The Brown Fox Mystery (13 page)

“I know all about how you helped the police, Djuna,” Captain Ben said. “Clarabelle’s father told me all about it.”

“Oh, golly, he did?” said Djuna miserably. “It wasn’t my fault, Captain Ben. I just couldn’t help it.”

“Well, don’t you worry about
that
, too, Djuna. I won’t tell nobody. An’ stop worryin’ about Miss Annie. She’s going to be all right,” Captain Ben assured him again.

They were rounding the northern end of the lake where there was nothing but the big gloomy icehouse to be seen along the shore when Djuna said, suddenly, “Don’t you think it would be a good idea if we stopped and asked Mr. Jones and Mr. Baldwin if they have seen anything of Miss Annie?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Captain Ben as he gazed over his shoulder at the dilapidated old building. “’Twan’t do no harm, I guess.” He threw over his tiller, cut his throttle and edged the
Jolly Polly
alongside the rickety icehouse pier.

“Hello, there, Lem!” Captain Ben shouted at the still figure sitting on the platform ten feet above the surface of the lake with a fishing pole in his hands.

Lame-Brain didn’t answer. He didn’t even turn his head, but continued to stare steadily at the bobbin on his line. Captain Ben chuckled and made his boat fast to one of the posts of the old pier as Baldwin and Jones came out of the small doorway at the right-hand side of the icehouse to gaze at them suspiciously.

“Hello, Baldwin! Hyar yuh, Jones!” called Captain Ben cheerily.

“Afternoon, Capt’n,” Baldwin called back. “What brings you over this way?”

“Jest stopped by to see if you seen anythin’ of a little white-haired old lady, wearin’ spectacles,” Captain Ben said. “She went over t’ Scatterly’s store this mornin’ to do some shoppin’ an’ nobody’s seen hide n’r hair o’ her since. The young fellah, here, who lives with her, is mighty worried she might a got lost or somethin’.”

“Why, no, Capt’n,” Baldwin answered. “There’s been no one around here.” He looked at Djuna and said, “Aren’t you the boy who was here yesterday?”

“Yes, sir,” said Djuna.

“Well, that’s certainly a shame,” Baldwin said. “I certainly hope nothing serious has happened to her. I don’t see how it could around here in this peaceful neighborhood. How old is she?”

“Sixty-two, I think,” said Djuna.

“She’s jest a little bit of a mite,” Captain Ben put in, “an’ a mighty fine woman.”

“Have you notified the police?” Jones asked. “They’d probably put men out to scour the woods, in case she just wandered off.”

“No,” said Captain Ben. “Ain’t seen no need to ask police help yet. I think we’ll prob’ly find her afore dark.”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” said Baldwin. “If there’s anything we can do, just let us know, Captain.”

“Thank yuh, we will,” Captain Ben said. “How yuh comin’ along with y’r shipments o’ sawdust?”

“Not as fast as we’d like to,” said Baldwin, “but we’re getting on all right. Come on in and see how we’ve got it cleared out. We’ve sifted all the sawdust and put it in one pile.”

Captain Ben and Djuna followed Jones and Baldwin into the interior of the great empty place that contained only a few packing boxes, two scoop shovels, a sieve, an enormous pile of sawdust, and a festoon of cobwebs. The only light that sifted into the cavernous old building came through the three-foot opening in the front that extended from the top to the platform at the bottom.

“Say,” said Captain Ben, “it must be pretty dreary workin’ in this spooky old place, night ’n day.” His voice bounced against the walls and came back with a hollow, dismal sound.

“Oh, it’s not so bad after you get used to it,” Baldwin said with a nervous smile as his glance darted upward and fixed for an instant on a platform that was suspended on heavy timbers six feet below a trap door that led to the cupola on the top of the building. “We’re gettin’ pretty good money for this sawdust so it’s worth our while.”

Djuna, following his glance, stared at the overhead platform and said, “What did they use that platform for, Mr. Baldwin?”

“I kin answer that one f’r you, Djuna,” said Captain Ben as he, too, stared upward. “When I was just a little shaver they used to use horses to pull ice up the chute on the conveyor. But later on, when I was cuttin’ ice here they got a steam engine f’r power to haul the ice up. Yuh see them sheave and belt pulleys and them couple o’ wooden handles? Them handles is clutch shafts!”

“Yes, sir,” Djuna said and his eyes were wide with interest.

“Well, a man used to sit up there on that platform—it was a kind of cage then—and run the whole works,” Captain Ben went on. “When they’d begin feedin’ ice to the conveyor he’d bring it up to just the right level and then he’d throw one o’ them clutch shafts so that th’ block o’ ice would slip onto the tilted platform, an’ then drop off the platform onto a sled underneath. Then they’d just pull the sled across the ice and stow the stuff away where it was supposed to be.” Captain Ben stopped speaking and shook his head as he began to chuckle.

“Used to be an ol’ codger name o’ Nate Hawkins who used to run things up there,” Captain Ben rambled on. “Right on the dot o’ twelve ’clock he’d shut down everythin’, no matter what was happenin’, grab his lunch pail and climb up that ladder to the trap door that goes into the cupola to eat his lunch. No matter how cold it was he’d stay up there f’r an hour. Couldn’t budge him afore one o’clock. Sometimes he—”

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Baldwin interrupted sharply, “but we’ve got to get back to work. We’re behind on our orders now. I don’t want to hurry you, but—”

“Say!” said Captain Ben. “‘Course you got to get back to work. Here I am gassin’ away an’ keepin’ you from it. C’mon, Djuna. If you fellahs see anythin’ o’ Miss Annie, you see she gets back home, eh?”

“We certainly will, Captain,” Baldwin said as Captain Ben and Djuna stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine. “Good-by now,” he added and closed the little door behind them with a decisive bang.

Neither Captain Ben nor Djuna spoke until the
Jolly Polly
was well away from the icehouse dock. Then Djuna said, “Golly! I don’t see why they’re always so anxious to get rid of people.”

“Oh, they’re jus’ like most city people,” said Captain Ben. “All they know is hurry, hurry, hurry! But I ’spect they got a right to run their business their own way.”

“Jeepers, Captain Ben!” Djuna burst forth after another few moments of silence. “What are we going to do about Miss Annie now?”

“Well,” Captain Ben said slowly as he lifted his uniform cap and scratched his head for a moment, “we’ll just keep right on makin’ inquir’s around the rest o’ the lake, an’ if we ain’t found out nothin’ by the time we git back to Scatterly’s we’ll go up and see Art Holsapple, he’s the Chief of Police, and tell him about her. But like as not Tommy’ll be waitin’ f’r us at the landing to tell us Miss Annie is safe and sound at home.”

But after they had stopped at the Smiths’ cottage, and all of the rest of the cottages on the west and southwest shores of the lake, and found no one who had seen any trace of Miss Annie, their anxiety reached a new peak when they did not find Tommy waiting for them at the Lakeville landing.

The sun was hanging low over the treetops to the west and the day was dying as they climbed wearily up the ladder from the
Jolly Polly
to the pier.

“Now, Djuna,” Captain Ben said with as cheery a voice as he could manage as they walked alongside the post office to the front of Scatterly’s store, “I want you to stop frettin’. I’m worried and so are you, but that ain’t a goin’ to do no good. You wait out here and I’ll just slip into Scatterly’s to see if Miss Annie might a been back here.”

“Yes, sir,” Djuna said wretchedly.

Captain Ben waited in the store until he could speak to Miss Winne while there were no customers near by and then he said in a low voice, “Has Miss Annie been back here, Myrtle?”

Miss Winne’s eyes opened wide in alarm and she whispered, “Why, bless my soul! Hasn’t Djuna found her yet?”

“No,” said Captain Ben. “You ain’t seen her either?”

“No!” Miss Winne whispered. “What in the world do you suppose has happened to her?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be askin’,” said Captain Ben. “We’re a goin’ up to Art Holsapple’s to tell him, so he can organize some search parties and pass the word on to the State Police so they can send the alarm over them teletype machines they have. Just don’t say nothin’ to nobody about her disappearance until we get things organized.”

“I won’t,” Miss Winne said with a worried voice to Captain Ben’s back as he turned to rejoin Djuna.

Art Holsapple, the Chief of Police of Lakeville, who had cold gray eyes, a very solemn face and a long, lantern chin listened carefully while Captain Ben and Djuna gave him a detailed account of the complete disappearance of Miss Annie and just what they had done about it.

“Well-l-l,” he drawled after they had finished and he had asked them a number of questions. “I calc’late as how she’ll reappear with some solid reason as t’ why she vanished, but in the meanwhile we’ll notify the State Police at the substation and git things to rollin’. I’m goin’ to swear you in as a deputy, Ben, so you can organize a posse an’—”

“Not till mornin’ you ain’t,” said Captain Ben grimly. “Right now I’m a goin’ to take young Djuna, here, home where young Tommy is awaitin’ and cook ’em both a bang-up supper. They ain’t had nothin’ much to eat since mornin’ and worry thrives on hunger. I’m a goin’ to stay there with ’em tonight, too, so if you learn anythin’, Art, you’ll know where to find me.”

“That’s a good idea, Captain Ben,” the Chief of Police said as he nodded his head solemnly. “I’ll git in touch with you if we learn anythin’.”

“I’ll be over to the landin’ the first thing in the mornin’,” said Captain Ben just before they left.

Dusk had fallen and there were long shadows playing across the lawn when Captain Ben laid the
Jolly Polly
alongside Miss Annie’s dock and Tommy came bursting out of the porch screen door to greet them.

“Chattering chimps!”
he said in a quavering voice as he reached the dock. “Where in the world have you been? I thought you were never coming. Where’s Miss Annie?”

The brief silence that greeted his queries seemed to stun him, but in an instant he said in a voice that quavered even more, “Jeepers! Didn’t you find her? Did—did—”

“You boys come on up to the house an’ we’ll throw together some vittles,” Captain Ben boomed as he put an arm around their shoulders and started toward the cottage. “Mark my words, Miss Annie’ll be showin’ up any minute now. We’ll just cook enough food so there’ll be some for her, too, when she comes.”

Neither of the boys answered him but when they were inside, with the lamps with their brightly colored shades all lit and Captain Ben had built up a cheery fire in the fireplace, they began to feel better, even though they did discuss Miss Annie’s disappearance in breathless whispers while Captain Ben got supper.

Three quarters of an hour later when they sat down to a supper of broiled steak, French fried potatoes, canned peas, chilled sliced peaches, milk and bread and butter with jam, the world looked a great deal brighter for them. So much so that when they had finished the last mouthful Tommy said with a happy sigh, “I think they’ll find Miss Annie by tomorrow, don’t you, Captain Ben?”

“You bet y’r bottom sinker they will!” said Captain Ben. “Now, I want you boys to get to bed an’ get a good sleep so when Miss Annie comes boilin’ in you’ll look fresh as a couple o’ new-picked daisies!”

But Djuna found that after he had fed Champ and put him to bed on the back porch and had gone to bed himself that he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t keep his mind off the events of the day as he tossed and turned and tried to put all the things that had happened during the past few days into their proper order.

The more he thought the more confused he became until at last, from sheer exhaustion, he fell into a fitful slumber.

Djuna was awakened the next morning by the aroma of coffee and frying bacon drifting into his room from the kitchen, and the lively rattle of pots and pans. He rolled over and opened one eye and looked at the clock on a table beside his bed. When he saw that it was nearly half-past eight he wondered dreamily why Miss Annie hadn’t called him at eight o’clock as she usually did.

Then the thought that Miss Annie
wasn’t in the kitchen
brought him fully awake and a little moan escaped his lips as he sat straight up in bed like a jack-in-a-box. He threw back the sheet and light summer blanket that were over him, and without bothering to put on his slippers darted through the living room toward the kitchen, with the thought in his mind that Miss Annie
might
be there.

But Miss Annie was not there. It was Captain Ben’s stocky form that was standing over the pancake griddle and frying bacon on the gas range. When Djuna came to a skidding halt Captain Ben pretended he didn’t see the anguished expression on Djuna’s face as he boomed out a cheery, “Good mornin’, boy,
good
mornin’. We thought you was a goin’ to sleep the clock around.”

“Goo—good morning, sir,” said Djuna dismally. He wanted to ask about Miss Annie but for the moment he was afraid to, because of the doleful expression that appeared on Captain Ben’s face after his attempt at cheerfulness. Instead, he said, “Is Tommy up?”

“Yes, indeedee!” Captain Ben said as he stirred lustily at a bowl of pancake batter that stood on the top of the oven. “He heard me gettin’ up at six to go over to the landin’ an’ got up and went with me.”

“Did—did they f-find Mi-Miss—” Djuna began.

“Not yet, Djuna!” Captain Ben interrupted to say in a loud voice to hide his own feelings. “They wasn’t much they could do durin’ the night. But they’ll find her t’day, without a hair o’ her head harmed. The State Police h’ve sent for an airplane to fly low over some o’ the hills around here an’ help with the search. They’ll find her, boy, don’ you worry. I recollect another li’l ol’ lady who lost her memory f’r a spell an’ wandered off into the woods. They sent f’r an airplane and found her in no time, fit’s a fiddle.” Captain Ben greased the griddle with a piece of bacon rind very carefully and added, “You run out an’ tell Tommy the pancakes’ll be ready in a jiffy. Buckwheat cakes is kinda heavy f’r this time a year, but I guess with lots of syrup on ’em you c’n stand ’em, eh?”