“Yes,” the lovely girl said, “I saw your act a few minutes ago and I’d like to hire you to perform at a party I’m giving this coming week-end. Would you be interested?”
“Why—why, yes, indeed,” Larry said breathlessly. He wasn’t thinking of the job so much as the opportunity of seeing this girl again. “Just what sort of a party is it?”
“Quite respectable,” the girl said, smiling slightly.
“I didn’t mean—”
“That’s all right. The party will be given at my father’s estate in Pineknoll. You will come down Friday night and bring your equipment with you. The party is on Saturday night and you will have all day Saturday to set up your apparatus. One of the servants will meet you at the train Friday night, if that is agreeable with you.”
“Why it sounds perfect,” Larry said enthusiastically.
The tall impeccably clad young man named Dereck regarded the girl with a faintly annoyed expression.
“My dear,” he murmured, “are you sure the colonel will approve of what you’re doing? After all, I don’t imagine that he relishes having just anyone invited out to Pineknoll.”
“Father won’t mind,” the girl said. “That’s big of the old boy,” Larry said drily.
The girl put her hand on his arm in an impulsive, contrite gesture. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. You must think we’re terribly rude. It isn’t that, but Father is somewhat peculiar, but I’m sure you’ll get along with him.”
“I’ll try my best,” Larry grinned. The girl’s warm sincerity had completely charmed away his feeling of irritation. “He can’t be too bad. After all, he’s your father.”
Dereck coughed and flicked away a spot of dust from his coat sleeve.
“Shall we be going?” He let the question hang meaningly in the air.
The girl was regarding Larry uncertainly. Finally, as if making up her mind, she held out her hand and smiled.
“We’ll be expecting you,” she said. “Friday night.”
“Righto,” Larry said.
The girl smiled again and walked out through the door. Dereck lingered a moment in the doorway.
“Don’t presume on a professional relationship, old boy,” he said softly. Then, with a final glance of faint contempt about the littered dressing room, he departed.
LARRY turned the remark over in his mind for several seconds and then he shrugged and bent to retrieve his ice pack. When he straightened up, there was a small man standing in the doorway, regarding him with a cheerful smile.
“Mind if I drop in, chum?” the little man asked.
Larry stared at this new arrival in mild surprise. He was wearing a checkered plaid suit, a green shirt and an orange tie. On his round head he wore a furry cap pulled low over one eye. He was about as inconspicuous as a pink elephant on the morning after.
“Come right in,” Larry said expansively. “This is becoming a popular place these days. We’ll need stop and go signs if the traffic holds up.” He sat down at the dressing room make-up table and balanced the ice pack on his head. “And what can I do for you, little friend?”
The little man stepped into the room and closed the door carefully. He was still smiling and his blue eyes were tiny pin-points of lights in his. red-wrinkled face.
“Right nice of you, chum,” he said gratefully. “The name is Buggy Rafferty, late of Atlanta and Leavenworth.”
Larry blinked in surprise.
“Did you say Atlanta?”
“That’s right, chum. And Leavenworth; don’t forget Leavenworth.”
“I’ll try not to,” Larry said dubiously. “And what can I do for you, Mr. Rafferty?”
“Aw, call me Buggy,” the little man said, with a modest wave of his hand. “I ain’t a guy to stand on formality. Particularly with me partners.”
“That’s very democratic of you,” Larry said. “And—” He stopped speaking abruptly as the little man’s last remark hit him solidly. “What was that last, again?” he asked.
“Aw, there I go again,” Buggy laughed, “gettin’ ahead of myself. ’Cause you didn’t know we was going to be partners, did you, chum?”
“The idea hadn’t occurred to me,” Larry admitted. And now that you bring it up, I don’t find it intriguing. Do you care to elucidate, or do you find it fun being mysterious?”
The little man pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“I guess I’d better tell all,” he said. “That would be nice,” Larry said. “Shoot.”
“It’s like this,” Buggy said, “all my life I been on the wrong side of the law and it ain’t no fun. They catch me and ship me away to some lousy jug and that’s that for five, maybe ten years. I’m sick of it. It’s getting boring, that’s what it is.”
“I’m glad you have seen the error of your ways,” Larry said.
“That’s what I’ve seen,” Buggy said, nodding vigorously. “The error of my ways and means. My means, in particular, have been lousy with errors, if you get what I mean.”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Larry said. “It’s like this. A smart crook is a guy who don’t get caught; right?”
“That seems logical.”
“Now,” the little man continued warmly, “the smart crooks who don’t get caught didn’t just get that way by accident. They figure everything out, they case all the angles and they don’t take no unnecessary chances. So they don’t get caught, get it.”
“It all seems to follow,” Larry said. “Pray, go on.”
“Okay, chum, listen good. From now on I’m playin’ it smart. I’m casing all the angles. I’m figuring all the details. I’m looking before I leap.”
LARRY stood up and smiled.
“I think you are in the wrong pew, Mr. Rafferty. While I am naturally delighted with this ambitious attitude of yours, I fail to see how it concerns me. Possibly you could find a more sympathetic attitude at some reform school, where the inmates would probably be happy to absorb any little trade secrets you could pass along. As for me, I am on the right side of the law and I find my position comfortable. I am not a reformer by nature but I might suggest that you would do well to join me. It makes for better nerves and sounder sleep to know that the gendarmes are not sniffing on your trail. You are at liberty to correct me if gendarmes do not sniff, but it has been my opinion that they do.”
“I ain’t talking just to waste my breath, chum,” Buggy said quietly. “I got a very definite purpose behind this kind of rambling introduction. You and me, chum, is going into a partnership of sorts. I’ve got a little deal lined up and I need you bad.”
“That is going to make your disappointment more acute,” Larry said sadly.
“There ain’t goin’ to be any disappointment,” Buggy said. He was no longer smiling. “That dame that just left here has got a fortune in ice out at her Pineknoll estate.”
“Ice?”
“Ice. Diamonds, to you. She’s got one in particular that’s worth a striptease queen’s ransom. And I’ve had me eye on it for months, but I couldn’t figure any safe way of cracking into her joint. You see I’m figuring all the angles like I said. I’m playing it smart, waiting till I get a foolproof scheme worked out. And I got it now. But I need you, chum.”
“You have been walking in the sun too much and too long, I’m afraid,” Larry said. “What makes you think I’d help you steal Miss Manners’ valuables?”
“This,” Buggy said. He drew out a very large, very ugly looking gun from his pocket.
“My gracious,” Larry said, “you’d have to mount that before you could fire it.”
“I do all right with it in my hand,” Buggy said cheerfully. “Now are you goin’ to be nice, chum?”
“I don’t know,” Larry said truthfully. He thought a moment. “Would you really shoot me with that thing?”
“It would break my heart,” Buggy said, “but that wouldn’t stop me.”
“What do you want me to do?” Larry asked.
“That’s the spirit, chum. I been tailing Miss Man
ners for weeks trying to figure out an angle to get into her home without creatin’ no suspicions. I was listening outside when she proposed her little deal to you. Now you’re goin’ to have an assistant when you go down to do your little act.”
“But I don’t need an assistant,” Larry said reasonably.
“This time you do,” Buggy corrected him softly. “And said assistant is none other than Buggy Rafferty, late—”
“Of Atlanta and Leavenworth,” Larry finished the sentence with a weary sigh.
“THAT’S right, chum. That way I get into the house without any one suspecting a thing. I find this hunk of ice, cop it and blow. Before it’s missed I’ll be in South America bein’ a good neighbor to some of them Pampas patooties with plenty of chicken feed to feed the chickens. Now, how does it sound to you?”
“Terrible,” Larry said.
“That’s just an amateur viewpoint,” Buggy said equably. “Anyway, what you think of the idea ain’t so important. All you got to do is cooperate.”
“Supposing I would go immediately to the police and tell them all that you have told me,” Larry said thoughtfully. “What would happen then?”
“A lot of things.” Buggy said cheerfully. “All of them would be unpleasant and all of them would happen to you. But what good would it do you to squeal? Who’d believe you? You got any witnesses?”
“I have an honest face,” Larry said, clutching at straws.
“So have most of the mugs in Alcatraz,” Buggy said, grinning.
Larry sighed despairingly. He looked at the big gun in Buggy’s hand.
“I can’t think with that cannon in my face,” he said moodily. “Sight it on something else, will you?”
Buggy slipped the gun back into his pocket.
“Anything to oblige,” he said. “But don’t forget it’s within easy reach.” Larry thought for several minutes and got nowhere. There was nothing he could do about the situation immediately. The only possible course was to string along with Buggy and hope to turn the tables on him before he went south with the beautiful girl’s diamonds.
And that course wasn’t the best of all possible courses, by a darn sight.
“Okay,” he sighed, “get yourself a social security number. You’re working for me now. And be ready to leave Friday afternoon for Pineknoll.”
“I been packed for weeks,” Buggy grinned. He opened the door. “Don’t do anything foolish, chum. You wouldn’t look nice on a slab.”
“You have a good point there,” Larry said moodily.
The door closed on Buggy Rafferty. Larry sighed. In spite of all his trouble, he still wished he knew who had manipulated those damn puppets!
CHAPTER III
COLONEL MARMADUKE MANNERS’ estate was a vast sprawling affair covering several dozen acres of choice wooded land, replete with formal gardens, elaborate fountains and bird baths.
The home was built on the crest of a sloping hill. Winding lanes led from the road, through avenues of stately trees, and up to the majestic porticos of the house.
Seen for the first time, the home and grounds were an impressive sight.
Larry and Buggy Rafferty were duly impressed.
They were seated in the rear of a shining oak-paneled station wagon which was driven by an elderly Negro, who had been with the colonel’s family for two generations.
Buggy leaned back and sighed expansively.
“Nifty, ain’t it?”
The car was winding through stately parks and gardens that surrounded the colonel’s home, and in the distance the majestic gables of the house were visible above the tops of the trees.
Larry looked distastefully at his companion. Buggy was wearing a wildly designed sports coat over a mauve turtle neck sweater. A mangled cigar jutted from his mouth.
“ ‘Nifty’ is just the word I was thinking of,” Larry said dryly.
The Negro driver brought the car to a stop at the side door of the palatial home and Buggy and Larry climbed out. Larry had shipped his puppet booth down earlier in the week and he was anxious to find out whether it had arrived safely.
The wide, paneled door opened and Gloria Manners appeared. She smiled a welcome to him. She was wearing a trim sports suit and low-heeled oxfords. Her honey-colored hair was carelessly wind-blown.
Larry sighed. Never in his life had he seen anything more exquisite.
“Hello,” she said. “Your apparatus got here yesterday. I had one of the gardners unpack it and set it up in the sun-room. I hope that was all right.”
“That’s fine,” Larry said. “Saves me a job.”
The girl was looking rather curiously at Buggy, who stood beside Larry twisting a red jockey’s cap in his big hands.
“Oh, this is my helper, Mr. Rafferty,” Larry explained hastily. “I forgot to tell you about him.”
“How do you do?” Gloria said. Her eyes were moving in polite astonishment over the little man’s incredible clothes.
“Pleased to meet cha, ma’m,” Buggy said cordially.
Larry put a hand on his shoulder and smiled innocently.
“Mr. Rafferty does all the heavy work for me,” he said. “There won’t be anything for him to do since you have taken care of my outfit; so,” he patted Buggy on the back, “maybe there’s some work around here he can do.”
“Well, I don’t know,” the girl said. She turned to the elderly Negro. “Rastus, will you take Mr. Rafferty to the kitchen?” Maybe you can find something to keep him occupied.”
RASTUS rubbed his big, horny hands. He did not approve of Buggy Rafferty and it was obvious that his mistress’ assignment gave him deep pleasure.
“Yassum,” he said, smiling. “I’ll keep him busy. Ain’t nobody touched dat woodpile for days now. He can start on dat.” He turned to Buggy. “Come on, you.”
Buggy looked darkly at Larry.
“Much obliged, chum,” he muttered under his breath. He shuffled off after the Negro, the cigar in his mouth wagging angrily.
Gloria took Larry by the arm.
“You must come in and meet Father now.”
“Fine,” Larry said.
His vague misgivings in regard to the colonel were not eased when he entered into the huge, high-ceilinged library with Gloria at his side, and saw a tall, broad-shouldered old man, with fierce white mustaches standing in front of the fireplace with a great, blue-barrelled rifle in his hands.
The old man had steel blue eyes and a jaw that looked like Gibraltar.
“Shot and shell are for sissies,” he was thundering to some invisible auditor as Gloria and Larry entered the room. He waved the huge gun about impatiently. “For a real, honest-to-God battle give me cold steel. A man—”
He broke off in mid-sentence and peered at his daughter.
“Ah, there you are,” he said in a milder voice. “Dereck and I were talking about you.”
Gloria smiled. “How did I manage to squeeze into a conversation on the relative merits of cold steel and shot-and-shell?”
Dereck stood up and bowed gallantly. He had been seated in a high-backed chair facing the colonel.
“There’s room for you, my dear, in any conversation,” he said, fairly exuding charm from every pore. He was dressed in formal riding clothes and he seemed to realize that he cut quite a dashing figure.
Gloria led Larry forward.
“Father, this is the young man I was telling you about.”
Larry shook hands with the colonel and he found himself staring into a pair of frosty blue eyes that were like chilled lake water.
“Yes, yes,” the old man muttered, “I remember you telling me about him. How are you, young fellow?”
“Fine, thank you, sir,” Larry said, breathing a little more easily, as the colonel stood the huge elephant gun against the fireplace.
“What do you do for a living?” the colonel asked bluntly, when he turned back to Larry. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his bushy eyebrows were drawn together over his piercing eyes
.
Gloria said quickly, “I told you all about him, Father. He’s an entertainer. He’s going to perform at the party tomorrow night.”
“What kind of an entertainer?” the colonel asked.
“I’m a puppeteer,” Larry explained apologetically. He didn’t know quite why but his occupation suddenly seemed rather shameful.
“A what?”
“A puppeteer, sir. I manipulate puppets by string control and make them do all sorts of things.”
THE colonel frowned.
“What sort of things?”
Larry loosened his collar.
“Well, I make them hit each other over the head and walk as if they’re drunk and—” His voice trailed off weakly and he cleared his throat desperately. “Things like that,” he added feebly. He was all too conscious of how silly his work must seem to a fire-belching colonel.
“I see,” the colonel said. He glanced at Dereck and smiled. “Interesting, what?”
“Very,” Dereck said smoothly. “Someone has to keep the women and children entertained while the men are away fighting the war, I suppose.” Larry restrained an impulse to kick Dereck squarely in the stomach. He said nothing of the knee that had caused his rejection from the Army, Navy and Marines. That was a little something he kept pretty close to himself.
“Of course,” Dereck continued smoothly, “when I was fighting in India we were too busy to worry about the morale of the people back home. We had enough trouble staying alive without worrying about anything else.”
“You’ve mentioned that before. Dereck,” Gloria said quietly. She turned to Larry. “Maybe you’d be willing to show us how your act works. Sort of a preview of tomorrow night. Everything’s all set up in the sun-room, just off the library.”
“I’d be glad to,” Larry said.
She led him across the library and through an arched doorway into a solarium. His puppet booth was in the center of this room and his three puppets, Pat, Mike and Tim were sprawled on the tiny stage.
Dereck and the colonel followed them, and Larry heard the colonel’s clarion voice growling vaguely about a sabre charge in the Crimea in which he participated; and in between these blasts he could hear Dereck’s smooth voice relating some bit of personal daring that he had accomplished in the air above Tobruk.
Collected Fiction (1940-1963) Page 156