The Green Turtle Mystery (6 page)

“Yes sir!” Djuna said and put his box down for the reporter to put his foot on. Socker placed his foot on it carefully and then leaned back and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Djuna brushed the shoe off thoroughly and then put some liquid cleaner on it and rubbed it in well. After that he brushed it again, and then he put the polish on and brushed and rubbed until he could almost see his reflection in the toe. He tapped the reporter’s ankle with a brush and said, “Other one, please, Mr. Furlong.”

“Eh?” Socker said and he opened his eyes and blinked. “If you had let me sleep for another minute we’d have had a ten-pound salmon for supper.”

“A
what?
” Djuna said, and then he laughed. “Oh, I see. You dreamed you were fishing. Gee, I love to fish!”

“So do I,” Socker said and he groaned. “I have a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Canavan is going to give me an opportunity.”

“You don’t really think he’ll fire you, do you, Mr. Furlong?” Djuna said in a worried voice.

“Think it?” Socker said. “My little bustling bambino, I’m practically certain of it.” And Socker started to go to sleep again.

“Say, Mr. Furlong,” Djuna said, hurriedly, before he could get to sleep.

“Yes, Djuna,” Socker answered.

“Do you know any bank here in town where I could borrow a dollar and fifty-five cents, now that I’m in business for myself?” Djuna asked.

Socker Furlong opened his eyes and sat up with a start.

“
A dollar and fifty-five cents
!” said Socker. “What in the world do you want all that money for?”

“Well,” Djuna said, hesitantly, “my dog Champ is up in Edenboro, and I’m—I’m just awful lonesome for him, that’s all.”

“What do you want to do, go to Edenboro and get him?”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t take the time off for that,” Djuna said importantly. “But if I had the money I could telephone to Mr. Pindler’s store—he’s the only one in Edenboro who has a telephone—and ask him, please, to ask Mr. Boots if he would bring Champ down here in his truck. But I’d have to pay for the gasoline because Mr. Boots is very old and doesn’t have much money.”

“Who is Mr. Boots?” Socker asked, adding, “I suppose he’s almost as old as I am.”

“Oh, he’s forty or fifty times older than you are,” Djuna said to make up for his previous blunder. “He lives right next door to us in Edenboro. He’s a carpenter and he has to come up here every once in a while for supplies he can’t get around there. Probably he can think up something to come for, if I pay for the gasoline. He’s an awful nice man.”

“I see,” Socker said and he remained silent while he studied Djuna for a moment. “Have you ever heard of Benjamin Franklin?” he asked after a bit.

“Which one?” Djuna asked.

“Were there two?” Socker asked, smiling.

“Well, there’s the famous one,” Djuna said, “and there’s the one that works in your office.”

“I’m going to quote the one that doesn’t work in our office this time,” Socker said. “He said: ‘He that goes a-borrowing goes a-sorrowing.’ And he also said: ‘A man may, if he knows not how to save as he gets, keep his nose to the grindstone.’ I like the second one best because it makes me shudder to even think how sore my nose would get if I had to keep it to the grindstone.” Then he added, as an afterthought, “But I think Mr. Canavan is going to take care of that.”

“But, Mr. Furlong,” Djuna began and then he stopped. He was going to tell Mr. Furlong about Waterbury and about several things that puzzled him about the haunted house, but he decided he wouldn’t bother, because probably Mr. Furlong wouldn’t understand.

“Look, Djuna,” Socker said and his eyes twinkled. “Perhaps my banking department can help you out.”

“Oh, gee, Mr. Furlong,” Djuna said, happily. “I didn’t know you were in the banking business, too.”

“Well, I’m not, ordinarily,” Socker said. “But sometimes I do a little, er, right before pay day. I have an
uncle
who is in the banking business.”

“Oh, I see,” Djuna said. But he didn’t.

“It happens that I have a slight surplus at the moment,” Socker went on, “and I’ll tell you what I’ll do.”

“Yes sir,” Djuna said, respectfully.

“You give me three more
quick
shines right now, and four
quick
ones each day for the next three days and I’ll advance you a dollar and fifty-five cents, now, to telephone to Mr. Pindler and pay for Mr. Boots’ gasoline,” said Socker. “Then you’ll save a lot of money because you won’t have to pay any interest.”

“Why, Mr. Furlong!” Djuna said. “That’s swell! But are you
sure
you want all those shines?”

“I’m
certain
!” Socker said and he nodded his head and snapped his fingers to lend emphasis to his statement. “I just happened to think a few minutes ago that when I bought these shoes the man told me I’d have to get them shined three or four times every day or they’d fall apart. I’ve been meaning to have it done all along, but I forgot it. When you get to be as old as I am you forget things, Djuna.”

“
Gee
, Mr. Furlong!” Djuna said, happily. “I never meant that you were as old as you pretend you are.”

He put Mr. Furlong’s glistening shoe back on the shine box and his elbows began to fly as he started the second shine. There was an expression of genuine enjoyment on Socker Furlong’s face as he squdged himself down more comfortably on the park bench and closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Djuna’s arms were getting pretty tired when he started the fourth shine, but that didn’t bother him as much as the trouble he had waking Mr. Furlong every time he wanted him to shift his feet. Once Mr. Furlong snored out loud and when Djuna woke him up a moment later to change his feet he opened his eyes wide and said, “Boy! Was that a chariot race! If my outside horse hadn’t thrown a shoe I’d have passed Ben Hur in that last lap.”

“Gee, you do have the funniest dreams, Mr. Furlong,” Djuna said.

“Dreams,” Socker said, “are what the world is made of.”

Djuna thought that over for a few moments but before he could ask Mr. Furlong just what he was talking about Socker had gone back to his dreams.

Just as Djuna finished the fourth shine someone stopped beside him and he heard Ben say, “It’s time, Mr. Furlong.”

“Eh?” Socker said as he struggled awake.

“It’s almost one o’clock,” Ben said. “I don’t think you’d better be late today, Mr. Furlong. I heard Mr. Canavan talking to the managing editor, Mr. Portugal, about you and he sounded pretty mad.”

“Oh, you did?” Socker said. “No doubt he was signing my praises?”

“Y-e-e-s,” Ben said. “He said you were the best reporter on the paper, but—”

“Never mind the rest, Benjamin,” Socker said. “I know it. He said he wasn’t going to put up with me any longer.”

“Gee, that’s right, Mr. Furlong,” Ben said. “How did you know?”

“I’ve heard it before,” Socker said and he arose with the grace of an elephant. He reached in his pocket and took out his wallet and gave Djuna a dollar bill and then counted out sixty cents more in change.

“Thank you, very, very much, Mr. Furlong,” Djuna said. “I’ll be here tomorrow at the same time.”

“Well, I hope I will be, too,” he said and handed Ben a dime. “I’ll be seeing you, boys.”

“Gee!” Ben said as Socker walked away. “Did he give you all that money for one shine?”

“No,” Djuna said. “It’s for sixteen shines. He bought sixteen so I’d have enough money to call up Mr. Pindler and pay for Mr. Boots’ gasoline.”

“Oh, boy!” Ben said, eagerly. “You really think Mr. Boots will bring Champ?”

“I’m pretty sure he will,” Djuna said. “Where can we find a place to telephone?”

“There are a couple of regular phone booths over in the lobby of our building,” Ben said. “Let’s go over and do it right now. Do you know the number?”

“Oh, gosh,
no
,” Djuna said. “But don’t you think that if I just tell the operator that I want to get Mr. Pindler’s store in Edenboro that she’ll be able to get the number for me?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Ben said, doubtfully. “Maybe she won’t know where Edenboro is.”

“Well,
somebody
in the telephone company must know about Mr. Pindler’s telephone,” Djuna said, reasonably enough. “They wouldn’t just put the telephone in there and forget all about it.”

“Oh, sure,” Ben said. “Let’s go over and ask the operator. “If she hunts around I bet she can find it.”

The boys went across the park and into the newspaper building and Djuna put five cents in the telephone to get the operator. When she came on the wire Djuna explained, very carefully, about Mr. Pindler’s store in Edenboro and the operator said she thought she could get it on the telephone.

“Who is calling, please?” the operator asked when he finished telling her.

“Djuna,” Djuna told her.

“
Mister
Djuna?” the operator asked.

“No. Just Djuna,” Djuna said and wished she wouldn’t ask so many questions.

“Just a moment, please, Mr. Djuna,” she said, and Djuna said, “Thank you.”

He waited and waited, and
waited
. After a while the booth got so hot that he pushed the door open a little and Ben stuck his head in and said, “What’s the matter?” He whispered because he didn’t want to interfere if someone was talking to Djuna on the telephone.

“I don’t know
what’s
the matter,” Djuna whispered back. “It’s awful hot in here.”

“Forty cents, please,” the operator said in his ear just then. Djuna was so startled that he dropped all his change on the floor. He groaned and tried to lean over to pick it up but the booth was so small that he couldn’t bend over.

He pushed the door open and pointed at the money on the floor, frantically, as Ben put his head in again, and explained to the operator that he had dropped his money.

The operator laughed and said, “Just a moment, please,” to someone.

“I’m ready, now,” Djuna said as Ben handed him the change.

“Forty cents, please,” the operator said again.

Djuna put a nickel and a dime and a quarter in the coin box and the operator said, “Thank you. Go ahead, please.” By that time Djuna was so flustered that he could hardly talk, but he managed to say, “Hello, Mr. Pindler? This is Djuna.”

“Hey? What’s that?” Mr. Pindler asked, querulously.

“This is Djuna, Mr. Pindler,” Djuna said again.

“Who? What?
What
do you want? Speak up!” Mr. Pindler shouted, and by that time Djuna hardly knew who he was or what he wanted.

“Mr. Pindler,” he said, patiently. “This is
Djuna
. I live over with Miss Annie Ellery. I’m telephoning from—”

“Oh,
Djuna!
” Mr. Pindler shouted. “Why didn’t you say so? How are you, my boy?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Pindler,” Djuna said and just hearing Mr. Pindler’s voice made him think of Edenboro, and its green fields and gurgling brooks. “How are you, sir?”

“I ain’t ailin’,” Mr. Pindler said and he laughed. “What’s on your mind?”

“I wonder if you could give Mr. Boots a message for me?” Djuna asked.

“Give it to him yourself,” Mr. Pindler chuckled. “He’s a-standin’ right here.”

“Oh, thank you, sir,” Djuna said.

“
Hello
, Djuna,” Mr. Boots’ kindly voice said in his ear. “Are you callin’ from away up there?”

“Yes, sir,” Djuna said, proudly. “I was wondering if you have to come up here in the next couple of days?”

“Well,” Mr. Boots said, slowly. “I
was
aimin’ to run up there tomorrow to get some stuff for myself and for Mr. Pindler. We was just talkin’ about it.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Djuna said. “Would you mind bringing Champ up with you? It’s just awful lonesome up here without him. I’d be glad to pay for your gasoline.”

“You’d be glad to pay for my gasoline, would you?” Mr. Boots said and he chuckled. “We can talk about that later.”

“But what about Champ?” Djuna asked, eagerly. “Could you bring him?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Mr. Boots said.

“Tell Miss Annie he’s going to stay with a friend of mine,” Djuna said. “She’ll tell you where to bring him.”

“All right Djuna,” Mr. Boots said. “I’ll be there tomorrow, about the middle of the afternoon.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Boots,” Djuna said. “Good-by.”

“Good-by, Djuna,” Mr. Boots said.

Djuna hung up and when he opened the telephone booth door he didn’t have to tell Ben that Mr. Boots was going to bring Champ. Ben could tell by the expression on his face.

“When’s he coming?” Ben asked, breathlessly.

“
Tomorrow afternoon
!” Djuna said and they both went whooping out of the newspaper building and across the street to the Square.

But their joy was short-lived because when they got over in the Square they saw Mr. Furlong sitting on the same bench where Djuna had shined his shoes and he didn’t look very happy.

“He must have got fired!” Ben said, slowly.

“Oh,
gee
,” Djuna said. “That Mr. Canavan must be just about the meanest man in the world.”

They walked toward Mr. Furlong slowly because they weren’t sure whether he would want them to intrude on his thoughts at such a time. But when he saw them and grinned at them they both broke into a run.

“Jeepers! Mr. Furlong,” Ben said. “Did Mr. Canavan really fire you?”

“How did you ever guess?” Socker said and he put one hand over his heart and said, tragically:

“Gee, Mr. Furlong!” said Ben in an awed voice. “What does
that
mean!”

“It means,” said Socker, “that if I hadn’t gone to that blankety baseball game yesterday I wouldn’t be out of a job.”

“Oh, then he really did fire you, Mr. Furlong?” Ben asked. Djuna didn’t say anything. He stood there with a worried expression on his face and scuffed his shoe back and forth and back and forth.

“Yes,” said Socker, “and he assured me that this time it was for keeps. But every time he has fired me, before, he has wanted a special job done within a few days and has called me up and offered me a raise to come back. It’s a very satisfactory arrangement.”