Miss Shumway Waves a Wand (20 page)

Maddox left off scrumpling up his blotting pad and breaking his pens and pencils, so I guessed that the first spasm was over. I advanced cautiously across the wide expanse of carpet until I was within six feet of his desk. “Hello there, Mr. Maddox,” I said, smiling.

Maddox half rose from his chair, but Harriet pushed him back firmly, so he had to be satisfied with a lot of lip twisting stuff.

“So you’ve come back, you incompetent, useless, pin-headed baboon,” he exploded, with a roar that rattled the windows. “Call yourself a newspaper man? Call yourself a special correspondent? Call yourself a…!”

“Mr. Maddox, please,” Harriet broke in, “you promised you’d behave! You can’t expect Mr. Millan to help you if you begin by calling him names.”

“Help me?” Maddox repeated, wrenching at his collar, “do you honestly think this brainless ink-slinger can help me? He’s cost the paper twenty-five thousand dollars! Twenty-five thousand dollars!! And look at him! It means nothing to him!”

“That wasn’t my fault,” I said, edging back a couple of feet. “You ask Juden. He’ll tell you what happened. You were double-crossed, Mr. Maddox. You’ve got Shumway to blame for that.”

Maddox began to swell, “I was double-crossed all right,” he said, leaning over his desk, while Harriet hung on to his coat, “you fell down on the job, you hollow-headed monkey! I know all about it… if you think I believe that stuff you told Summers you’re crazier than I thought. Floating women! Talking dogs!! Man into sausage!!! Bah!”

“Never mind about that,” I said, “I want to talk to you about Andasca.”

“Andasca?” He stopped tying his face in knots and stared at me. “What do you mean? What do you know about Andasca?”

“I know what you’ve got on him” I said, cautiously, “and I know Kruger wants you to lay off.”

He sat down abruptly, “How do you know?”

“Kruger told me. Now listen, Mr. Maddox, forget the twenty-five grand. Alter all this paper can afford to lose twenty-five grand once in a while…”

I thought that would start him all over again, but Harriet anchored him to his chair.

“Kruger’s framed Shumway’s daughter with murder. Unless he gets those photos he’s going to give her to the cops. He wants me to get those prints from you and in return he’ll turn the girl loose,” I went on. “He’s got enough on the girl to send her to the chair.”

Maddox drew in a long, deep breath. “So you want those photos, do you?” he repeated, struggling to get the words out. “You want to give them to Kruger, do you? Well, you’re not having them! I don’t care if he’s got enough to send every man, woman and child in this country to the chair! Do you understand that?”

I didn’t expect anything else. “Now, look, Mr. Maddox,” I said, “can I give you the whole story? Will you listen?”

“Will I listen?” he snarled, “why do you think I sent for you? Do you think I wanted to look on your cretinish face?”

“Okay,” I said, drawing up a chair, “it’ll take a little time, but at least you’ll know where you are.”

“At least I’ll know where I am,” he repeated, “and by the time you’ve finished, you’ll know where you are!”

I didn’t let him rattle me, but went straight into the story and told him everything from the meeting with Myra to the meeting with Kruger.

He sat drumming on the desk, looking as if be could eat me, while Harriet took the story down. When I was through, he just sat looking at me. There was a long painful silence. Even Harriet looked doubtful.

“What a dream!” he exploded at last. “That settles it. Young man, you’re a menace to the citizens of this country. Do you know what I’m going to do to you? I’m going to have you sent to a nut house. If I spend my last dime, I’ll have you put away before the end of the week.”

I got hastily to my feet. “Hey,” I said, “you can’t do a thing like that!”

“I can’t, huh?” Maddox snarled. “Well, you wait and see. This time next week you’ll be in a strait jacket!”

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Harriet called.

Murphy, the doorman, walked in. I’ve never seen a guy look so altered. His face was pale and lined and he carried himself as if he’d got a ton weight on his back.

“What do you want?” Maddox snapped, “get out, I’m busy.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Maddox, sir,” Murphy said in a low voice, “but, I’m leaving. I’ve just come to say good-bye.”

“What do you mean… you’re leaving? You’ve been with me twenty years,” Maddox said, startled.

“I know that, sir,” Murphy replied, shaking his bead sadly, “it’ll be a blow to the wife when she hears about it, but I’ve got to go. I’m conscientious, sir, and I don’t think I’m fit any more for the job.”

Maddox got to his feet. “What are you drivelling about?” he roared. “What is this? I warn you, Murphy, if this is a gag, I’ll make you sorry. I won’t have people wasting my time. Now, go downstairs and look after the doors. If you’ve been drinking, sleep it off. You’re an old trusted servant and I’ll overlook this, if you’ll get out.”

Murphy approached him. “It’s not that, sir,” he said mournfully, “my brain’s given way.” Maddox took a hasty step back, “Your brain?” he repeated uneasily.

Murphy nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, “it was all right this morning, but it’s gone now. I’ve got to go. I might do something I’d be sorry for.”

“How do you know your brain’s given way?” Maddox asked, behind his desk by now.

“I’m hearing things, sir,” Murphy said. “Voices in my head.”

Maddox appealed to Harriet. “Do people hear voices in their heads when their brains give way?”

Harriet lifted her square shoulders. “It’s not an encouraging sign, Mr. Maddox,” she said softly.

Maddox wiped his face with his handkerchief. “I suppose not,” he said. “But what kind of voices?”

Murphy shivered. “There’s a big dog downstairs,” he said. “I thought he spoke to me. That’s why I say I’m heating voices.’

“Spoke to you… a dog? What did he say?” Maddox demanded.

“He wanted to know if I changed socks every day.”

I jumped to my feet, “What?” I shouted, “a dog?”

Murphy shrank back, “Yes, Mr. Millan, a big dog I shouldn’t ought to bother you with this…”

“Where is he?” I shouted. “It’s Whisky” I turned on Maddox. “Now, I’ll show you something. Get that dog up here! Where did you leave him?”

“I don’t want him up here,” Murphy wailed. “I couldn’t bear to have him up here.”

I rushed to the door and jerked it open. Half the office staff, who had been listening at the keyhole, fell into the room, but I didn’t stop. I trod over them, shoving the others out of the way and rushed for the elevator.

Downstairs, I found a group of people standing round the door, but there was no sign of Whisky.

“Anyone seen a dog around here?” I demanded.

“Sure,” a big guy said, pushing his way towards me, “a big wolfhound. He came in here a few minutes ago and then Murphy suddenly seemed to go crazy and ran for the elevator. The dog went off like he was offended.”

“Which way did he go?”

“To the right. What’s it all about?”

I didn’t wait, but bolted out into the street.

There was no sign of Whisky anywhere. That didn’t worry me a great deal. There was only one place where he’d go and that would be home.

I signalled a passing taxi and gave him my address. “Keep near the sidewalk,” I said, “I’m looking for a pal of mine.”

The driver, a wizen little punk with suspicious rat-like eyes, touched his cap. “I’m ready to stop when you are,” he said, and drove along the street, hugging the curb.

I was nearly home, when I spotted Whisky trotting along. He looked in better shape. Someone must have cleaned him up, but he still had a nasty wound on his head.

“Stop!” I bawled to the taxi driver and bundled out of the cab. “Whisky, old boy!” I called, running towards him, “Gee! Whisky, it’s nice to see you.”

Whisky turned quickly, “Well,” he said, “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Come back in the cab, Whisky,” I said, patting him gently. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.” We crowded back into the cab. “Just drive around, will you?” I said to the driver. “I’ve got a lot to say to my dog.”

The driver eyed Whisky. “He’s a nice dog, ain’t he?” he said, “you ain’t been beating that dog, have you, mister?”

“Now listen,” I said, pushing Whisky in a corner so I had room to sit down, “I just want to talk to my dog. I don’t want to get tied up in a conversation with you. I haven’t got the time for it.”

“I don’t like guys who beat dogs,” the taxi driver said, turning in his seat. “I got plenty tough with the last guy I saw beating his dog.”

“Yeah?” Whisky said, pushing his face into the taxi driver’s, “then he must have been a midget.”

“Well, he was, but that don’t change the idea of the thing,” returned the driver and started up his engine.

Whisky and I settled back and we regarded each other affectionately. “Well, pal,” I said, “you’ve certainly had a bad time. What did they do to you?”

Before he could reply, we were both thrown in a heap on the floor as the driver trod on his brakes.

“What’s the idea?” I said, angrily. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The driver turned in his seat. His face was the colour of a fish’s underbelly. “Hey!” he said in a trembling voice, “didn’t that dog speak?”

“What are you talking about?” I said. “Get on with your driving, can’t you?”

“Now, wait a minute,” the rat-like eyes glared at me. “I’ve got to get this straight. Did that dog speak to me?”

“Well, what if he did? That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But dogs don’t talk. They bark, see?”

“Oh, I get it. Well, there’s nothing to worry about. He’s just that kind of a dog.”

“Well, if that’s all it is,” the driver said, relieved, and be began driving again.

“I thought you’d lost your voice,” I said to Whisky.

“So I did,” he growled, “and damned inconvenient it was too. I hope I never go back to barking again; you just don’t get anywhere like that. But, we’re wasting time, I know where Myra is.”

“So do I,” I said gloomily, “with Peppi.”

Whisky shook his head. “She’s in a top front room in Waxey’s dive,” he said.

I stared at him. “She’s with Peppi,” I said, “let me get you up to date,” and I told him about Ansell and Peppi and the whole set-up.

He sat looking at me with alert eyes and when I’d finished, he said, “Don’t bother about those photos. I tell you she’s at Waxey’s dive. We can get her out of there and then turn Peppi over to the cops. Tell the driver to turn around.”

“You’re sure?” I said, half convinced. “What has Waxey to do with Peppi?”

“Will you stop yapping,” Whisky said fiercely, “and tell the driver.”

“Okay,” I said, and leaning forward I said, “take us to Mulberry Park, will you?”

“Sure,” the driver said, “and listen, I’ve been thinking. I don’t believe that dog talked, see? And nothing you say’ll convince me,” and he swung the cab off the main street.

But Waxey and Lew had been too much for him. He only managed to get away by the skin of his teeth and not before Lew bad nearly brained him with his rubber club.

I listened grimly to all this. “I’ll settle that heel,” I said. “He’s nor going to knock you around and get away with it.”

“Better be careful,” Whisky said mournfully, “he’s a mighty big guy.”

“I’ll be careful,” I said. “If I get a chance to slug him when he’s not looking, I’ll take the chance.”

As the cab slowed down, Whisky said, “Well, here we are.”

“Yeah,” I said, getting out and paying the driver. He didn’t look at me when he took the money, but he eyed Whisky suspiciously, then he drove away fast. “I don’t think that guy liked us,” I said. “Now, listen. We’ll get nowhere if they see you, Whisky. You watch the building. If I don’t come out in half an hour, you’d better get the cops.”

“No good doing that, unless the two girls are there,” Whisky said. “If the cops get Myra and not the other one what sort of jam will we be in?”

“You’ve got something there,” I said, “but, what if something happens to me? What’ll you do?”

“I’ll send you a wreath,” Whisky returned. “What else can I do?”

“Never mind about the wreath,” I returned sharply. “You better come in. after me if I’m longer than a half an hour.”

“I’ll think about it,” Whisky returned. “I’m not worked up about the idea.”

“I can understand that,” I said. “You’re sure she’s in the place?”

“She’s upstairs in the room facing the street. I saw her look Out of the window.”

“Swell. It just means getting up there.”

“That’s right. If anyone tries to stop you, just don’t take no for an answer.”

I didn’t feel I was getting all the encouragement I needed, but apparently Whisky wasn’t an encouraging kind of dog.

I left him at the corner of the square and wandered towards Waxey’s dive. The place seemed deserted and when I got inside I found a thin weedy youth half asleep over the counter.

“Where’s Waxey?” I asked.

“Out,” the youth yawned and put his head on his arms again.

I glanced round the dim room. Over to the right was a door which I guessed led upstairs.

“I’ll wait,” I said, sitting on an upturned box near the door.

The youth didn’t say anything. He was nearly asleep. I sat there watching him and after a minute or so he began to snore.

I shifted my box closer to the door, but he didn’t look up. I gave him a few seconds just to be on the safe side and then reached the door. It opened silently and, leaving the youth spread over the counter. I peered into the gloom of a passage that led to a flight of stairs.

I’d have felt a lot more confident if I had a gun with me. All the same, if Myra was up there, I was going to get her out. I went up the stairs quickly.

The first room I entered was obviously Waxey’s bedroom. It was empty except for a rough cot and a lot of dirt. Waxey certainly lived the hard way.

The next door was locked. I hadn’t time for any fancy stuff, I drew back and caught the door a peach of a kick just below the lock. The door flew open and I sprawled in the room on my hands and knees.

Myra twisted over on the bed so that she could see who it was. I sat up and grinned at her.

“So you’ve come at last,” she said, trying to sit up. I could see that her wrists and ankles were bound. “Don’t sit there like a big drip. Hitch up your truss and get me out of here.”

“Kid,” I said, getting to my feet. “It’s grand to hear your voice again.”

“Never mind that stuff,” Myra snapped, bouncing up and down on the bed. “Get me undone. We can have our little cry together later on.”

“I’m right with you,” I said, going over to her. “They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

“Don’t talk so much,” Myra returned. “They haven’t had time, but they’ve promised all kinds of things.”

I examined the cords that bound her. Whoever tied her had made a swell job of it. But when I found my knife, it didn’t take long to free her.

“There you are, sugar,” I said, sitting beside her. “How does it feel?”

“Lousy,” Myra said moving her legs and wincing. “I’ve got a cramp.”

“I’ll fix that,” I said, pushing back my cuffs. “I’ll get some life in them.”

“Hands off!” Myra said sharply. “I like to do my own massaging.”

“That’s a pity,” I returned. “I was looking forward to that.”

While she began restoring her circulation, I glanced round the room. It was empty except for the bed and a table. On the table stood an odd looking contraption. There were two large springs, a handcuff on a long chain and one or two cogwheels. They were all joined up together and they intrigued me.

“Someone’s going to pay for this,” Myra said angrily. “Why should they want to kidnap me?”

“I’ll tell you in a second,” I said, picking up the handcuff, “what’s this thing?”

Myra gave a little scream, “Don’t touch it!” she cried.

“Why not … is it a man-trap?”

There was a sudden sharp click. The springs moved forward, the cogwheels spun and I found the handcuff on my wrist.

“You big sap!” Myra said furiously.

“Why, it
is a
man-trap!” I said, admiring the thing. “That’s smart. There might be a fortune in it.”

Myra swung her legs off the bed and hobbled over to me. “Didn’t I tell you not to touch it?”

I took hold of the handcuff and jerked at it. “I’ll get it off,” I said calmly. “I was glad to see it work.”

“You won’t get it off,” Myra said, nearly crying. “Oh, I could brain you!”

And she was right. The handcuff had me tight round the wrist and nothing I could do would shift it. The chain to which it was fastened only allowed me a few feet from the wall.

“Hey!” I said in alarm, “get this off, will you?”

“But I can’t,” Myra wailed. “You stupid dope! What am I going to do now?”

I wrestled with the thing silently. After a while, I gave up. “Don’t let’s get into a panic,” I said. “If this chain thinks it can hold me… why it’s crazy!” I put my feet against the wall and holding the chain in both bands, I threw my weight backwards. It ought to have wrenched the staple that held the chain out of the wall. But it didn’t. But it did nearly give me a hemorrhage. I sat on the floor and mopped my brow.

“You’re right, sugar,” I said in disgust. “I’m a sap and a dope!”

“They’ll kill you if they find you here,” Myra said anxiously. “Don’t talk that way,” I said hastily. “Someone might hear you and get ideas. Now listen, you’re in a jam and I’m in a jam, but it’s a lot worse for you than for me.”

“What do you mean?”

So I told her in a few words about Doc Ansell and the cops and how they were looking for her.

“So you see,” I said, “you’ve got to hide some place. Don’t wait for me. Get going. Take Whisky with you and tell him where you’re going. He’ll tell me later.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” she said, “I’ll get a file or something and break that chain.”

“You’re wasting time. Find me a rat to talk to and I’ll pretend I’m in jail. Go on. They won’t do anything to me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she said, and then she gave a sudden sharp cry.

“What’s the matter? Why are you looking like that?” I asked as her expression changed. She put out her hands towards me and I saw she was shivering.

“You’re not going to faint, are you?” I asked in alarm. “Here, hold up, kid,” and I tried to reach her.

“Something’s happening to me,” she said wildly.

The look in her eyes scared me and then I saw something that made me start back. You won’t believe this. I didn’t believe It myself. It was like something had gone wrong with my eyes.

Myra was becoming blurred. Her figure was smudgy, like a blurred photograph and even her features seemed to be dissolving.

“What’s happening to you?” I exclaimed, feeling my heart pounding.

She didn’t say anything, but just stood swaying before me. I could see something filmy in front of her. Something that moved. Then a shadowy figure stepped from her.

You’ve seen those trick films where people become transparent? Well, that’s exactly how this figure looked. It sent my blood pressure up and gave me the scare of my life.

As I watched, the figure became more distinct and then there she was—Myra the second, the spitting image of Myra except she was dressed only in white satin panties and brassiere.

I knew it must be Arym. But, even seeing the two together, it didn’t make it possible.

Myra backed away. She was as startled as I. Then she clutched at her frock and gasped.

“You—you’ve got on my underwear!” she said.

Arym admired her figure. “Well, I had to have something,” she returned airily. “After all we aren’t alone.” She looked at me archly. “Aren’t you staring a little too much?” she asked.

I hastily averted my eyes. “You’re not a sight for anyone to pass up,” I said feebly.

“But … you’re me!” Myra exclaimed, looking stunned. “Of course, I am,” Arym said. “At least, we share the same body.”

Myra put her hands to her face. “This is awful,” she said, “what am I going to do?”

“It’s all right once you get used to it,” Arym returned with a giggle. “Every one has two sides to their natures.”

“I know,” I put in, “but they don’t have two bodies. This is driving me batty.”

“Oh, that’s Quintl,” Arym went on, “he had a swell sense of humour. In a way, it’s been a good thing. I’ve got tired of sharing a body with someone else It’s nice to have one of my own.”

Myra came over and clutched at me. I put my arm around her. “Take it easy,” I said. “We’ll wake up in a minute and find this is just another nightmare.”

“Oh no, you won’t,” Arym said. “Why don’t you get wise? I’m just part of you and I’ve decided to leave you.”

Myra looked at her fixedly. “You’re bad,” she said quietly. “I can see you’re bad.”

“What of it?” Arym said, shrugging. “We can’t all be good, besides no one would be interesting if they didn’t have a little bad in them. Think how prissy you’re going to be now that I’ve left you.”

“So you’re the one who’s been making a mess of my life,” Myra said, stepping away from me and confronting Arym.

“It’s been mighty hard work. I tell you, it’s quite a relief to get away from you for a while.”

“You’ll never get back again,” Myra said. “So don’t you think you will.”

“If I want to, I shall,” Arym returned, wandering over to the bed and sitting down. “You can’t get along without me.”

“Yes, I can… and I’m going to.”

“How do you think you’ll live?” Arym scoffed. “I made all your money by stealing it. Remember Joe Krum? What a time I bad to get you to break the ice!”

Myra flushed scarlet. “Oh, I wish I’d never listened to you.”

“You’ve got quite a strong character really,” Arym admitted reluctantly.

“You won’t need to worry about my character now,” Myra said grimly. “I’ve got you out of my system, and this time I’m keeping you out.”

Arym shrugged, “I don’t want to come back,” she said. “You don’t have to get so worked up. I don’t think it would be safe any more. In fact, I’m certain it wouldn’t be,” and she laughed.

Myra stared at her. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded.

“If it wasn’t for that silly little man, I suppose I wouldn’t have left you for good. I think I was getting the upper hand of you although it was a tough struggle. But be had to interfere and so I had to kill him. You see Peppi says they’ll put me in the chair if they catch me. He’s going to hide me until they find you. They think you killed him, so when they’ve dealt with you, I’ll be able to start all over again.”

Myra suddenly saw what a jam she was in and looked desperately at me.

“If I could only get this handcuff off,” I said, jerking furiously at the chain, “I’d know what to do.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Arym said, curling up her long bare legs under her. “This is the proverbial struggle between good and bad. I’ve tried to get along with Myra, but it’s been too uphill. Why should a girl with such a nice body and looks lead such a dreary life as she makes me lead? I’m sick of it. Since she met you, she hasn’t stolen a thing. How does she expect us to live? Why, had to leave her to get alter that reward. She wouldn’t have bothered about it. Now, I’ve salted it away where no one can find it,” and her eyes lit up at the thought. She put her arms behind her and leaned back. I don’t want to stress the point, but that dame would certainly have made Petty a swell model. “Are you still going to marry me like you said, when all this is over?” she went on looking at me with an arch smile.

“I’ll have you understand he loves me, you horrid little hooker!” Myra broke in before I could say anything.

“That’s what you think,” Arym said, waving her away. “But he’s actually proposed to me. Haven’t you, darling?”