Miss Shumway Waves A Wand

“Her apartment’s on fire and her old man’s trapped up on the roof,” I lied. “If that’s important to you, I guess you might do something about it.”

“I can’t interrupt Mr. Maddox for that,” she replied. “How long has he been upon the roof?”

I would have liked to have been right behind that baby. I’d have surprised her.

“Look,” I said. “It doesn’t matter how long he’s been up there. The point is the place is on fire and he gets dizzy when he’s high up. He wants to see his daughter before anything happens to him.”

“Well, I’ll tell her when she’s through with Mr. Maddox,” the girl replied curtly and rang off.

Maybe she didn’t believe me.

I had to leave the booth to get some change and when I got back some guy was entering the booth.

“Look, mister,” I pleaded. “I’ve got a priority. Would you mind giving way to me?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got a priority too,” he said. “My wife’s apartment’s on fire …”

“I know and she’s up on the roof,” I skid, in disgust.

He looked at me sharply. “I wonder how you knew that,” he returned, then he suddenly shrugged. “Well, hell I’ll wait. There’s plenty for her to look at up there.”

I thanked him and got back to the Recorder. “If you don’t put me through to Miss Halliday,” I said when I got the operator, “I’ll fix you good some dark night.”

“Let’s make a date,” she replied promptly. “The trouble is the nights are never dark enough these days.”

“How can they be?” I said, wanting to strangle her. “Well, you know what I mean. How dark does it have to be?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I’ll just choose the first dark night that comes along,” I said, snarling.

“I can’t do business on those lines,” she replied, giggling. “I like something definite. How about to-night? To-morrow there’s a new moon and it’ll be too light for fixing.”

Something jogged my memory. “New moon?” I repeated. “Did you say there’ll be a new moon to-morrow?”

“Sure, I have to watch little things like that. They make an awful difference in a girl’s life.”

“Never mind about your life,” I said quickly. “What’s the date?”

“July 31,” she replied. “Have you been shipwrecked or something?”

I nearly dropped the receiver. The end of the month. I remembered what Doc Ansell had said. Myra would lose her influence at the end of the month when the moon changed. I looked hurriedly at the clock on the wall. It was just five-fifteen. I had only seven hours to get everything fixed up.

“Hello… hello… hello?” the girl said. “Are you still there?”

“I think so,” I said cautiously. “Will you see how Miss Halliday’s getting on?”

“How about that date?”

“Sure, make it to-night. I’ll pick you up.”

“But how shall I know you?”

“Who, me? You’ll know me all right. I’ll be wearing a Zoot suit and I carry my left leg over my right shoulder. No one’s mistaken me yet.”

There was a moment’s silence. “Can’t you do anything about that left leg?” she asked at last.

“I can leave it at home.”

“Couldn’t you be a little rough with it for to-night?” she asked hopefully. “I’d stand the Zoot suit but the leg gets me down.”

“That’s the idea,” I pointed out.

She thought about this for a moment. “It’s a date,” she said briskly. “Miss Halliday’s free now. I’m putting you thr—r—r—ough.”

Harriet was all brains. I didn’t have to go into details. She got what I wanted almost before I had started. She told me where her apartment was and how to get in and she promised to be back early. I thanked her and rang off. I felt I’d lost ten pounds by the time I got out of the booth. I collided with the guy waiting to put through his call. He apologized.

“Excuse me, pal,” he said. “Can you remember what I wanted to telephone about?” I told him.

“That’s right,” he said. “I’ve got the darnedest memory. Do you know I just can’t remember whether the fire was to-day or last week. Ain’t that a hell of a thing?”

I shoved past him and went out into the street.

I found Whisky lying on the floor of the taxi, but Myra wasn’t there.

“Where is she?” I demanded.

“Get inside,” Whisky said. “Where have you been?” The urgency in his voice startled me, so I got into the cab and shut the door.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“How much longer are you keeping me here?” the driver asked angrily. “I’ve got a home if you haven’t.”

Whisky showed his teeth. “Sit there and like it,” he snarled. The driver got out of his cab hastily. “Come on, legs,” he said, clutching at his collar. “I’m going to start running.”

“Come back when you’re through,” I said. “You’ve got a nice evening for it.” The driver didn’t listen. He began running madly down the street.

I turned my attention to Whisky. “Now,” I said, “where did she go?”

“Keep down,” Whisky said in a mysterious mutter. “The cops have moved in.”

“What?” I exclaimed, startled. “What do you mean? Have they got her?”