The Yellow Cat Mystery (3 page)

“Gee!” he said in amazement. “I’m glad I don’t have to hoe them!”

A few minutes later they passed a group of Mr. Williams’s pickers and Djuna stared at them because they were talking some language that he couldn’t understand. Others were singing a plaintive, melancholy melody as they worked, swinging their bodies to the peculiar cadence of the tune.

After they had passed them, Djuna said to Tommy, “What were they talking about?”

“Search me,” Tommy said. “They were speaking Spanish. A lot of the pickers come from Puerto Rico and Jamaica and South America.”

“How do they get here?” Djuna asked.

“By plane and boat,” Mr. Williams said. “The ones from Puerto Rico and Mexico just need permits to get into the country. But the ones from foreign countries have to have regular passports. We pay them every day, because it’s pretty hard to keep track of them on any other basis. We make ’em all sign the payroll every day and produce their Alien Registration Cards or their passports. The East Florida Border Patrol keeps a close eye on aliens to see that they don’t slip north and disappear. If they lose their passports they’re really in trouble. They—”

“All right, Harry,” Mrs. Williams interrupted to say. “That’s enough beans for today. We’re going home now and have supper—and
not
beans—and then Djuna is going to bed. He probably only half slept on that coach last night and Miss Annie would skin me alive if he got sick down here.”

“Oh, I feel fine, Mrs. Williams,” Djuna protested.

“And I’m going to see that you keep that way,” Mrs. Williams said grimly, and this time she wasn’t laughing.

T
HE
sun was shining when Djuna opened his eyes the next morning. At first his surroundings were strange to him and he couldn’t remember where he was. When remembrance came to him he bobbed up in bed like a jack-in-the-box and saw that Tommy was already up. He hurried into sneakers, swimming trunks and a striped Basque shirt, gave his face and hair “a lick and a promise” in the bathroom and bounced into the kitchen, a kitchen gay with red-checked tablecloth and curtains, and with the sun and red bougainvillaeas peeping in the window.

“Lazybones!” Tommy scoffed from behind a bowl of cereal and strawberries.

“Morning, Djuna,” Mr. Williams boomed from his place at the table beside Tommy.

“Don’t let Tommy spoof you, Djuna,” Mrs. Williams said, flashing her teeth. “He has only been up two minutes himself. What about some dry cereal with strawberries and cream, a soft-boiled egg, toast, marmalade and milk? That’s what Tommy is having.”

“Strawberries at this time of year!” Djuna exclaimed. “Just give me anything, Mrs. Williams. I’m so glad to be here it really wouldn’t make any difference if I didn’t have anything to eat.”

“Well, we’re just as glad to have you, Djuna,” Mr. Williams said, “but you can’t live on sunshine. I was up and out in the fields at daylight. By the time I get back here for breakfast I can eat like a horse, and I do.” Djuna glanced at Mr. Williams’s plate and saw that it was piled high with ham and eggs and fried potatoes.

“Do your men start picking that early?” Djuna asked.

“Soon after it’s daylight,” Mr. Williams told him. “I get ’em started early and then give ’em a long siesta in the middle of the day, because it’s pretty hot in the fields at that time.”

“What,” Mrs. Williams asked, “are you boys going to do today?”

“We’re going to the beach on my bike,” Tommy said.

“Not until after lunch,” Mrs. Williams said firmly. “I have a special Florida dish for Djuna at lunchtime, so—”

“Besides, we have to take Mrs. Pulham’s cat to the dentist this morning,” Djuna interposed.

“Take Mrs. Pulham’s cat to the dentist!” Mrs. Williams said. “Why, I never heard of such a thing!”

“Neither did anybody else,” Mr. Williams chuckled and he told Mrs. Williams about Mrs. Pulham and her yellow cat. “She is the widow of old Doc Pulham who used to have his office over the bank,” he explained. “She says old Doc used to fix her cat’s teeth and she doesn’t see any reason why the young new dentist who bought her husband’s equipment can’t do the same thing.”

“Well, I never,” said Mrs. Williams and she laughed until there were tears rolling down her cheeks. “Can’t you just see the cat all dressed up in a checked suit and derby hat and carrying a cane, going into the dentist’s office! Oh, dear!”

“I’ll tell you, boys,” Mr. Williams said when they had all stopped laughing. “I’ve got to go over to the bank to get money for Hansen, my supervisor, for the afternoon payroll, so I’ll give you a lift that far. We can take Tommy’s bike in the trunk rack. Then you can go on up to Mrs. Pulham’s on your bike. You’d better leave the bike there and bring the cat back on foot, so you won’t drop it and lose it. Okay?”

“Fine, Pop,” Tommy said.

The Dolphin Beach Bank, the only one in the town, had just opened its doors when Mr. Williams parked his car diagonally in front of the old coquina rock building where the bank was. There was an open arcade in the center of the building. In the center of the arcade was a cigar stand that had four open sides. The right-hand side of the building, as you entered, was occupied by a bowling alley with eight lanes. On the opposite side of the arcade was the Dolphin Beach Bank, with its entrance on the sidewalk. From the back of the arcade, stairs led upward on both sides to the offices above. On the front of the building was an ancient clock which registered 8:45 as Mr. Williams parked. Above the clock the words
HAMILTON BLOCK
had been inscribed in the coquina rock.

Farmers from the vast vegetable gardens to the west, winter tourists, businessmen from the beach hotels and taverns, and distributors from the Farmers’ Exchange who were in the midst of their busiest season were pouring in and out of the bank as the boys climbed out of the car with Mr. Williams.

“Can we go in with you and look around, Pop?” Tommy asked.

“Surest thing you know, if you keep out of the way,” Mr. Williams said. “Not much to see, but they do a terrific business in this place. What with all the farmers, big and little, drawing money every day for their payrolls and all of the money that rolls into the beach places at this time of year, they say over a hundred thousand dollars goes through here every day, in cash. They’re open every day, except Sunday, from eight-thirty in the morning until two in the afternoon.”

“Jeepers, it’s a wonder someone doesn’t rob the place,” Tommy said.

“I’ve thought of that myself,” Mr. Williams said, and then corrected himself hastily. “I mean I’ve thought that it was a wonder
someone
didn’t rob it. I didn’t mean
I
had thought of robbing it.”

They went through the front door and into the high-ceilinged single room that the bank occupied. The cages began at the left and extended from the front of the building almost to the back. There were four tellers’ windows, one with a girl behind it, handling the bustling business of the depositors who had formed in lines at each window. Many of the farmers and businessmen who were depositing and withdrawing cash in large sums had suspicious-looking bulges in their pockets and some of them openly wore guns in holsters strapped to their legs.

Behind the four tellers’ cages a dozen men and women worked feverishly to add to the general bustle with the rattle of their typewriters and business machines. Halfway back in the big room, and behind the cage, was a huge vault that reached all the way to the ceiling. The vault door was open and both Tommy and Djuna exclaimed and pointed as they gazed through the open doorway. Mr. Williams looked and laughed at their excitement as they stared at the stacks of currency inside the vault.

The depositors were lined up on the right-hand side of the room as far back as the end of the cage. Where the cage ended, beyond the vault, there was a partition across the rest of the room that was about three feet high and had a swinging door in it. Behind the partition was a large, flat desk with a genial-faced, white-haired man sitting behind it. There was a sign on his desk that read: M
R
. H
ORACE
H
AMILTON
,
Cashier
. Behind Mr. Hamilton’s desk were a half dozen more men and women busily working at desks. These were all behind the end of the cage and as Mr. Williams took his place on the end of the last line, against the low partition, the white-haired man rose and touched him on the arm. Mr. Williams turned and he and Mr. Hamilton talked business for a moment. Then Mr. Hamilton said, “Are these both your boys?”

“No, just this one—Tommy,” Mr. Williams said, putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Djuna, here, came down to visit Tommy during the holidays. They used to be schoolmates when we lived up North.”

“Well, Djuna,” Mr. Hamilton said. “What do you think of Florida?”

“I think it’s wonderful,” Djuna said earnestly. “I only came yesterday, but I’ve seen more new things in one day than I’ve ever seen in my life before!”

Mr. Hamilton beamed and said, “That’s what we like to hear. You be sure and spread the word around when you get back North, Djuna.”

“Oh, I will,” Djuna said. “I’ll—”

Djuna stopped speaking because a well-dressed, pleasant-faced young man wearing dark sunglasses came through the crowd and spoke to Mr. Hamilton. Mr. Hamilton greeted him genially and said to Mr. Williams, “Have you met Dr. Hammer yet, Mr. Williams?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure,” Mr. Williams said as he shook hands with the young man.

“Dr. Hammer has taken over old Dr. Pulham’s offices upstairs,” Mr. Hamilton explained. “He says he is a first-rate dentist.”

Mr. Williams laughed and Tommy whispered to Djuna, “Shall we tell him about Mrs. Pulham’s cat?” Djuna shook his head as Mr. Williams said, “This is my son, Tommy, Dr. Hammer. I want to bring him in to have his teeth cleaned and checked as soon as you’re ready for business.” Dr. Hammer flashed a nice smile at Tommy as he shook hands with him and said, “We’ll take good care of him.”

After Mr. Williams had introduced Djuna to him, Mr. Hamilton said to Dr. Hammer, “How are things coming along? We want to keep our tenants happy.”

“Oh, it’s slow work getting settled,” said Dr. Hammer. “I’m making a few changes—building some shelves and rearranging some of Dr. Pulham’s equipment. Hope my pounding doesn’t bother you. I’m right overhead, as you know.”

“With those bowling alleys across the arcade from us,” Mr. Hamilton said, “we can’t even hear you. They almost drive us crazy sometimes. I’m sorry, now, that we ever gave them a long-term lease.”

“Those bowling balls certainly don’t sing lullabies,” Dr. Hammer said. “I’ve been sleeping on the couch in my reception room until I find a place I can afford, but it’s no use trying to go to sleep until after the alleys close for the night. It’s usually after midnight, so I sleep late, mornings.”

“Where do you eat?” Mr. Hamilton asked.

“Oh, I make a little toast and some coffee when I get up in the morning,” Dr. Hammer said. “And I usually make myself a sandwich or two for lunch. Then I generally go over to Chuck Nielson’s Restaurant or the Snack Bar, over on the beach, for one good meal a day.”

“Good food Chuck has there,” Mr. Hamilton said.

“Delicious,” Dr. Hammer agreed.

Mr. Williams had moved up the line and had completed his business at the window as Dr. Hammer said good-by to Mr. Hamilton and flipped a hand at Tommy and Djuna.

“I’ll find out about the price of that land for you, Mr. Williams,” Mr. Hamilton said as Mr. Williams rejoined them.

“Thanks,” Mr. Williams said. “Will you know about it in the morning?”

“I should,” said Mr. Hamilton and gave the two boys a friendly smile as they moved away with Mr. Williams.

Outside, Mr. Williams got Tommy’s bike out of the trunk rack of his car. Djuna climbed on the handlebars and Tommy pedaled down the street one block and turned left on Atlantic Avenue and started east toward the beach.

After a few minutes of silent pedaling under a sun that was rising higher and higher in the heavens and getting hotter and hotter as it rose, Djuna snickered and said, “Boy, is that Dr. Hammer going to be surprised when we bring in Mrs. Pulham’s cat!”

“I don’t see why he should be,” Tommy said seriously. “If he’s a good dentist I don’t see why he can’t fix a cat’s teeth as well as a person’s.”

“But a dentist can tell a person to open his mouth,” Djuna reasoned. “How is he going to tell a cat and then get him to keep it open? Mrs. Pulham said her cat had an ulcerated tooth. Boy,
I
wouldn’t want to try to hold him!”

“Oh, they tie them down and put some kind of a prop in their mouth so they can’t close it,” Tommy said. “Don’t you remember that elephant that had an ulcerated tooth when the circus was in Riverton and they had to chain it down to treat it?”
¹

“Jeepers!” Djuna said, and he shivered as he remembered how close that elephant had come to killing him. “I had forgotten about that. I guess if they could treat an elephant’s ulcerated tooth a dentist ought to be able to treat Tootler’s.”

“Tootler? Who’s that?” Tommy asked.

“That’s what Mrs. Pulham calls her cat,” Djuna said.

“Oh,” Tommy said, and after a moment he added, “That Dr. Hammer seemed like a nice man. I hope he doesn’t hurt when
I
go to him.”

Mrs. Pulham was sitting on the front porch of her cottage when the two boys alighted from Tommy’s bike and wheeled it across the lawn. When she saw them she rose, waved a hand, and called, “Sit down while I get Tootler.” When she came back she was carrying the wicker cat basket and both of the boys peered through the screen in the upper part of the door at the big, yellow cat inside. The yellow cat gazed indifferently back at them.

“You tell Dr. Hammer,” Mrs. Pulham said, “that there is a reg’lar harness someplace around his office that Mr. Pulham rigged up to put on Tootler when he treated him.” She chuckled and added, “It’s made of leather and has four pads on it that look like little boxing gloves that kept Tootler from scratching him.”

“Oh, sure,” Tommy said. “We’ll bring him right back as soon as he has finished. Shall we tell him which tooth it is?”