Killdozer! (37 page)

“The beauty shop!” said Henry. “Of course!” He pondered, while the beer ran over the table and dripped onto his trousers. Suddenly he leaped to his feet, turning over my beer. “Well, gee! What are we waiting for?”

I dropped a bill on the table, and hurtled after him, collaring him at the door. “Hey, cut it, Jackson,” I puffed. “Wait for all the facts, f’evven’s sakes. Unless I’m mistaken the place in question is the one known as Francy’s—”

“Yeah, on Beverly Street. Let’s go!” He was jittering with anxiety. Only then did I realize the pressures he had built up over this thing. But of course—Marie never did have the tact that Carole had. She must have pounded his ear by the hour. “But Henry—the place is closed. Out of business.
Kaput!”

“It is? How do you know?”

“Carole told me last week. It’s handy to both our houses—that’s why Marie and Carole used it. But they didn’t like it. Management changing all the time, and stuff.”

“Godfrey—what are we gonna
do?”

I shrugged. “Get back to work, that’s all. Get on the phone there and stay on it until we find out who owns that place, and if we can get in to look it over.”

“But gosh—suppose they’ve shipped all the equipment out?”

“Suppose they haven’t. It only closed a couple of days ago. Anyhow—got any other ideas?”

“Me?” said Henry sadly, and began to slouch back toward the lab.

The Widget met me at the door when I got home that night. She put a finger on her lips and waved me back. I stopped, and she slipped out and closed the door.

“Daddy, we’ve got to do something about Mummy.”

My stomach ran cold. “What’s happened?”

She took one of my hands in both of hers and gave Carole’s smile. “Oh, Daddy, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Nothing’s happened, on’y”—she puckered a little. “She cries alla time—or almost.”

“Yes, monkey, I know. Has she said anything?”

The Widget shook her head solemnly. “She won’t. She sits lookin’ out th’ windy, and when I come near she grabs me and runs tears down my neck.”

“She hasn’t been feeling very well, darling. But she’ll be all right soon.”

“Yeah,” said the Widget. She gave a strange, up-and-sidewise glance that brought back what Carole had said about the child’s loss. “Widget!” I snapped: and then, seeing how startled she was, I went down on one knee and took her shoulders. “Widget—don’t you trust me?”

“Sure, Daddy,” she said soothingly. I once heard a doctor say to a patient, “Sure you’re Alexander the Great,” in just that tone of voice. “So Mummy will be all right soon.”

“That doesn’t make you any happier.”

Her clear gaze was searching. “You said she would be all right,” she said carefully. “You didn’t say
you
would make her all right.”

“Oh,” I said. “Oh.” I stood up. “Turn off the heat, Widget, and stick around.”

I found Carole in the kitchen, moving briskly. I could see right away the unusual fact that the chow she was rassling up was of the short-order variety. She probably hadn’t started on it until I wheeled into the drive, which just wasn’t normal.

She smiled at me with the front of her face and missed my hat when I tossed it.

“ ’Smatter, cookie?”

“Nothing,” she said, and put her arms around me and began to cry.

I put my face in her bright hair. “That I can’t take,” I said softly. “What is it, darling? Still the thing that’s gone?”

She nodded, her face pressed deep into my shoulder. It was some time before she could speak, and then she said, “It gets worse and worse, Godfrey.”

“Just exactly what has changed, Carole?”

She shook her head in a tortured way, her eyes squinched shut, and twisted away from me. She stood with her back to me and her fists on her cheeks, and said, “Everything has changed, Godfrey. You, and I, and the Widget, and the house, and the way people talk. Once it was all perfect, lovely and perfect, and now it isn’t. I don’t know how, but it isn’t. And I want it back the way it was!” The last words were a wail, the broken voice of a youngster who has lost his jackknife and was convinced until then that he was too old to cry.

“Come out here,” I said gently, leading her into the living room. We sat on the couch together and I put my arms around her. “Darling, listen. I think Henry and I are on the track of this thing. No … no; don’t. Pay attention.” I told her all about how Henry and I seemed to have the thing pinned down to the beauty shop. “So this afternoon we got on the phone to find out who owned the place. We called general agents and the Chamber of Commerce and three guys named Smith. All blanks. We may or may not have a lead; to wit, four phone numbers that did not answer and one that was busy. Point is, we think that this goofy business isn’t as mysterious as it pretends to be, and we think we can crack it.”

She looked at me with all the world in her eyes, and poked my nose gently with her forefinger. “You’re so sweet, Godfrey. You’re so darned sweet,” she said, and without the slightest change from
the shape of her smile, she was crying again. “Whatever you do, you can’t bring back the lost thing—mine, and the Widget’s doll with the g-giggum pinafore, and Marie’s Henry-the-Hero. They’re gone.”

“You’ll forget that.”

She shook her head. “The farther away, the more it’s lost. It’s like that; don’t you see?”

I leaned back a bit from her and looked at her. Her cheeks were a little hollow. I had only known her to be sick once in all these years, and her cheeks got like that then. I tried to look ahead, to see what would happen; and the way she had changed in these few days was frightening; so what would happen to her if this went on?

Almost roughly I put her by and got up. “I can’t take any more of this,” I said. “I can’t.” I went to the telephone and dialed.

“Henry?”

“Is Henry there?” came Marie’s voice tautly.

“Oh … hello, sis. No, he isn’t.”

“Godfrey, where’s he gone?”

“Dunno. What’s up?”

“Godfrey,” she said, not answering. “Did he really hit Wickersham?”

Cautiously, I said, “If you say so.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she said desolately. “I saw him do it. But I can’t understand why he is still working for Wickersham. I can’t understand why Wickersham would have him, or how he can work for the man after what happened.”

“Now look. You haven’t been trying to get him to quit?”

“Well, I—”

I saw Henry’s domestic economy going down in swift spirals. “Hands off, kiddo. I’m telling you, sit tight, and don’t push that kid around. Hear? He’s got enough on his mind as it is.” It was the old big-brother rough-stuff. I knew she needed it and I knew Henry couldn’t do it.

“But where
is
he?” She sounded petulant but quelled.

“Probably on his way over here,” I said on a wild guess. “I’ll look out for him, don’t worry; and I’ll keep you informed. You curl up and unlax.”

“All right, Godfrey. Thanks, honey.”

Carole looked at me quizzically. “I’m hungry,” I said. She gave me a wan smile, and a mockery of the mock salaam she used to tease me with. “Yes, master,” she said and went out into the kitchen.

I was suddenly conscious of the Widget’s level gaze. She stood by the hall door with her hands behind her, teetering a bit on her toes the way I used to before I realized she had picked it up.

“Are you just mad,” she inquired, “or are you going to do something?”

“Is there always a difference?” I asked icily.

She annoyed me by hesitating. “Mostly—not,” she said reflectively. Suddenly she was tiny and soft and helpless. “Daddy, you
got
to fix this!”

“Don’t worry, bratlet. Mummy’ll be happy again. Just you see.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Mummy’ll be happy again.” She looked extremely wistful as she spoke, and I suddenly got what she was driving at. “Aha! What, young lady, do you expect to get out of this?”

“Me?”

I laughed and held out my arms, and she ran into them. “Sweetheart, I will make you a promise about that doll. I won’t get it for you unless I can get it for keeps. Understand? There’ll be no more of this having-not-having, any more, ever.”

And for once in her life, she kissed me instead of saying anything.

We sat down to a snack of toasted cheese and cocoa just as a violent knocking sound preceded Henry into the room.

“I—” he began between breaths.

Carole said clearly, “Beat it, Widget, darling. Take your plate; I’ll take your cup. We’ll fix you a party in your room.”

Henry sent her a grateful look as she and the child left the room, and then burst out, “Godfrey, it’s worse—much worse. Another single day of this and Marie and I won’t have anything left. Godfrey, she won’t leave it alone. She doesn’t think about anything else but that crazy Wickersham deal. I’ve got to bust this thing open—or I’ll bust.”

I brought him a slug of rum. “That won’t do any good,” he said, and drank it down as if he were washing down aspirins. He’d never
done that in his life before. “Godfrey, I’ve got to
do
something. Can’t we go down and case that shop, anyway?”

“That’s the first solid thing I’ve heard in a week,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Carole came downstairs just then. “Call Marie, will you, honey?” I said half over my shoulder. “Tell her Henry is O.K. and he and I have gone to a wedding, or to get drunk, or something clever, will you?”

She nodded, and when we got the door she said, “And where
are
you going?”

I blew her a kiss, and she caught it and put it in her pocket, the way she always did. As long as I live I shall never forget her standing there in the light, worried, and loving, and beautiful.

Out in the garage, we swung into the jalopy and I kicked the starter. As the motor roared, Henry leaned forward and shut off the ignition. “Has it occurred to you that we just might get into that place?” he asked. “Just in case, don’t you think it would be smart to take a tool or two?”

“What do you know!” I said admiringly. “And I thought I was the brains of this combo!” We climbed out and raced back to my bench. My toolbox, a couple of wrenches, a flashlight, and a battery-operated trouble lamp with an extension cord. The little power supply gave me an idea; I pulled a small black case out of the rack.

“Inductance bridge,” I said. “Might be nice to have along. If that hair drier is what’s caused this thing, it’ll use power. It must be something new and it would be nice to know what’s in it and where it’s coming from.”

“Good. Take your multi-tester, too. And here’s a little slice bar.”

Arms full, we staggered back to the car, loaded the gear into the back seat, and at last ground out of the garage.

We pulled up a block from the beauty shop, parked, and strolled up to have a look at it. The shop was on a side street. It was a sleazy-looking brick wart stuck on the off-corner of what looked like a block-long warehouse. There was a yard around its two open sides, and a brick wall with a silly-looking archway of wrought iron over the gate, forming the word “FRANCY’S” in tortured letters.

“Snazzy,” said Henry disgustedly.

We paused outside the gateway. The side street was comfortingly dark except for a street lamp which was planted exactly in line with the gateway and the front door of the shop, throwing a path of brilliance up the cinder walk.

“That won’t do,” I said.

“It’ll have to.” He gave a quick look up the street. There were only two pedestrians in sight and both of those were walking away from us.

I hesitated. “I don’t—” There was something niggling at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t place it. Something about a wall. Heck with it. “Come on.”

We walked up to the door as if our intentions were honorable. A sign there said “Closed until further notice.”

“That ties it,” said Henry. “There is definitely something ungood about this thing.”

“Why?”

“Ever see a rented place close up without some information as to who to call for purchase or rental or emergency or something?”

“Hm-m-m. Not till now.”

The door was locked. It was a great big solid door. “The window?” Henry breathed. We went down the couple of steps that led up to the door. There was so much light from the street lamp outside the wall that when we turned off the path, the darkness was like tar and seemed almost as hard to move through. We felt along the wall, blinking, until we came to a window.”

“Barred,” said Henry, and swore. “Godfrey—can you stand by while I get some tools? No sense in both of us marching in and out of this place as if it were a gentlemen’s lounge.”

“O.K. A pinch bar, screwdriver, and … oh. Get the jack out from under the front seat, in case the window’s clinched. The flashlights, the battery case, and the bridge.”

“Holy smoke,” said Henry. “You’re a real second-story character.”

“I’m a boy scout gone wrong, that’s all.”

He disappeared into the gloom. I lost him, then saw him silhouetted against the bright light from the open gateway. He went swiftly
to the gateway, peered out to each side, and went through it. Behind me, in the dark, I heard the unmistakable sound of a relay.

If it had been a hand on my shoulder it couldn’t have startled me more. I felt my way to the window, pushed my hand through the bars. There seemed nothing out of the ordinary about it. Feeling carefully along the lower sash, I touched three countersunk nail heads. I listened carefully, but could hear nothing else.

Henry got back in a couple of minutes, loaded to the ears with assorted equipment. I realized that the little guy just had to be doing something, whether it was useful or not. He came puffing and blowing through the darkness toward me.

“This way, Henry,” I called softly. He bumped the side of the building with something of a clatter, and edged along until I said whoa. “Sweet Sue,” he gasped. “Ain’t I the eager beaver?”

“Why didn’t you just drive in with the lights on and the horn blowing?” I griped. “You’d’ve had more fun with less effort. The blasted window’s locked behind these bars, and nailed down to boot.”

“Give me a flashlight,” he said to himself, as he got from under his load.

“Oh; you don’t believe me?” I asked again, and just then the relay clicked again. Henry grunted, found the light, hooded it with his fingers and aimed it at the window. “Did I hear a relay?”