Miss Shumway Waves a Wand

XVII

“Where to, boss?” the driver asked, as soon as we had settled down.

“Keep driving,” I returned, shoving Whisky’s foot out of my chest. “I’ll tell you when I’ve had time to think.”

Myra and Whisky were making a great fuss over each other, and I had to tell Whisky that when I wanted his tongue over my face I’d let him know.

“It’s certainly nice to see you again,” Whisky said, panting with excitement. “I’d given you both up for lost.”

“We’d given ourselves up for lost,” I said, taking Myra’s hand. “It’s a good thing you learned to float, sugar.”

“You know, I just can’t help it,” Myra said apologetically. “But I must get some undies. I just haven’t any confidence without them.”

“What have you done with them?” Whisky asked, pricking up his ears.

“Don’t tell him,” I pleaded. “It’ll take too long. Never mind about your undies. The cops are looking for you. They’ve only to hear I’ve been seen with a blonde and a dog and they’ll come after us like bats out of hell.”

“Very well,” Myra said, settling back. “But you’ve no idea how it preys on my mind.”

“The point to concentrate on is where do we go from here?” I said.

“That, I think, is for you to decide,” Myra said, slipping her hand into mine. “I’ll go where you say.”

“I’ve got to put you in some place where the cops won’t find you. Then I’ve got to get hold of Arym.”

“Who’s Arym?” Myra asked, puzzled.

“Your other self, my pet,” I said lightly. “That’s what she calls herself. If I get her, then you’ll be in the clear.”

“But how are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even going to think about it. I must first find a hide-out for you.” Then I remembered Harriet. “I know,” I said, and leaning forward I told the driver to stop at the first public telephone.

“This do you?” he asked, cutting across the traffic and drawing up outside a drug store.

“Yeah,” I said, then to Myra, “wait here, I’ve got to ’phone.”

I found there was only one telephone booth when I got into the drug store and some dame was using it.

I went over to the soda-jerker behind the counter. “Is that lady going to be long?” I asked. “I’ve got a taxi outside and I’m in a hurry.”

He shook his head. “She’s about through,” he said. “Anyway, I figure it that way. She’s been in there since noon and she must have used up most of the air in that little booth by now.”

I thanked him. He had a pretty good grip on his business because the woman suddenly hung up and stepped out of the booth. She nodded to the soda-jerker and went out into the Street.

“What they find to talk about,” he began, leaning on the counter, but I didn’t wait to hear any more. I shut myself in with the telephone and put a call through to the Recorder.

Harriet was tied up with Mr. Maddox, I was told.

“Well, can’t you send someone in to cut her loose?” I demanded. “This is important.”

“How important would you say?” the switchboard girl asked. She didn’t sound impressed.

“Her apartment’s on fire and her old man’s trapped up on the roof,” I lied. “If that’s important to you, I guess you might do something about it.”

“I can’t interrupt Mr. Maddox for that,” she replied. “How long has he been up on the roof?”

I would have liked to have been right behind that baby. I’d have surprised her.

“Look,” I said. “It doesn’t matter how long he’s been up there. The point is the place is on fire and he gets dizzy when he’s high up. He wants to see his daughter before anything happens to him.”

“Well, I’ll tell her when she’s through with Mr. Maddox,” the girl replied curtly and rang off.

Maybe she didn’t believe me.

I had to leave the booth to get some change and when I got back some guy was entering the booth.

“Look, mister,” I pleaded. “I’ve got a priority. Would you mind giving way to me?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got a priority too,” he said. “My wife’s apartment’s on fire...”

“I know and she’s up on the roof,” I said, in disgust.

He looked at me sharply. “I wonder how you knew that,” he returned, then he suddenly shrugged. “Well, hell! I’ll wait. There’s plenty for her to look at up there.”

I thanked him and got back to the Recorder. “If you don’t put me through to Miss Halliday,” I said when I got the operator, “I’ll fix you good some dark night.”

“Let’s make a date,” she replied promptly. “The trouble is the nights are never dark enough these days.”

“How can they be?” I said, wanting to strangle her.

“Well, you know what I mean. How dark does it have to be?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I’ll just choose the first dark night that comes along,” I said, snarling.

“I can’t do business on those lines,” she replied, giggling. “I like something definite. How about to-night? To-morrow there’s a new moon and it’ll be too light for fixing.”

Something jogged my memory. “New moon?” I repeated. “Did you say there’ll be a new moon to-morrow?”

“Sure, I have to watch little things like that. They make an awful difference in a girl’s life.”

“Never mind about your life,” I said quickly. “What’s the date?”

“July 31,” she replied. “Have you been shipwrecked or something?”

I nearly dropped the receiver. The end of the month. I remembered what Doc Ansell had said. Myra would lose her influence at the end of the month when the moon changed. I looked hurriedly at the clock on the wall. It was just five-fifteen. I had only seven hours to get everything fixed up.

“Hello... hello... hello?” the girl said. “Are you still there?”

“I think so,” I said cautiously. “Will you see how Miss Halliday’s getting on?”

“How about that date?”

“Sure, make it to-night. I’ll pick you up.”

“But how shall I know you?”

“Who, me? You’ll know me all right. I’ll be wearing a Zoot suit and I carry my left leg over my right shoulder. No one’s mistaken me yet.”

There was a moment’s silence. “Can’t you do anything about that left leg?” she asked at last.

“I can leave it at home.”

“Couldn’t you be a little tough with it for to-night?” she asked hopefully. “I’d stand the Zoot suit but the leg gets me down.”

“That’s the idea,” I pointed out.

She thought about this for a moment. “It’s a date,” she said briskly. “Miss Halliday’s free now. I’m putting you thr-r-r-ough.”

Harriet was all brains. I didn’t have to go into details. She got what I wanted almost before I had started. She told me where her apartment was and how to get in and she promised to be back early. I thanked her and rang off. I felt I’d lost ten pounds by the time I got out of the booth. I collided with the guy waiting to put through his call. He apologized.

“Excuse me, pal,” he said.

“Can you remember what I wanted to telephone about?” I told him.

“That’s right,” he said. “I’ve got the darnedest memory. Do you know I just can’t remember whether the fire was to-day or last week. Ain’t that a hell of a thing?”

I shoved past him and went out into the street.

I found Whisky lying on the floor of the taxi, but Myra wasn’t there.

“Where is she?” I demanded.

“Get inside,” Whisky said. “Where have you been?” The urgency in his voice startled me, so I got into the cab and shut the door.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“How much longer are you keeping me here?” the driver asked angrily. “I’ve got a home if you haven’t.”

Whisky showed his teeth. “Sit there and like it,” he snarled. The driver got out of his cab hastily. “Come on, legs,” he said, clutching at his collar. “I’m going to start running.”

“Come back when you’re through,” I said. “You’ve got a nice evening for it.”

The driver didn’t listen. He began running madly down the street.

I turned my attention to Whisky. “Now,” I said, “where did she go?”

“Keep down,” Whisky said in a mysterious mutter. “The cops have moved in.”

“What?” I exclaimed, startled. “What do you mean? Have they got her?”

“A couple of minutes and it’ll all be over,” he returned with ghoulish gloom. “She’s in that lingerie shop across the street. The moment you’d gone, she spotted it and made a dart for it. I hadn’t time to reason with her. There was a copper on the corner and he saw her. It took him just five seconds to call the riot squad. They’ve just moved in.”

I looked across the street. Two patrolmen stood outside the smart modiste shop, looking with interest at the various garments displayed in the windows.

“Why don’t they bring her out?” I said, feeling a little sick.

“How do I know?” Whisky said peevishly.

I could see he was as worried as I was.

“Well, I’m not staying here,” I said, “I’m going to see what’s cooking. You wait here,” and I left the taxi and crossed the street.

The two patrolmen looked like they were going to stop me, but I kept walking and they let me through.

The first guy I set eyes on was Clancy.

“Well, well,” I said, smiling at him. “Buying something for the little woman?”

“There you are!” he said, swelling with rage. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Where is she?”

I took a quick gander round the shop. It was certainly a nice place. The guy who’d put it together had taken a lot of pains to get it just right. It was all chromium furniture, mirrors and concealed lighting. The carpet was so thick that it tickled my ankles. There were a number of alcoves round the room containing life-size models on which were displayed bathing suits, lingerie and evening gowns. Some of these models were so snappy that I took a second look to make sure I wasn’t passing anything up.

At the far end of the room, a patrolman stood guard over a group of girls. He seemed to be enjoying his job. I could understand that. The girls looked like they had been lifted straight out of the front line of the Follies. There was a nervous looking guy in morning clothes, fussing around. I guessed he was the manager of the shop.

But there was no sign of Myra.

I turned my attention to Clancy. “Where’s who?” I asked. “Why don’t you relax sometimes, old boy? Life ain’t all work. Take a gander at those wenches huddling in the corner. Don’t they stir your pulse?”

“Don’t give me that stuff,” Clancy said, looking fierce. “She was seen coming in here and now you turn up. Do you think I’m dumb?”

“She... she... she?” I repeated. “What are you talking about? What she?”

“This Shumway bird,” Clancy said, clenching his fists and looking homicidal. “You’d better be careful, Millan. She’s wanted for murder.”

“I know, I know. But, what have I got to do with it? I just got here,” I said. “Haven’t you searched the joint? And listen, Clancy, while we’re on the subject, you’d better be careful. My paper won’t stand for me being kicked around.”

That slowed him up. He vented his temper on the cops.

“Don’t stand there like a bunch of stuffed eels,” he snarled. “Look for her. Turn this joint upside down. Take it to pieces. She’s here, so find her!”

The manager came rushing up. “I won’t have it!” he spluttered. “You can’t go into the dressing rooms. My customers wouldn’t stand for it. This is an unpardonable, unwarranted outrage!”

“Wait a minute,” Clancy said to the cops. Then he turned on the manager. “Do you think I care what you’ve got to say? A woman came in her five minutes ago and she’s still here. Where did she go?”

The manager wrung his hands. “I put her in that dressing room,” he said, pointing to an empty room near one of the alcoves. “She’s vanished. I didn’t see what happened to her.”

“Well, she’s somewhere around,” Clancy said, between his teeth. “Send one of your dames into all those rooms and get every woman out of ’em.”

“This should be good,” I said. “A great out-door playboy like you wouldn’t know that dames go in those rooms to undress.”

“Keep out of this!” Clancy bellowed. “I’m going to find that dame if it’s the last thing I do.”

“It certainly will be the last thing you do if you drive a lot of undressed society dames out of hiding,” I returned. “Captain Summers’ wife buys stuff here.”

He pushed his face into mine. “If you don’t pipe down, I’ll make you sorry you were born,” he said violently, but I could see that I’d shaken him. “You want this girl to get away, don’t you? Well, she ain’t getting away.”

I shrugged. “Go ahead,” I said. “It’s your funeral.”

He turned back to the manager. “Get ’em out!” he ordered. “Everyone of ’em. She’s hiding somewhere in those rooms and she’s wanted for murder!”

The manager hesitated, then he decided that there was nothing he could do about it. He told off a couple of the girls and they went from cubicle to cubicle.

In five minutes about six women, in wraps, were standing indignantly before Clancy, who looked as if he were going out of his mind. Myra wasn’t among them.

While he was staring at them, I wandered round looking at the wax models. I began to suspect where Myra was hiding. Sure enough, one of them looked familiar. I looked again and Myra met my eyes imploringly. She had on a smart black frock and a large floppy hat which hid her face. Standing with the other models, it was impossible to spot who she was until you got right up to her.

“Go away,” Myra hissed. “Don’t look at me.”

“But I must look at you,” I said in an undertone. “I love you for one thing and you look terrific for another. Are you scared, sweetheart?”

“Terribly,” she said. “But, do go away.”

“I’m going,” I said, “but I’ll be back.”

As I turned away, one of the saleswomen came to me.

“Hello,” she said.

I looked at her and paused. She was a red-head. Now, I like red heads. I like them particularly if they have a nice creamy skin, green eyes and a lot of curves. This one had everything, so I said, “Hullo,” and raised my hat.

“Were you thinking of buying that dress?” she asked, smiling. “I’d just love to help you.”

I glanced over at Clancy. He was still trying to explain himself to the indignant women.

“It did cross my mind,” I said cautiously, “but I’ve got nothing to fill it with when I get it home.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” she said, sidling a little closer. “The trouble is having too many girls and not enough dresses to go round.”

“I like it that way,” I said simply. “I’m a man of nature.”

She blinked just once, but it didn’t stop her entirely.

“There’s something in my book of rules about men of nature,” she said, looking puzzled. “I just can’t remember what it was right now.”

“Lady,” I said earnestly, “you don’t need any rules. You ought to get along all right by your instincts.”

“That’d be like driving a car with no brakes,” she said. “I know my instincts better than you.”

She began to interest me.

“Maybe we’ll go for a drive together one of these days,” I said hopefully.

“Let’s not make too many plans,” she returned. “Let’s concentrate on this dress.” She turned back to Myra. “Don’t you think I’d look cute in it?”

“Not half so cute as without it,” I said hurriedly.

“I don’t think I like that remark,” she said. “It doesn’t indicate a sound business footing.”

“Who cares about a business footing?” I returned. “Let’s go somewhere and forget business.”

“Keep concentrating on this dress,” she said insistently. “I know I’d look good in it. Let me put it on and show you.”

“Some other time,” I began, and stopped because she had put her hand on Myra’s arm.

“It’s awfully attractive,” she said wistfully. Then a look of puzzled fright entered her eyes and she pressed Myra’s arm.

I hastily took her hand away. “I used to be a palmist,” I said. “Let me read your lines.”

“So long as we’re thinking of the same lines,” she returned, trying to smile, but all the time she kept staring at Myra with growing uneasiness. “Do you know that dummy felt almost human,” she went on in a low voice.

“Yeah?” I said, patting Myra’s hip. “Isn’t it marvelous what they do with papier-mâché these days?”

I still kept hold of her hand and she began to calm down. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Myra move. Still keeping her fixed pose, she rose a foot into the air and remained there. I came out in a cold sweat.

The red-head had her back to Myra, so she didn’t see what was going on. I put my hand on Myra’s shoulder and pushed her back on her stand again and held her there.

“Can you really read my lines?” the red head asked.

“Well, I took a correspondent course a few months back,” I said, feeling like hell. “I can only read the past up to now, but I hope to get around to the future sometime next week.”

I released Myra for a second. She began to rise off the ground, so I hung on to her again.

The red-head hastily snatched her hand from mine. “I’ll wait until next week,” she said, “I know all about my past. That’s something I like to keep to myself.”

That came as no surprise, but I didn’t tell her so.

“You seem to like that model,” she said, “or can’t you make up your mind?”

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to hold Myra and just for a moment, she succeeded in rising a few inches before I slammed her back again.

The red-head drew in a sharp breath. “Is... is it trying to get away?” she said fearfully.

“There’s a draught in this joint,” I explained. “These models are mighty light.”

She backed away. “You know I don’t like that old model,” she said. “I just don’t like it at all.”

Clancy, who had got rid of the indignant women, joined us. He was sweating freely and he looked mad.

“What are you pawing that dummy for?” he demanded.

“I’m that kind of a guy,” I said desperately. “I go for dummies in a big way.”

The red-head said, “There’s something about that old model. It’s trying to fly away.”

Clancy looked at her suspiciously. “What do you mean... fly away?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But that’s what it’s trying to do.”

“Pay no attention to her, Clancy,” I said quickly. “She’s not herself to-day.”

Clancy looked at me and then he looked at Myra. “So that’s it,” he said between his teeth. “I might have known it. So that’s where she’s hiding,” and before I could stop him he’d whipped off Myra’s hat.

Myra didn’t blink an eye-lash. She just stood there, her eyes blank and her body rigid.

Clancy stared at her. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s her all right. You can cut that dummy act out. You’re under arrest,” he went on to Myra.

I took my hand from Myra’s shoulder and stepped back. As Clancy moved forward to grab her she floated out of his reach. Still keeping her stiff pose, she rose about ten feet in the air.

It certainly upset Clancy. He closed his eyes.

“Gawd!” he said. “What a horrible sight!”

“What’s worrying you?” I asked. “Haven’t you heard of the new lighter-than-air models? It helps solve the transportation problems,” and I patted him on the back.

“Never mind about the transportation problems,” he said, looking at Myra from between his fingers. “I’ve got my own problems to worry about just now.”

Then Whisky wandered into the shop.

In the general confusion no one noticed his entrance. The saleswomen were screaming, while the shop manager had collapsed on the floor and was jerking feebly at his collar. The cops just stood rooted, staring at Myra in horror.

To make matters worse, the red-head had thrown her arms round my neck and was screaming wildly in my ear.

It was a pretty good time for Whisky’s entrance.

He came straight over to me. “You haven’t been long getting yourself fixed up,” he said approvingly. “That’s quite a pretty trill you’ve got there.”

The effect of this speech was electrifying. The red-head gave a stifled moan and slid to the floor in a faint. Clancy backed away, his face like a flour bag, while everyone else in the room stopped making noises and clutched one another.

“And now do you believe my story about talking dogs and floating women?” I said to Clancy. “It’s all here for you to see.”

“I’ll believe anything,” Clancy said, shivering. “This is too much for me. You’ve all got to see the captain.”

Whisky peered into the red-head’s face. “Odd how these dames pass out, isn’t it?” he said and began to lick her face energetically.

I caught him a quick kick where it’d do him the most good. He gave a startled curse and removed his tail hurriedly.

“Leave her alone,” I said sternly. “Besides, all that make-up might poison you.”

“As a matter of fact,” Whisky said with a leer, “it was extraordinarily tasty. But apart from that, I was just trying to revive her.”

“She doesn’t need reviving,” I returned. “She’s happier the way she is.”

“Can’t you stop him?” Clancy pleaded, gaping at Whisky as if he was some monster. “I can’t stand any more of this.”

Myra swooped past me. “What do we do now?” she asked. “Shall I run away?”

“No,” I said. “We can’t go on like this. We’ll all go along to Summers and let him sort everything out.”

She settled lower and then stretched out within my grasp. I pulled her to me and kissed her.

“It’ll be all right,” I promised. “They’ll have to listen to reason.”

Clancy tried to pull himself together. “Can’t you persuade that dame to stand on her feet?” he pleaded. “It’s doing me no good at all seeing her that way.”

Myra frowned at him. “I’m not considering you,” she said. “You’ve never done anything for me.”

“You remain like that,” I urged. “The more people who see you like that, the more witnesses we’ll have. Let’s go, sweetheart.”

I took her by her shoulders and began pushing her towards the door.

It must have been a pretty upsetting sight. Myra lay full length, suspended in the air, with her hands folded across her chest. It was like pushing a perambulator that hadn’t any wheels.

Whisky fell in step beside me. “Going through the streets like that, old pal?” he asked.

“That’s the idea,” I said firmly, leaving Myra in mid-air while I opened the shop door.

“Hey!” Clancy said, running up to me. “You can’t do a thing like that!”

“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” I said grimly.

He looked round desperately. “You guys!” he shouted to the cringing patrolmen. “Get these two into the wagon.”

The patrolmen hesitated and then approached us warily.

“I think we’re going to have a little trouble,” I said to Myra.

She lowered her feet to the ground. “Leave this to me,” she said, her eyes snapping fire, “I’ve been very good up to now. If they’re going to be nasty then I’ll be nasty, too.”

Now she was on the ground, the patrolmen seemed to regain some of their courage. They came towards us in a body.

Myra flickered her fingers at them and they suddenly paused. “It’s beginning to rain,” one of them said uneasily.

“What are you talking about?” Clancy snarled. “It doesn’t matter if it rains! Arrest that woman!”

A big Irish cop extended his hand and then went a little pale. “Holy Moses!” he said in a strangled voice. “It’s raining in here!”

I thought Clancy would go out of his mind. “It don’t rain indoors, you punk!” he stormed. “I’ll tear that badge off your coat if you don’t do what I tell you!”

Myra flicked her fingers in his direction and almost immediately he stiffened. “Gawd!” he said looking up at the ceiling. “It is raining!”

“Didn’t I tell you,” the Irish cop said feverishly. “I think I’ll get out of here.”

This intrigued me. Over each patrolman and Clancy I could see a light sprinkle of water falling. It didn’t come from the ceiling but seemed to start a few feet above them.

As they moved uneasily the shower of water followed them. It was the damnedest thing I’d ever seen.

“Are you doing this?” I whispered to Myra.

“Certainly,” she said. “Didn’t you know I could make rain? It’s an old Naguale custom.” She suddenly spied the red-head who was sitting up in a dazed kind of way. “And a little rain might improve that young woman’s complexion,” she went on grimly.

She flicked her fingers in the red-head’s direction.

There was no question of a sprinkle of water this time. It began to rain in torrents. The red-head screamed wildly and getting to her feet, she dashed round the room. The narrow ribbon of pouring water followed her ruthlessly. In a few seconds she was soaked to the skin.

“I think that will do,” Myra said, looking pleased. “She’s not nearly so attractive, is she?”

Right now the red-head looked like something that’d got lost in a river.

“You’re right,” I said, wondering if I was losing my mind. Myra flicked her fingers and the rain stopped.

The cops and Clancy began mopping themselves with their handkerchiefs. The red-head lay on the floor and drummed hysterically with her heels.

“If there’s any more talk about wagons,” Myra said coldly, “it’ll begin raining again.”

“Do what you like, lady,” Clancy said brokenly. “I ain’t making trouble.”

Myra resumed her suspended position. “Push me through the streets,” she said to me. “All the way to police headquarters. Then we’ll have lots of witnesses, won’t we?”

As I began to push her to the door again, Sam Bogle entered the shop.

One look was enough to see that Sam had been hitting the bottle. He didn’t look at any of us except Myra.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with it,” he said. “Doc was a pal of mine and no jury can kill a pal of mine and get away with it.”

We were all so startled that no one moved. Myra lowered her feet to the floor and faced him.

“I didn’t kill him,” she said quietly. “You ought to know that, Sam.”

“You killed him all right,” Sam said, his eyes gleaming evilly. “Well, this is where you get yours.”

“Look out!” Whisky shouted and sprang forward.

He was too late. Sam fired from his hip. I saw the flash from the gun. Myra took two tottering steps forward. Then she spread out on the floor.

No one could do anything but stare. Sam let the gun slide out of his hand.

Then I ran to Myra. As I bent over her, I heard Sam’s voice wailing.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” he kept saying “Honest to Gawd, I didn’t mean to do it.”