by Maia Chance
“Berta!” I whispered, louder this time.
Jimmy and Berta looked up and for the first time noticed the men peering out at us from the seawall.
“Oh dear,” Berta murmured. “Jimmy, can you save us?”
Jimmy scratched his cheek.
“Hey!” the gangly thug yelled. “Get over here now, and bring them diamonds! And you, Jimmy, you’re gonna be in real hot water with Boss. He said he was gonna string you up like a duck in Chinatown!”
“Jimmy,” Berta whispered, “why do you consort with such persons?”
“Gotta make a living, queen bee.”
“Get a move on!” Gangly brandished his gun. “Put your hands up, and nothing funny or you’re Swiss cheese!”
Jimmy and Berta raised their hands, I raised my hand that wasn’t hugging Cedric, and we waded toward shore.
“Any ideas?” I whispered to Berta.
“No. Jimmy?”
“Thinkin’ on it.”
“Think harder!” I whispered.
We stumbled and crunched on the underwater oysters, and emerged on the narrow strip of beach below the seawall—the tide must’ve been out—dripping, quaking, teeth chattering.
“Does the pooch bite?” Gangly asked me, gesturing down to Cedric.
“Only if you’re a bratwurst,” I said.
“We got a real wiseacre here, Danny,” Gangly said to the puny one—who was wearing the same enormous glasses he’d worn on the train. “Come on up here. We’re takin’ the three of you back to the city to see Boss.”
“Still no ideas?” I whispered to Jimmy.
Jimmy shrugged limply.
Berta was correct: Jimmy wasn’t really gangster material. Good gravy.
Once we’d clambered to the top of the seawall, Gangly keep his gun drawn while Danny approached Jimmy, ordered him to put his hands up, and commenced patting him down. In his sopping suit, Jimmy looked like a drowned weasel.
I tried to swallow my queasy panic. “If you don’t mind me asking,” I said, “how are you going to take us back to the city if your motorcar is stuck on those rocks?”
The thugs glanced at their motorcar and then at each other.
“We’ll steal another motorcar, I guess,” Danny said. He finished patting Jimmy down, and then went to Berta.
“If you touch me, you’ll regret it,” she said coldly.
“Just doin’ my job, lady.”
“We do not have the diamonds.”
“Sure you do. We saw Jimmy take ’em outa the safe, followed him all the way up here—”
“You mean you saw Jimmy blow them out of the safe,” Berta said. “With nitroglycerin.”
“That what he told you? Haw-haw! And then we saw him give ’em to you.”
Berta scowled. “You were spying through my bedroom window at the inn?”
“Well, Gus here was. Gus is the one who does the squirreling up the drainpipes bit. I just gave him a boost.”
Berta was practically vibrating with fury. Danny patted her sides as gingerly as one would a soufflé.
“Nothin’,” Danny said to Gus.
“I told you,” Berta said, “they sank to the bottom of the cove.”
“The doll with the pooch must have ’em,” Gus said to Danny. “Frisk her.”
Danny came at me, all handsy. Cedric growled and lurched in my arms. I struggled to keep him contained and squeezed my eyes shut as Danny patted me down and up again.
“Nothin’,” Danny said, mystified.
“We told you,” I said. “They’re in the water. So why don’t you let us go?”
“No chance. Boss wants Jimmy here’s neck like nobody’s business. All righty, get in line. We’ll walk over to the big house I saw back there and take a motorcar from their garage. Bet they got some real fancy ones. C’mon, march.”
A figure strolled out of the trees. I saw him first, but Gus saw him a split second later. “Hold it!” Gus shouted, and trained his gun on the figure.
The figure strolled closer, and I knew that smooth-jointed gait. “Wowie, you folks sure look like you’re having some motorcar trouble. Need a hand?”
It was Ralph, in a wool sailor’s coat, tall rubber boots, and a knitted cap. Berta and Jimmy kept their traps shut about recognizing him. So did I, although my knees were weak with relief … or maybe Jell-O knees were only the latest symptom of my hideous stomach complaint.
“Who are you?” Danny called.
“Ebeneezer North. Call me Eb. I tend the lighthouse just over there.” Ralph offered a hand.
Neither Danny nor Gus shook his hand, but they both relaxed slightly. “You got a tow cable?” Danny asked.
“We can just steal a new motorcar,” Gus whispered to him.
Danny whispered back, “And leave Boss’s car here to rot—and for the fuzz to find it?”
“Sure I’ve got a tow cable,” Ralph said. “It’s in my motorcar. I’ll go and get it.”
“All right,” Danny said. “But we’re in a kinda hurry.”
Ralph loped away—he never loped, so this was part of the act—and we waited for a few awkward minutes. Presently he returned behind the wheel of his Chalmers. He backed up so his rear fender was lined up with that of the thugs’ tipped motorcar, switched off his engine, hopped out, and produced a coiled metal cable and a flashlight from the backseat.
Why the heck did he have a tow cable on hand?
“All righty,” Ralph said, uncoiling the cable. It had a hefty metal hook on each end. “You fellas come over here—I need one of you to hold the flashlight and one of you to hold the hook in place—that’s right, come on over.” Danny and Gus met Ralph at the Chalmers’s rear bumper. Ralph passed Danny the flashlight and handed one of the hooks to Gus. “Just hook that right under the fender there—see that little ridge?”
Danny and Gus crouched, bending their heads to see underneath the fender. With the other metal hook, Ralph neatly clocked each of them in the back of the head. They went down like dominoes.
Ralph began to coil the tow cable up again. “Get in the car,” he said to Jimmy, Berta, and me. “These two are out cold but who knows for how long.”
We all piled into the Chalmers, and we were off.
In the front passenger seat, I was shaking-wet, and so queasy and achy, I couldn’t speak, although my mind was stammering, Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ralph. And I’m sorry, I think. And … I still love you. Phooey.
Cedric climbed out of my arms to boost his front paws on Ralph’s lap. I lay my head on the door, shut my eyes, and prayed I would not vomit in front of the love of my life.
Berta said, “Mr. Oliver, would you kindly motor us directly to the hospital in Mystic? Mrs. Woodby may have been poisoned by Lord Sudley.”
“Jiminy Christmas,” Ralph muttered, and he hit the gas hard.
We somehow made it to the hospital—it was all a twisty, churning blur during which I somehow managed to tell Berta how Eustace had been lying to us about, well, everything, and how powerboats are illegal in the oyster trade, and how Abe Murden must be poaching the Montgomery oyster preserves in Sewant Cove. Then Ralph and Berta were guiding me into the emergency room, speaking as rapidly as radio broadcasters to doctors and nurses while I lay on a wheeled bed, squeezing my eyes shut against the surface-of-the-sun lights.
Someone made me sit up—I don’t know who because I still couldn’t open my eyes—and I was being told to drink down two tablespoonsful of syrup of ipecac, which would have been sickeningly sweet if I hadn’t already been around the bend, followed by a full glass of water.
Everyone stepped back. A nurse nestled a metal pan in the bed beside me. Several minutes passed during which I rode the roller coaster inside my skull.
I bolted upright in bed and was sick in the metal pan.
“Thank heavens,” I heard Berta say.
“Gollygeebejabbers,” Jimmy muttered.
Ralph said, “Whew.”
I pried my eyes open and yelled, “Get out of here,
all of you!” Then I was sick again.
And again and again, and even when there was nothing left, my innards continued to wrench themselves. Finally that stopped, too, and the nurse switched off the overhead light, and I slept.
27
I woke. For a moment I had no notion where I was, with these pale yellow walls and the too-tight sheets forcing my feet sideways, and there was someone sitting beside my bed, legs crossed, reading a newspaper.
The newspaper lowered to reveal shining agate gray eyes, ginger stubble, and smiling lips with heartrending little parentheses at their corners.
“Ralph,” I croaked.
“You pulled through, kid.”
I struggled upright, realized I was in a clinging hospital gown, and drew the covers up to my chin. “Where is Cedric?”
“Mrs. Lundgren took him for the night.”
“Do you have the time?”
Ralph smiled. “Depends on what you had in mind.”
“Why are you here?”
“Let me think.” He folded the newspaper. “Because you could’ve died last night and I didn’t feel right about going back to the inn for a refreshing snooze?”
“It was only a bad oyster,” I said.
“You sure about that?” Ralph’s eyes lost a little of their sparkle.
“No, actually. I’m not. Lord Sudley lied to me. Lied and lied. I’m not sure what to think.”
We shared a long, searching gaze. Was there hurt in Ralph’s eyes? Yes. Jealousy? None that I could make out. Love? Well, yes.
“Nurse,” he called as someone passed by the open door.
A nurse stopped in the doorway. “Yes?”
“See to it that Mrs. Woodby here gets some breakfast. Coffee, eggs, pancakes, the works. Oh—and she likes bacon.”
“Yes, sir.” After giving Ralph an appreciative once-over, the nurse hurried off.
I said, “Mind if I ask how you happened to be on the Montgomery estate last night just in the nick of time—thanks for that, by the way—”
“My pleasure.”
“—opportunely wearing a salty dog disguise? Oh—and with a tow cable in your motorcar?”
“I always have a tow cable in my motorcar because you might have noticed it’s a heap of junk and I have to get it towed pretty regularly. The disguise, well, that was just so I could blend in around town, you know.”
“How did you wind up in the right place at the right time, though?”
“I was sitting at a window table at the Red Rooster, eating dinner and minding my own business, when I happened to see you and Berta tearing down the street in that skinny little gangster’s motorcar. I didn’t like the looks of it one bit, especially when I saw a second motorcar take off after you. So I got in my own motorcar, and followed.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. “Thanks. Thanks for … taking care of me.”
“I’ll tell you, Lola, my heart just about stopped when I saw that idiot drive his motorcar into the sea. I was running down to help you when I saw you stand up. After that, I hung back. I didn’t want those two thugs to see me. I wanted to figure out how to finesse the situation.”
I smiled a little. “You certainly did finesse it.”
“And Lola. About that thing we were talking about. The, uh, the domestic thing. The … forever thing.”
I sat quite still in that bed. The scent of starch rose up from the tight sheets, and the clock on the wall ticked louder. I looked at Ralph with his forearms braced on his knees, his weathered skin, and that white divot of a shrapnel scar, all laid bare in the thin morning light. And his eyes. They weren’t cool, ironic, keen, or laughing this time. They were open wide with a bruised-looking vulnerability.
Understanding dawned.
Ralph needed someone to take care of him. He would never admit it in a million years, but he did. I’d been so selfish, childish, thinking only of my own desires and plots and expectations. He was the wounded one—or, at least, he had been just as wounded by life as I had.
I took a deep breath. “I—”
“Let me start,” he said.
“Oh. All right.”
“I wanted to tell you,” he said, weaving his fingers together, “that I’ve been thinking, and I was a little too … too harsh, I guess the word is. I’m going to stay open to your ideas. The domestic thing. And forever. But just … just give me a little time, okay?” He looked at me, naked hope written all over his face.
“All right,” I said. I blinked away the moisture in my eyelashes. I’d give him all the time in the world, and to Halifax with what Mother would say.
Ralph was bending over me, bracing a hand on my headboard—
Berta burst in carrying Cedric, with two handbags swinging from her elbow. She shut the door behind her. “Quickly, Mrs. Woodby! The police are here, speaking with a nurse!”
Ralph straightened.
“What?” I said. “Police?”
“Theo must have sent them to arrest us for stealing the diamonds. Do not dillydally!” She thrust Cedric into Ralph’s arms, hurried to the window, and gave it a jiggle. “Thank goodness we are on the main floor.”
No kissing Ralph, then. Although probably for the best, since I needed a toothbrush like anything.
I whipped off the bedclothes and went to the window. Air wafted up beneath my flimsy hospital gown, and my feet were bare.
The men’s voices grew louder, with the nurse’s annoyed voice woven through.
“I’ll stall them,” Ralph said. “And I’ll take the pooch. Scram—and be careful.” With Cedric in his arms, he slid out the door and shut it.
Berta passed me one of the handbags she was carrying. It was mine. “Here,” she said. “I brought this from the inn. I know you have great quantities of makeup in there, and we will need it.”
“Really?” I said. “Why?”
“No time to explain now.” Berta hoisted her leg, and was out the window. She thumped onto the ground below.
I climbed out, too. As I did so, a little voice in the back of my mind said, The open window. The OPEN WINDOW, you nitwit!
But, not having had a drop of coffee, I ignored it.
“I feel like an escaped mental patient,” I whispered to Berta. We hurried alongside the building. “My brother-in-law, Chisholm, would say my whole life has been leading up to a moment such as this.”
“Do not spleen so, Mrs. Woodby. We are close to cracking this case like a peanut.”
“Really? How—?”
“First things first—we must flee.” Berta stopped at the corner of the hospital and peered around. She pulled back. “Drat. There is another policeman loitering about by your motorcar, which I drove from the inn.”
“I’m standing here barefoot in a giant paper serviette, holding my handbag, and it’s November and—”
“Do not spleen. Wait here. I shall return.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Have faith, Mrs. Woodby.”
“Oh, fine.” I huddled in the shrubbery and watched Berta toddle away and out of sight.
I didn’t wait long. An engine roared up in front of my hiding place.
“Mrs. Woodby!” Berta cried. “For heaven’s sake, get in.”
I poked my head through the branches. Berta sat behind the wheel of a large, dirty truck with FREDERICK BROS. GUTTER CLEANING painted on the side and a ladder tied to the roof. I scrambled over, climbed in, and Berta pressed the gas pedal before I’d even slammed the door.
“Where did you get this rig?” I called over the chugging engine.
“I borrowed it from the hospital parking lot.”
“Borrowed?”
“We will return it as soon as we are able.”
“The keys were left in the ignition?”
“No. Jimmy taught me how to hot-wire motorcars once.”
“On a date?”
“Going to the movie palace eventually grows tiresome.”
Truly? Ralph and I had never seen more than a few minutes of any
motion picture; too busy canoodling.
Berta swung the truck out of the parking lot and onto the street.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“That depends. What sort of makeup do you have in your handbag?”
Too dazed to argue, I unclasped my handbag and rummaged. “Only a lipstick and Maybelline cake mascara.”
“Then our first stop is Rexall Drugs to purchase items to complete our disguises.”
“Disguises?”
“We are on the lam, Mrs. Woodby, and if we are to conclude our investigation before the police arrest us for stealing Theo’s diamonds—”
“We could simply produce the diamonds. We know where they are.”
“If those thugs did not extract them from the cove already. I do not wish to take any risks.”
“Right,” I said. “And about our investigation—you mentioned something about cracking it like a peanut?” My temples pulsated a demand for coffee, and my belly growled. How could I detect while running on empty? I rummaged through my handbag again, but came up with nothing but a crumpled chocolate bar wrapper.
“Indeed. I had a most elucidating conversation with Mwinyi this morning.”
“Mwinyi? Why Mwinyi?”
“I was exceedingly distraught by the possibility that Lord Sudley had attempted to poison you, Mrs. Woodby, and that, taken in combination with the revelation that he lied to us about so many things, well, at the crack of dawn, I telephoned Montgomery Hall with the intent to demand answers from him. However, Mwinyi answered the telephone and told me that Lord Sudley had already left for the city.”
“He’s sailing for England, he said.”
“Fishy, is it not? Now, do you recall how Lord Sudley claimed Mwinyi accidentally fired that first gunshot we heard the afternoon Rudy died? I pressed Mwinyi upon that point, and he told me that Lord Sudley lied to us about that, too. That first gunshot was fired by Lord Sudley.”
I sat there for a long, blank moment, jouncing on the truck seat.
We’d been thoroughly duped. Lord Sudley had abetted Miss Murden, Theo, or Clementine in killing Rudy and, most likely, Glenn.
To think I’d been tempted to marry him! He might’ve been planning to murder me.
“What about the second gunshot?” I asked.
“I do not know. In fact, I am not entirely certain which gunshot was which.…”