by Ellen Raskin
Most of all, Tina enjoyed sitting with the Stein baby. The infant slept throughout the evening, and Dr. Stein never locked his bookcases. Tina had difficulty with the technical language in the medical books, but she was fascinated by the gory pictures and case histories. She even collected some words for Tony’s chart: cecum and secretion, 30 hospital30 and spinal, iodine30 and isotope,30 neutrophil 30 and nucleus.30
By the end of August Tina had earned enough money to place an ad in every Iowa and Idaho newspaper on her list.
WANTED: INFORMATION ON WHEREABOUTS OF NOEL CARILLON. WIFE DESPERATE. REWARD!! WRITE TINA CARILLON 802 PARK AVE. N.Y. N.Y.
Tina had no reward money. She would leave that up to Mr. Banks, when the time came.
Tina worried about Mr. Banks and his frequent visits. He was their dinner guest two to three times a week, and he always had papers to be signed. Maybe he was cheating Mrs. Carillon out of her share of the soup business. Maybe he was planning to marry her for her money. On the other hand, Mr. Banks was so stingy that maybe he just wanted a free meal.
“How can you stand him?” Tina would ask every time Mr. Banks created a scene.
Mrs. Carillon’s answer was always the same. “He really is a very nice man. He just frets over us so much that it upsets him.”
Tony preferred the company of Mr. Kunkel, and he knew that Mrs. Carillon did, too. She smiled a lot when he was around. Tuesdays and Saturdays were Augie Kunkel nights; and Tony was always prepared with a few more words for his chart.
“List 3-4: oval, snowball, sandal, scandal.”
“Cymbal,” said Augie Kunkel.
“List 4: call, hall, squall,” said Tony. “List 5: mine, nine, wine.”
“I thought of ‘hall’ twenty years ago,” Mrs. Carillon said. “But ‘wine’ is a good word. Noel was so genteel.”
Tony added word after word, following Mr. Kunkel’s rules to the letter, except rule 3. He didn’t want the message to make sense. Whenever Augie Kunkel suggested they cut the lists apart and match them up, Tony insisted that he hadn’t quite finished. The closest he came to putting words together in a logical order was “The sea is salt.”
Tina was the rule 3 believer in the family. She told no one about her newspaper ads, but she did need help in carrying out another idea.
“I know it has too many syllables, but it does make sense,” she argued. “The reason Noel left Palm Beach was that he had to get back to work. He worked on a ship that was sailing the next day. The only place Mrs. Carillon would be able to locate him was through his job registration:
Noel Carillon, Seaman’s Hiring Hall, New York.”
Augie Kunkel said that Tina’s reasoning was so good he wouldn’t count syllables. In fact he would go to the National Maritime Union Hiring Hall, himself.
Tony thought it was a terrible idea. “Some seaman. His boat capsizes five minutes after it hits water.”
Tony was right; it was a terrible idea. Not only was no Noel Carillon registered with the union, but several seamen took a violent dislike to snooping. The cry of “Fink!” spread through the hiring hall, and Augie Kunkel was lucky to escape with no more than a bloody nose and a sprained ankle, thanks to the football helmet.
Tina made no suggestions after that. She still had her newspaper ads; and if that didn’t work out, she would do what she knew Mr. Kunkel had decided to do: wait. Wait for new evidence to turn up, or wait for Mrs. Carillon to admit that Noel was dead.
Just wait.
8* Just Wait
Tony Makes a Discovery
It was a time of waiting for everyone.
Mrs. Carillon was waiting for Christmas Bells to win the Washington Park Handicap.
Tina was waiting for letters from Iowa and Idaho; and she was waiting for school to begin. She had decided to confess to Jordan Pinckney that she was not a Siamese twin. Then, if he would admit that his father was not a television star, they could become friends.
Tony was waiting for Augie Kunkel to return from a two-week visit to his Aunt Martha. He had not been able to think of a new word for his chart since the end of summer school. In desperation, he asked Mrs. Carillon to show him the original anniversary cards from Noel.
She obviously hadn’t looked at them in quite some time, Tony noted approvingly, as he blew away the dust, untied the purple ribbon, and carefully removed each card from its envelope. He examined them front and back, inside and out. Mrs. Carillon’s memory was faultless; he didn’t find one new word.
Then his eye fell on the return name and address on one of the envelopes. There was one of his list words—and a new word. Mrs. Carillon had never mentioned what was written on the envelopes. He looked at the others ; they were all the same. Suddenly, Tony realized why the two words sounded so familiar. He had the answer! He had solved the first part of the glub-blubs! If only Mr. Kunkel would hurry back so he could tell him the news.
In his excitement, Tony overlooked the consequence of his discovery:
HE HAD FOUND NOEL CARILLON.
Missing Minnie
“I spend all afternoon cooking, and all you do is pick.”
“I’m not very hungry, Mrs. Baker,” Tony replied.
“None of you seem hungry. What a waste!”
Tina whispered to Tony that Mrs. Baker sounded just like Mr. Banks. She was overheard.
“And what’s wrong with sounding like Mr. Banks? He’s the only one who makes any sense around here. Such a fine, upstanding man, and handsome, too. If I were you, Mrs. Carillon, I wouldn’t miss an opportunity like that. I’d latch on to Mr. Banks without a second’s thought.”
“Why, what do you mean, Mrs. Baker?”
“Marriage, Mrs. Carillon, that’s what I mean. Marriage. A husband for you and a father for your children.”
“Mr. Banks for a father?” Tony was horrified.
“Ugh!” groaned Tina.
“But I am married, Mrs. Baker.”
“It’s time you forgot about that Noel. As Mr. Banks says, he’s legally good as dead. You’re lonely, and the twins are lonely, and I know.”
The twins looked at each other in surprise. They didn’t think they were lonely. Mrs. Carillon didn’t think she was lonely, either. It must be Mrs. Baker who was lonely.
“You must miss your husband very much since he died,” Mrs. Carillon said.
“Miss that good-for-nothing? Not him. Spend money, that’s all he knew how to do. I’d make money and he’d spend it.” Mrs. Baker sighed and sat down, dish towel in hand. “But I sure do miss my sister Minnie.” 31
“What happened to Minnie?” Tina asked, hoping for a detailed medical case history.
“Don’t rightly know. I sent her bus fare to come to New York over six months ago, and I haven’t heard from her since. And nobody back home in Davenport knows anything, either.”
“How dreadful,” said Mrs. Carillon.
“Do we have to have Camembert cheese every night?” complained Tony.
Letters from Iowa and Idaho
Tony spent the opening day of school writing Noel’s first phrase over and over. When class was dismissed early, he went home and wrote it some more. He had one more day of waiting for Mr. Kunkel’s return.
This was Tina’s big day. Jordan Pinckney had grown three inches over the summer and was the tallest boy in the class. And the handsomest, she thought. Tina cornered him after school and made her confession. Jordan Pinckney said he knew it all along; and, even worse, still insisted his father was a television star. “If you don’t believe me watch Channel 2 at 7:30 tonight.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” she said, and walked part of the way home with Rosemary Neuberger.
“You know, Rosemary, since you got pimples you’ve become a much nicer person.”
Rosemary Neuberger had become such a nice person, she didn’t even object to Tina’s free medical advice.
“Remember, now, lots of soap and no chocolate.”
Ten letters addressed to Tina Carillon were stacked on the hall ta
ble.
“Pen pals,” she explained to her nosy brother.
Tina neatly arranged the envelopes on her bedspread and studied them appreciatively. She wanted to savor every precious moment leading to the final discovery. Slowly, carefully, she opened the first letter; then stopped. What if she and Mr. Banks were wrong? What if one of the letters said that Noel Carillon was alive and well and living in Idaho? For several minutes she considered tossing them down the incinerator, but curiosity won out and she unfolded the letter.
No need to be lonely! Our computers can match you to the partner you have always dreamed of. Our introductory offer of 3 names for only $10...
The next letter promised popularity through weight reduction : Enroll in SYLPH; the Suddenly-You-Lose-Pounds-Happily club of northern Iowa.
Two letters touted the services of private detectives: one from Idaho at $50 a day, one from Iowa at $75.32
For $5 she could have her personal astrological horoscope cast by experts; for $7.50 she could buy a tonic to cure her “tired” blood.
She was invited to join a lonely hearts’ club, offered a combination accident-health-life insurance policy “for the single woman,” and guaranteed satisfaction for one year with the purchase of a reconditioned vacuum cleaner.
The last envelope, written in an almost illegible scrawl, contained five pages of mad ravings and obscene proposals. Tina had read enough medical case histories not to be too upset by it; she figured the miserable writer was either suffering from brain damage or a fatal kidney disease. She tore up the letter and threw it into the waste-paper basket, along with the others.
“Maybe Jordan Pinckney’s father really is a television star,” she thought, trying to rouse herself from a gnawing sense of despair.
Who’s Minnie Baker?
Tina and Tony were edgy enough without having Mr. Banks show up for dinner; but there he was again with papers to be signed.
“Fish!” he exclaimed when Mrs. Baker brought the stuffed bass to the table. He had begun to suspect his sense of smell; but, for once, he had guessed correctly.
Tony lost his appetite thinking about the possibility of Mrs. Carillon marrying Mr. Banks. Besides, he hated fish even more than Camembert cheese.
Tina couldn’t eat, either.
“Young lady, why do you keep looking at your watch?”
“Jordan Pinckney’s father is supposed to be on television at 7:30.”
“Pinky?” screamed Mrs. Carillon, jumping up from her chair. “Pinky?”
“I said Pinckney. Jordan Pinckney—he’s a boy in my class.” Tina was rather interested in the understandable mistake. She wondered how old Jordan’s father was.
Mrs. Carillon, embarrassed by her outburst, sat down and smiled sheepishly, as Mrs. Baker tsk-tsked her way back to the kitchen.
“Poor Mrs. Baker,” Mrs. Carillon said quickly, before Mr. Banks could begin his lecture. “Did you know that her sister has been missing for the past six months?”
The twins expected Mr. Banks to say: “Not another missing person!” but he seemed truly sorry to hear the sad news.
“What a pity,” he said. “Perhaps I can take steps to locate her.” He saw the twins’ surprised expressions and explained, “Mrs. Baker works hard for this family; and good cooks are hard to find.”
“What is her sister’s name?” he asked Mrs. Carillon.
“Minnie. Minnie Baker, I guess.”
“Who’s Minnie Baker?” Mrs. Baker asked, returning with a bowl of mashed potatoes.
“Why, your missing sister,” Mrs. Carillon replied.
“My missing sister is my sister, not my dead husband’s.” Mrs. Baker placed the potatoes in front of Tony. “Her name is Potts. Mineola Potts.”
“Mineola Potts!” screamed Mrs. Carillon, jumping up from her chair again. “Mineola Potts! Why that was the name of my cellmate in the Women’s House of Detention.”
Tony stuffed himself with mashed potatoes; and Tina stared at her watch, while Mrs. Baker and Mrs. Carillon “couldn’t get over the coincidence.”
Mr. Banks assured the women that he would look into the matter first thing in the morning. He finished his plate of cheese and fruit, and left at 7:25.
The Third Scream33
A cereal commercial, a cleanser commercial, station identification, then: Marshal from Montana.
“That’s funny,” said Mrs. Carillon, “I can’t remember having been in Montana.”
Starring Bryan Fink and Hardy Hamburger.
“I told you Jordan Pinckney was a liar,” Tony said.
“Maybe he changed his name,” replied Tina. “Lots of actors do.”
“To Fink or Hamburger?”
Tonight’s Special Guest Star: Newton Pinckney.
“There, see,” Tina said excitedly.
A gasoline commercial, a toothpaste commercial, and Marshal from Montana began.
“Wonderful, a cowboy show.” Mrs. Carillon clapped her hands with delight as three bandits, hidden high among the boulders, mounted their skittish horses.
Tina wondered which one was Newton Pinckney.
The tall bandit pulled down the kerchief that was concealing his face in order to speak. “The stagecoach should be coming ‘round the bend any minute now. Let’s go!”
For the third time that evening Mrs. Carillon jumped up from her seat.
“Leon, Noel,” she screamed, and fainted.
Tony ran to answer the telephone, thinking the problem was her painful right arm. Mrs. Baker dashed out from the kitchen with a glass of water. Tina knelt on the floor and felt Mrs. Carillon’s pulse.
“Nothing to worry about,” Tina announced, wishing she had a wristwatch with a second hand, “but as long as you’re at the telephone, Tony, why don’t you call Dr. Stein.”
Tina described her discovery to Dr. Stein. “It’s a new disease, unknown to medical history, which I call ‘the jumping-up-from-the-chair-and-screaming syndrome.’ ”
Dr. Stein called it nerves. He prescribed a mild sedative and told Mrs. Carillon to rest in bed for the next few days.
Mrs. Carillon slept peacefully through the night. No one else in the household did.
Tina lay awake trying to figure out the Pinky-Pinckney relationship.
Tony lay awake fidgeting. Waiting for Mr. Kunkel’s return had become unbearable. He was tempted to take one of Mrs. Carillon’s pills but was afraid it might contain something for women only.
Mrs. Baker was the one who most needed the pill, but she believed that the best medicine was a well-balanced diet. She lay awake picturing her poor sister Minnie locked up in what Tina so luridly described as the “pest-hole.”
Mrs. Carillon slept through the morning. Mrs. Baker couldn’t remember if she had made breakfast; and the twins couldn’t remember if they had eaten any.
It was going to be a long day.
The Long Day
“I saw your father on television last night. You look just like him,” Tina said, fishing for a clue.
“So they say.”
Tina studied Jordan Pinckney as he walked away. Tall, thin, handsome; his father must have been the character who pulled down his kerchief and said, “Let’s go.” That was when Mrs. Carillon fainted.
Tina suddenly remembered that Mrs. Carillon was confined to bed. She stopped at a newsstand to buy her a magazine with a picture of Christmas Bells on the cover. Tony hadn’t forgotten, either. He brought home a library book about seals.
“How thoughtful,” Mrs. Carillon said, wondering why the pictures in the book didn’t look like the seals she knew. “Now that I’ve got plenty to keep me busy, why don’t you two go help Mrs. Baker. She’s so jittery, today.”
“She’s jittery!” Tony said, but went into the kitchen, anyway. Tina went to her room; she had more thinking to do about Pinky-Pinckney.
“Tony, I’ve been trying to reach Mr. Banks all day,” Mrs. Baker said, twisting and untwisting the potholder in her hands. “Would you do me a favor and call him for me? I’m
so nervous.”
“You’re nervous!” Tony said.
Mr. Banks had just returned from the Women’s House of Detention. Mineola Potts was, indeed, there. He had arranged for Mrs. Baker to visit her tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.
“What a kind man,” Mrs. Baker said when Tony finished his report of the phone call.
“Ugh!” said Tony.
“Is Mr. Kunkel here yet?” Tina appeared in the dining room just as Tony finished setting the table. “I’ve got something terribly important to tell him.”
“You’ve got something to tell him!”
“How do I look?” asked Mrs. Carillon. She was wearing a purple-flowered hostess gown.
“Like the sofa,” Mrs. Baker said. “It’s a good thing Mr. Banks isn’t here to see you looking like that.”
“I think you look smashing,” said Tina.
“B-b-beautiful,” said Augie Kunkel when Mrs. Carillon opened the door. He was so overwhelmed by the warm welcome that he was stuttering again. It hardly mattered, for everyone was talking at the same time.
“Mr. Kunkel, I have something to tell you. . .”
“...Mineola Potts. . .”
“. . .something terribly important. . .”
“. . . and I fainted dead away.”
“...the first part of the glub-blubs. . .”
“. . .Christmas Bells. . .”
“Did someone say Christmas B-B-Bells?”
“I did,” Mrs. Carillon replied. “Christmas Bells is the horse that. . .”
“Yes, I know. Strange, I n-n-never noticed the c-c-coincidence.” Augie Kunkel paused to control his stammer. “You see, the French word for Christmas is ‘Noel,’ and ‘Carillon’ means ‘bells.’ ”