Miss Shumway Waves A Wand

“Kidnapping?” he repeated stupidly, “I don’t get it. That’s a Federal offence.”

The patrolman turned to me, “This guy started the rumour that dicks were dumb,” he said, and went off into another spluttering guffaw.

O’Hara began to get mad. He turned on me. “What the hell is this?” he demanded. “What have you got here?”

“Show him, officer,” I said, trying to smile. “We shouldn’t keep it to ourselves. He might run us in.”

“These are dummies, you big sap,” the patrolman said to O’Hara. “This guy’s going to put them into his pal’s bed. Ain’t that funny?”

“Dummies?” O’Hare repeated blankly. “How do you know they’re dummies?”

“What the hell else do you think they are … corpses?” The patrolman began to get heated,

“Are you nuts? Think I’d help get corpses in a cab?”

“You might do anything,” O’Hara said, darkly. “I’ve heard things about you.”

The patrolman thrust the dummy into my arms and clenched his fists. “Yeah?” he said, pushing his face into O’Hara’s. “What kind of things?”

“Never mind what kind of things,” O’Hara returned airily. “But I’ve heard enough to know you ain’t so hot.”

Lydia stirred in my arms and then she made a small grunting noise.

Both O’Hara and the patrolman stopped glaring at each other and turned to me.

“That was the cucumber I had for dinner,” I said hurriedly.

“Well, you cut out eating cucumber,” O’Hare said, “I don’t like that kind of noise.”

“Why shouldn’t the guy eat cucumber?” the patrolman demanded fiercely. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

O’Hara scowled, “I know who I am,” he said with a sneer, “that’s more than I can say for some people.”

By this time, the taxi-driver was losing patience. “Listen, you guys,” he said plaintively, “are you using this cab or ain’t you?”

Both O’Hara and the patrolman rounded on him.

“You stick around and like it,” the patrolman snarled. “We’ll tell you when we’re ready, see?”

The driver began to tremble with temper, “I ain’t scared of a couple of coppers,” he said. O’Hara turned his attention to me. “How do I know they’re dummies?” he demanded, fixing me with a cold eye.

I suddenly lost my own temper and shoved the dummy at him. “Look and see,” I said angrily, “I’m getting fed up with this. I ask this officer to give me a hand and the whole damned police force has to come along and shoot its mouth off.”

“Yeah,” the patrolman said, ranging himself on my side, “what he says is right.”

O’Hara felt the dummy gingerly, took a peep at its face and seemed satisfied. “Well, it’s a crazy trick, anyway,” he said, handing the dummy back to the patrolman.

“Who wants your opinion?” I said, opening the cab door.

As I began putting Lydia into the cab, she grunted again.

O’Hara said, “Cucumber, huh?”

I looked back over my shoulder, “You must be psychic,” I said and got into the cab.

“Just a minute,” O’Hara said, pushing forward, “I want to look at the other dummy.”

That nearly brought me out in a rash.

“If you think I’m going to unpack this just to satisfy your curiosity, you’re crazy,” I said, slamming the door.

“Leave him alone,” the patrolman said, “you pain in the neck.”

I could see O’Hara was determined. He yanked open the door again. “I’m seeing that other dummy,” he said between his teeth, “and if you start anything, I’ll take you to the station.”

I got out of the cab again. At least, it would give me a chance to run.

Then just as he was laying hands on Lydia, a guy came out of the West entrance of the apartment block and set off fast, walking away from us.

“Isn’t that the guy you’re watching?” I said, jerking O’Hara out of the cab and pointing excitedly.

He took one look, cursed under his breath and broke into a frantic run.

I turned to the patrolman, “Can I scram before he comes back?” I rustled another five-buck note because I didn’t think he could see it in the darkness.

“Sure,” he said, reaching out his hand, “you get off.”

“West Forty-fourth,” I said, saying the first thing that came into my mind. “And step on it.” As the cab shot away I sank back between Lydia and the dummy and drew a deep breath of relief. Even when Lydia began to wriggle violently and let off a few grunts I couldn’t care less.

“That’s some cucumber you’ve been eating,” the driver said chattily. “Yes, sir, your grocer sure must have an uneasy conscience.”

I put my hand over Lydia’s mouth.

“If you don’t shut up,” I said to her fiercely, “I’ll strangle you.”

The car lurched and the driver said, “Was you talking to me?”

“Don’t be a dope, I can talk to my stomach if I like, can’t I?” I returned, squeezing Lydia’s face between my fingers.

“I wish you wouldn’t, mister,” the driver pleaded. “It makes me kind of nervous. Besides, you don’t strangle stomachs, you kick ‘em or you poison ‘em, but you don’t strangle ‘em.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” I returned, wiping the sweat of my face with my free hand, “Thanks, pal, I’ll know next time.”

“You’re welcome,” the driver returned airily, “It’s guys who use their brains that get places.”

I agreed with him.

Chapter FIFTEEN