Miss Shumway Waves A Wand

PAPPI’S butler showed no surprise when he opened the front door and found me on the doorstep.

“Come in, sir,” he said, stepping to one side.

“Peppi in?” I asked, tossing my hat on the large mahogany table that stood in the hall.

“Mr. Kruger’s in, sir,” he corrected me. “He’s expecting you.

“Swell,” I said, fingering my tie.

He closed the front door, “I trust Miss Brandt is in the best of health, sir?” he said quietly.

I eyed him, but his face was Inscrutable. “So far as I know,” I returned. “But, the modern woman varies from hour to hour. Shall we say, she was all right when last I saw her?”

Just for a second, he looked as if he wanted to slug me and then the poker face came back again. “Miss Brandt has been very kind to me in the past,” he said, as if to explain his curiosity.

“I’m glad,” I said. “One of these days you must tell me all about your love life. It should be very, very interesting.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, and I could see that he was hating my guts. “Will you come this way, please?”

I followed him up the stairs and into the library.

“Mr. Kruger won’t keep you long,” he said.

“Tell him not to stop to brush his teeth. I ain’t particular,” I said.

“Very good, sir,” the butler returned, and went out, closing the door behind him.

Peppi came in a moment later.

He stood looking at me and I could see he liked me a lot less than when we had met previously.

“There you are,” I said, admiring his suit “What a well-turned-out guy you’ve turned out to be.”

“Where is she?” he said.

That’s one thing I liked about Peppi. He didn’t waste time getting to the point.

“That’s the question I was going to ask you,” I said, looking up at him from my chair.

It was certainly a smart idea when I grabbed Lydia. I had no idea that both the butler and Peppi would start running round in circles.

Peppi drew a hissing breath through his teeth and controlled himself with an effort. “I’m talking about Miss Brandt,” he said, his small hands clenched at his sides. “Where is she?”

“And I am talking about Miss Shumway. Be your age, Peppi, this won’t get us anywhere. Turn Myra over to me and you can have Lydia. I’m just trying to even the odds.”

“I see,” he said, and suddenly smiled. “Very clever of you, Millan, very clever.” He drew up a chair and sat down. “You are taking a chance on getting me mad, but I think we can come to an agreement.”

“I hope so,” I returned, watching him carefully. The change round was a little too sudden.

“You haven’t hurt her?” There was an anxious note in his voice.

“I tell you what I haven’t done,” I said, looking at him coldly, “I haven’t framed her for murder. So you’re still one up on me.”

He examined his finger nails, “No one’s been framed for murder,” he said. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“We’re wasting time,” I said. “I want Myra and you want Lydia. That’s all there’s to it. Do we make a deal?”

“If I had Miss Shumway, then, of course, we’d make a deal,” he said smoothly. “But she got away.”

“Then maybe Lydia will get away, but I doubt it,” I said, not believing him.

“I could call the police,” he said, moving restlessly.

That was a joke. Peppi going to the police was like a snake dropping in to see a mongoose.

“You could do that,” I said, lighting a cigarette. “They might be glad to see you.”

“If you found Miss Shumway,” he said, “what would you do with her? She’s wanted by the police.”

“I’ll look after that when you turn her over,” I said, “and look, Peppi, I’m getting impatient.”

Then the door opened and Lydia Brandt walked in.

It was a shock, but I managed to smile at her. It looked like the breaks were not in my favour in this game.

“There you are, Peacherine,” I said, “we were just talking about you.”

I was almost sorry to see she had a small black bruise each side of her jaw where I had tried to stop her talking in the cab. There was also a graze on her chin where I had hit her. And, what was worse, she looked as mad as a hornet in a paper bag.

Peppi was as startled as I was. He took her arm and stared at her as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“What happened?” he demanded.

She pushed him aside and came over to me. If there’s one thing that makes me nervous it’s a dame in a temper. You never know what they’re going to do. They might stab you with a hat pin or scratch your eyes out. They might try and make you bald. They might kick you. You just don’t know which way it’s coming.

I held up my hand, “Now, don’t bust your brassiere,” I said, hastily. “Remember your upbringing and act like a lady.”

She caught me a sizzler on the shin with her pointed shoe. “You heel!” she said, “I’ll kill you for what you did to me!” and back went her leg to post me another bone-crusher.

I caught her foot as it shot towards me and lifted it sharply. She sat down with a thud and I guess the jar cooled her fever. Anyway, she just sat there, her eyes snapping and her mouth twisted with pain.