A Palm for Mrs. Pollifax

by Dorothy Gilman

  "It consoles me," she admitted, "but the sheik has flown away, I hear, with his peaches?"

  Schoenbeck frowned. I beg your pardon7

  "With the peaches."

  Schoenbeck and Bishop exchanged glances. "Probably the chloroform," suggested Bishop.

  Schoenbeck nodded. "The head becomes light" He said gently, "There is no need to pretend any longer now, ma-dame. I have been told that you tried to persuade the sheik that he did not have the plutonium but you are quite safe now, you know."

  Mrs. Pollifax sighed. "I suppose there is something absurd about peaches, Monsieur Schoenbeck, but I can assure you that what I said was true, the plutonium never left the Clinic. It's here."

  "I think I believe her," said Bishop in an astonished voice.

  "Never left the Clinic!" echoed Schoenbeck. "But then the French consignment—the French plutonium—is no longer in the hands of the sheik? Madame, if you would tell me precisely where it is—"

  Mrs. Pollifax ignored the question and instead smiled at him dazzlingly. "What do you think of Robin, Monsieur Schoenbeck?"

  "Robin? He has surprised me, that much I will say."

  "If you mean Burke-Jones, isn't he the chap you all suspected of killing Fraser?" asked Bishop.

  Schoenbeck looked pained. "Unfortunately, yes. Of all the guests at the clinic he persisted in remaining a mystery. It appears that the man is nothing less than a jewel thief."

  Mrs. Pollifax said calmly, "Yes, and a very good jewel thief. I'm delighted he's told you about himself but you must see that by being honest with you he's completely ruined his career." She looked at Schoenbeck sternly. "Is there anything you care to do about that M. Schoenbeck?"

  His glance moved to hers and he smiled faintly. "Yes, madame, there is, but I am wondering how you guessed it."

  "It's an idea that frankly occurred to me several days ago," she said. "Perhaps you're reading my mind, M. Schoenbeck."

  "Mon Dieu, one hopes not!"

  "He's tremendously efficient about picking locks and he enjoys working alone, he's surprisingly clever in emergencies and he has gorgeous clothes."

  Schoenbeck said dryly, "The clothes would do it, of course, as a matter of fact, madame, I am not such a fool as to allow such talent to slip through my fingers. I have already made certain approaches and he appears most interested." He added ruefully. "I can only wish that young Hafez could work for Interpol, too. Now there's a promising young brain."

  "I think he prefers to become an astronomer," put in Mrs. Pollifax. "Where is he?"

  "He and his grandmother are still talking to his father on the telephone, I believe, but he is anxious to see you when I have finished with you."

  She shook her head in wonder. "It's incredible how resourceful he's been. If it hadn't been for Hafez—"

  "Please," Schoenbeck said firmly. "Please, it is better, as you say, to have no post-mortems, allow me instead to conduct them and to brood over how near Kashan came to pulling off his coup and completing his matched set of plutonium."

  "What will happen to him?" she asked.

  Schoenbeck sighed. "Very little, I fear. It is an unfortunate fact but—so far as I can see—no crime has been committed by the sheik except that of conspiracy, and this King Jarroud will have to deal with on a local level, the sheik paid others to kill for him, and it is they who will be punished. It is a pity but I think he will suffer only a little embarrassment and—one hopes—a few grave doubts that Allah personally spoke to him."

  "Even when he planned to threaten the world with an atom bomb?" protested Mrs. Pollifax. "He said he had an army in the desert, and laboratories—and obviously ha had a network of people available to him if he succeeded in stealing plutonium."

  "We can only hope, madame," said Schoenbeck, "but we have discovered that before he left Switzerland the sheik had time to make a telephone call to Zabya. I fear that we may find only empty laboratories—if we find them at all—and as for a secret army I suspect the sheik has already ordered it disbanded or moved."

  "Moved!" cried Mrs. Pollifax in a dismayed voice.

  "Naturally he will not dare to try his coup d'etat tomorrow but he still has several pounds of plutonium, madame. Dreams die hard."

  "Oh dear," said Mrs. Pollifax.

  He nodded. "I am not overly optimistic that Kashan's ambitions have been deflated. I can assure you that the sheik will be closely watched but I must tell you that the desert is enormous, madame, and much of it uncharted." He sighed. "When I grow depressed—as one does—about the frailties of civilization and the absence of saints, it is men like the sheik who give me patience, a number of governments muddling along give us a thin margin of error but it is nevertheless a margin against oblivion."

  She said reluctantly, "He impressed me, you know."

  Schoenbeck smiled. "But of course, Madame—the sheik would make the perfect anti-Christ."

  "I beg your pardon?" said Bishop, startled.

  Schoenbeck's mouth twisted humorously. "You do not know your Bible? It is prophesied that after the Jews regain Jerusalem—as they did several years ago—there will come the anti-Christ, a man who will perform miracles for the people and bring peace to the world, and—how does it go?" His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. " 'And when the people shall say—peace and safety!—then suddenly destruction will come upon them as travail upon a woman with child, and they shall not escape.' Thessalonians, I believe." He bowed to them and strolled toward the door.

  "Monsieur Schoenbeck," Mrs. Pollifax called after him softly. "The plutonium is in the basement supply room, in the farthest corner hidden behind a sack of charcoal."

  He smiled. "Thank you, madame."

  "Odd duck," said Bishop when he had gone. "On the whole, I believe Carstairs was a bit rough on him." He, too, arose. "Well, Mrs. Pollifax," he said, walking over to kiss her lightly on the cheek, "it's time for me to fly away again. You've orders to stay through the week until you've thoroughly convalesced, you know. If you don't, Carstairs will have my head for it."

  "But I'm delighted to stay," said Mrs. Pollifax, "and actually quite relieved that I may. Can you imagine Miss Hartshorne's reaction if I should go back to New Brunswick with my arm like this?" She shook her head at the thought "She'll be very difficult, at least until Christmas, she'll say it's exactly what I deserve for spending a dull week in Baltimore visiting an old friend." With a small twinkle she added, "Miss Hartshorne feels I lack a sense of adventure."

  "Good God," said Bishop with a shudder. "And if you're still in a sling when you go home what will you tell her?"

  "That I tripped over Adelaide's cat, I think, and broke my arm."

  "A very large cat?" suggested Bishop, grinning.

  "Oh, very," she told him, smiling.

  "Then I needn't worry about you any more. By the way, I think you'll find yourself in good company this week. Hafez and his grandmother will be staying a few days until Madame Parviz feels better. General Parviz will fly over on Friday to take them home and I imagine the general will be eager to meet you."

  From the door Hafez said, "Please, may we come in now, monsieur?"

  "She's all yours," Bishop said, and blowing Mrs. Pollifax a kiss went out.

  Hafez, Robin, and Court tiptoed in and stood at the end of the bed beaming at her while she in turn beamed at them, she saw that Robin and Court were holding hands and she guessed that Robin, having unburdened himself to Interpol, had unburdened himself to Court as well. Mrs. Pollifax said mischievously, "Ici la police. Sortez, les mains en l'air!"

  Hafez broke into a laugh and hurled himself across the bed to sit near her, his face shining with happiness. "Madame," he said, "we are all alive."

  "Isn't it surprising?" she agreed.

  "And, madame," he continued eagerly, "I have been speaking to my father on the telephone—twice we have talked—and you will meet him on Friday because they say you cannot travel yet, and he wishes to thank you in person and—"

  "Hafez is back to normal," pointed
out Robin, grinning.

  "—and he is bringing from King Jarroud the Shepherd Isa Medal of Peace—"

  "Shepherd Medal?" asked Court, sitting down.

  "Yes, mademoiselle, named after the shepherd Isa, who saved our country from invasion in 1236, he threw himself from a cliff to warn the people in the valley that the enemy was on the hills, and when they saw his fall, with the enemy's arrow piercing his heart, they knew their country was in danger, and my father says on Friday we will have a small party here at the Clinic to present to you this medal, the highest given in my country. Isn't that magnificent, madame?"

  "And you didn't even have to throw yourself off a cliff," pointed out Robin.

  Court shivered. "You have all—the three of you—been in such danger and I didn't even know. I didn't know."

  Hafez turned and looked at her and was glad to hear the sadness in her voice.

  Robin, too, turned to look at Court. "If I'm going to work for Interpol—now that Mrs. Pollifax has succeeded in making an honest man of me—you'll have to grow accustomed to a spot or two of danger, you know, that is, if you're going to marry me."

  Court said softly, "Am I going to marry you, Robin?"

  "I'm damned well hoping so."

  Her cheeks turned pink. "Well," she said thoughtfully, and then, "Yes ... I believe I am!" she said in astonishment.

  "Bravo," said Mrs. Pollifax.

  Robin leaned down and kissed the top of Court's dark head. "The wisest decision you've ever made, my dear, and it gives me a perfectly brilliant idea. If Hafez's party is Friday it gives us just time to get a special license, we can be married right here at the Clinic."

  "And Mrs. Pollifax can be the matron of honor," cried Court. "Oh you simply must be my matron of honor, Mrs. Pollifax. You will, won't you?"

  Mrs. Pollifax considered this with pleasure. "I can't think of anything I'd enjoy more," she confessed. "I can wear my drip-dry purple robe and my prayer beads. It's been such a disappointment that I've been too busy to wear either of them."

  "That I can't wait to see," Robin said fervently.

  "But who could be the best man?"

  "Oh, no problem there," Robin said, and placed a hand on Hafez's shoulder. "There's only one person at the Clinic or anywhere else who could possibly qualify."

  Hafez looked up at Robin and grinned.

  With a blissful sigh Mrs. Pollifax leaned back against her pillows to watch them, she acknowledged that her arm was stiff and uncomfortable, and that ahead of her lay the greatest ordeal of all—Miss Hartshorne—but what is brought by the wind, she remembered, will be carried away by the wind, with this she dismissed all thoughts of the sheik and settled down to enjoy a really genuine convalescence.