Vanishing Ladies

Chapter two

The justice of the peace was a man named Handy. He was a tall man in his early fifties with a magnificent mane of snow-white hair. He had pale blue eyes and a Cupid’s bow mouth, and he held court in a log cabin about two hundred yards off the main highway. He undoubtedly lived in the cabin, and when we arrived he acted as if he’d invited us to his home for a cup of afternoon tea.

‘Come in, come in,’ he said, and then to the trooper, ‘Afternoon, Fred.’

Fred pulled off his gloves and his sunglasses and then followed us into the cabin. There was an old fireplace at one end of the room, around which George Washington and his troops had undoubtedly heated rum toddies. The j.p.’s credentials hung over the fireplace together with a Civil War saber that immediately put the Washington fantasy to rout. There was a long sofa and several easy chairs and an upright piano and a Grant Wood painting. A cut-glass cigarette box and ash tray rested on a coffee table before the sofa.

‘Justice Handy,’ Fred said, ‘got an interesting one this time.’

‘Sit down,’ Handy said. ‘You and your wife make yourselves at home.’

‘We’re not married,’ Ann said, and all at once all the precinct jokes about the Mann Act came into very vivid focus.

‘Oh?’ Fred said. Without the sunglasses covering them, his eyes were a frigid grey.

‘What’s the charge?’ Handy asked, and somehow his voice had grown sterner now that he knew Ann and I were not married.

‘Speeding,’ Fred said. ‘Driving a vehicle without a registration. Impersonating a police officer. Violation of the Mann—’

‘Now just hold it a minute,’ I said heatedly. ‘Let’s just hold it a goddamn minute!’

‘Is something wrong, son?’ Handy asked.

‘Just about everything is,’ I said. ‘You’d better inform your motorcycle champ about the consequences of false arrest.’

Handy chuckled a little. ‘No need to get sore at Fred,’ he said. ‘He only does his job.’ Handy scratched his head. ‘Speeding, huh?’

‘I was doing forty miles an hour,’ I said.

‘In a posted twenty-five-mile-per-hour zone,’ Fred put in.

‘The highway speed limit is—’

‘Not going through Sullivan’s Corners. There’s a sign just as you enter the town. Twenty-five miles per.’

‘By your own admission,’ Handy said, ‘you were speeding. That’s twenty-five dollars. What about the rest of this?’

‘I borrowed the car from a friend of mine. He’s a detective, too. Call him at the 23rd Precinct and he’ll clear this up right away.’

‘You a detective?’ Handy asked, his brows raising.

‘He claims to be one,’ Fred said. ‘There’s a .32 in the glove compartment of that car outside.’

‘There’s also a .38 in my hip pocket,’ I said. ‘Look, call Detective-Lieutenant Frank DeMorra at my squad.’ I dug into my wallet and came up with a card. ‘Here’s the number. Tell him you picked up Phil Colby, one of his detectives, on a speeding charge. Ask him if I’m impersonating an officer, and ask him if I didn’t borrow the car from Detective Burry O’Hare!’

‘The Mann Act—’ Fred started.

‘The Mann Act doesn’t mean beans unless you can prove immorality,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you put your sunglasses back on? They hide your dirty mind.’

‘Listen...’ Fred started, and Handy turned to him with an outstretched palm.

‘I reckon we ought to make that phone call, Fred,’ he said. He took the card from me, went to a dial phone near the fireplace, and then exchanged a few pleasantries with the operator before he got down to business. While he waited for someone at the 23rd to answer, he looked at me and said, ‘I’ve reversed the charges.’

I nodded and said nothing.

In a few moments Handy said, ‘Hello. Let me talk to Lieutenant DeMorra, please.’ He paused, listening. ‘He’s not in? When do you expect him?’ Handy listened again, then said, ‘This is Justice Handy of Sullivan’s Corners. We have a man here who claims he’s a cop working out of your precinct. Name’s Phil Colby. What’s that? Oh, sure, sure.’ He covered the mouthpiece and turned to me. ‘He’s connecting me with the Detective Division.’

I let out a deep breath and waited. Ann sighed patiently.

‘Hello?’ Handy said. ‘This is Justice Oliver Handy, Sullivan’s Corners. To whom am I speaking? Oh, how do you do, Detective Thompson?’

‘That’s Sam Thompson,’ I said. ‘Let me talk to him.’

‘Just a second,’ Handy said to me. ‘Detective Thompson, we’ve got a young man here named Phil Colby, says he’s a detective. What? He is? Well, that’s good. He’s driving a car he claims he borrowed,’ Handy said. ‘What? He did borrow it! From you? No? Well, then can I talk to whoever he did borrow it from?’ Handy listened. I waited. ‘Not there, huh? Well, where is he? Out on a what? A plant? What’s a...’

‘A plant is—’

‘When do you expect him back?’ Handy asked. ‘Oh, I see. Well, that doesn’t help this young fellow much.’

‘Look, will you let me talk to him?’ I asked.

‘Just a second,’ Handy said, and then he went back to the phone again. ‘I can’t let him go until I talk to the fellow who owns that car,’ he said to Thompson. ‘You understand that, don’t you? Besides, he was speeding.’

‘May I please talk to him?’ I asked.

‘Just a second,’ Handy said to Thompson, ‘he wants to talk to you.’ I practically ran across the room, and Handy gave me the phone.

‘Hello, Sam,’ I said.

‘Hello, Phil,’ Sam said. ‘What’s new?’

‘Don’t clown around, will you? I’m stuck here in a hick...’ I cut myself off, aware of the sudden stiffening of Handy’s back.

‘You shouldn’t go tear-assing all over the countryside,’ Sam said. ‘Tch-tch, boy, you should know better.’

‘I was doing a big forty miles an hour!’ I said.

‘In a stolen car, huh?’

‘In O’Hare’s car! Where the hell is O’Hare?’

‘On a plant.’

‘What plant? For Pete’s sake...’

‘Phil, I know its an inconvenience to you, but we do try to run this little squad in your absence, you know. O’Hare is out trying to catch a burglar.’

‘Well, when will he be back?’

‘If I could consult the burglar, I’d give you a more definite answer. Unfortunately...’

‘All right, all right. Will you have him call here as soon as he gets in?’

‘What’s the number?’ Sam asked.

‘Sullivan’s Corners 728-7520,’ I read from the dial plate.

‘Hey, kid,’ Sam said.

‘Yeah?’

‘Have they got you on the Mann Act?’ he whispered.

‘Go to hell,’ I said, and I hung up.

‘Well?’ Handy asked.

‘The man who owns the car will call as soon as he can. Do you want the twenty-five dollars now or later?’

‘Now’s as good a time as any,’ Handy said, smiling happily.

The call from O’Hare did not come until one o’clock that morning. Ann was curled up on the sofa, half asleep. Handy was puffing on a pipe and telling me how good the fishing was at the Point. Fred had departed for the cinder tracks hours ago. When the phone rang, I leaped out of my chair. Handy motioned me to sit, and then he waddled across to it and lifted it from the receiver.

‘Hello?’ he said. ‘Yes, this is Justice Handy. Oh, how do you do, Detective O’Hare?’ He listened, nodding. ‘Yes, that’s right, that’s right. Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that. Certainly, we’ll release him at once. Thank you for... what’s that? Oh, certainly, just a second.’ He covered the mouthpiece. ‘Wants to talk to you,’ he said.

I went to the phone. ‘Hello?’

‘What’s the idea stealing my car, feller?’ O’Hare asked.

‘Haven’t you got anything to do but joke long distance at the city’s expense?’ I said, but I was smiling.

‘You all squared away now?’ O’Hare said.

‘Yes. Thanks, Burry.’

‘Stupid of me not to think of the registration. Do you want me to mail it to you or something?’

‘No, forget it. Lightning doesn’t strike twice, you know. Did you get your burglar?’

‘What? Oh, no, the son of a bitch laid off tonight. Maybe he’s on vacation, too.’

‘Maybe. Burry, thanks again.’

‘Don’t mention it, kid. Have a good time.’ He paused. ‘Just one thing...’

‘Yeah?’

‘The Mann Act,’ and then he hung up.

I was grinning from ear to ear when I went to the couch to wake Ann. She sat up as if I’d slapped her, and then said, ‘What! What is it?’

‘We’re free men,’ I said.

‘And women,’ she added, wide awake. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

We shook hands with the genial Justice Handy and went out to the car. It was getting a little chilly, so I put up the top and then pulled out of the justice’s wide gravel driveway.

‘Thank God that’s over,’ I said.

‘Mmmm,’ Ann answered.

‘Are you sleepy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why don’t you rest? I’ll wake you when we get to Sullivan’s Point.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’d rather stay awake now and sleep during the night. Besides, I want to talk to you.’

‘What about?’

‘You have a vile temper. I discovered that today.’

‘I know. The smallest things seem to upset me.’

‘You should learn to control yourself.’

‘I should, you’re right.’

‘I love you, Phil,’ she said, quite serious all of a sudden.

‘And I love you,’ I said.

‘Do you miss the squad?’

‘Miss it? Jesus, I feel as if I never left. All I’ve been doing today is talking to the boys.’

‘We’ll be there soon,’ Ann said. ‘It shouldn’t take more than a half-hour.’

‘Think we’ll get a place to stay?’

‘Oh, certainly,’ she said. ‘There are dozens of places.’