Tooner Schooner (12 page)

“He clams up, all right. If she took it into her head to marry Ethelbert…” Velma drifted off into thought. “But why should he want to marry her? Why buy the cow when you’re getting the milk free?”

“She is obviously unsure of her hold on him,” Miss Tinkham said, “striking an innocent bystander like Sunshine…”

“She keeps him cooped up pretty much to herself over in Arizona. I don’t suppose many of her clients give her much competition. She sees to that before she enrolls ’em, or whatever she does,” Velma said. “What she needs is competition.”

“I’m thinkin’ of a lot else she could use,” Mrs. Feeley grinned.

“Gotta be at the market by eight if we’re gettin’ underway at nine,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “Sure lovely here, Velma. Thanks a lot.”

“I’ll run you home. The car’s in the alley.” Velma led the way out.

Back at the house, Mrs. Rasmussen poured a nice cold nightcap.

“My drinkin’s more physical than mental,” she said. “I love the taste of the stuff. Stay up, if you’ve a mind. Me for the rack. G’night.”

“May I be excused, please?” Sunshine could scarcely keep her eyes open.

“Sure, honey,” Mrs. Feeley said. “I’m right behind you.” Miss Tinkham and Velma were deep in conversation on the sofa. “When them two heads get together, trouble’s brewin’ for somebody.” Mrs. Feeley sat down by them.

“Could be,” Velma said.

“Mrs. Feeley,” Miss Tinkham was very solemn, “would it be too much of an imposition if I asked you and Sunshine to take my place on the cruise tomorrow? There isn’t much time if Velma and I are to perfect our plan.”

“Hell, no. But Tooner ain’t gonna like Sunshine on board. You know what a fit he taken that time, how mean he was to her.”

“But things have changed, Mrs. Feeley. Haven’t you noticed?”

“I’d clean forgot.” Mrs. Feeley smiled. “He’s been real decent to her lately. Do him good to see what a real woman’s like for a change.”

“She is self-effacing,” Miss Tinkham said. “And she loves him very much.”

“Here we go! Old Dan Kewpie again! What’ll I tell Mrs. Rasmussen?”

“I’ll tell her,” Miss Tinkham said. “All you have to do is help her serve the food, and collect the money. Herman does all the hard work. I’ll be back in a few minutes, Velma.” She and Mrs. Feeley went through the breezeway, arm in arm. Miss Tinkham whispering a long paragraph the while.

When Velma left Bus Town several hours later, Miss Tinkham accompanied her to the car.

“And I can only agree with dear Mrs. Feeley,” she said. “If we pull this one off, someone is going to get a rich and rapid rooking.”

W
EDNESDAY
MORNING
Captain Dowdy was so preoccupied that he did not notice the substitution in his crew until almost time to get underway.

“Where’s Miss Tinkham?” he said.

“Mrs. Feeley’s strikin’ for her,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. Sunshine stuck her head up in the hatch and looked the captain full in the face. “I ast Sunshine to help.”

The captain grunted and started down the forward hatch. “Somethin’ wrong with the stuffin’ box.”

“What’s the matter with the lunch?” Mrs. Feeley demanded, and then pulled in her horns at the look on the captain’s face. “No day for shenanigans,” she muttered to Sunshine. “Shine up the barnacle like a good girl.” She put the can of bright-work polish and the rag into Sunshine’s hand. “That’ll put you in his good books quicker’n anythin’.”

Sunshine squatted on the deck and went to work. Her dungarees were rolled up to a becoming length and her T-shirt was dazzling in its whiteness. When she finished polishing, the binnacle shone like the love in Sunshine’s heart. One last swipe, and she went below to help Mrs. Rasmussen. Mrs. Feeley came down the ladder smartly. “They’re yammerin’ for their beer,” she said.

Sunshine brought the tray of cold cans of beer and the basket of deviled eggs.

“Deviled eggs, too?”

“You take ’em up, love. Your legs is younger’n mine. I’ll just have a drop o’ malt, long as I’m down here.”

Mrs. Rasmussen sat down and had a beer with her.

“He ain’t himself,” she said.

“True for you!” Mrs. Feeley said.

“What’s the use o’ knockin’ himself cold? Seein’ all the good goin’ down that gullet?”

“He’d oughta strike,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“He won’t. He loves the boat too much. He said anythin’ about Sunshine?”

Mrs. Feeley shook her head. “But he took notice o’ the polish job.”

“I never grudged nobody nothin’,” Mrs. Rasmussen said, “but it kills my soul to see her make him come to heel like that. Suppose he went bust? Didn’t get no trade at all?”

“Throw him away like a squeezed orange. You don’t suppose…”

Mrs. Feeley’s gaze dived down into the amber pools of Mrs. Rasmussen’s eyes.

“We could carry him,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.

Mrs. Feeley nodded slowly. “Two o’ them units still empty. You an’ Miss Tinkham got some of the wages left!” She reached for another cold can of beer. “The way I see it, there ain’t but one thing for it.”

“For his own sake we gotta do it,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. “That’s what Miss Tinkham told us.”

“That’s the candid fact,” Mrs. Feeley said. “We built him up an’ we gotta tear him down.”

“It’ll just about kill me,” Mrs. Rasmussen sighed.

“But it’s all for the flag, dear. All for the flag.”

When Mrs. Feeley and her two friends arrived at Bus Town that night, they were struck by a singular sign on the first unit, Red One.

“Lookit, she’s went an’ rented it!” Mrs. Feeley pointed to the big white sign bearing a scarlet hand, four feet high, with the lines of fortune drawn in the palm with bold strokes.

“Madam Gazza. Life Readings. 9
P.M.
to 12
P.M.
By Appointment Only.” Mrs. Rasmussen stared in amazement. “Sure swell havin’ it rented when we’re likely to need the extra to tide Tooner over.”

“They don’t working long hours,” Sunshine said.

“That’s known as makin’ your head save your heels, girl.”

Miss Tinkham sat at the kitchen table surrounded by stacks of books.

“So you rented it! Good on you!” Mrs. Feeley slapped her on the back.

“Velma wondered if Sunshine could start tonight She dismissed the other dancer. Are you quite exhausted, dear?”

“I have not the
lava lava,”
Sunshine said.

“What’s it look like?” Mrs. Rasmussen said.

“A strip of cloth,” Miss Tinkham said, “about two and a half yards long, and say, forty to fifty inches wide.”

“H’mmmmmmmm.” Mrs. Rasmussen went into her bedroom and came back with a piece of red cloth folded over her arm. “Was aimin’ to make a tablecloth outa this.” She unfolded a supple cotton fabric printed in lines of huge white pandanus leaves.

Sunshine took the cloth and in a flash had it draped around her body in lines that would have caused most designers to gnash their teeth in impotent envy.

“Like to see it without them dungarees,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. Sunshine turned her back and stripped down. One. Two. Three. She stood before them in fluid, flaming folds of cloth. “You’re gonna pin it good,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. Sunshine shook her head.

“It is not cricket to using pins.” She put up her hands and with dazzling prestidigitation reversed the draping so skillfully that her body was never exposed for a second. “I can riding a bicycle in this and not show nothing.”

“It really should be incorporated into the act,” Miss Tinkham laughed, “a Samoan strip-tease. Then you’ll go on tonight?”

Sunshine nodded. “If you wish.”

“I’ll telephone Velma.” Miss Tinkham took a nickel from the top of the stove and went across the street.

“Let’s all go!” Mrs. Feeley said.

Jasper sat with Mrs. Feeley and Mrs. Rasmussen in the booth they had occupied the night before. Miss Tinkham was in the office with Velma and Red. Oscar sat with Darleen at a table up near the band.

“The kid’s got her claque,” Jasper said. “Not that she needs it. I didn’t know she could sing.”

“Poor friends that couldn’t give her a little send-off.” Mrs. Feeley finished off her beer.

“Dig what’s comin’ in the door,” Mrs. Rasmussen said. Jasper whistled softly.

“Looks from here like he’s alone,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“Musta chloroformed her,” Mrs. Rasmussen said.

Velma and Miss Tinkham and Red rejoined their friends in time to see Ethelbert Tights take a table with a close-up of the bandstand.

“Who’s the man?” Red said.

“That, my friend, is Captain Dowdy’s relief!” Miss Tinkham raised her beer glass to Velma.

“Who’s this Madam Gazza?” Jasper said. “Quite a sign she hung out at the place.”

“You won’t be seeing much of her,” Miss Tinkham said.

“Long as she don’t bring the cops down on us an’ pays her rent reg’lar,” Mrs. Feeley said, “it don’t make no difference who she is.”

“I’ve always had a yen to have my fortune told,” Jasper said. “Maybe I’ll drop in on the Madam some evening.”

“Can’t you read?” Red laughed. “She don’t hold with droppin’ in.”

“You don’t want to go dabblin’ in the awe-cult,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“Get you a nice, quiet little widow somewhere,” Red said.

“Maybe I can snitch Old-Timer’s address book,” Jasper smiled.

“It’s all in his head,” Mrs. Feeley said.

“Sweater Boy certainly can’t keep his eyes off Sunshine.” Velma slid past Miss Tinkham and out of the booth. “Excuse me while I go to work.” The friends peeped through the open work top of the booth and watched silently as Velma cruised up smoothly behind Ethelbert, who was intent on Sunshine as she sat waiting for her turn. Velma leaned over the back of his chair, brushing his shoulder ever so slightly as she whispered something to him. He got up at once and pulled a chair out for her. Velma soon had him deep in confidential talk. He was apparently pumping her for all he was worth.

“Ain’t he a dog?” Mrs. Feeley said. “Lookit him mashin’ Velma’s hand.”

“I’m surprised at Velma,” Jasper said.

“Trust Velma,” Miss Tinkham said.

“I could take that to be sarcastic,” Jasper said.

“Take it any way you like.” Miss Tinkham smiled blandly.

“Oh, oh!” Mrs. Feeley giggled. The revolving door spun behind Chartreuse, resplendent in purple nylon tulle with gobbets of pearls and rhinestones plastered across her chest. “Don’t miss this!”

Velma gestured suavely with her little black cigar to the waiter to pull out a chair for her. Ethelbert went right on holding Velma’s hand and gazing spellbound at Sunshine.

“My respect for Velma deepens every hour on the half hour,” Miss Tinkham said. “She is the successful executive, the great American businesswoman, throwing her financial weight around.”

“Velma grosses half a million in this spot,” Jasper said.

“Don’t you think that tramp knows it?” Red said.

“Ethelbert, I believe,” Miss Tinkham said softly, “is looking for greener pastures.”

Jasper eyed her obliquely:

“With a pretty cup-cake for dessert.”

“Could be,” Miss Tinkham said. “I’d like some beer, if you please.”

“Better’n the vordervil, ain’t it?” Mrs. Rasmussen said.

“Nice dagger-type pitcher,” Mrs. Feeley laughed. “Chartreuse glarin’ at her an’ lickin’ away at that filthy ice-cream sump.”

Ethelbert was being plied with zombies. He turned his admiring glance on Velma.

“You can almost hear him reproaching Chartreuse,” Miss Tinkham said. “‘Why aren’t you in a glamorous business, on the grand scale, like Velma?’ The lovebirds will fight tonight!”

Chartreuse’s mottled face was getting to look more like raw hamburger every minute. She turned as Velma beckoned to someone behind her and jumped up from her chair as Sunshine approached the table.

“Velma’s boilin’ her in oil!” Mrs. Feeley giggled.

“He’s bustin’ his buttons, all right,” Red said. Sunshine spoke to them for a few seconds and then went to sit at the table with Darleen and Oscar. Ethelbert got up to follow her, over the protests of his associate, whose face was as purple as her dress. Velma put her hand gently on Ethelbert’s sleeve.

“That innocent face!” Miss Tinkham chortled. “Butter wouldn’t melt in Velma’s mouth.”

Completely ignoring Chartreuse Velma stretched up close against Ethelbert’s ear and whispered something that pleased him mightily. He leaned back in his chair and put an arm around Velma, smiling the thirty-two-tooth smile he had learned since Chartreuse treated him to porcelain jackets.

“Gawd I wisht I could hear what she’s sayin’!” Mrs. Feeley said. “Couldn’t we go up for a minute?”

“An’ tear it?” Mrs. Rasmussen said.

Chartreuse got up, dragging Ethelbert to his feet. She pulled her lips into a sickly, rubbery spasm at Velma and went out, towing her friend by the unwilling hand. He looked back, smirking, at Velma.