The Green Turtle Mystery (13 page)

“Say, Mr. Firkins,” said Ben. “That would be swell. Where–where do you live?”

“Three-two-eight Applegarde Street,” Mr. Firkins said. “Here, I’ll write it on the back of one of my business cards for you.”

“
Thank
you, sir,” Ben said. He took the card and stuck it in his pocket.

“Well, boys, I got to be runnin’ along now,” Mr. Firkins said, and he climbed in his car and started the motor. “No hard feelin’s, I hope.”

“Oh, no, sir, Mr. Firkins!” Djuna and Ben said in chorus.

They watched Mr. Firkins while he meshed his gears with the most horrible grinding they had ever heard, and then saw him shoot out from the curb and barely miss a car that was going in the same direction.

“Gee!” Djuna said. “He
is
going to kill somebody. He is the worst driver I ever saw.” He rubbed his elbow pensively and continued looking in the direction Mr. Firkins had gone until he was long out of sight. Then he stood looking down at Champ for so long that Ben got impatient.

“Hey!” Ben said. “You act as though you were going to sleep! If we’re going over to that bakery we better hurry up or I’ll be late for work. I don’t want to get fired, too.”

“Jeepers!” said Djuna. “I forgot you have to get back to work.” He looked carefully up and down the street. “It looks safe now. Let’s go.”

They dashed across Chestnut Street and sauntered into the bakery next to the corner. “They have awful good cookies here,” Ben whispered to Djuna as they went in the door. “I’ll buy a couple as an excuse for coming in.”

“All right,” Djuna said, and then his mouth flew open and he couldn’t believe his eyes. And judging from the amazed expression on the face of the little girl who stood behind the counter, Djuna could see that she was surprised, too.

It was the little girl who had opened the door of the haunted house on Carpenter Street after Djuna had knocked on it three nights before!

The little girl and Djuna stared at each other and the little girl’s face grew almost as red as the very red dress she was wearing. After a moment the little girl managed to ask, “Is there something I can get for you?”

Ben hadn’t noticed how the little girl and Djuna were acting because he had been too intent on finding just the kind of cookies he wanted in the showcase.

“I’d like two of those big molasses cookies, please,” Ben said in answer to the girl’s question, and anyone who had been listening carefully could have heard him say, “
Yum
” after he said, “please.”

The little girl got the cookies and put them in a bag and handed them to Ben while Djuna tried to collect his senses and frame some words that would help him to find out what he wanted to know from the little girl. None of the things he could think of made any sense, but the little girl came to his rescue.

“I guess you’re as surprised to see me again as I am to see you,” she said and she tossed her head prettily.

“Jeepers! I’ll say I am,” said Djuna and he giggled. And then she was surprised to find that she was giggling with him. “What in the world were you doing in that house?” Djuna went on. “You don’t
really
live there do you?”

“No,” she said and her face got red again. “I live here.”

“Then, why did you say you lived there?” Djuna asked very seriously.

“Because I couldn’t think of anything else to say,” the little girl said. “My father scolded me like everything for answering the door at all, because we weren’t supposed to be there. We–”

“
Hey!
” Ben said, breathlessly because he couldn’t keep still any longer. “Do you
know
her?”

“No,” Djuna said, but that didn’t keep him from introducing the little girl to Ben. “This is my friend, Ben Franklin,” he said.

“My name is Maria,” said the little girl. “Maria Sanchez.”

“Oh, your father owns the bakery, doesn’t he?” Ben asked.

“Yes,” Maria said, and to Djuna, “What’s your name?”

“Djuna,” he told her.

“
Djuna!
” Maria said. “
That’s
a funny name.”

“That’s what
everyone
says,” Djuna agreed, seriously. “But, if you don’t mind, I wish you’d tell me
why
you were in that house.”

The little girl thought for a moment while she studied Djuna’s face. Finally, she said, “I don’t know why I
shouldn’t
tell you. We went there to get my parrot.”

“Gee!” Ben said. “Did you see
my
turtle?”

“See
your
turtle?” Maria said. “Of course I didn’t see your turtle. What has your turtle got to do with my parrot?”

“Why, Waterbury is in that house, too!” Ben said.

Maria shook her head and she looked so perplexed that Djuna said, “Waterbury is the name of Ben’s turtle. I put him down on the doorstep the other night when I tied my shoe. Do you remember?”

“Yes,” Maria said. “I remember because I was awful scared because my father was shouting at me.”

“Ben’s turtle crawled into the house while I was tying my shoe,” Djuna said. “Didn’t you see him?”

“No.
Honest
,” said Maria soberly. “No wonder that man said the place was getting to be a regular zoo.”

“
What man?
” Ben and Djuna said together.

“The big fat man who wants to rent that house,” Maria said. “I went up to his office yesterday afternoon to ask him if I could go in the house to get my parrot. He got so mad I got afraid and ran right out of his office.”

“He wouldn’t let us go in to get Waterbury either,” Djuna said.

“
Waterbury?
” Maria said in a puzzled way. “Why in the world do you call him that?”

“He’s named after a clock,” Ben said. “I tell time by him.”

“Oh,” Maria said and she sounded too stunned to go on with the subject.

“But listen,” Djuna pleaded because things were getting sort of out of hand and he was getting mixed up, too. “How did your parrot get
in
that house?”

“It flew there,” Maria said. “I hadn’t had it but a few days when it got out of its cage, some way, and flew out into the street. I followed it and I saw it fly up Carpenter Street and right into an open window of that house.”

“An
open
window!” Djuna said. “I never saw any open window there, except one in the cellar.”

“This was
a-way
up on the top floor,” Maria said, her eyes wide. “It was closed up the next day.”

“
Jeepers!
” said Ben. “That place gets worse and
worse!
”

“Wasn’t your parrot there when you went there that night?” Djuna asked.

“We couldn’t find it,” Maria said. “We hunted
and
hunted, and then
you
came and we got scared because we hadn’t asked anyone if we could go in there. That’s why I didn’t know what to say to you when you came to the door.”

“Gosh, that’s funny,” Djuna said slowly. “I can’t understand it.”

“You can’t understand what?” Maria wanted to know.

“
Why
you couldn’t find your parrot,” Djuna said. “Because
it’s still in that house!
”

“
He is!
” Maria said and she started to run toward the back of the bakery shouting, “
Papa! Papa! Papa!
” as she ran. She opened the door that led into the back just as a fat, rolypoly little man dressed in a baker’s apron and cap appeared in the doorway.

“Papa! Papa! Papa! All the time–papa! papa! papa!” the little fat man said, his round face beaming. “What’s-a matter you?”

“Papa!” little Maria said and she beat on her father’s white apron with her fists in joy. “These boys say our parrot is still up in that old house!”

“So-o-o?” Papa Sanchez said, his voice rising as he spoke. “You see him, uh?”

“Yes, sir,” Djuna said. “We went in there last night and I saw him. He talks Spanish?”

“
Sure!
” Papa Sanchez said. “That’s-a why I buy him for my little Maria. A man he come to
me
.” Papa Sanchez pointed at himself with his thumb. “He say he have parrot who speak-a Spanish. He say, too, he have no money to feed parrot or feed himself. I say, ‘Ha! I geeve you ten bucks!’ he say, ‘Ha! I geeve you parrot!’” Papa Sanchez tossed his hands in the air to signify that that was the end of how he bought the parrot.

“It’s the same parrot, all right,” Djuna said. Then, suddenly Djuna looked excited and when he started to speak he had to gulp three times before he could get started.

“Say, Mr. Sanchez!” he said. “Was the man Spanish you bought the parrot from?”

“No, no,” said Papa Sanchez. “He no-a Spanish. He American. He is a leetle man weeth vera ba-ad eyes. He squeent like-a dis,” and Papa Sanchez wrinkled his forehead, squinted his eyes and looked cross-eyed down over the end of his nose. “Like-a dat!” he finished.

“Did he wear an old felt hat with a green feather in the band?” asked Djuna, breathlessly.

“He do!” Papa Sanchez said. “Just-a like-a dat!”

“Papa!” Maria said. “Can’t we go there tonight and get my parrot?
Please, papa!
”

“The man say we no should go-a there,” Papa Sanchez said and he spread his hands. “He have Papa Sanchez put in-a da
hoose-gow!
”

“No, Maria,” Djuna said, slowly. “I don’t think you had better go there. But I think I can get your parrot for you. Anyway, I’ll try.”

“You
will?
” Maria said and she danced up and down with her hands clasped in front of her. Then she said, “Do you boys want a couple more cookies?”

“Sure!” Ben said, but he added, speaking to Djuna, “I’ve
got
to get back to work!”

They both thanked Maria gratefully for the cookies and Djuna called back just before they went out the door, “I think you’ll have your parrot back by tomorrow morning. Good-by!”

“Good-by!” Maria and Papa Sanchez said, waving to them. As the boys shut the door behind them, they saw Maria beginning to hug her father, and her father hugging Maria, as if they thought all their worries about the parrot were already over.

W
HEN THE BOYS
were outside on the street Ben looked at a clock in a jeweler’s window across the street and said, “Oh boy, three minutes of one! I’ve got to run!”

“Go ahead,” Djuna said; and he looked worried because he knew Ben’s boss was so strict about tardiness. “I’ll stop and put Champ in your yard and get my shoe-shine box,” he shouted after the fast-disappearing Ben. Ben nodded his head and kept on running.

Djuna wandered up Carpenter Street with Champ trotting along beside him. He was so deep in thought that he walked a half-dozen houses beyond Ben’s before he remembered that he was going to put Champ on his leash in Ben’s yard and get his shoe-shine box.

After he had attended to those things he thanked Mrs. Franklin again for the sandwiches and cake and started for the Square. When he came to the store on Sixth Street where he had bought Champ’s leash the evening before he looked through the window for a few minutes, and finally got up enough courage to go inside.

He looked all around, carefully, trying to identify the salesman who had been waiting on the squinty-eyed man that Champ barked at. When he was quite certain he had located the right clerk Djuna waited until he had finished serving a customer and then approached him.

“Excuse me, sir,” Djuna said to the clerk. “I–I wonder if you remember me. I–”

“Is there any reason why I should remember you?” the clerk interrupted disagreeably. He was a thin man with a pinched face and he looked as though he had eaten something that always gave him indigestion.

“No sir,” Djuna said very seriously. “I was going to tell you that I was in here last evening with my Scotty and he made an awful noise barking at a man you were waiting on. I thought maybe you would remember me because of that.”

“Oh, yes, sure,” the clerk said. “I remember you now. Why?”

Djuna could see that this was going to be pretty hard, because the man wasn’t very pleasant. He grinned at him, hoping the clerk would grin back, but he didn’t. He just stared at him and waited for Djuna to say something.

“I was wondering,” said Djuna, “if you remembered what that man bought?”

“What is this–a memory quiz?” the clerk wanted to know. “Let’s see. He bought some special colored ink and some Brunswick black, and– Say! What do you want to know for? Did he send you here?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Djuna said. “I–”

“Well, what’s the idea?” the clerk snapped. “Is it any of your business what he bought?”

“W-e-ll, no,” Djuna said. “It is, and it isn’t. I just wanted to know because–because–”

“Because
what?
” the man wanted to know.

“Nothing, I guess,” Djuna said and his face was so red that he could feel it burn. “Thank–thank you, sir,” and he turned and hurried out of the store as fast as he could get out without bumping into people. As Djuna went through the doorway he looked back and saw the clerk staring after him as though he thought Djuna was crazy.

Djuna hurried away from there as fast as he could go without breaking into a run, and as he hurried he jotted down in his memory that the squinty-eyed man had bought “some special colored ink and some Brunswick black.”

When Djuna was almost up to the Square he remembered that he was supposed to see Mr. Furlong at his boarding house around two o’clock. He retraced his steps back to Pewter Platter Alley and rang the bell until Mr. Tinker appeared like a little gnome out of nowhere and said, “He ain’t in!”

“Is it all right if I sit on the steps and wait for Mr. Furlong?” asked Djuna. He was tired and he had a lot of things he wanted to think over.

“Sit any place yuh wanna,” said Mr. Tinker in a burst of generosity.

“Thank you,” Djuna said, but Mr. Tinker had vanished as silently as he appeared.

Djuna sat down on the steps in the warm sun and hoped, fervently, that Mr. Furlong wouldn’t forget that he was coming back there to meet Djuna instead of going to a baseball game. While he waited he practiced the words the squinty-eyed man had said when he snapped the feather at Champ so he could ask Mr. Furlong about them.