The Yellow Cat Mystery (10 page)

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Authors: Ellery Queen Jr.

BOOK: The Yellow Cat Mystery
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Tommy pedaled up beside Rilla, rested one foot on the ground and said, “Hey, have you seen Djuna? I’ve been looking every place for him.”

Rilla turned her head and when she saw who had spoken to her she stuck her nose in the air, an inch or two higher, and said, “No. Who cares where
that
smarty-cat is! I wouldn’t tell you if I
had
seen him.”

“You hadn’t better talk about smarty-cats,” Tommy said. “You’ve got Mrs. Pulham’s cat following
you
. She says it’s meaner than a skunk with boils, so you better watch out.”

Rilla turned around and saw the big yellow cat stalking her and said, “Shoo!” She swung the bag at the cat but the cat just took another sniff at the lovely smell that came from the bag, and as Rilla quickened her steps the cat quickened its steps behind her.

“You must smell like fish!” Tommy shouted at her as he went by, his feet twinkling on the pedals.

“They’re Dr. Hammer’s shells!” Rilla cried after him.

“Horsumpphat!” Tommy shouted back over his shoulder, and Rilla’s face became a shade redder.

Tommy was really pedaling as he raced through the business section of Dolphin Beach, over the tracks of the Florida East Coast Railroad, and turned south on the Dixie Highway. He was panting and dripping with perspiration now as he swung into the Williams driveway, let his bicycle drop on the lawn, darted across it and up on the porch. He could hear the icebox door in the kitchen slam as he dashed into the living room calling, “Djuna! Djuna!”

Mrs. Williams’s serene countenance became alarmed as she saw the red, perspiring face of Tommy as he came into the kitchen.

“What in the world—” she began.

“Is Djuna here?” Tommy panted.

“Why, of course not,” Mrs. Williams said worriedly. “What’s the matter, Tommy?
Where is Djuna?”

“I—I don’t know,” Tommy half sobbed. “He—he —I—”

“Now wait a minute, Tommy,” his mother said and put an arm around his shoulders and led him over to a chair at the kitchen table. “Calm down and tell me about it.” She went quietly over to the sink and ran cold water on a hand towel and came back to wipe his face with it. “Tell me about it,” she said again.

“I don’t know
what
happened to him,” Tommy gasped. “He was going to meet me on the beach and I waited and waited for him. He took Champ over to Nielson’s Restaurant to get a bone for Champ, and after it started to rain I went over there and Mr. Nielson said he had been there and left about an hour before. I went down to Captain Andy’s boat yard, and Captain Andy hadn’t seen him; so I decided he must have come home, so I came home, too.”

“Well, what is there to get excited about?” Mrs. Williams asked. “He’ll probably be along any minute. What are you in such a dither about?”

Tommy gulped. He had been on the verge of telling his mother all about Pedro and Dr. Hammer and the lettering on Pedro’s boat, when something warned him that it would be better if he didn’t. He knew how terribly his mother would start to worry if she knew that Djuna was getting tangled up with people like Pedro, and he didn’t think it was fair to worry her if he could help it. He remembered what Captain Andy had said and decided he wouldn’t say anything about Pedro.

Djuna had not returned when Mr. Williams came home from his bean fields at seven o’clock. He was so worried about the weather broadcasts and the danger of frost that night that he didn’t even notice that Djuna wasn’t there. He was faced with the danger of losing his whole bean crop and a great deal of money. The afternoon weather broadcast said there would be snow flurries in the state capital that night and frost as far south as Miami.

“I’ll have to get back out there and be ready to flood the fields if there is going to be a freeze,” he said as he sat down to supper. Then suddenly he looked around the table and added, “Where’s Djuna?”

“That’s what
we
want to know, Pop!” Tommy said.

Mrs. Williams put a hand up to hush Tommy and said, “We didn’t want to worry you, Harry, because you’ve got enough trouble with the danger of frost. But Djuna disappeared this—”

“Disappeared!”
Mr. Williams said and dropped his fork on the table. “What do you mean—disappeared?”

Mrs. Williams told Mr. Williams just what had happened, with an excited word now and again from Tommy, to help her explain. When they had finished Mr. Williams’s face looked twice as lined as it had before.

“Well,” he said, and he rose from his chair. “We’ve got to do something. I think we’d better notify the police. I —” He stopped speaking as the telephone rang and said, “That’s probably Hansen,” and went into the hallway to answer it.

Then both Mrs. Williams’s and Tommy’s eyes widened as he said, “No. Djuna isn’t here now. This is Mr. Williams speaking. Who is this, please?”

There was silence for a moment and then Mr. Williams said, “Of course I remember you, Mr. Furlong. You’re in Miami, you say?”

“It’s Socker Furlong!” Tommy cried excitedly. “The newspaper reporter! You remember him, Mom!”

There was another silence and then Mr. Williams said, “Well, you’d better get up here as soon as you can. I’m glad you’re here, Socker. You’ll know what to do. Djuna has disappeared…. Now, don’t get alarmed. My wife and Tommy just told me about it. They knew I had plenty of trouble on my mind with the danger of frost killing all my beans tonight, so they didn’t want to worry me. But it’s dark now and we’ve got to do something…. Right, Socker. Just ask in the drugstore beside the bank in the center of town and they’ll tell you where we live. I’ve got to get back out to my bean fields, but Mrs. Williams and Tommy will be here. You do whatever you think should be done…. Good-by.”

Mr. Williams looked a little less harassed when he came back into the dining room. Tommy, his face aglow, said, “Socker Furlong will know what to do!”

“I hope so,” Mr. Williams said.

“Now, Harry,” Mrs. Williams said. “You eat your dinner and go on back out to the fields. We’ll explain things to Mr. Furlong and he’ll take over.”

“Right,” Mr. Williams said grimly. “The rest of this crop of beans is my margin of profit. If I lose them—”

“I know, dear,” Mrs. Williams said and she went out into the kitchen to get the apple cobbler she had made for his dessert.

A half-hour later, Mr. Williams had just driven away when a car drove into his driveway. It had E
AST
F
LORIDA
B
ORDER
P
ATROL
lettered on the side. Although it was nearly forty miles from Miami to Dolphin Beach, Socker Furlong and the man dressed in the natty green uniform of the Border Patrol, who was at the wheel, had driven all that distance in less than thirty minutes!

Socker Furlong’s usually jovial face wore a worried frown as he stepped out of the car, shook hands with Mrs. Williams and Tommy, and introduced them to the blond-headed young giant, Dan Forbes, who was assigned to the East Florida district of the Border Patrol.

“I’ve been in Miami for a couple of days,” Socker explained. “Old man Canavan, my boss, sent me down there on a wild goose chase. I’m going to fly back North tomorrow morning and decided I’d get over to see you people, and Djuna, while I had a chance.”

“I’m awfully glad you called, Mr. Furlong,” Mrs. Williams said. She looked at Tommy and then she told Socker the truth. “I’m frightfully worried about Djuna,” she told him. “You know the way he gets into these things and—”

“If
I
don’t know, who does?” Socker asked grimly. He turned to Tommy and said, “Is there any reason to make you think Djuna might have got tangled—mixed up in something, Tommy?” he asked sternly.

“I—I don’t know,” Tommy stuttered. “Captain Andy told me—” He caught himself and stopped while Socker shook a finger at him.

“You come clean with me, Tommy!” Socker warned. “Djuna may be in real danger.”

“Well, I guess I better tell you, Socker …” Tommy said, and he took a big breath and began at the beginning. Both Socker and Dan Forbes, and also Mrs. Williams, listened in absorbed silence while Tommy told them about Pedro and about Djuna’s suspicions. But he didn’t tell them anything about Dr. Hammer because he couldn’t see how Dr. Hammer could have anything to do with it.

While he talked, Mrs. Williams gasped from time to time and when Tommy had finished she said indignantly, “Why didn’t you tell your father all that, Tommy Williams?”

“Because Djuna wasn’t sure, and Captain Andy warned me that we might get in a lot of trouble if we said Pedro had done something, when he hadn’t,” Tommy explained. “I—I—”

“Could I speak to you out on the porch for a moment, Socker?” Dan Forbes of the Border Patrol asked quietly.

Socker nodded and they went out on the front porch and over in a far corner where their voices wouldn’t carry to Tommy and Mrs. Williams.

“That kid, Djuna, is as good as you told me he was on the way up,” Forbes said in a low voice to Socker. “We’ve been trying to find this man—Gomez—for over two months. He used to be known as the Yellow Cat in the ring. He was a washed-out fighter—didn’t have the guts, and turned smuggler. He was meeting fast boats from Cuba down in the Ten Thousand Islands and smuggling aliens onto the mainland.”

“Is he dangerous?” Socker asked in a shocked voice.

“Of course he’s dangerous,” Forbes told him impatiently. “We suspect he forced three Chinese overboard, to drown, just before we picked him up once. But we couldn’t prove it. They’re all dangerous when they’re cornered.”

Socker said something explosive under his breath and then added, “Don’t tell Mrs. Williams or Tommy that.”

“Naturally not,” Forbes said. “But we’d better take young Tommy with us and get over and see what this Captain Andy knows. Then I think we better notify the Florida Highway Patrols and make a general broadcast.”

“Let’s go,” Socker said.

Dan Forbes explained to Mrs. Williams that they were going over to Captain Andy’s boat yard and then to the police station to notify the Florida Highway Patrols, on their two-way radios, about Djuna’s disappearance, and that they would also arrange a general radio alarm over one of the big Miami stations. He assured her that Tommy would be in no danger if he went with them, and he might be of a great deal of help because he could identify Pedro and his boat.

“We’ll telephone you in a short time, Mrs. Williams,” Socker said, just as they climbed into the Border Patrol car.

“Please do,” Mrs. Williams said and her eyes were troubled as she added, “You be careful, Tommy.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Tommy said. “I will.” He was trembling with excitement, but he tried to hide it from Socker and Dan Forbes because he was afraid they would think it was from fear.

All of the colored electric light bulbs were lit at the base of the coconut and bottle-palm trees that framed the yacht basin on three sides as Dan Forbes drove the Border Patrol car across the Waterway bridge. Soft music floated across the Waterway, and bare shoulders gleamed brightly in the arms of white-coated dancers on the afterdeck of a long, low cruiser. There were laughter and merry voices everywhere, yet Tommy could hardly suppress a sob as he leaned forward and stared at Captain Andy’s wharf. There was a single dingy lantern burning above the wharf, but there was sufficient light to show that Pedro’s boat was not moored there.

“Pedro’s boat isn’t there,” Tommy said, as he pointed out where it had been moored that morning. “That’s Captain Andy’s boat yard.”

“How do you get in there, Tommy?” Dan Forbes asked.

“Go up to this next corner and go to the left past the yacht basin,” Tommy said. “But the door will be locked and Captain Andy will be gone now.”

“Well give it a try,” Socker said. They went past the row of novelty stores in front of the yacht basin and turned left at the corner. Dan Forbes’s eyes swept over the fishing boats in the yacht basin as they passed, and then he brought the car to a stop in front of the door into Captain Andy’s boat yard. Socker edged his considerable bulk out of the car and tried the door. It was locked.

“No soap,” he said. “Tommy, where does Captain Andy live?”

But Tommy wasn’t listening to Socker. He was peering intently down the road that ran parallel to the Inland Waterway and was etched brightly in the long beam from the Border Patrol car. “Look!” he shouted. “It’s Champ!”

Both Socker and Dan Forbes turned to look at his excited face and then they stared down the road in the direction in which he was pointing.

Framed in the car’s bright headlights, a hundred yards away, a little black dog was staggering toward them. While they watched it its hind legs collapsed and it sat with its long, red tongue hanging out while it stared back into the lights. A moment later it forced itself up and came staggering on until it collapsed again.

Then Tommy scrambled out of the car and went running down the asphalt road, calling Champ’s name; and Socker Furlong was right behind him. Tommy gathered the little black dog up in his arms just as it was about to collapse again. Champ tried feebly to lick his cheek as he felt the protection of Tommy’s arms, but the effort was too much. His head sank against Tommy’s shoulder.

“Where’s Djuna, Champ?” Tommy sobbed.
“Where’s Djuna?”

Champ lifted his head at the mention of Djuna’s name and a low growl formed in his throat. He tried to wriggle free as Socker came up and took the exhausted dog from Tommy’s arms.

“Oh, if he could only talk!” Tommy cried as Socker tenderly examined Champ’s torn feet and the swelling on his rump.

“If he could only talk is right,” Socker growled as he carried the battered little dog back and deposited him on the front seat of Dan Forbes’s car.

“Boy, he’s been through the mill,” Forbes said. He stroked Champ’s head and Champ wearily closed his eyes. “He’s been drenched. Looks as though he’d been thrown overboard from a boat and then fought his way back here for help.”

“All right!” Socker Furlong snapped. “Let’s get over to police headquarters and have them contact the Highway Patrol, and then put out a general radio broadcast with a description of Djuna.
Let’s get the ball rolling!”

Tommy was home in bed, with Champ curled up on the bed beside him, when the general broadcast came over the night air. Mrs. Williams had brought the small kitchen radio into his bedroom. Both were white-faced, and Mrs. Williams was sobbing, as the announcer’s tense voice said:

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