The White Elephant Mystery (16 page)

“I looked at it carefully,” Djuna went on, “and found these numerals on the legs. I think they are the combination to a safe, or something. Is that right?”

Spitfire’s eyes gleamed as he nodded his head up and down.

“Is the safe up in old man Grant’s house?” Djuna asked.

Again Spitfire’s head went up and down.

“On the top floor?” Djuna asked.

Spitfire shook his head from side to side.

“The second floor?”

Again Spitfire shook his head.

“The first floor?”

Patiently Spitfire shook his head.

“In the cellar?”

Spitfire grinned and nodded his head up and down.

Spitfire’s eyes gleamed as Djuna lowered his voice to a whisper, after looking carefully around to be sure that the door to the corridor was closed.

From time to time Spitfire shook his head, or nodded it violently up and down as Djuna asked him question after question. Perspiration was standing out on both of their foreheads and Djuna could hardly control his voice.

Then Spitfire’s eyes were shining with admiration as Djuna raised his voice to normal and said, “Do you think Ned Barrow missed you purposely when you fell yesterday?”

Spitfire’s eyes filled with pain. Then he shook his head, and then nodded it up and down, to indicate that he didn’t know.

“Do you want Trixie to fly again before you can talk to her?” Djuna asked.

Spitfire shook his head harder this time than he had at any time before.

Djuna slipped from the bed as he heard the catch click on the door—and the nurse and Trixie came in.

“Spitfire just told me he doesn’t want you to fly again until he can talk to you!” Djuna excitedly informed Trixie. “Spitfire isn’t sure, but he thinks his fall may have been Ned Barrow’s fault!”

Suddenly a smothered sound came from the bed and the nurse moved quickly around it to bend over Spitfire with Trixie leaning over it from the other side.

Then Spitfire’s voice was perfectly audible to all of them as he said, “Be careful, Djuna. Good luck!”

“He’s talking! He’s talking, Djuna!” Trixie cried joyfully.

“I’ll be back, Spitfire,” Djuna said as he leaned over the bed and saw Spitfire wink at him again.

“Djuna, where are you going?” Trixie cried. “You mustn’t—”

But Djuna didn’t hear her. He had slipped out the door and was half running, half skipping down the long corridor toward the reception room.

A taxicab was drawing up in front of the hospital steps as Djuna went down them. He waited until the occupants had paid the driver and then he said, “How much would you charge to take me over to the circus grounds?”

“A dollar fifty,” the driver said automatically. But when he looked at Djuna and saw the eagerness in his eyes he added, “I’ll make it an even dollar.”

“Thanks, very much,” Djuna said and climbed in.

When they arrived near the center of Riverton Djuna leaned forward in his seat and said, “Would it cost any more if you stopped at the Brewster House and I ran inside for just half a minute?”

“Why, no,” the driver said. “Take your time, Bud.”

Djuna hurried into the lobby of the Brewster House a few minutes later and saw that the same clerk Cannonball had talked to that morning was still on duty.

“Please,” Djuna said, when the clerk had finished talking to a man and woman, “have you heard anything from Mr. Furlong?”

“Not a peep, sonny,” the clerk said and pointed to the key in Socker’s box.

“Thank you,” Djuna called over his shoulder as he hurried back to the taxicab.

As Djuna climbed into the cab he saw a dark-skinned man with an unpleasant face staring at him from the driver’s seat of a car that was parked just behind the cab. Djuna started to speak to the man and then remembered that the reason he looked familiar was because he had seen him sitting in the same car outside the hospital, just before he got in the cab.

Then it occurred to Djuna that the man might be following him. He turned and looked out the rear window and saw that the car was pulling away from the curb, right behind the taxicab he was in. Djuna could feel something very unpleasant creeping up his spine as he sat back in a corner of the cab and peeped out the back window to watch the black sedan behind them. He saw that it was staying as closely behind them as it could and when they took a right turn at the next corner the black sedan also turned. After it followed them around another turn, Djuna leaned forward and spoke to the driver.

“There’s a black sedan behind us,” Djuna said, trying to keep his voice steady, “that has been following us ever since we left the hospital. Do you suppose you could get away from it?”

The driver didn’t say anything for a moment and then he turned his head and stared at Djuna for a split fraction of a second. “What’s-a-matter, kid?” he said. “You in trouble?”

“No,” Djuna said. “That is, I’m not in trouble but I’m afraid I might have some trouble after I get out of your cab, if he
is
following us.”

“You want to tell me about it, Bud?” the driver asked.

“Oh, jeepers, there isn’t time,” Djuna said. “You see I’m afraid something pretty awful might happen to me if he is following us.”

The cabdriver eased up on his accelerator and swung over toward the curb and stopped. The black sedan slowed and then it went on by them. They both watched it in silence when it pulled up to the curb a half-block down the street and also parked. No one got out of the car.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Bud,” said the cabdriver and he turned half around in his seat and asked, “What’s the pitch?”

“What’s the pitch?” Djuna repeated, puzzled, “I—I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“I mean, what’s he followin’ you for?” the driver explained. He studied Djuna for a moment and said, “You don’t look as though you’d been passin’ any bad money, or anything.”

“Oh, I haven’t!” Djuna said. “You see, a friend of mine is in trouble. I’m trying to help him. I don’t even know who that man is in that car up there, but I know that if he can he’ll stop me from doing what I’ve got to do.”

“Just as clear as a foggy night without no headlights,” the driver said sarcastically. After a grunt of disgust he said, “What you want me to do?”

“Nothing much,” Djuna told him eagerly. “Do you know where old Mr. Grant, the man who owned the circus, used to live?”

“Sure,” the driver said. “You want to go there?”

“Yes,” Djuna said, “or almost there. You can let me out on the hill, so no one sees you drive up to the house, if there is anyone in the house. But first you’ll have to lose that black sedan up there. He mustn’t know I’m going there.”

“So, he mustn’t know you’re goin’ there, eh?” the driver said and he spoke the same way Cannonball had when he had been mimicking the girl on the hospital switchboard.

“Then,” Djuna went on, “would you go the circus grounds—I’ll give you a pass to get in—and find Cannonball, I mean Trooper McGinnty, and give him the note I’ll give you to give him. He’ll be parked between the restaurant tent and the performers’ dressing tent.”

“Trooper McGinnty,” the driver said and his face warmed a little. “Do you know him?”

“Oh, sure,” Djuna said. “He’s a good friend of mine.”

“Well, at least you’re on the same team as the police,” said the driver, and he added, “An’ I guess you ain’t no dummy. Where’s the note?”

“Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil? And an envelope, too, if you have it?” Djuna asked.

“I got a piece of paper and a pencil,” the driver said, “but I don’t carry no envelopes. You’ll have to trust me.”

“Maybe you’ll have to trust me, too,” Djuna said. “I only have two dollars. If that isn’t enough to get rid of that black sedan and take me up to old man Grant’s house you’ll have to get the rest from Mr. McGinnty.”

“I’ll take a chance,” the driver said as he handed Djuna a piece of paper and a pencil, and a notebook on which to write.

Djuna hesitated before he began to write a note to Cannonball trying to figure out whether or not he was doing the right thing. After a little thought he couldn’t see what else he could do. If he went back to the circus grounds Sonny Grant and Tony Ciro would be there, probably to intercept him
before
he got to Cannonball. And the man in the black sedan would be right behind him, so he would be cornered. He knew that if he went to the police station they’d scoff at him just the way Trixie and Cannonball had, and by the time that he had convinced them of what he was almost certain, now, it might be too late.

He put the piece of paper the driver had given him on the notebook and wrote a short but definite note to Cannonball. He folded it carefully and then dug in his wallet and got out one of the passes Mr. Boots had given him.

“You’ll be sure Trooper McGinnty gets it, won’t you?” Djuna asked in a small voice.

“You can bet your bottom dollar on it, sonny,” the taxi driver assured him. “Now hang on to your hat!”

The taxi driver started his motor and let it idle until there were no cars coming in either direction on the road. Then he eased away from the curb and the car in front of him as though he had all the time in the world. But the instant he was clear he shot the gears into second and went by the black sedan that was parked ahead of them at over forty miles an hour. The light on the next corner was green, but just before he reached it the warning yellow light blinked on. He took the right-hand turn with his rubber screaming as the light turned red. As he went around the corner the black sedan was just pulling out into the street.

The taxi driver watched through his rear-view mirror and Djuna watched through the back window as the taxi fled down the side street. They saw the black sedan come up to the corner and start to make the turn to follow them in spite of the red light. Then a policeman’s whistle shrilled and the black sedan halted halfway around the corner.

“That does it, Bud,” the taxi driver said as he went right again at the corner. “We got two nice breaks there. He won’t get no ticket but he won’t catch us neither. You must have horseshoes around your neck.”

“No,” Djuna said, “but I do have a luck charm.”

“Well, who knows, you might need it,” the taxi driver said. “So far it’s been doin’ pretty well for you.” He turned to the right on the next green light and kept straight out along that street until the houses became fewer and farther between. He cut around the triangular green where the statue of the Civil War soldier stood in the center, and started up the long hill that led to old man Grant’s house.

When they were halfway up the hill he sifted into second and said, “Gimme the word when you want to get out, Bud.”

I don’t
want
to get out, Djuna said to himself, and then he said aloud, “Any place here. I don’t think you better take me any farther.”

“Look, Bud,” the taxi driver said as he stopped and looked at Djuna closely, “are you sure you know what you’re doin’?”

“Oh, yes!” Djuna said with a confidence he did not feel as he stepped out of the cab. He reached for his wallet and said, “How much do I owe you?”

“Just a buck,” the driver said, grinning. He took the dollar Djuna gave him, shoved it in his pocket and added, “I’ll be going right down to the circus grounds and give your note to McGinnty. Good luck, Bud.”

“Thank you,” Djuna said, and he took a deep breath. “Thank you, very much.”

The taxi driver swung his cab around and Djuna began a slow climb up the dusty road toward the top of the hill. He looked back as he neared the top and saw the taxi swinging around the triangular green at the bottom and he had an impulse, that he could hardly overcome, to start running down the hill after it.

When he reached the top he could see the rolling, wooded countryside stretching out on the other side of the hill and then on his left he could see the old square stone house scowling at him through the gigantic elms, copper beeches and maples that surrounded it. It looked even more foreboding and dismal now than it had in the dark of the night and Djuna shivered as he saw the drawn shades clustered under the battlements making it look like a huge squatting toad.

He went through the stone gateway that old Mr. Webster, Sonny Grant’s lawyer, had opened the night before and tried to saunter nonchalantly up the driveway. He knew that there was no use in trying to conceal himself if there was anyone watching from the house, but he was almost certain that he would find the place empty because he knew that Sonny Grant was on the circus lot.

He stopped several times and pretended to be studying the iron animals on the lawn through the unkempt hedge, and each time he finished he swung his gaze around to the house and pretended to be only casually interested in it.

When he reached the blue gravel parking lot in front of the front door, however, he stopped and studied the house with the intent interest of some wandering architect who is fascinated by its strange construction. Actually he was looking for telltale signs that would indicate whether there was life inside.

He debated for several minutes whether he should walk boldly up on the front porch and ring the bell, or saunter around to the back and try to find an unlocked door back there.

He decided on the former, and after taking a quick look in every direction he stole quickly up on the porch and crossed as quickly to the door. He put one hand on the knob and the other on the bell. But he didn’t need either of them.

The door swung open silently, without any pressure from Djuna’s hands, and an unseen voice snarled, “Come on in, pal! You’ve saved us a lot of trouble!”

Djuna’s heart climbed up into his mouth and he stood, petrified, while his mind ordered his legs to run. He started to whirl when the blue nose of a vicious-looking automatic came around the door, clutched in a muscular hand, and the same voice said, “I told you to come in, pal! You won’t get farther than the front steps if you try to run.”

Djuna lifted one leaden foot up on the door sill and then the other. “Come on in, pal!” the voice urged for the third time and Djuna moved forward into the shadowed hallway.

The door swung slowly closed and Djuna knew he was trapped as the dim outline of a powerful man began to take shape in the dim light. He could see the automatic clutched in the man’s right hand, just in front of his stomach, and its blue nose was just on a line with Djuna’s heart.