by Craig Rice
“First chance at the comics,” he announced.
“After breakfast,” Dinah said firmly. “You’ve got to get the flowers. Remember?”
“I hafta do everything,” Archie said. “Oh—shambles!” He raced up the path in the direction of the Cherington house.
Dinah spread out the paper. Wallie Sanford had not turned himself in to the police. A news item stated that the police were still looking for him.
April said, “Oh!” and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs.
“I hope he’s safe,” Dinah said. “I hope he isn’t—” She gulped.
“At the bottom of some old swimming pool,” April said, something close to panic in her voice. “Dinah, if he—if something’s happened to him—maybe it’s our fault.”
“We couldn’t exactly have made him stay in the playhouse,” Dinah said.
“No, but if we’d told the police—he couldn’t have been murdered if he was in jail.”
“Listen,” Dinah said. “We don’t know he’s been murdered. Chances are he just beat it. So stop worrying. We’ve got to get breakfast.”
April nodded grimly, rose, and began setting the table. Her face was still pale.
“I keep wondering who that guy is,” Dinah said, getting out the pancake flour.
April jumped. “What guy?”
“The one who was in love with Bette LeMoe,” Dinah said. “You know, there’s only one guy mixed up in this that we haven’t quite accounted for yet. This Rupert van Deusen.”
April said nothing. She’d been thinking the same thing.
“We oughta investigate him,” Dinah said, carefully measuring the flour, “before we do anything else.”
“Except that we don’t know where he lives or anything about him,” April said. Or, what his real name is, she thought unhappily.
“We’ll find him,” Dinah said, serene confidence in her voice.
“Dinah,” April said. “Listen. There’s something I’ve got to tell you.”
“Just a minute,” Dinah said, “the phone’s ringing. Watch the bacon—”
April took the frying pan off the burner and followed Dinah to the phone.
“Hello,” Dinah said. “Hello.”
Over the receiver came the unmistakable sound of coins being dropped into a phone box. Then a familiar voice speaking very low.
“Is this Miss Carstairs?”
“This is Miss Dinah Carstairs,” Dinah said, her face puzzled. “Who—”
“This is—this is a friend of yours,” the voice said. “I was afraid you’d worry when you found me gone. I just wanted to tell you I’m quite all right.”
“Oh!” Dinah gasped. “Mr.—” She bit it off quick.
“Where are you? Why did you go?”
“I’m in a safe place,” he said. “Nobody’ll find me. I went because—I think I know what happened. So just don’t worry about me.”
“Wait,” Dinah said desperately, “wait! We’ve got to warn you. We think we know what happened, too. It was for revenge. He’ll be looking for you, too. Because you were mixed up in it. You know who I mean. The man who was in love with—with that girl.”
There was a little silence on the other end of the wire. Then, “What the devil are you talking about?”
“Listen,” Dinah said. “We found that stuff that Mrs.— that she had hidden. You know. We’ve got it hidden in a good safe place. But we read it. We know everything. The picture of you, going down an alley with—you know. The clippings and stuff.”
“Please,” he said. “Please!” He paused. “I know what you think. It wasn’t so. You’re such nice kids, and I don’t want you to think that. Believe me. I was perfectly innocent. I didn’t have any idea what was going to happen. I didn’t know I was being used until afterward. And then it was too late. Please believe me.”
“We do,” Dinah said urgently. “We do believe you. But he—the man who—you know what I mean—Mrs. S. and that other man—he doesn’t know you’re innocent. Maybe he won’t believe you. Maybe he won’t even give you a chance to talk. He’ll just—please, be very careful. He’s waited a long time for his—revenge.”
There was a pause. Then, “Who are you talking about?”
“The man who was in love with—the girl,” Dinah said.
“Oh, my Lord!” There was almost a laugh over the wire. “There was only one man in love with—Bette. Me.”
Dinah said, “Hey—wait a minute!” She listened for a moment, jiggled the receiver hook, and finally hung up. “Heck! He hung up!”
“Well, anyway, he’s safe,” April said in a relieved voice. “So far. What’d he say?”
Dinah told her. The two girls stared at each other with puzzled faces. “I’m confused,” April said.
“I am too,” Dinah admitted. “But I still say, we’ve got to investigate that Rupert van Deusen. And what were you going to say when the phone rang?”
“Nothing,” April murmured. “Nothing important.” She wanted to tell Dinah, but this wasn’t the time. She’d better do some investigating of Rupert van Deusen herself, first. “Hey. Mother’ll be downstairs any minute. We got stuff to do.”
Dinah raced into the kitchen. “Let’s set the table in the sun room. It’s a very special occasion. And when Archie gets back with the flowers—”
There was fast and furious activity in the kitchen and the sun room. In the midst of it Archie returned, carrying one enormous box and one smaller one. “I shoulda had a truck,” he announced, putting the boxes down on the table.
April opened the biggest box and gasped. “Dinah! Look! Talisman roses, her very best ones! Dozens of them! Golly!”
“Super!” Dinah said joyously. She got down the biggest vase while April opened the other box and gasped again.
“Oh!” Dinah said. “How darling!”
April lifted the corsage from its box and stared at it with glowing eyes. Tiny Dorothy Perkins rosebuds, sprays of delicate, featherlike fern, all tied together with pale-blue ribbon.
“Well, for Pete’s sake,” Dinah said, “don’t bawl about it.”
“Who’s bawling?” April sniffed loudly a couple of times. “Mother’ll love these. Dinah, she never could have committed the murder.”
“Mother?” Dinah said.
“Mrs. Cherington,” April said.
“My gosh,” Dinah said. “I never said she did.”
“Loony-Lou,” Archie added scornfully.
“All right, Dopey Joe,” April said. “You help set the table.”
The talisman roses were in the center of the sun-room table when Marian Carstairs came down the stairs. The waffle iron was heated and the batter was in a pitcher at its side. The bacon was perfuming the room from its covered dish, and the percolator was still making a cheerful little noise. The corsage of rosebuds was on Mother’s plate. And there wasn’t a sign of the three young Carstairs, not anywhere. Mother ran quickly into the sun room and said, “Oh!” She looked around. There was a very faint giggle from behind one of the curtains, followed by an even fainter “Sssh!” Mother began to talk to herself, in a very loud voice, about what wonderful, wonderful children she had, how beautiful the flowers were, how magnificent the breakfast smelled, and how lucky she was.
They descended on her with loud whoops, and for a minute she was in peril of being hugged to death. Then April pinned the corsage on Mother’s shoulder, Archie kissed her wetly on the nose, and Dinah began making the first waffle.
The last drop of batter had been used, the last crumb eaten, and Archie had scraped out the sirup jug when Dinah whispered to April, “You go.” April shook her head and said, “No. You.” Then Dinah said, “All right, both of us.”
They scampered into the living room, lifted up a sofa cushion, and returned with the ornately wrapped package. They laid it in front of Marian with a flourish.
“For me?” Mother said in surprise.
“You,” April said. “Unless you can find anyone else around here named Mother.”
<
br /> “And a beautiful card,” Mother said. “Who made it?”
“April made the flowers,” Dinah said, “and I made the letters. Go on, unwrap it!”
They watched happily while Mother peeled off the layers of wrappings, slowly, almost maddeningly. They beamed when she removed the final sheet of tissue paper and laid the book on the table.
HOW TO COPE WITH THE GROWING CHILD
A SIMPLE EXPLANATION OF CHILD
PSYCHOLOGY, FOR PARENTS
By Elsie Smithton Parsons, Ph.D.
“Look inside,” April said. “On the flyleaf.”
Inside was written, “To our dear mother, from her loving children. Dinah. April. Archie.”
Marian Carstairs swallowed hard and said, “Oh, how wonderful! I love it!”
“And,” Dinah said, “we’re going to read a chapter of it to you every day. I’ll read a chapter one night, and April will read the next night. We figure we can get all the way through the book in twenty-two days, including Sundays.”
“That’s marvelous!” Marian said. She looked thoughtfully at the title, and then at Dinah and April. “This wouldn’t be a delicately implied criticism of the way I’m bringing you up?”
“Oh, gosh, no,” Dinah said. “It’s just—”
April spoke up quickly before Dinah had a chance to quote Police Lieutenant Bill Smith’s remark. “We’re more than satisfied,” she said. “We like the way you bring us up. But we thought, just to be on the safe side—well—”
“Do you like it?” Dinah said anxiously. “The book?”
“I’m crazy about it,” Marian said. “And I’m crazy about you!”
“We’re crazy about you, too,” April said.
“I’m crazier about you,” Mother said, hugging them both.
“We’re crazier about you than you’re crazier about us,” Dinah yelped.
April finally caught her breath and said, “We’re not crazy!” And, with her finger to her lower lip, “B-b-b-b- b-b-b!”
“Say!” Dinah said. “Where’s Archie?”
April looked around. “He was right here a couple minutes ago.”
“He—” Dinah cupped her hands to call him. Then April nudged her. Dinah stopped in the middle of a breath.
“Listen!” April said. There was a little silence. “He was down in the basement!”
There were slow, cautious footsteps on the basement stairs. Then Archie appeared in the doorway, his hair tousled, his face very pink and smiling. He was carrying an enormous box in his arms. He carried it into the sun room, set it on the floor beside Mother’s feet, and said, “There!”
The huge box was wrapped, lavishly though amateurishly, in gift paper. It was tied with ribbon. There were holes punched in it. A large, crayon-drawn card on the top said, “To Mother. Love. Your child. Archie.” And, as they stared at the box, it began to vibrate. April gave a startled yip. The yip was answered by a sound from inside the box. A faint, squeaky sound, but definitely a “Mew!”
“Archie!” Mother said.
“Well,” Archie said, “Admiral’s mother’s cat’s kittens were big enough to leave home, and these were the very best ones, and they’re housebroken and everything, and you like kittens.”
“I adore kittens,” Mother said.
“And they’re quite small so they don’t eat much,” Archie said triumphantly.
He was answered by another faint “Mew!” from the box.
“Oh, Archie!” April said rapturously. “Let’s see them!”
“Sure,” Archie said. “Only, it’s Mother’s present. She hasta open up the box.”
Mother untied the ribbons and folded back the wrapping paper, while the box continued to vibrate. Then she lifted up the lid. Inside was a saucer of milk, a dish of cat food, a small sandbox, and two tiny, worried-looking kittens, one jet black and one pure white.
“Oh!” Mother said. “The sweet ones!”
“G’wan, pick ’em up,” Archie said. “Anytime anybody picks ’em up, they purr.”
Mother picked them up and nestled them in her lap. They did purr. April and Dinah petted them very gingerly. They purred louder.
“Their names,” Archie announced, “is Inky and Stinky.”
April looked up from scratching Stinky under the chin. “Only, Jenkins isn’t going to like this.”
“Jenkins knows about it a’ready,” Archie said. “Lookit!” He went out in the back yard, searched around for Jenkins, spotted him relaxing on the back-yard picnic table, and hauled him into the house. The kittens on Mother’s lap stiffened slightly and said, “F-f-f-f!”
“Here,” Archie said. “Put ’em down.” He picked up the kittens by the scruff of the neck and set them down on the floor. The two kittens promptly arched their backs and laid back their ears. The big, homely gray tomcat, Jenkins, stretched, yawned, and looked bored. He took a couple of steps forward and touched the kittens’ noses with his own, first Inky, then Stinky.
“See?” Archie said. “He likes them!”
Jenkins sat down, licked his left front paw, then took a pose and looked dignified, regarding the kittens, who took a couple of sidewise leaps, rolled over, and began to play with his tail. He allowed it for a minute or two, then yawned again, displaying a frightening assortment of teeth, rose, strolled away. The kittens, left alone, sat up, looked after him, and said plaintively, “Mew?”
“Oh, the poor little things!” Dinah said. She scooped them both up and began to pet them. “Oh, they do purr!”
“What’d you expect them to do, yodel?” April said. She rubbed Stinky behind the ears and said, “The cuties!”
“They’re my present,” Mother said in mock indignation. “Give them here!” She gathered them into her lap and stroked them affectionately. The kittens nestled down and purred like a pair of miniature riveting machines.
“And ’member,” Archie said, “They’re real little and they don’t eat much.” He added, solemnly and with dignity, “I do hope you like them.”
“Of course I like them,” Mother said. “I’m crazy about them, and I’m crazy about you.”
Archie beamed and said, “I’m crazy about you, too.”
“I’m crazier about you,” Mother said.
Archie drew a big breath and said, “I’m crazier than crazier than crazier than—”
That dialogue went on for a good five minutes. Then Mother ripped the cellophane off a cigarette package, twisted it into a bow, tied it on the end of a length of wrapping cord, and lured, the kittens into the living room. The three young Carstairs watched ecstatically while the kittens leaped and batted at the new toy. Inky could jump higher, but Stinky could move faster. Mother’s cheeks grew pink, and her eyes grew bright.
“Archie!” April breathed. “That was a wonderful idea.” She hugged him.
“Hey, cut it out,” Archie said, wriggling loose. “I’m a man and I’m gonna be a p’liceman when I grow up.”
“I don’t care if you are,” April said, giving him one more hug. “I’m crazy about you.”
“I’m crazy about you,” Archie said.
“My gosh!” Dinah said. “Let’s not get into that again!” She jerked a thumb toward the table, “Pssst. The dishes!”
They moved fast. The perishables were stowed away in the icebox. The table was hastily dusted off. The dishes were rinsed and stacked up in the sink for future reference. After all, this was a holiday.
It wasn’t more than fifteen minutes before they were all in the living room. Mother was in the middle of the davenport, her dark hair just slightly disheveled, her cheeks matching the Dorothy Perkins roses of her corsage. April and Archie were curled up, one on each side, admiring the kittens, who’d dropped off to sleep on Mother’s lap, continuing to purr. Dinah was perched on the ottoman in front of Mother, reading slowly and very soberly out loud.
That was the picture Police Lieutenant Bill Smith saw when he glanced through the glass front door, just as he rang the bell. He felt a pang of envy. He hat
ed to intrude—but by then, he’d already pushed the doorbell. And then he decided he was glad he had an excuse to intrude.
Dinah put down the book and raced to open the door. She welcomed him warmly. “How nice to see you! Have you had breakfast? Can I make you a waffle?”
“I’ve had breakfast, thanks,” Bill Smith said, sniffing the air and wishing he was a liar.
“Coffee, then?” Marian Carstairs said cordially.
“Well—” Bill Smith said. He sat down in the easy chair. “I really shouldn’t, but—”
Dinah and April had coffee, cream, and sugar on the end table at his elbow in a record time of one minute and twenty seconds.
“I saw you were reading,” Bill Smith said, stirring his coffee. “I was sorry to interrupt, but—”
“Dinah was reading Mother’s Mother’s Day present out loud,” Archie said. “We’re going to read her a chapter every day. Here, wanna see it? Dinah and April picked it out because of—” April kicked him hastily in the ankle and he shut up.
Bill Smith looked at the book, at its title, and at the inscription. “Very thoughtful,” he said at last.
“I thought so,” Marian said challengingly.
“And these here are my Mother’s Day present,” Archie said, pointing to Inky and Stinky. “Listen, and you can hear ’em purr, way over there.”
Bill Smith listened and agreed that he could, indeed, hear them purr.
“You’re sure you couldn’t manage just one waffle?” Marian said.
“I wish I could,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t already had a restaurant breakfast. I love waffles and I hate restaurant breakfasts.”
“You ought to have a wife and family,” Dinah said solemnly. “A wife who can cook.”
Bill Smith turned faintly pink. He cleared his throat. A minute later he said, “Mrs. Carstairs, I must talk to you about something. I know you’re very busy, but—”
Dinah pretended to look at the clock. She exclaimed in shocked surprise, “Kids! We’ve got to get the dishes done quick!”
Archie gulped and said, “We do not neither.”
“We do too,” Dinah said. “Come on.”
“But you said—” Archie protested.