The Blue Herring Mystery (12 page)

“Maybe it was Doc Perry who checked all those Scapping Days in the
Advocate!
” Bobby whispered.

“But
why?
” Djuna said.

“You can search
me!
” Bobby replied.

Doc Perry came out from behind the back showcases where the prescriptions were prepared just as a customer came into the store.

“Yes, sir?” Doc Perry asked. The customer took a square piece of paper from his breast pocket and held it out to him.

“Doctor Hammond said you could probably fill this for me,” the customer said.

Doc Perry took the prescription and studied it for a few moments, and then he pursed his lips and shook his head. He handed the prescription back to the customer. “Sorry, I can’t fill it for you. I’m out of some of that stuff. You’ll have to take it to Riverton, or up to Northport.”

“But my goodness, man!” the customer exploded. “It’s only a simple little prescription for cough medicine. My boy has a slight cold and we thought we ought to catch it before it gets any worse.”

“Sorry,” Doc Perry repeated. “I got a patent cough medicine that would be just as good. Only a dollar a bottle. I —”

“Nonsense!” the customer said. “This is the third time I’ve brought a prescription in to you and you’ve never had the drugs to fill them. Why don’t you get them? What kind of a drugstore is this, anyway?”

“Better take the patent medicine,” Doc Perry said smoothly. “It’ll save you a trip to Riverton.”

The customer glared at Doc Perry and then stalked to the door without speaking and slammed the door behind him.

“There’s just no way to satisfy people,” Doc Perry said to the boys. “I don’t keep a lot of them drugs on hand because they cost too much. People howl to high heaven at the price I have to charge ’em. It’s easier to say I don’t have the drugs and let ’em howl at someone else!”

“Don’t you fill
any
prescriptions?” Djuna asked.

“Very seldom,” Doc Perry said. “Once in a while, if I know it ain’t going to cost too much.” He ran hot water into a basin behind the counter after he had sprinkled the basin with a meager quantity of soap chips. The boys had finished their sandwiches and were drinking the last of their milk shakes as he began to wash the dishes.

They sat there for a moment watching him and then Bobby began to hum “The Maid from Armentières.” He hummed the first two lines and then he sang aloud.

There was a loud crash behind the counter as Doc Perry dropped a plate and knocked over two or three glasses. They crashed to the floor, too, as he grabbed for the plate. When Bobby and Djuna looked at him his face was red with anger and his beady eyes were gleaming.

“Jeepers!” Bobby said, and he slid off his stool and backed away from Doc Perry’s malevolent glare.

“Where did you hear that song?” Doc Perry said between his teeth. “And what do you mean by singing it in here?”

“My — my uncle taught it to me!” Bobby said. “I — I didn’t mean anything. There were a lot of other verses that my uncle wouldn’t teach me. Maybe that’s what you mean. I —”

“No, that ain’t what I mean!” Doc Perry shouted. “Where did you —”

Djuna, who had stayed on his stool, and was coolly watching Doc Perry without showing his own amazement, said quietly, “We were looking through some old files of the
Brookville Advocate
this morning and came across a wedding announcement of a man named Hinckley Dingley and a girl named Maud Beekman. We thought Hinckley Dingley was a sort of funny name, so Bobby used it instead of Hinky Dinky in that song. That’s all! Do you know someone by the name of Hinckley Dingley?”

“No!” Doc Perry said, and the color seemed to drain out of his face. But he was still irritable. “I never heard of no one named Hinck — what is it?”

“Hinckley Dingley,” Bobby said.

“I never heard of
no one
by that name!” Doc Perry snapped. “I don’t
know
anything about anyone by that name! But I don’t want no one singing in this store, and especially a song like that!”

“Golly, I’m sorry, Doctor Perry!” Bobby said.

“Are you
sure
you’ve never known anyone named Hinckley Dingley?” Djuna interrupted.

When Doc Perry turned his gaze on Djuna his eyes were cold and yet they were smoldering. He pointed a shaking finger at Djuna and said, “I know about
you!
You think you’re a smart little apple. I know
all
about you. You helped the cops grab Sonny Grant after he was sprung from the Yarwell Pen, and tried to take over his father’s circus!
*
I know all about you! You’re a dirty little stool pigeon! I —” Suddenly Doc Perry caught himself up short, as though he hadn’t realized what he had been saying, and he mumbled, “I just don’t like cops! I don’t like any part of them! I ain’t ever had anything to do with ’em, but I don’t like ’em! You give a man a uniform an’ a gun an’ he thinks he’s better’n anyone else on earth. It’s just that I don’t
like
’em!”

“I’ll say you don’t!” said Djuna.

Doc Perry managed to put on a friendly smile. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by what I just said to you,” he said to Djuna.

“How,” asked Djuna with a steady voice, “did you know about Sonny Grant and Yarwell Penitentiary and his father’s circus?”

“Oh,” Doc Perry said, and he smiled again. “I was workin’ in a drugstore over at Riverton when all that happened. I followed it in the newspapers because I was a great admirer of the way you found things out. That was certainly a nice job you did.”

Djuna flushed and squirmed, as he always did when anyone mentioned the cases on which he had worked with the police.

“I want you to know I didn’t mean a thing,” Doc Perry went on. “I always get excited when anyone mentions cops.”

“
We
didn’t mention cops,
you
did,” said Bobby; and then he wished he hadn’t, as Doc Perry fastened his beady gaze on him again.

“You boys better be runnin’ along now,” Doc Perry said, and he contrived another smile. “I’m all excited, and when I get that way I’m apt to say things I don’t know anything about. Now run along and don’t hesitate to come back any time you want to. Always glad to have you. Next time mebbe the ham and cheese won’t all be gone.”

“Thanks, Doctor Perry.” Djuna slid off his stool and they made their way toward the door.

“’Bye, boys,” Doc Perry called, in what he thought was a cheerful voice, as they reached it. “C’m in any time. Only too glad to see you!”

Djuna and Bobby waved a hand at him as they left the store.

When they were out on the sidewalk they once again got their bikes and started to wheel them up the main street of Brookville. They only snickered a couple of times until they had passed the stores on the street. Then they mounted their bikes at the curb and started to pedal out the Landing Road toward Edenboro.

“Gosh!” said Bobby. “He’s crazier than a nuthatch! What’s the matter with him?”

“I wish I knew,” said Djuna thoughtfully. “But I don’t think he’s as crazy as he acts.”

They didn’t say anything more until they reached Edenboro about twenty minutes later. They didn’t say anything because Djuna was deep in thought, trying to join together the jigsaw puzzle he had in his mind; and Bobby was wondering, among other things, what Miss Annie was going to give them for supper.

“Let’s ride over to see Mr. Boots for a few minutes,” Djuna said, “and ask him about going up to Sepasco Kill tomorrow.”

“Okay,” said Bobby.

They rode on past Miss Annie’s and Pindler’s store and when they saw Mr. Boots’s old truck in front of his shop they knew he was home. They leaned their bikes against the wall of the shop and hurried inside. When Mr. Boots saw them coming in the doorway his face took on a very peculiar expression and he said, “Git out o’ here, boys! I got a piece of work here I got to finish up without any interruption! I’ll call you in a minute!”

They both froze as they came to a halt and then backed out of the doorway with their eyes fastened on Mr. Boots’s face.

“Is everyone going crazy?” Bobby whispered when they were outside.

“Golly!” Djuna said and his eyes were hurt. “I never saw Mr. Boots act like that before! I wonder what in the world is the matter with him? He never minded if I watched him work before. He usually
likes
to have me, because it gives him someone to talk to.”

The back drop of Mr. Boots’s truck was down, so they climbed up on it and sat with their legs dangling over the end. They sat, mostly in silence, glancing now and again at the door of Mr. Boots’s shop, as they waited. After about fifteen minutes Mr. Boots appeared in the doorway.

“I’m sorry I was so short, boys,” he said, but they could tell from the way he chuckled that he wasn’t sorry. “But I got a little surprise for y’ an’ I didn’t want you to spoil it.”

Bobby and Djuna hit the ground, running. Mr. Boots still stood in the doorway, barring their entrance into his shop. He chuckled again and stepped back and said, “There she be, boys! For Scapping Day!”

Hanging on an old wrought-iron hook, and all assembled, was a scapping net that was just half the size of the heavy net Mr. Boots had used the day before. Their eyes bugged out as they stared at it. Finally Djuna managed to gasp, “You made it for
us
, Mr. Boots?”

“That’s what I did,” said Mr. Boots. “Sat up half the night, like a dang fool, weavin’ that net. It’s a four-footer, with sims woven in the corners, ’n everything. Four-foot bows and a seven-foot hoister! ’N beside it is a seven-foot bamboo pole with a three-foot line on it, and a safety pin in the loop to hold your stool!”

“My golly, Mr. Boots!” Bobby said as he gingerly touched the net. “I never saw anything so beautiful in my life.” Djuna couldn’t say anything more for the moment. He just stared with admiration and gratitude.

“It’ll be more beautiful when it’s filled with herrin’ tomorrow, come five o’clock!” Mr. Boots said. “I knew it wouldn’t be half as much fun for you boys if you couldn’t really do some scappin’ tomorrow. Now you got a net you can handle, and you can.”

“Oh gee, Mr. Boots!” Djuna finally managed to gasp. “Like Bobby said, it’s beautiful!”

“W’al,” Mr. Boots said. “It’ll do the trick. I had some eight-foot lengths of ironwood I was seasonin’, so I just cut ’em in half, notched ’em on one end f’r the sims, an’ tapered ’em on the other to fit the block. An’ I had a basswood hoister I was a-seasonin’, too, so, I cut it in half and tapered it down at one end to go through the block, ’n there you are.”

“Can I take it down to see if we can hoist it all right?” Bobby asked.

“Surest thing y’ know!” said Mr. Boots. “Sit here in this chair and put th’ end of th’ hoister under the edge of the chair. Lots of people, ’specially women, use a old chair, right at th’ edge of th’ Kill, instead of wadin’ in, when they’re scappin’. Now take Aunt Candy Barnes, she al’ays brought a chair with her. She was a right powerful woman just a few years ago, and with her sons workin’ th’ stool she used to git more herrin’ ’n anyone.”

Bobby lifted the net down, seated himself in the chair, put the end of the hoister under the seat, and let the net drop into imaginary water. A moment later he lifted the net with ease, and said, “Oh, boy, is it a beauty! It’s
just
right, Mr. Boots.”

“Well, ’member it’s goin’ to be a mite heavier when it’s full o’ herrin’!” Mr. Boots pointed out.

Djuna took the net from Bobby and went through the same procedure. His face was wreathed in smiles as he hefted the beautifully balanced net and looked at Mr. Boots. Then he sobered and said, “Golly, I hope I don’t get the idea of playing hooky from school to go scapping after you go home, Bobby!”

“No, sir! None o’ that,” Mr. Boots said severely. “You take to doin’ that an’ I’ll paddle your stern myself!”

“Say, Mr. Boots,” Djuna said, looking at the steel watch on his wrist, “it’s about five o’clock and the full tide is still running. Do you suppose we could go over and try out our net for a little while so we’ll know just how to handle it tomorrow?”

“No, sirree!” said Mr. Boots firmly. “You won’t have no trouble handlin’ that net tomorrow, an’ I got work to do. Been dallyin’ most th’ day away on that thing!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that,” Djuna said, and he was really contrite. “I’m sorry I even suggested it.”

“What time shall we go over to the scapping place tomorrow?” Bobby asked Mr. Boots eagerly.

“W’al,” Mr. Boots said as he scratched his white stubble of beard, “I reckon after we have a little food around noontime it will be soon enough — say, two, three o’clock. That’s plenty soon enough. A lot of people fr’m out in th’ outlayin’ districts ’ll come an’ bring their lunch ’n supper both, but the scappin’ won’t be much until th’ full tide at five o’clock.”

When Mr. Boots stopped talking and looked down at the anguished faces of the two boys before him he started to chuckle. But Bobby and Djuna didn’t chuckle. They didn’t know how they could wait until two or three o’clock in the afternoon.

“Now, now, boys, don’t look so miserable,” Mr. Boots said. “I got work to do in the mornin’. But there’s no reason why you can’t go up to the scappin’ grounds any time you want to, on your bikes. Then I c’n bring over the nets in th’ middle afternoon. Won’t be any scappin’ afore then.”

“But Miss Annie won’t let us ride on the Federal Highway!” Djuna said. “She has forbidden me
ever
to ride there.”

“You won’t have to ride on the Fed’ral Highway,” Mr. Boots said. “When you leave Miss Annie’s in th’ mornin’, or whenever you decide to go, you take th’ road that goes by her house and keep straight ahead instead o’ takin’ th’ right turn out to Aunt Candy Barnes’s house. Y’ keep right straight on till you come to a dirt road thet crosses th’ one you’ll be ridin’ on. That’s th’ Old Mill Road —”

“Oh, I know!” said Djuna excitedly.

“Y’ take a left turn on th’ Old Mill Road,” Mr. Boots went on, “an’ it’ll bring you on to th’ Fed’ral Highway, right on top o’ thet cliff on the north side of the Kill. The Old Mill Road comes in right at th’ north end o’ th’ bridge. Git off y’r bikes when y’ git there an’ wheel ’em across th’ bridge — there’s a sidewalk, so you won’t be in no danger fr’m cars on th’ Fed’ral. Take thet left turn we took yestiddy, ’n there y’ are!”