Suds In Your Eye (14 page)

The officer had him in an iron grip.

‘Turn me loose!’ the lawyer screamed. ‘I never saw her before in my life! She was soliciting me, I tell you!’

‘Another charge! Resisting arrest!’

‘You can’t do this to me!

‘Oh, can’t he just?’ inquired Mrs. Feeley, stepping out from behind the booth. At the sight of her the lawyer went white.

‘Thought you’d fixed me up so good I wouldn’t be able to squawk, didn’t you?’ she jeered. ‘What you’re gonna get outa this is gonna be plenty! When the F.B.I. gets through with you, then the district attorney’s gonna work you over! As for me, personally, if I wasn’t a lady I’d tear a leg off you right here an’ beat you to death with the bloody end of it! But instead o’ that I’m gonna spend that reward while you rot in the clink, where you belong!’

They thanked the police officer for his aid and he said that he was in their debt for helping to apprehend a dangerous character, an enemy of the Republic. He dragged the miserable lawyer off in handcuffs, and Mrs. Feeley remarked:

‘Well, that’s a extra added attraction we never expected to have at this clambake!’

Miss Tinkham was rubbing her shins.

‘You sure done fine, dear!’ Mrs. Feeley said.

‘She was wonderful,’ Miss Logan agreed.

Mrs. Rasmussen took Miss Tinkham’s arm in case she needed help to navigate.

‘They can’t scold us for being late to dinner when we tell them what happened,’ Miss Logan said as they hurried across the plaza to the restaurant.

Juanito, the owner, had been passing around plates of toasted crispy bits of tortilla, salty little Mexican olives, and slivers of dried beef to keep the students quiet: he absolutely refused to serve the dinner until La Maestra arrived. He was evidently Miss Logan’s devoted slave.

Most of the class had bottles of beer in front of their places; there must have been a good many empties under the table, for mirth and jollity reigned.

Miss Logan outlined the capture of the criminal briefly, and apologized for the delay.

Four waiters brought in the first course on enormous trays.

‘Don’t eat all your soup,’ Mrs. McSparry cautioned out of her superior wisdom from last year’s party. ‘You won’t be able to hold the rest of the meal!’

‘Yeah?’ shouted Mrs. Feeley, flushed with triumph and beer. ‘You take care you don’t get a Mexican heartburn yourself!’

‘What’s that?’ asked Mrs. McSparry.

‘That’s when you have to take the electric fan to the toilet with you tomorrow!’

Mrs. Feeley’s gang tossed their heads contemptuously at anyone so naïve, while the rest of the class roared. That would hold McSparry, they guessed.

Mrs. Rasmussen was too busy to talk. Juanito was a chef after her own heart. After the soup they had roasted quail, French fried onions, and avocado salad. Then came chile con carne and delicious chocolate-brown fried beans with a thick sprinkling of grated cheese; after that, an enchilada was served, a tasty corn cake rolled and filled with grated cheese, chopped raw onion, and covered with a rich red chili sauce.

The inhabitants of Noah’s Ark all traded their bottle of wine in on more beer.

Mrs. Rasmussen paid Juanito the final tribute as she ate her dessert: a pat of guava jelly and a piece of goat’s-milk cheese:

‘I don’t see how he does it for the money!’

Miss Logan gathered up the check money from the students and collected a generous tip for Juanito. He was not to be outdone, and presented each member of the class with a small round wooden box about the size of a dollar containing a rich, soft caramel cream called ‘burnt milk’ in Mexico. It was a kind of caramel fudge so soft it had to be eaten out of the box with a spoon, Miss Logan explained to the class, who were delightedly soaking up culture at every pore.

‘It’s a nice souvenir to take home, as that sweet is rare even in Mexico these days! Say “Buenas noches y mil gracias” to Juanito, because we must be going if we expect to see the gymkhana the police force is putting on at the Auditorium.’

They thanked the proprietor, and she rounded up her charges: all but four. If she kept quiet and hustled the rest of the class off, the Noah’s Arkies might not be missed. Kate Logan was pretty sure where she would find them when it was time to go home. She hoped she wouldn’t have to pour them into the car, as she knew how long these Latin-American programs lasted!

She thought of Danny and a wave of tenderness for everyone belonging to him swept over her:

‘After all,’ she chuckled, ‘this is their night to howl!’

‘F
OR
Gawd’s sakes, commere quick!’ Mrs. Feeley whispered excitedly to her housemates. Mrs. Rasmussen and Miss Tinkham sped to her side from the back of the house, where they were painting the kitchen shelves. The three peered out the side of the right front window, past the leaves of the gardenias. A large sedan was parked at the front gate and three gentlemen with a decidedly Oriental cast of features were coming up the walk.

The ladies had just time to get away from the window when one of the delegation knocked at the door.

Mrs. Feeley answered.

‘Excuse me, madame; is this the residence of Mrs. Feeley?’ the caller inquired.

‘Yes, it is; and you’re talkin’ to her! What can I do for you?’

‘I am Mr. Quong Sing, President of the Chinese-American League, and these gentlemen are members of a committee appointed to present you with a slight reward for your service to the League in apprehending a certain Mr. Strunk, lately of Tia Juana, Mexico.’

‘Well, come right in, gentlemen. These ladies lives with me an’ helped me capture that skunk. I’ll make you acquainted with Miss Tinkham and Mrs. Rasmussen. Rest your things an’ set a spell.’

After much bowing and scraping the Chinese gentlemen finally got seated.

‘Sure didn’t take the sheriff and the district attorney long to back up the wagon an’ haul him off to jail, did it?’

The committee smiled happily and remarked that the swiftness and efficiency of American justice was much admired throughout the civilized world.

‘You know. Miss Logan, our teacher, deserves a lot o’ credit in this here capture!’ Mrs. Feeley always gave credit where credit was due. ‘If it hadn’t a been for her, we’d a messed it all up; she explained it all to the chief o’ police in Spanish!’

‘Most estimable young lady, Miss Logan,’ a fat member of the committee remarked. ‘Very friendly to Chinese-American citizens. Many of our sons and daughters have had the privilege of attending her classes.’

‘And now, Mrs. Feeley,’ said Mr. Sing, taking a check from his billfold, ‘on behalf of the Chinese-American League of this county, I have the great honor to present you with this small and totally inadequate check as a trifling acknowledgment of the inestimable service you have rendered the League in apprehending a character so dangerous to Chinese-American security and prestige. Please accept it with our gratitude, and feel free at any time to command the League if it can be of service to you.’

‘Well, now, that’s real nice of you,’ replied Mrs. Feeley, taking the check. She wasn’t so hot on reading print but figures were not difficult for her; she could hardly believe her eyes when she glanced at the check. There must be a decimal point missing. The check looked like it said five hundred dollars. Guess her eyes were going back on her after all these years. She passed the check to Mrs. Rasmussen and Miss Tinkham. She heard them draw their breath in sharply: so she must have seen right, after all!

‘That’s what I call real handsome of the League!’ she continued. ‘To tell you the truth, I never expected nothin’ like that. I don’t know just what to say, but I’m very grateful. We all are,’ she said, indicating her friends. ‘Seems like a shame to take a reward for doin’ somethin’ that was such a pleasure!’

The committee assured her that she had been of service not only to them and to herself, but to countless other victims as yet unheard of. The gentlemen recovered their hats and prepared to leave. Mrs. Feeley sensed that this was an occasion; she wanted to offer them some refreshment. She knew tea was what she was supposed to give them. But they wouldn’t like our tea, she thought.

‘Well, here goes,’ she said to herself. ‘All they can do is say No.’ She turned to Mr. Sing and said:

‘Since it’s such a warm mornin’ an’ all, wouldn’t you gentlemen have a glass of cold beer with us?’

Before they could refuse, Mrs. Rasmussen appeared with a tray of frosty glasses of beer and Miss Tinkham followed with a basket of pretzels.

Mrs. Feeley proposed a toast. The committee waited politely, glasses in hand.

‘A toast to the Japanese navy,’ said Mrs. Feeley. The Chinese gentlemen looked very blank.

‘Bottoms up!’ cried Mrs. Feeley, enjoying the relief that flooded the faces of her guests. ‘Yeup! That feller that talks so fast on the radio made that up! I sure like that toast!’

The committee toasted Mrs. Feeley and her companions, and after much ceremony took their leave.

The ladies watched them drive off.

‘Them’s sure nice fellers,’ Mrs. Feeley said, and they began to examine the check.

‘Well, start figgerin’, Mrs. Rasmussen! I don’t aim to owe nobody a cent! Not with a bunch o’ money like this fallin’ right outa the sky!’

‘You don’t owe us anything,’ replied Miss Tinkham. ‘No amount of money could repay the things you have given us. Money can’t buy affection, and care, and encouragement! Why, you’ve taught me more about how to get along in the world than I learned in my whole life put together. Besides, I lived here a whole month without ever paying a cent of room and board, not to mention the beer. The little we gave in money wouldn’t begin to repay your kindness to us.’

‘That’s just what I was gonna say, only I ain’t got the nice words like Miss Tinkham,’ Mrs. Rasmussen said. ‘I’ll be insulted if you try to pay me back! Since we been here, we all got the feelin’ o’ belongin’ to somebody; if we has somethin’, we got somebody to share it with. An’ if we ain’t got nothin’, the others’ll share what they got with us! Like she says, you can’t figger nothin’ like that in dollars an’ cents.’ Mrs. Rasmussen’s voice was quivering.

‘All right, ladies,’ said Mrs. Feeley, blowing her nose noisily. ‘If that’s the way you feel about it, I’ll thank you again from the bottom of my heart an’ we’ll say no more about it!’

‘I’d like a bottle of beer, I think,’ Miss Tinkham said. ‘Just putting our feelings into words has put us under an emotional strain!’

They all agreed on that score and went to call Old-Timer to show him the check.

‘What are we gonna do with all that money? Guess we’ll think o’ some way to get rid of it! We always do!’ Mrs. Feeley chuckled. She had her own idea of what money was for.

For the second time that morning they had a visitor. Kate Logan came flying up the path, hatless.

‘Mrs. Feeley! Mrs. Feeley!’ she shouted, banging open the screen door. ‘It’s in! It’s in! They’re here!’ She was laughing and crying at the same time.

‘For Gawd’s sakes, what’s in, child? Who’s where?’

‘Danny! Danny’s ship! They just tied up at the dock fifteen minutes ago! The skipper let him off to call me on the phone! He had to ask me something very special and he said I was to come and tell you the answer.’

‘Well, spill it, girl! We’re half-dead now!’

‘If the ship is here long enough, Danny’s going to get special liberty and permission to leave the vicinity of the ship and we’re going to Yuma and be married this afternoon!’ Kate gasped out. ‘We’d have to wait three days for a license here!’

The ladies leaped on her and smothered her with hugs and kisses.

‘Blessed Mother o’ God, let me die right now while I’ve got everythin’ I want in this world!’ cried Mrs. Feeley, dabbing at the tears of sheer joy that ran down her face. ‘I could die happy this minute!’

‘Well, it sure ain’t no time to talk about dyin’, with a weddin’ to fix,’ said the ever-practical Rasmussen.

‘Oh, my dear! How utterly romantic! Simply idyllic! I do wish you both every happiness, my dear! Both of you are such sweet people! Just think, a wartime romance, right in our own family!’ Miss Tinkham made good use of her voice after she finally recovered it. ‘Oh, my!’ she cried. ‘I simply must see if there are any orange blossoms!’ And she dashed out the back door.