The Chinese Parrot

by The Chinese Parrot [lit]

  "Poah litta Tony," went on Ah Kim.

  "What about Tony?"

  "Poah litta Tony enjoy happly noo yeah in Hadesland," finished Ah Kim.

  Madden was instantly on his feet, and led the way to the patio. On the stone floor beneath his perch lay the lifeless body of the Chinese parrot.

  The millionaire stooped and picked up the bird. "Why -- poor old Tony," he said. "He's gone west. He's dead."

  Eden's eyes were on Thorn. For the first time since he met that gentleman he thought he detected the ghost of a smile on the secretary's pale face.

  "Well, Tony was old," continued Madden. "A very old boy. And as Ah Kim says, death is inevitable --" He stopped, and looked keenly at the expressionless face of the Chinese. "I've been expecting this," he added. "Tony hasn't seemed very well of late. Here, Ah Kim" -- he handed over all that was mortal of Tony -- "you take and bury him somewhere."

  "I take sum," said Ah Kim, and did so.

  In the big living-room the clock struck twice, loud and clear. Ah Kim, in the person of Charlie Chan, was moving slowly away, the bird in his arms. He was muttering glibly in Chinese. Suddenly he looked back over his shoulder.

  "Hoo malimali," he said clearly.

  Bob Eden remembered his Hawaiian.

  CHAPTER VII

  The Postman Sets Out

  THE THREE MEN and the girl returned to the living-room, but Madden's flow of small talk was stilled, and the sparkle was gone from his luncheon party.

  "Poor Tony," the millionaire said when they had sat down. "It's like the passing of an old friend. Five years ago he came to me." He was silent for a long time, staring into space.

  Presently the girl rose. "I really must be getting back to town," she announced. "It was thoughtful of you to invite me to lunch, Mr. Madden, and I appreciate it. I can count on Thursday, then?"

  "Yes -- if nothing new comes up. In that case, where could I reach you?"

  "I'll be at the Desert Edge -- but nothing must come up. I'm relying on the word of P.J. Madden."

  "Nothing will, I'm sure. Sorry you have to go."

  Bob Eden came forward. "I think I'll take a little fling at city life myself," he said. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ride into Eldorado with you."

  "Delighted," she smiled. "But I'm not sure I can bring you back."

  "Oh no -- I don't want you to. I'll walk back."

  "You needn't do that," said Madden. "It seems that Ah Kim can drive a flivver -- a rather remarkable boy, Ah Kim." He was thoughtfully silent for a moment. "I'm sending him to town later in the afternoon for supplies. Our larder's rather low. He'll pick you up." The Chinese entered to clear away. "Ah Kim, you're to bring Mr. Eden back with you this evening."

  "Allight. I bring bling 'um," said Ah Kim, without interest.

  "I'll meet you in front of the hotel any time you say," suggested Eden.

  Ah Kim regarded him sourly. "Maybe flive 'clock," he said.

  "Fine. At five then."

  "You late, you no catch 'um lide," warned the Chinese.

  "I'll be there," the boy promised. He went to his room and got a cap. When he returned, Madden was waiting.

  "In case your father calls this afternoon, I'll tell him you want that matter rushed through," he said.

  Eden's heart sank. He hadn't thought of that. Suppose his father returned to the office unexpectedly -- but no, that was unlikely. And it wouldn't do to show alarm and change his plans now.

  "Surely," he remarked carelessly. "If he isn't satisfied without a word from me, tell him to call again about six."

  When he stepped into the yard, the girl was skillfully turning her car about. He officiated at the gate, and joined her in the sandy road.

  The car moved off and Eden got his first unimpeded look at this queer world Holley had called the devil's garden. "Plenty acres of unlimitable sand," Chan had said, and that about summed it up. Far in the distance was a touch of beauty -- a cobalt sky above snow-capped mountains. But elsewhere he saw only desert, a great gray interminable blanket spattered with creosote brush. All the trees, all the bushes, were barbed and cruel and menacing -- a biznaga, pointing like a finger of scorn toward the sky, an unkempt palo verde, the eternal Joshua trees, like charred stumps that had stood in the path of a fire. Over this vast waste played odd tricks of light and shade, and up above hung the sun, a living flame, merciless, ineffably pure, and somehow terrible.

  "Well, what do you think of it?" asked the girl.

  Eden shrugged. "Hell's burnt out and left the embers," he remarked.

  She smiled. "The desert is an acquired taste," she explained. "No one likes it at first. I remember the night, long ago, when I got off the train at Eldorado with poor dad. A little girl from a Philadelphia suburb -- a peace that was old and settled and civilized. And there I stood in the midst of this savage-looking world. My heart broke."

  "Poor kid," said Eden. "But you like it now?"

  "Yes -- after a while -- well, there's a sort of weird beauty in this sun-drenched country. You waken to it in the course of time. And in the spring, after the rains -- I'd like to take you over round Palm Springs then. The verbena is like a carpet of old rose, and the ugliest trees put forth the most delicate and lovely blossoms. And at any time of the year there's always the desert nights, with the pale stars overhead, and the air full of peace and calm and rest."

  "Oh, no doubt it's a great place to rest," Eden agreed. "But as it happens, I wasn't very tired."

  "Who knows?" she said. "Perhaps before we say goodbye I can initiate you into the Very Ancient Order of Lovers of the Desert. The requirements for membership are very strict. A sensitive soul, a quick eye for beauty -- oh, a very select group, you may be sure. No riff-raff on our rolls."

  A blatant sign hung before them. "Stop! Have you bought your lot in Date City?" From the steps of a tiny real estate office a rather shabby young man leaped to life. He came into the road and held up his hand. Obligingly the girl stopped her car.

  "Howdy, folks," said the young man. "Here's the big opportunity of your life -- don't pass it by. Let me show you a lot in Date City, the future metropolis of the desert."

  Bob Eden stared at the dreary landscape. "Not interested," he said.

  "Yeah. Think of the poor devils who once said that about the corner of Spring and Sixth, Los Angeles. Not interested -- and they could have bought it for a song. Look ahead. Can you picture this street ten years hence?"

  "I think I can," Eden replied. "It looks just the way it does today."

  "Blind!" rebuked the young man. "Blind! This won't be the desert forever. Look!" He pointed to a small lead pipe surrounded by a circle of rocks and trying to act like a fountain. From its top gurgled an anemic stream. "What's that! Water, my boy, water, the pure, life-giving elixir, gushing madly from the sandy soil. What does that mean? I see a great city rising on this spot, skyscrapers and movie palaces, land five thousand a front foot -- land you can buy today for a paltry two dollars."

  "I'll take a dollar's worth," remarked Eden.

  "I appeal to the young lady," continued the real-estate man. "If that ring on the third finger of her left hand means anything, it means a wedding." Startled, Bob Eden looked, and saw a big emerald set in platinum. "You, miss -- you have vision. Suppose you two bought a lot today and held it for your -- er -- for future generations. Wealth, wealth untold -- I'm right, ain't I, miss?"

  The girl looked away. "Perhaps you are," she admitted. "But you've made a mistake. This gentleman is not my fiance."

  "Oh," said the youth, deflating.

  "I'm only a stranger, passing through," Eden told him.

  The salesman pulled himself together for a new attack. "That's it -- you're a stranger. You don't understand. You can't realize that Los Angeles looked like this once."

  "It still does -- to some people," suggested Bob Eden gently.

  The young man gave him a hard look. "Oh -- I get you," he said. "You're from San Francisco." He turned to the girl. "So this ain't your fianc
e, eh, lady? Well -- hearty congratulations."

  Eden laughed. "Sorry," he said.

  "I'm sorry, too," returned the salesman. "Sorry for you, when I think of what you're passing up. However, you may see the light yet, and if you ever do, don't forget me. I'm here Saturdays and Sundays, and we have an office in Eldorado. Opportunity's knocking, but of course if you're from Frisco, you're doing the same. Glad to have met you, anyhow."

  They left him by his weak little fountain, a sad but hopeful figure.

  "Poor fellow," the girl remarked, as she stepped on the gas. "The pioneer has a hard time of it."

  Eden did not speak for a moment. "I'm an observing little chap, aren't I?" he said at last.

  "What do you mean?"

  "That ring. I never noticed it. Engaged, I suppose?"

  "It looks that way, doesn't it?"

  "Don't tell me you're going to marry some movie actor who carries a vanity case."

  "You should know me better than that."

  "I do, of course. But describe this lucky lad. What's he like?"

  "He likes me."

  "Naturally." Eden lapsed into silence.

  "Not angry, are you?" asked the girl.

  "Not angry," he grinned, "but terribly, terribly hurt. I perceive you don't want to talk about the matter."

  "Well -- some incidents in my life I really should keep to myself. On such short acquaintance."

  "As you wish," agreed Eden. The car sped on. "Lady," he said presently, "I've known this desert country, man and boy, going on twenty-four hours. And believe me when I tell you, miss, it's a cruel land -- a cruel land."

  They climbed the road that lay between the two piles of brown rock pretending to be mountains, and before them lay Eldorado, huddled about the little red station. The town looked tiny and helpless and forlorn. As they alighted before the Desert Edge Hotel, Eden said:

  "When shall I see you again?"

  "Thursday, perhaps."

  "Nonsense. I shall probably be gone by then, I must see you soon."

  "I'll be out your way in the morning. If you like, I'll pick you up."

  "That's kind of you -- but morning's a long way off," he said. "I'll think of you tonight, eating at the Oasis. Give my love to that steak, if you see it. Until tomorrow, then -- and can't I buy you an alarm clock?"

  "I shan't oversleep -- much," she laughed. "Good-bye."

  "Good-bye," answered Eden. "Thanks for the buggy ride."

  He crossed the street to the railroad station, which was also the telegraph office. In the little cubby-hole occupied by the agent, Will Holley stood, a sheaf of copy paper in his hand.

  "Hello," he said. "Just getting that interview on the wire. Were you looking for me?"

  "Yes, I was," Eden replied. "But first I want to send a wire of my own."

  The agent, a husky youth with sandy hair, looked up. "Say, Mister, no can do. Mr. Holley here's tied up things forever."

  Holley laughed. "That's all right. You can cut in with Mr. Eden's message, and then go back."

  Frowning, Eden considered the wording of his rather difficult telegram. How to let his father know the situation without revealing it to the world? Finally he wrote:

  BUYER HERE, BUT CERTAIN CONDITIONS MAKE IT ADVISABLE WE TREAT HIM TO A LITTLE HOO MALIMALI. MRS. JORDAN WILL TRANSLATE. WHEN I TALK WITH YOU OVER TELEPHONE PROMISE TO SEND VALUABLE PACKAGE AT ONCE THEN FORGET IT. ANY CONFIDENTIAL MESSAGE FOR ME CARE WILL HOLLEY, ELDORADO TIMES. THEY HAVE NICE DESERT DOWN HERE BUT TOO FULL OF MYSTERY FOR FRANK AND OPEN YOUNG BUSINESS MAN LIKE YOUR LOVING SON. BOB.

  He turned the yellow slip over to the worried telegrapher, with instructions to send it to his father's office, and in duplicate to his house. "How much?" he asked.

  After some fumbling with a book, the agent named a sum, which Eden paid. He added a tip, upsetting the boy still further.

  "Say, this is some day here," announced the telegrapher. "Always wanted a little excitement in my life, but now it's come I guess I ain't ready for it. Yes, sir -- I'll send it twice -- I know -- I get you --"

  Holley gave the boy a few directions about the Madden interview, and returned with Bob Eden to Main Street.

  "Let's drop over to the office," the editor said. "Nobody there now, and I'm keen to know what's doing out at Madden's."

  In the bare little home of the Eldorado Times, Eden took a chair that was already partly filled with exchanges, close to the editor's desk. Holley removed his hat and replaced it with an eye-shade. He dropped down beside his typewriter.

  "My friend in New York grabbed at that story," he said. "It was good of Madden to let me have it. I understand they're going to allow me to sign it, too -- the name of Will Holley back in the big papers again. But look here -- I was surprised by what you hinted out at the ranch this morning. It seemed to me last night that everything was O.K. You didn't say whether you had that necklace with you or not, but I gathered you had --"

  "I haven't," cut in Eden.

  "Oh -- it's still in San Francisco?"

  "No. My confederate has it."

  "Your what?"

  "Holley, I know that if Harry Fladgate says you're all right, you are. So I'm going the whole way in the matter of trusting you."

  "That's flattering -- but suit yourself."

  "Something tells me we'll need your help," Eden remarked. With a glance round the deserted office, he explained the real identity of the servant, Ah Kim.

  Holley grinned. "Well, that's amusing, isn't it? But go on. I get the impression that although you arrived at the ranch last night to find Madden there and everything, on the surface, serene, such was not the case. What happened?"

  "First of all, Charlie thought something was wrong. He sensed it. You know the Chinese are a very psychic race."

  Holley laughed. "Is that so? Surely you didn't fall for that guff. Oh, pardon me -- I presume you had some better reason for delay?"

  "I'll admit it sounded like guff to me -- at the start. I laughed at Chan and prepared to hand over the pearls at once. Suddenly out of the night came the weirdest cry for help I ever expect to hear."

  "What! Really? From whom?"

  "From your friend, the Chinese parrot. From Tony."

  "Oh -- of course," said Holley. "I'd forgotten him. Well, that probably meant nothing."

  "But a parrot doesn't invent," Eden reminded him. "It merely repeats. I may have acted like a fool, but I hesitated to produce those pearls." He went on to tell how, in the morning, he had agreed to wait until two o'clock while Chan had further talk with Tony, and ended with the death of the bird just after lunch. "And there the matter rests," he finished.

  "Are you asking my advice?" said Holley. "I hope you are, because I've simply got to give it to you."

  "Shoot," Eden replied.

  Holley smiled at him in a fatherly way. "Don't think for a moment I wouldn't like to believe there's some big melodrama afoot at Madden's ranch. Heaven knows little enough happens round here, and a thing like that would be manna from above. But as I look at it, my boy, you've let a jumpy Chinese lead you astray into a bad case of nerves."

  "Charlie's absolutely sincere," protested Eden.

  "No doubt of that," agreed Holley. "But he's an Oriental, and a detective, and he's simply got to detect. There's nothing wrong at Madden's ranch. True, Tony lets out weird cries in the night -- but he always has."

  "You've heard him, then?"

  "Well, I never heard him say anything about help and murder, but when he first came I was living out at Doctor Whitcomb's, and I used to hang round the Madden ranch a good deal. Tony had some strange words in his small head. He'd spent his days amid violence and crime. It's nothing to wonder at that he screamed as he did last night. The setting on the desert, the dark, Charlie's psychic talk -- all that combined to make a mountain out of a molehill, in your eyes."

  "And Tony's sudden death this noon?"

  "Just as Madden said. Tony was as old as the hills -- even a parrot doesn't live forever. A coincidence, y
es -- but I'm afraid your father won't be pleased with you, my boy. First thing you know P.J. Madden, who is hot and impetuous, will kick you out and call the transaction off. And I can see you back home explaining that you didn't close the deal because a parrot on the place dropped dead. My boy, my boy -- I trust your father is a gentle soul. Otherwise he's liable to annihilate you."

  Eden considered. "How about that missing gun?"