The Red Chipmunk Mystery (20 page)

Read The Red Chipmunk Mystery Online

Authors: Ellery Queen Jr.

Mr. Scissors climbed out and shook hands with Ed Harley and then he made a little speech in which he told every one just what had happened and how the two convicts had been captured. While he was doing it Djuna took Old Blade’s bridle into Mike Tromboni’s shop and put it on the hook behind the counter where it had been hanging before. Then he picked up Joan’s moccasins and sauntered out of the store with them after he had wrapped them in an old piece of newspaper that was lying on the counter.

After Mr. Scissors had finished talking and was answering questions, Djuna edged over beside him and told him he had taken the bridle into Mr. Tromboni’s store. “Thanks, Djuna,” Mr. Scissors said, and then he shouted at Mike Tromboni, “That bridle of Old Blade’s is back in your shop, Mike. It ain’t fixed yet. You better take care of it and give it back to me before someone comes around an’ cuts your throat to git it!”

Mike Tromboni made a fierce face and pretended to choke himself to show what he’d do if any one did come around to get it. “I feex!” he promised.


How about a song
,
Mr. Scissors?
” someone shouted, and every one began to cheer until all the women stuck their heads out of the doors of their houses and all the kids and dogs started to run towards the police car.

“Ain’t got my accordion with me!” Mr. Scissors shouted back when they could hear him. “Ed!” he then shouted at Mr. Harley, “will you send someone up to Slate Quarry Hill with Old Blade to-morrow noon and have them wait there until I come?”

“I’ll take care of everything, Jim!” Ed Harley shouted back. “I’ll keep Old Blade in my stable to-night.”

Old Blade lifted his weary head for the first time since they had arrived and turned to look at them when he heard that he was going to sleep in Ed Harley’s stable. He pulled his lips back off his teeth and any one who didn’t think that he was chuckling just like Mr. Scissors, would have been crazy. Djuna darted over to him and gave him the two pieces of sugar he still had in his pocket and Old Blade nuzzled him with his nose to say, “Good-bye!”

The next minute the white car was swinging on to the valley road again, and
almost
the next one it had stopped beside Mr. Scissors’ wagon again.

Socker Furlong turned his head to look at Cannonball inquiringly and Cannonball leaned over and whispered, “Get that accordion, fathead!”

Socker’s face lit up as he opened the door of the car and went over to get the accordion from the top of the little ice-box where Mr. Scissors always kept it. When Socker opened the rear door of the car and put it in Mr. Scissors’ lap, Mr. Scissors looked at it with the same affection he might have accorded an old and dear friend. Then he slipped his hands in the straps and his fingers twinkled on the keys as he pumped the bellows. “What’ll it be?” he cried.

They all shouted different songs, but Mr. Scissors could understand what Cannonball wanted when he shouted “Jingle Bells!” because he could shout the loudest.

Mr. Scissors had finished his preliminary flourishes and they were singing as the white car skimmed over the crest of the top of the Slate Quarry Hill:

“Dashing thro’ the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh;

O’er the fields we go—laughing all the way;

Bells on bobtail ring, making spirits bright;

What fun it is to ride and sing a sleighing song to-night!”

They sang song after song as they sped through Rocky Hill, Jefferson, New Canterbury, Farmholme, and across the wide, majestic London River into Riverton. They didn’t sing while they went through Riverton, because Cannonball was afraid his boss might see and hear them and Cannonball knew his boss wouldn’t approve of such antics in one of his police cars. Djuna remembered to stop at the railway station to get the bag he had sent to Riverton the morning he started on his trip.

But when they got through Riverton and were speeding towards the little town of Edenboro, Socker and Buddy both shouted together, “
Let her rip!
” and Mr. Scissors began to work his magic again.

Djuna was seeing dear and familiar landmarks all along the road now, and, in contrast to the way he had been feeling a few hours earlier, when the convicts were taking him back to the Slate Quarry Hill, he couldn’t remember any time that he had ever been so happy. When he glanced up and back at the newspaper-wrapped parcel behind the rear seat he couldn’t help laughing out loud for sheer joy.

As they came in sight of Edenboro they were singing:

“Oh, my Sal, she am a maiden fair,

Sing Polly-wolly-doodle all the day,

With curly eyes and laughing hair,

Sing Polly-wolly-doodle all the day.”

Then they were in Edenboro and were crossing the wooden bridge over Miller’s Creek, and Djuna shouted, “We’re almost there, Mr. McGinty.
Slow down!

Djuna saw Mr. Boots out in front of his carpenter shop and waved at him frantically while Mr. Boots stared at the rollicking crowd in the white police car. An instant later both Mr. Willis Pindler and his wife, Clara, heard the singing and came rushing out of their store to see what in the world was going on; and their little niece, Clarabelle Smith, tore her best new dress on the gate-latch when she tried to get through too fast.

“The next house on the left is
it
, Mr. McGinty!” Djuna screamed above the music, and Cannonball slowed down until they were barely moving. And just as Cannonball came to a stop Mr. Scissors began to play “Home, Sweet Home” and they all took up the wistful melody.

Miss Annie Ellery came to the door and stuck her head out and said, “Glittering glories of Golconda!
Who’s
that!” And then, as the yearning harmony engulfed her, her eyes became so misty behind her spectacles she couldn’t see
who
it was.

Djuna jumped out of the car and dashed across the lawn and hugged Miss Annie until she squealed. She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes and looked at Djuna and said, “For goodness’ sake, Djuna! Is that a
police car
out there? And your face and hands all scratched and dirty!”

Before Djuna could explain anything his friends had climbed out of the police car and were coming across the lawn. Miss Annie looked up and the first thing she saw was Mr. Scissors’ eye that was turning black and blue, and his swollen face. She gasped and said, “
What
in the world has happened?”

Socker Furlong, who was accustomed to handling
any
sort of a situation, spoke up and said, “Don’t worry, Miss Ellery, there is nothing wrong.
Everything
is happiness and light. We’re all friends of Djuna’s. I’m Socker Furlong. Maybe Djuna has mentioned me in his letters.”

“My gracious, yes!” Miss Annie said as she took Socker’s extended hand. “The
newspaper
man!”

Just then Mrs. Pindler and her little niece, Clarabelle, and Mr. Boots came hurrying across the lawn to greet Djuna and every one was introduced all around. “Willis is going to close the store in a few minutes and is coming over,” Mrs. Pindler said.

Joan, who was just about Clarabelle Smith’s age, sidled over beside Clarabelle and, after looking at her for a moment, said, “You’ve torn your dress.”

Clarabelle looked at the tear in her new dress and shrugged her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’s just an old thing.”

When they were all inside, sitting on the horse-hair chairs and sofa in Miss Annie’s parlour, Miss Annie peered at Buddy more closely through her spectacles, and then she said, “Did Mr. Furlong say your name was Turner?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Buddy said, and he nodded his red head vigorously. “
Buddy
Turner. Or
Carrots
. Some kids call me
Pickle-Puss Pete!

“But your real name is Cornelius,” Miss Annie said.

“Y-e-e-s,” Buddy said, after a moment of indecision, and his face turned the colour of his hair as he added, with tears in his voice, “
I
can’t help it!”

“For gracious’ sake!” Miss Annie said sharply. “It’s a lovely name. You were named after your grandfather and you look just like him. He was a fine man. Your grandmother, Mrs. Hill, was my best friend. We were classmates and roomed together in boarding school. I should think you would have remembered the connection when you met Buddy, Djuna. You’ve heard me tell of Elvira Hill a million times.”

“I
did
remember,” Djuna said, “but I was thinking about so many other things I just never had a chance to talk to Buddy about it.”

Mr. Pindler came through the front door, puffing because he had hurried to get down from his store. Miss Annie introduced him to every one and then she said, “Clara, I wish you and Clarabelle, and you, too, Joan, would come into the kitchen and help me get together some supper for
all
of us.” Miss Annie looked a little worried for a moment and then her face brightened and she said, “I thought Djuna would be along pretty soon so I baked a chocolate cake and made a gooseberry pie to-day.”


Please
, Miss Annie,” Socker said. “We didn’t mean to come barging in here and expect—–”


Sh-h!
” Miss Annie said, and her bright eyes twinkled. “While we’re having supper
you’re
going to tell us how Djuna got all those scratches and Mr. Scissors got that black eye. Come along, Clara.”

When they got into the kitchen Mrs. Pindler said, “Willis went over to Riverton to-day and brought back two
enormous
sirloin steaks. They’re in the cooler at the store. I’ll go over and get them.”

Miss Annie sighed with relief. “Well,
that’s
a blessing,” she said. “I just don’t have a
thing
in the house to eat! While you’re gone I’ll peel a lot of potatoes and cut them up to make a big batch of chips. Clarabelle, you go down to the cellar—mind your head on the stairs—and bring up a jar of spiced peaches, and some pickled beets, and a jar of that good elderberry jam. Thank goodness, I made some fresh bread and scones to-day, too.”

“Anything else you want me to bring from the store?” Mrs. Pindler asked.

“N-o-o, I don’t think so,” Miss Annie said with her forefinger against her lips. “Unless you think we ought to have some soup first.”

“Oh, bother!” Mrs. Pindler said. “They’re not
that
hungry!”

“All right,” said Miss Annie, and she got a large colander out of a cupboard. “Joan”—Miss Annie caressed Joan’s taffy-coloured hair as she spoke to her—“
my
hair used to be that same colour.” Joan smiled and waited for Miss Annie to go on. “Take this colander and go out into the garden and get a head of lettuce, a couple of
small
carrots, a
big
cucumber, a white onion, and half a dozen medium-sized tomatoes. I’ll make a
big
salad.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joan said, and went out the back door where Champ was waiting to escort her to the garden.

While supper was being prepared the men and boys washed up. Cannonball, with the first-aid kit he carried in his car, helped to soothe Mr. Scissors’ and Djuna’s wounds of battle. And it wasn’t too long before all of them, except Socker and Cannonball, were sitting around Miss Annie’s very festive-looking kitchen table that was
groaning
with food. Socker was doing the carving and serving, and Cannonball was waiting on table.

After they had all been served and Socker and Cannonball had taken their plates to the table, Miss Annie looked at Socker with her eyes twinkling and said, “
Now!
” Socker didn’t say anything for a moment because his mouth was full, but he moaned with pleasure and rolled his eyes.


Those chip potatoes!
” he said, and he put the tip of his forefinger and thumb together and touched his lips with them and made a kissing sound as he drew them away, to signify perfection. “
And
the steak.”


And everything!
” Cannonball added.

When they had all stopped laughing, Socker started in at the very beginning and told just what had happened, beginning with the robbery of Mrs. Hill’s valuables at Hilltop more than five years before. As soon as he began talking a very peculiar expression appeared on Miss Annie’s face, and once or twice there were tears in her eyes. They all sat spellbound, even Djuna and Mr. Scissors, at the craft Socker used in telling the whole story. He told the whole thing with such skill that
every one
thought they had been there.

When he had finished, Miss Annie sat staring at the table for a moment with that same peculiar expression on her face, while the rest of them all began to talk at once. Finally she raised her eyes and spoke to Djuna.

“Djuna,” she said quietly, “would you, please, go up in my room and get those letters from Elvira Hill. They are tied up, and are in the second drawer of my desk. Just—–”


I know!
” Djuna said as he rose quickly. “You read some of them to me.”

“Of course I did,” Miss Annie said. “But I didn’t think you’d remember.”


Jeepers!
” Djuna said. “It was because I
did
remember!”

Every one looked at him but he didn’t stop to explain. He went dashing upstairs. A few moments later he was back with the packet of letters. Miss Annie thanked him and Djuna sat down on the very edge of his chair while Miss Annie untied them and selected one.

“This is really a coincidence that is hard to believe,” Miss Annie said as she smoothed out the letter. “It is one of the last letters I had from your grandmother, Buddy,” she added.

Dear Annie (she read).—I write this to you with a heavy heart because all hope of recovering the string of matched pearls and my diamond necklace that I have left to you in my will seems to have vanished completely.

My former coachman and chef were apprehended through information that came to the police when they sold some of the more trifling bits of my jewellery. But the police have been able to find no trace of the pearls and necklace, and the brutes insist they never had the two more valuable pieces.

As you know, dear, they were the only really valuable pieces my husband ever gave me. And, as you also know, Neel left all his money and investments in trust for me for my lifetime, but it all goes to our dear children upon my death.

I had hoped, Annie dear, that you would have these two pieces of jewellery to sell and could invest the money in good securities to give you a small income, as I know your lot has not been easy since your own father lost his fortune some years ago.

Please write to me and tell me you forgive me, because, although it was no fault of mine, I do feel dreadfully about it.

As always,

E
LVIRA
.

Other books

La tregua de Bakura by Kathy Tyers
To Tempt an Earl by Kristin Vayden
Days in the History of Silence by Merethe Lindstrom
Following Me by Linde, K.A.
Dorset Murders by Sly, Nicola;
In Pursuit of Miriam by Helen A. Grant
The Path of Anger by Antoine Rouaud
Freedom by Jenn LeBlanc
The Post-Birthday World by Lionel Shriver