’t attempt to move from the lower step.

“The hell I’m not,” Mike told him. The door pounding wasn’t quieting down any. Mike shouted to it, “Keep your shirt on.” He backed nearer to the noise while warning the tableau, “One of you make a false move and you’ll see if I’m still on guard.” He put his hand on the knob, opened the door without turning. “Come in and join the party. Keep quiet and watch this gun.” He kept the shooting iron and eyes pointed steady forward.

Johnnie lifted up from the step but Trudy pulled him down. “Wait,” she ordered. She was watching the door.

The new entrants weren’t policeman. They were the two street department men with the hats pulled over their eyes. Johnnie had known they were phonies. Real street department workers wouldn’t be coming in here. He would have warned Mike but it happened too fast. Before he could yell, one of them had lunged, quietly knocked the revolver out of Mike’s hand. The gun bumped across the floor. Dorp picked it up, scurried to a stand in front of the chenille curtains where he covered not only the bunch on the stairs but the three by the door. The only ones he didn’t cover were Johnnie and Trudy and Rupe on the top step. He didn’t know they were there.

Mike’s fist had shot out the minute he was attacked. The workman’s chum had closed in. You couldn’t see what was what by now.

“Stop that horseplay,” Dorp commanded once he was set. “Stand where you are.”

Mike and the wrestling team moved apart. One workman had an incipient shiner. The other was wiping his nose. Mike brushed at his sleeves.

“Now I have something to say,” Dorp announced. “Thank you, Joe.”

“Wasn’t nothing,” Joe said. He picked up his hat, pulled it over one eye like before.

Johnnie whispered, “Why can’t I go down the back way and sneak up on Dorp from behind?”

“No back stairs,” Trudy whispered. “Wait.” She had her eyes fixed on the door again.

“May we leave now?” Ferenz was haughty.

“Not yet,” said Dorp. “Not until I know who killed Theo.”

“Does it matter?” Ferenz wearily examined his nails.

“He was a traitor,” Ottomkopf growled. “He deserved to die. Let us go.”

“He did not deserve to die,” Dorp said slowly. “He was a poor weak fool, yes. A tool, yes. But I did not intend he should die. I should myself have protected him had I known he was to die. I did not know. Now I shall find out who it was killed him.”

“You’re being frightfully silly, Dorp.” Ferenz was impatient. “We can confer at a safer place than this. Even now Rudolph may be in Washington, may have set on us the F. B. I.”

Dorp laughed, a noisy jiggling laugh. “The F. B. I. is not coming up from Washington to investigate us. This need not worry your head.”

Rupe’s jaw was set. He leaned forward. Trudy’s hand went swiftly to his arm. She still watched the door with puzzled anxiety.

“What do you mean?” Ferenz’s whisper was shrill.

Magda cried, “What do you mean? You didn’t—Rudolph isn’t—dead?”

Dorp laughed louder. When he stopped the silence was thick as his accent. He spoke into it. “I hope he is not dead. If he is someone will be sorry, very sorry.”

The silence was awkward. Ferenz began, not so sure of himself now, “I cannot remain here longer.”

Dorp moved the gun forward. “But you will,” he said softly. “Or I shall be forced to shoot this gun at you.”

“I scarcely knew this Theo.”

“I didn’t know him at all,” Ottomkopf spoke up.

“No. But it was not Theo who was meant to die. It was Theo who died but it was meant to be Rudolph. And there were many who wish Rudolph to die.”

“You can’t include me!” Magda exclaimed.

“Indeed yes, Magda. If Rudolph dies, who is king? Ruprecht, yes. And much better you should be his queen, no?”

Trudy made an ugly face.

“I wasn’t betrothed to Ruprecht.”

“It is the royal custom,” Dorp smiled, “that if a betrothal is made publicly—as it was tonight—the lady must be taken over by the new king. Ruprecht could do nothing but marry you.”

“I could abdicate,” Ruprecht muttered.

Ottomkopf said, “That is quite true, Herr Dorp. She killed Theo.”

“I did not!” Magda shouted. “What about you? You never could get along with Rudolph.”

“It appears to me,” Ferenz stated, “that Ruprecht had the most to gain by Rudolph’s death.”

Ruprecht spoke again under his breath. “My pal.”

“I certainly have nothing to gain,” Ferenz continued. “If Rudolph had been killed tonight, I should have lost a goodly sum of money, the cost of bringing him from Mexico, the ticket on the Clipper, the expenses involved—”

“Maybe,” Dorp agreed. “Maybe not. There is a good price on Rudolph’s head. Put there by the Nazis who now hold Rudamia. The same price is on Ruprecht’s head. That is why the F. B. I. watch so closely on him, I believe. The Nazis would eliminate the heirs to the Rudamian throne. Believing this would save them a revolution.”

“For someone who poses as a Rudamian patriot,” Ferenz said meanly, “It seems to me you know a lot about Nazi affairs.”

“Of certainty I do. It is because these things I know that I am able to help you plan Rudolph’s return. I am an honest man. I do not like it that one of you is not honest. That one of you pretends only that he wishes Rudolph to return. I do not like it that he is brought here only to be killed. I particularly do not like it that one of you kills poor Theo by mistake.”

Janssen spoke up suddenly. “Herr Dorp, there is one question you must answer. Why did you give that envelope to Theo? Everything starts from that point.”

“I am asking the questions,” Dorp reminded him coldly. “Remember that. Which of you killed Theo?”

Silence alone answered him.

“I could tell him,” Johnnie muttered.

Trudy put her finger to her lips.

“If that is not to be answered by you, I do not anticipate the consequences. Not pleasurably for you. I and my men will—”

Trudy let out her breath. Someone had knocked on the front door. The knock was repeated.

“See who this is, Joe,” Dorp frowned.

Joe opened the door. Whoever Trudy had been expecting, this wasn’t it. Nor was it the Marines.

It was Rudolph.

It was Rudolph, a Rudolph with a satisfied canary-filled expression on his vacant face and his long cigarette holder angled in his mouth. No one expected him. The lower stair delegation reared forward as one man. Ruprecht and Johnnie grabbed Trudy’s arm just in time to keep her from tumbling on her head. Disappointment was fluctuating with amazement on her face. Dorp’s mouth was wondrous. But he didn’t forget to keep the gun pointed at his prisoners.

Magda recovered first. “Rudolph! Where have you been?”

“I was hungry,” he said blandly.

“We had supper prepared.”

He lifted supercilious eyebrows. “There was no chile. I told you I wanted some chile.”

“But how did you get out?”

He frowned at her stupidity. “How do you think? On wings? I walked out the front door, of course. And I found a nice little restaurant, open all night, on the next street. Strange. The man who runs it is from Rudamia. Hans—”

“Your bags?” Dorp demanded. “What did you do with your bags?”

“Aren’t they here? I told that guard to watch them.” He was annoyed. “What are you doing with that gun, Dorp? I brought them down myself. It was almost time to go to the airport. I left them by the halltree there.”

Johnnie peered through the banisters. They were there all right. Only everyone here, inspired by a dumb private from Texas, was so certain that Rudolph had flown the roost they hadn’t bothered to look in the dark passageway.