The Green Turtle Mystery (21 page)

“Jeepers! That’s swell!” Djuna and Ben said together, and Champ was so glad to hear it that he woke up and barked five times.

“But Mr. Furlong,” Djuna said. “I still owe you four shines.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Socker said. “Just think what might have happened if we hadn’t sent for Champ. I’d still be out of a job. Did you get my telegrams?”

“Yes,” Djuna said. “We were just talking about them. What do they mean?”

Ben pulled a telegram from his pocket and Socker took it from his hand and read aloud:

“MR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN,

906 CARPENTER STREET, CITY

STAY HOME AND INSIDE HOUSE STOP DO NOT LET ANYONE TAKE YOUR PHOTOGRAPH BEFORE YOU MEET ME IN SQUARE AT TWELVE O’CLOCK TODAY STOP

SOCKER FURLONG”

“It means just what it says,” Socker said. “Did anyone get your photographs?”

“Some photographers came around but Mrs. Silvernails wouldn’t let them in the house,” Djuna said.

“My mother wouldn’t let them in either,” Ben said. “But what about Mr. Canavan, Mr. Furlong? Won’t he be mad because I didn’t come to work?”

“He knows all about it,” Socker said. “You’re going to get a raise, too!”

“For gracious sake!” Ben said, weakly. “What for?”

“Didn’t you read about yourselves in the
Morning Bugle?
” Socker asked.

Both of them shook their heads.

“O-O-O-H!” said Socker grabbing at his forehead. “The best story I
ever
wrote, and not even the people it’s written about bother to read it. But never mind that now. The reason I wanted you to stay out of sight was so that no other paper could get pictures of you. I had a real scoop on the counterfeit story this morning and I knew all the other papers and the news agencies would be around trying to get pictures. We don’t want any of them to get pictures of you before a full page article,
with pictures
, comes out in our Sunday feature section. You boys and Maria Sanchez, and Sandy MacHatchet are going to have the whole front page.”

“
With our pictures, Mr. Furlong?
” Ben asked, his eyes wide.

“With your pictures,” said Socker. He pushed himself to his feet with very evident reluctance. “Let’s get going. Maria and Sandy are going to meet us over at Friendly’s Chop House.”

“Oh,
boy!
” Ben said and his eyes were as round as saucers again. “You mean that place where they have the
big
strawberry shortcakes in the window?”

“
That’s
the place,” said Socker. “And you can eat
all
you want because Mr. Canavan is going to pay the bill!”

The headwaiter at the Friendly Chop House led Socker, Djuna, Ben, and Champ to the door of a small private dining room. As they stepped through the doorway camera bulbs flashed bright and hard.

“We’ve banded together, a brave little band, On the right side of justice we now take our stand,” sang Socker Furlong.

“Hi-yuh Djuna! Hi-yuh Ben!” Mr. MacHatchet shouted from some place behind the glare of camera bulbs.

Champ barked five times and looked up at Mr. MacHatchet with his head cocked on one side.

“Oh, pardon me, Champ,” Mr. MacHatchet said. “How’re
you
, old fellow?”

Champ laid both ears over to the right to indicate that he, too, was fine, and that he knew it was a party.

“HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HAH!” screamed the green parrot from his cage over the center of an elaborately decorated table that was set for five people, and Champ.

In the center of the table was a small aquarium in which Waterbury was getting his noonday exercise. As the green parrot finished his laughter Waterbury stuck his head above the surface of the water to look around and see if everyone was there yet.

Maria’s face got very, very red as she bowed to Djuna and Ben and the photographer asked her to stand between them, holding their hands, while he got a shot of the three of them.

After that the photographer had them pose with Waterbury and the green parrot and Mr. MacHatchet and Mr. Furlong until it seemed they would never get through.

“Did you have an
awful
time catching your parrot?” Djuna asked Maria during the picture taking.

“Well,” Maria said, and she smiled prettily, “It wasn’t very easy. I had to get papa to help me. You know he’s awful fat, and when he climbed the tree he split his pants. He was pretty mad and said some awful things to the parrot in Spanish. And I guess from the way it sounded the parrot said some pretty awful things back to him.” She caught her breath and stared at Djuna so hard he got uncomfortable.

“How in the
world
did you ever
dare
go in that house?” Maria said, finally, and added, “When you
knew
that awful man was in there?”

“Jeepers!” Djuna said, and
his
face was pretty red now. “I
didn’t
know for sure. Prob’ly I wouldn’t have gone if I’d been
sure!
”

“
You would too!
” Maria said, and anyone that knew about such things would have said that she was rolling her eyes at him.

“
Look over on that table!
” Ben whispered loudly, much to Djuna’s relief. “
Watermelon, ice cream, and strawberry shortcake!
Gosh, I wish we’d hurry up and eat!”

Just then the photographer left and two waiters came in bringing steaming trays of creamed chicken in pattie shells, asparagus with real Hollandaise sauce, Julienne potatoes, brown and crisp, and cups of raspberry sherbet.

“Okay, boys and girls,” said Socker Furlong. “Maria, will you please sit here between Djuna and Ben?” Maria sat down very daintily, picked up the paper hat that was beside her plate and perched it roguishly on one side of her shining curls.

“Champ,” Socker said and picked up a roll from the table as a lure, “you sit over on this box between Sandy and myself.” Champ took the roll but instead of climbing up on the box he carried it over to a corner of the room where he propped himself against the wall so that he could eat in peace and comfort.

“All right, have it your own way,” said Socker. He pulled out a chair, but he didn’t sit down. He stood there and cleared his throat and beamed at them, and
looked
as though he was going to make a speech.

Ben and Djuna looked at the chicken on their plates and then at Mr. Furlong with pleading eyes. They both kept their hands under the table because they knew that if they put them up near their forks they couldn’t keep from eating.

“Well, Djuna,” Socker Furlong said. “Sandy tells me you were right. Mr. Firkins
was
the partner. He put Mr. Firkins and Squinty Jones together in a room last night and within a half hour they were accusing each other of giving their game away. They said enough to put themselves in jail for ten years.”

“Did you
hear
them?” Djuna asked Sandy MacHatchet.

“Well, indirectly,” Sandy said. “We had a dictograph in the room. All we had to do was listen and–”

“What’s a dictograph?” Djuna asked, eagerly.

“It’s sort of like a telephone,” Mr. MacHatchet explained. “We put a little gadget in the room that they don’t know anything about. It has wires attached to it and all we have to do is sit outside and listen to what they say. They said
plenty!
”

Socker Furlong was still standing. He cleared his throat and started to speak again when Ben pointed excitedly and interrupted him.

“Look at Waterbury!” he said. They all looked and saw that Waterbury had climbed up on the little island that stuck up above the water in the center of his tank. He had both eyes open and looked as though he was enjoying the party.

“Well, he looks pretty happy about the whole thing,” Socker said.

“But Mr. Furlong!” Ben said and he had a wide grin on his face. “Look at his right front foot. It’s out, Mr. Furlong. It’s time!”

“
Time!
” said Socker. “Time for what? I don’t have to get to work at one o’clock today.”

“I guess he means
it’s time to eat!
” Ben said.

“Oh!” Socker Furlong said and he began to laugh as he saw the hungry expression on the faces of Maria, Djuna and Ben. He sat down, picked up his fork and said, “What
are
we waiting for?”

Waterbury craned his neck around in a circle to be sure that
everyone
was eating. When he was satisfied that his job was done he slipped off the edge of the island without saying a word and dove to the bottom of his tank to get a piece of eel-grass root that he had been saving for some time for just such an occasion.

Turn the page to continue reading from the Ellery Queen Jr. Mystery Stories

CHAMP STARTS IT ALL

T
HE BOY
named Djuna clung to the leash of his little black Scottie, Champ, while he and his friend, Ben Franklin, stood near the entrance to Gate 18 and anxiously scanned the faces of the hurrying people in the great cavern of the railway station. It was a hot summer morning in late August and all the bustle and confusion made it seem even hotter.

A bell rang sharply and Champ gave a startled tug at his leash and barked at it in protest. A moment later a loud-speaker blared: “Train for Harrisburg, Altoona, Johnstown, Pittsburgh and points west leaving from platform twelve. A-l-l-l-l aboard!” Enginemen, drivers, porters and barrows loaded with baggage buzzed busily around the two boys. Voices rose high and shrill as people called good-bye to each other. There was excitement everywhere.

“That’s not
my
train,” said Djuna. “But I wish Mr. Furlong would hurry.”

Ben Franklin reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny green turtle that was barely larger than a half dollar. Both Ben and Djuna looked anxiously at the turtle—whose name was Waterbury—as it stuck out its head and its left front leg.

“Jeepers! It’s nearly a quarter to nine by Waterbury,” Ben exclaimed. “And he’s right on time, too, by the station clock. Do you suppose Mr. Furlong overslept again?”

Mr. Furlong, a newspaper reporter, was a friend of both the boys. They admired him, because he was really a good reporter, but he liked to pretend that he was lazy. Waterbury looked alarmed at seeing so many people around and hastily pulled his head inside his shell.

“I don’t think so,” Djuna replied as Ben put the turtle that served him as a watch back in his pocket. “He said he’d be here, sure, and you know you can always depend on Mr. Furlong.”

“Well, I hope he isn’t too late,” Ben said, and he frowned, “because I looked in at the office for a minute on the way to the station and Mr. Canavan said—–”

“There he comes!” said Djuna, and he could hardly believe his eyes, because the plump young man who was coming up the steps was actually hurrying. His round, pleasant face was dripping with perspiration. He wiped it with a large white handkerchief as he looked around for the boys.

Ben Franklin jumped up and down and waved his arms to attract Socker Furlong’s attention; and Champ, although he wasn’t quite sure what the excitement was about, began to jump up and down, too. Socker’s jovial face became a wide grin as he spotted the two boys, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

“Some day,” he said as he came up to them, puffing, “I’m going to get apoplexy from hurrying like that and it’ll serve me right.”

“What’s
that
, Mr. Furlong?” Djuna said quickly.

“What’s
what
?” Socker said in alarm, looking quickly around.

“No,” Djuna said, snickering. “I mean apo—apo—what you said.”

“Oh! Well, it’s nothing you get from eating green apple pie,” Socker said. “It’s something you get from worrying and hurrying. But let’s skip it. I’m sorry you’re going home, Djuna. I was really surprised when you telephoned to tell me you were going to-day.” Socker bent down and rubbed Champ behind the ear as Champ put his paws on Socker’s knee to say hallo. “Hallo, Champ. I didn’t mean to slight you.” Champ barked twice and sat down with his red tongue hanging out, quite satisfied.

“Miss Annie Ellery doesn’t expect me at Edenboro for another ten days or two weeks,” Djuna explained. “I’m going to surprise her. You know she has been ill and I thought if I got back a couple of weeks before school started I could help out with things that might have got ahead of her.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Socker said. “When does school start?”

“Beginning of September,” Djuna said. “You see, that’s only a couple of weeks away.”

“It
is
!” Socker said and he looked surprised. “Why I’ve only seen a few matches all summer and it’s nearly over. What’s the date, Ben?”

“It’s the twentieth of August,” Ben said. “Oh, Mr. Furlong, I looked in at the office on the way to the train and Mr. Canavan said—–”

“Oh, bother Mr. Canavan!” said Socker. “He’s only an editor. What does
he
know about the important things in life, eh, Djuna?” Socker gave Djuna a pat on the shoulder and asked him how long it would take him to get to Edenboro.

“I’m not sure, Mr. Furlong,” Djuna said. “I’ll get to Riverton around twelve o’clock. You see, the railway doesn’t go to Edenboro. The train goes from here to Thompsonville and then away up to West London, where it crosses the bridge over the London River. Then it goes down the river to Riverton. When I get to Riverton, I’ll telephone to Mr. Pindler and prob’ly Mr. Pindler or Mr. Boots will drive over and pick me up in his truck and take me to Edenboro.”