The Green Turtle Mystery (19 page)

“Jeepers, Mr. MacHatchet!” Djuna said, “I’m almost certain about Mr. Firkins now.”

“You
are!
” Mr. MacHatchet said, and his expression and his voice were both baffled and bewildered. “Do you want to tell me
why
, Djuna?”

“Well, I’d rather wait, sir,” said Djuna very seriously, “until I’m
certain
. I think I can tell as soon as we get to his house.”

“You’re the doctor, Djuna,” Mr. MacHatchet said. “Do you know where he lives?”

“Ben has the address,” Djuna said and called to Ben and asked him for the address on the card Mr. Firkins had given him that afternoon.

“Three-two-eight Applegarde Street,” Ben read from the card he took from his notebook.

“Let’s go!” Mr. MacHatchet said. “We can all go in my car.” He turned to one of his aides and said, “Edwards, you and Petrillo follow us in your car with Squinty.”

“Right, sir!” Edwards said.

“Can–can I go, too?” Ben Franklin asked in a pleading voice.

“Well, I should say so!” Socker Furlong said.

They all rushed down the steps of the old house and out the weed-grown gravel path to Mr. MacHatchet’s car. Squinty Jones wasn’t quite the same bold figure he had been when he was tying Djuna a couple of hours previously as Petrillo herded him into the back of Edwards’ car.

Mr. MacHatchet threw his car in gear and said, “Hold everything, boys!” Before they had gone a block they were tearing through the night at such a speed that people along the street stopped to watch their tail light disappear a few seconds later.

“
Jeepers!
” Ben said to Djuna. “You
got
a whale with a
bent pin!
” Both the boys giggled at that and Champ gave a bark to show his appreciation.

“What’s that about whales?” Socker Furlong asked them from the front seat as they raced along.

“Oh, it’s just something Ben wrote in his Almanac,” Djuna said, and they both giggled again. “Gee, Mr. Furlong, I thought you were
never
coming.”

“He wasn’t home!” Ben said. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“
You
seemed to do all right,” Socker said. “Old Ben Franklin used his bean again. When he couldn’t find me at home he remembered that you had told him we both saw Sandy MacHatchet this afternoon, so he looked up Sandy’s number in the phone book and called me there. And that’s where I was. Ben, that was as good a piece of thinking as our pal Djuna could have produced.”

Ben didn’t know what to say, so he giggled.

Socker Furlong moaned as they went around a corner on two wheels and turned around to face the boys in the back seat so he couldn’t see how fast they were going.

“I got to thinking it over, Djuna,” Socker said. “So I went over to tell Sandy about the feather Squinty Jones had in his hat and about the Brunswick black he bought. But I hadn’t got very far with the story when Ben telephoned.”

“
Why
didn’t you tell me this afternoon, you big lug?” Mr. MacHatchet asked. “
Why
didn’t you tell me, Djuna?”

“Well,” Djuna said. “I
told
Mr. Furlong and he advised me to forget about it. So–”

“So you decided
not
to take his advice. That
was
smart, Djuna,” Mr. MacHatchet said. “But you did a very dangerous thing. Socker should have had enough sense to know–”

But Socker refused to let his spirits be quenched by Mr. MacHatchet’s opinion of him. He said something that sounded like “Baloney!” Then he started to sing.

“
Oh, what a beautiful story!
” he sang.

“It’ll make old man Canavan weep in the willows!” Socker said, stopping his song, before Mr. MacHatchet could say anything. “It’ll lay him flat on his back. Why, he’ll look like Champ asking for a dog biscuit when I take it to him. And it’s
mine! All mine!
”

“Oh, shut up!” his good friend Sandy MacHatchet said to him as he slowed the speed of the car. “This is Applegarde Street, and I think this is the three hundred block. Take a flashlight and see what the number is on that house, Socker,” he finished as he brought the car to a stop. His aide, Edwards, stopped his car just a few feet behind.

“It’s three twenty-two!” Socker said when he came back.

“Good!” Mr. MacHatchet said. “We’ll leave the car right here. Now, Djuna, what’s
your
plan?”

“Well,” Djuna said very seriously. “First, I think we ought to all go up on the front porch. You knock on the door, Mr. MacHatchet, and when Mr. Firkins comes to the door someone ought to get their foot in it so he can’t close it again because he’ll know we came about that house when he sees us,
and
Mr. Furlong.”

“I’ll get my foot in the door,” Socker said. “I know how. I used to sell cleaning brushes when I was in college.”

“What do I say to him?” Mr. MacHatchet asked, and he couldn’t quite keep the laughter out of his voice.

“Tell him you’d like to rent the house on Carpenter Street,” Djuna said. “That ought to surprise him so he won’t know what to say.”

“Then what?” Mr. MacHatchet asked.

“Could you search him?” Djuna asked. “He had that counterfeit ten-dollar bill in his pocket this noon. Probably he still has it.”

“I have a John Doe search warrant in my pocket,” Mr. MacHatchet said. “But–”

“Gee, Mr. MacHatchet!” Djuna said. “I don’t want you to get in any trouble! Maybe we better not.”

Mr. MacHatchet sat there in silence for a moment, and then he reached in his pocket and took out the automatic he had taken from Squinty Jones.

“Here, Socker,” he said, handing him the pistol. “You’re my deputy. I’ll tell Edwards and Petrillo to stay out here unless we need them.” He opened the door of the car and said, “Let’s go!”

After Mr. MacHatchet had talked to Edwards and Petrillo for a couple of minutes he rejoined them and they all went quietly up on the porch of Mr. Firkins’ house. There was a light in the living room and when they were on the porch they could see Mr. Firkins sitting in a large upholstered chair reading the evening paper.

When he heard their footsteps on the porch he dropped the newspaper and moved his enormous bulk forward in his chair to sit on the edge of the seat. He looked like a huge frog ready to leap as he wiped one of his pudgy hands nervously across his eyes as though to wipe away something he didn’t like to look at.

Mr. MacHatchet knocked sharply on the front door and they all waited tensely as they saw Mr. Firkins’ fat figure hurry quickly into the dimly lighted hallway. He threw the door open and said, “Come in–”

Then his eyes opened wide in amazement as he saw the two boys and Socker Furlong and Mr. MacHatchet, instead of the person he had been expecting. He stopped speaking but his mouth stayed open as he gawped at them.

“Come, come, Mr. Firkins, pull yourself together!” said Socker Furlong. “You look ghost-happy again!”

“Er-er, excuse me. I was expecting someone else,” Mr. Firkins said. “What is it? What do
you
want?” Mr. Firkins’ whole attitude changed quickly from one of surprise to bristling anger.

While Mr. Firkins and Socker Furlong had been talking Djuna bent down and unsnapped Champ’s leash while Champ sniffed inquiringly at Mr. Firkins’ feet and trousers. When Champ was loose Djuna gave him a little push into the hallway where Mr. Firkins was standing and Djuna darted after him. Champ, getting into the spirit of the game, disappeared into Mr. Firkins’ living room, with Djuna chasing him.

“
Here!
” Mr. Firkins bellowed. “
Get that dog out of here!
What do you think you are doing?”

He started to grab at Djuna but Mr. MacHatchet caught his arm and said, “Now just a minute, Mr. Firkins. Let’s take things easy.”

But Mr. Firkins didn’t care to take things easy. His face turned a vivid red and he shrieked, “I’ll have you all put in jail for house-breaking if–”

He broke off abruptly as Champ snarled and then broke into a series of shrill, high-pitched barks and a light flashed on in the room behind the living room.

“
Here he is! Here he is!
” Djuna shouted from the room where the light had come on, and he sounded almost as excited as Champ.

“
Brother!
Unless I miss my guess you’re the baby who is going to jail,” said Socker Furlong as they all rushed through the living room into the dining room of Mr. Firkins’ house.

As they entered, Djuna was just in the act of picking a small green turtle out of a cardboard box that sat on the seat of a chair, and Champ was making the room hideous with his shrill barking.

“
It’s Waterbury!
” Djuna said and he pointed his finger at Mr. Firkins. “He had him in his pocket this noon when he
tried
to run over us.”

“
Waterbury?
” Mr. MacHatchet said and he looked both astonished and dazed. “
Waterbury!
” he repeated weakly.

“That’s what Ben calls him,” Djuna explained. “He’s Ben’s turtle. He got into that haunted house on Carpenter Street the first night we saw lights there. The next night when we went back to get him he wasn’t there. And there wasn’t any way for him to get out.”

“
Waterbury!
” Mr. MacHatchet said again in a completely befuddled voice, while Socker Furlong stood and grinned at him with a grin that spread from ear to ear.

“What’s this nonsense?” Mr. Firkins said. His anger seemed to have left him and he was quite jovial. “I bought that turtle for you boys in a pet shop this afternoon. I told you to come around tomorrow night and I’d give you a turtle if you didn’t find yours. I knew you wouldn’t find it because it probably fell down one of the holes in the floor of that old house. That’s why I was surprised to see you tonight instead of tomorrow night.”

“
Tomorrow
night!” Djuna said. “
After
Mr. Jones had given you half the counterfeit bills and had gone back to Mexico!”

“What are you talking about, sonny?” Mr. Firkins asked in a good-natured voice.

“
You
know what I am talking about,” said Djuna, and he turned to Ben and said, “Show them, Ben.”

“Show them what?” Ben asked as he reached for Waterbury. Then his face lit up and he said, “
Oh! I know!
”

He took Waterbury and turned him over on his back in the palm of his hand and Waterbury stuck his head out to look around and see who was there. Ben pointed without saying anything to the two letters “BF” carved in Waterbury’s hard shell.

“BF, for Ben Franklin,” Socker Furlong said as they all looked at the initials. He smiled sweetly at Mr. Firkins and said, “Think fast, Mr. Firkins.
Think fast!
”

B
OTH
M
R.
M
ACHATCHET
and Mr. Firkins were staring at the turtle in dumb wonder as Socker finished speaking. And when they lifted their gaze to Socker they seemed about equally puzzled.

“But Djuna,” Mr. MacHatchet said in a soft voice. T m afraid I dont quite follow the way you linked the turtle with-”

“Give the lad a lesson, Djuna,” said Socker Furlong. “
He’s
only a Secret Service man!”

Djuna turned red and tried not to show his embarrassment as Sandy MacHatchet glared at Socker. Then Mr. MacHatchet couldn’t help grinning himself. T m willing,” he said. He was grinning, but he was watching Mr. Firkins very closely, too,

“Gee, Mr. MacHatchet!” Djuna said. “You’re not laughing at me are you? I – I just–”

“I should say he isn’t, Djuna,” said Socker quickly. “He’s just laughing at himself, and I’m laughing at him, too!”

“Mr. Furlong told you, didn’t he, how Mr. Firkins wanted him to write a story about that house on Carpenter Street?” Djuna asked Mr. MacHatchet.

“Yes. He told me about that and how you boys saw lights there that night,” Mr. MacHatchet said. “He told me how you went back to the house and there was no one there and how he called up Mr. Firkins and Firkins said no one lived there. That was as far as he got when Ben called us on the telephone.”

“Well, the next day Mr. Furlong’s boss fired him because he had gone to a baseball game instead of going to the haunted house on Carpenter Street,” Djuna said.

“His boss showed good judgment,” Mr. MacHatchet said. “Then what, Djuna?”

“Well, Ben and I felt pretty bad about it,” said Djuna to Mr. MacHatchet, “and I thought I’d try to find out something about the little girl and the man who were in the haunted house when there wasn’t supposed to be anyone living there. I thought maybe we could help Mr. Furlong get his job back. Then, the next day Ben told me how you had called Mr. Furlong’s boss about some counterfeit ten-dollar bills that were being passed off for good bills and I thought it was about the meanest trick I ever heard of. I got to thinking about that, too.”

Djuna looked at Mr. Firkins indignantly because he was thinking about the half-blind newspaper woman who had been fooled with a counterfeit ten-dollar bill.

“Ben and I decided we’d go and ask Mr. Firkins if we could go in the house on Carpenter Street to get Ben’s turtle, but Mr. Firkins told us we couldn’t go there. He tried to scare us.

“That same afternoon a friend of mine, Mr. Boots, brought Champ up from Edenboro in his truck,” Djuna went on. “Ben said he could stay over at his house. When I was taking him over that evening I stopped in a store to buy Champ a new leash. There was a man there buying some stuff and when Champ went by him he started to bark at him like anything. Then when he went out of the store the same man had his hat blown off and I chased it for him. When I gave it back to him he didn’t seem to mind at all because his hat was all dirty. The only thing he cared about was a green feather that was stuck in the hatband. Champ barked at him again just the way he had before and the man snapped the feather at Champ and said in Spanish, ‘In his eyes!’ Then he turned around and walked away from us without even thanking me!”

“That should teach Squinty Jones that the voice with the smile always wins,” said Socker Furlong.

“That night,” Djuna went on, and Ben shivered, “Ben and I decided to go in the haunted house to see if we could find Waterbury. We searched all over it, but we didn’t find any sign of Waterbury. The only thing we found was a green parrot that spoke Spanish and–”