“Take it easy,” I said. “Sit down and reduce steam. Let’s have a drink and be reasonable.” He sat down, but I could see that he’d got a lot on his mind. “Make it a double Scotch,” he said. “I’ve done a full day’s work and I’m not feeling so good.”
When the drinks came, I hitched my chair close to his. “So the girl’s been found, eh?” I said. “And Maddox has had to fork up?”
“That’s it,” Juden said. “The poor old geyser didn’t stand a chance. I tell you parting with all that dough’s broken his heart.”
“He never had a heart,” I said grimly. “The thing that gets his blood circulating is a rock wrapped up in gristle. How did it happen?”
“Well, as far as I know,” Juden returned. “It seems this Shumway bird bounced into Maddox’s office with his daughter early this morning. His story is that she was rescued by a guy called Law Kelly. They brought Kelly with them.
“Maddox wouldn’t play at first, but Kelly seems to be a tough egg. He’d seen the story about the reward and he remembers seeing this Shumway girl with a greaser. He set off right away and didn’t have any difficulty in getting her away from the greaser. Then he grabbed a ‘plane and reached New York this morning. He took her to her father and the trio turned up to collect.
“As I say, Maddox was wild, but Kelly persuaded him to pert. So Maddox’s blaming you for the whole thing.”
“Who’s Kelly?” I asked.
“Why, I guess he’s one of those guys who’s always around when someone’s giving away 25 grand. You know how it is.”
“Meaning you don’t know?”
“Well, I can’t know everyone, can I?”
“Swell,” I lowered half my drink. “Now, we’re getting places. Let me tell you, Kelly’s yarn is a damn lie from soup to nuts.”
“You ask Maddox,” Juden returned grimly. “He’ll tell you whether it’s a lie or not in twenty different languages… all of ’em bad.”
“You may be interested to hear that Myra Shumway’s upstairs right at this very minute,” I said, emphasising each word by stabbing the air with my finger.
Juden finished his drink and snapped his fingers for the barman. “The girl gets around,” was all he said.
“She hasn’t been to New York,” I said patiently. “She’s been right by my side from the time I told you I’d found her.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that some young woman is kidding the pants off you?”
I thought about this, then I shook my head. “The girl’s Myra Shumway,” I said. “You gave me her picture. Remember?”
Juden opened a brief case, lying by his feet and produced a full plate glossy print. “Take a gander at that,” he said, handing it to me.
There was Maddox looking like a well-fed turtle, another oldish man I hadn’t seen before and Myra. They were standing in Maddox’s office and Maddox was handing Myra a slip of paper. By the glassy smile that Maddox had hitched to his face, there could be no doubt that the slip of paper was the cheque for the 25,000-dollars reward.
I stared at the girl in the photograph. If I hadn’t known that Myra hadn’t been out of Mexico for the past week, I’d have been prepared to take an oath that the girl in the picture was indeed Myra Shumway. There were the same obvious points of similarity. The blonde hair down to her shoulders, half hiding her left eye. The same way of standing and the same way of tilting her head. The features were the same although the expression was a little puzzling. There was a look on her face I had never seen before, but then I’d never seen her receiving a cheque for twenty-five grand and that amount of money is enough to change anyone’s expression.
I handed it back to Juden in bewilderment. “Something’s wrong here,” I said. “I don’t know what it is.” I shrugged helplessly. “When was this photo taken?”
“Eleven o’clock this morning,” Juden said promptly. “It was flown out and I got it this afternoon.”
“At eleven o’clock this morning, Myra Shumway was with me,” I said firmly.
It was Juden’s time to look startled. “Are you drunk?”
“Not with you handling my expense sheet,” I returned bitterly. The berman came over at this moment and Juden ordered a second round. When he had gone away, Juden said, “So she was with you, was she?”
I nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “But who’s going to believe it? Look, why don’t you admit that you slipped up? Maybe, I can put things right with Maddox. I’m not promising, but…”
“Hold everything,” I said waving my hand to the door.
“Snatch a peep at that.”
Myra was standing by the bar waiting for me to spot her. I’ve told you from time to time that this kid was a looker. I don’t want to keep on at it or you’ll think I’ve got something to sell. But I’ll put this on record. She made anything that Earl Carrol had ever put up to dazzle the tired U.S. business men look like a wallflower in red flannel.
Maybe it was the dress. It was gold lamé and the full skirt was lined with scarlet so that as she moved the scarlet showed in sudden unexpected flashes, making the dress look as if it were on fire. From the knees up, it clung to her curves like a nervous mountaineer.
She practically caused a riot. The men sitting around paused in their conversation like someone had jabbed them with a skewer, while the women radioed hate on a short wave length.
Myra didn’t care. She came over, took the seat I offered her and settled herself with all the self-assurance in the world.
I said, “I’d like you to meet Paul Juden of the Central News Agency. Miss Myra Shumway,” I went on to Juden.
He was like a man cut off at the knees. He managed to get to his feet and when Myra sat down, he collapsed into his chair. But he didn’t seem able to say anything.
“He’s not always like this,” I said to Myra. “As a matter of fact he has a pretty good head on him.”
“So have some umbrellas,” Myra said. “But, it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Now, look, sunshine, don’t let us have any unpleasantness, Juden is suffering from delayed shock He thought you were in New York.”
“I hope we’re not going to have all that all over again,” Myra said.
The barman came over and stood admiring her.
“Something that would resurrect a corpse, please,” Myra said, smiling at him. “Nothing small. Serve it in a brandy glass.”
The barman blinked. “Yes, madam,” he said, and went away.
“I’m going to get tight,” she went on to me in a confidential undertone. “I haven’t been in a decent hotel for months and I haven’t been tight for years. I am pandering to my whims tonight.”
By this time, Juden began making croaking noises. “Twins,” he said feebly. “Twins.”
Myra looked at him with interest. “No wonder you look like such a sad man,” she said.
“Should I congratulate you or buy you a wreath?”
Before I could stop him, he gave her the photograph. There was a long electric silence while she looked at it. Then she turned to me. “Who’s this delightful little blonde trollop?” she asked, pointing with a trembling finger at the girl in the photograph.
“To all intents and purposes,” I said as gently as possible, “it’s you.”
Myra drew a deep breath. “Have you ever seen me wear such an expression on my face as this over-dressed, sex-ridden, over-ripe, two-face hag is wearing?” she demanded, furiously rattling the photograph under my nose.
Even Juden shrank away from her fury.
But like all women, she had hit the nail on the thumb. That was the difference between this girl in the photograph and Myra. Whereas Myra had character, this girl had none. She had that loose, cruel expression on her face that you so often see in the face of a wanton woman. Make no mistake about it, this girl was bad right through, but it wasn’t until it was pointed out to me, that I realized it.
“Take it easy,” I said. “The red light’s showing on your pressure gauge.”
“So this is the hooker who’s impersonating me,” Myra said, controlling herself with an effort.
She studied the photograph intently. “And look at that smug, I’ve-got-the-bone expression on my dear parent’s face. This is some of his work. I’ll make him suffer for this!”
Juden was clawing at his collar nervously. He quite expected that she would turn on him at any moment.
“Well, P. J.,” 1 said. “Do you see how Maddox’s been fooled now?”
“What can we say to him?” Juden groaned. “You know Maddox. The other papers would rib him for weeks. Besides, he wouldn’t believe it.”
“He wouldn’t?” Myra twisted round in her chair so that she faced Juden, who shrank as far away as he could from her. “Don’t you think I could persuade him?”
“You might,” Juden returned feebly. “Yes, I guess with your character you could do pretty near anything.”
“And that’s what I think,” Myra said ominously.
“It’s going to be difficult,” I said, finishing my drink. “If your father says she’s you, you’ll have a hard job convincing anyone.”
The barman brought Myra’s cocktail. There was a lot of it in a large brandy glass. He put it on the table beside her. “It is my own invention, madam,” he said.
Myra picked up the balloon glass and took a long pull from the blue-green liquor. Then she shut her eyes, held her breath and her feet traced quick little patterns on the carpet. When she could speak, she said faintly, “Any smoke escaping from me?”
“You like it, madam?” the barman asked anxiously.
“That is the wrong word,” Myra said, putting the glass on the table and staring at it. “You don’t like a thing like that. A corpse doesn’t like embalming fluid, but it does it good. What do you call it?”
“The breath of a Tiger,” the barman said, not knowing whether to be complimented or not. Myra shuddered. “I’m glad it’s only his breath,” she said. “Somehow, I don’t think I could have managed the tiger itself.”
“If madam does not like it, I will bring her something else,” the barman said, looking hurt.
“I have another specialty which I call the Panther’s spit.”
Myra waved him away. “Some other time perhaps,” she said, and he returned behind his bar with a puzzled expression on his face.
Doc AńselI and Bogle came into the bar. They were wearing tuxedos. Bogle looked like an
Eastside waiter.
“There you are,” Ansell said, drawing up a chair. “We’ve been having a little trouble with Whisky, otherwise we’d’ve been down before.”
I introduced Juden who nodded vaguely.
Myra examined Bogle thoughtfully. “What you need is an ermine dicky, Sam,” she said. “It would set off that dress suit.”
Sam was looking at her with undisguised admiration. “Gee!” he exploded. “That dress you’ve nearly got on is the horse’s hoofs!”
“Never mind that,” I broke in. “We’ve got a little brain work ahead of us,” and I gave Ansell the photograph.
He studied it and then passed it to Bogle. “That’s Mr. Maddox handing over the reward, I suppose,” he said.
I nodded. It surprised me he didn’t say anything about the girl in the picture. He just glanced thoughtfully at Myra, pursed his lips and then studied his small brown hands.
Bogle, however, had plenty to say. “What’s she doing in this picture?” he demanded. “How did she get to New York anyway and if she’s got the cheque, where is it?”
“That isn’t me, you dope,” Myra snapped. “Haven’t you got eyes in your head?”
Bogle blinked. “Sure,” he said. “Well, if it ain’t you, that dame’s certainly borrowed your geography. Who is she?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Myra returned grimly. “And when I find out, even a plastic surgeon won’t be able to put her right.” She reached for her drink and lowered a good two inches of the liquor down her throat.
I looked over at Juden. “We’ve got to do something, P. J.,” I said. “For one thing, if I don’t put myself right with Maddox, he might have a grudge against me. I wouldn’t like that to happen.”
“He’s got one already,” Juden returned. “You may as well know, Ross. I’m sorry, but you’re out.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean… out? How about my contract?”
“That falls due at the end of the month,” Juden returned, looking unhappy. “He’s not renewing it. He says you’ve cost him plenty as it is.”
“The ungrateful rat,” I said bitterly. “After all I’ve done for him too!”
“Anything might happen to change his mind by the end of the month,” Ansell broke in. “I shouldn’t let it prey on your mind.”
“I know that kind of a guy,” Bogle added. “You ought to call on him and kick his teeth in. That’ll give him different ideas.”
“I think you’d better keep away from him,” Juden said, shaking his head. “He could get you on the blacklist if he wanted to.” He got to his feet, scratched his head and then said, “Before I go, wasn’t there something about a story? Wasn’t that why I came down?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But, now I’m out, I’m sticking to that story. Catch me making a present of anything to Maddox.”
“That’s not the way to go on,” Juden said. “If you’ve got a story, you’d better let me have it.”
“Not now. Maybe, later.”
He studied my face and decided that it was no use pressing me. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll be getting along.” He looked over at Myra, frowned, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to make of her,” he said, almost as if he were talking to himself. “You wouldn’t have a twin, would you?” he asked her hopefully.
“No,” Myra said. “Then, I just give up. You can waste a lot of time with a problem like this. Time’s money to me.”
“Well, so long, P.J.,” I said, shaking hands. “If I’m broke I’ll look you up.”
“Sure, anything like that.”
“Okay. Keep out of hospital.”
“Sure, last time I was in there, I took a turn for the nurse,” he returned and went off laughing like a hyena.
“That guy’s got nurses on the brain,” I said, relaxing. “Oh well, let’s forget him. I guess we’ll all get drunk. It’s a fine welcome to find your job’s been thrown in your face.” Myra finished her drink, gasped, and then waved violently to the barman. “Don’t you dare blame me,” she said. “I didn’t lose you your mouldy job.”
“I never said you did,” I said wearily. “Well, I’ve got to think of something…”
“You’re going to help me find this blonde harridan. How would you like that?” she asked.
“It’s an idea,” I said. “But, not a very profitable one.”
The barman came over.
“Four Tiger breaths,” Myra said. “And make them large ones.”
“You like it, madam?” The barman showed his pleasure.
“No,” Myra said, with a shudder. “But it likes me.”
I looked at the other two. “What have we got out of this so far? A couple of miracles and a talking dog. Surely, we can turn that little lot into hard cash?”
Ansell said, “We’ve got a great deal more than that. The first thing to do is to find Hamish Shumway and the girl who’s impersonating Myra. We must waste no time in doing it.”
There was an odd note of urgency in his voice which made me glance at him sharply. I had not seen him look so worried before.
“What have you got on your mind?” I asked.
“Plenty.” He paused while the barman came with the drinks and then when he had gone he went on “There’s evil in Nagualisrn. I feel some of that evil has broken loose.”
“I wish you would be quiet,” Myra said crossly. “You’re always the skeleton at the feast. To-night, we enjoy ourselves. To-morrow we go to New York.” And she raised her glass,
“The toast is frustration and c
onfusion to killjoys!”
We drank.
PART TWO
—
NEW YORK
Chapter TEN
IT wasn’t until we had been in New York for three days and we had more or less settled down in a Brooklyn apartment that I began to realize that Doc Ansell’s presentiments might have some foundation.
During those three days, we were all busy trying to find Myra’s father. Consequently, we didn’t see much of each other.
In spite of this, I was aware of a subtle change that had come over Myra. She was kinder and she did not pick quarrels with Bogle. She looked different somehow, although I did not stop to analyse just why she did look different. She also clung more strongly than ever to her policy of honesty, which unsettled us all.
The first real indication that things weren’t right happened on the third night of our stay in New York. I had been around the various Press Clubs hoping to pick up some clue to Shumway and I guess I must have been doing myself rather well. I wasn’t exactly tight, but I’d had enough to make me hesitate about ascending the stairs in the dark. Also, I couldn’t find the light switch.
I was standing in the lobby trying to make up my mind whether I’d go up on my hands and knees or sleep in the living-room, when I heard the sound of someone coming up the steps to the apartment. A moment later the front door opened and someone came in.
“Who’s that?” I said, peering into the darkness.
There was a faint gasp and I recognized Myra’s voice.
“Put the light on, will you?” I said, “I’ve been searching for the switch for the last five minutes.”
She didn’t say anything, but ran upstairs. I could just make out her shadowy form as she slipped past me.
“Well, that’s a nice way to treat a guy,” I said, “can’t you even say hello?”
By this time, she’d reached the top of the stairs and had disappeared.
Feeling a little mad and wondering what made her behave like this, I took the stairs with a rush and eventually got to the top. I went straight to Myra’s room and knocked on the door. There wasn’t any sound, so I opened the door and put my head round. The room was in darkness.
Miss Shumway Waves a Wand Page 12