Tooner Schooner (20 page)

“Isn’t this a mess?” She showed Miss Tinkham the headlines POLICE SEEK RACKET RIDE VICTIM.

“Terrifying even to the innocent,” she said.

“I went through enough of that when my old man went south with the payroll at the bank.” Velma folded up the paper.

“I have often wondered why we believe almost anything we see in print,” Miss Tinkham said.

“It’s enough for most people,” Velma agreed.

“I’ll get out here, Velma.” Miss Tinkham said. “I want to see Mr. Cobb. Will you be at the Club in case I need you?” Velma nodded.

At half past three Miss Tinkham and Mr. Cobb came into the Pango Pango. They sat down in the booth where the ladies had played I Spy so often.

“What’s up?” Velma said.

“This.” Miss Tinkham spread out a copy of the evening paper.

“MYSTERY WOMAN-OWNER OF WRECKED SCHOONER SOUGHT FOR DAMAGES. Lord, he piled it up!” Velma said.

“He didn’t,” Miss Tinkham said.

“It says right here…” Velma stopped and read the small paragraph where the weather report was usually found. “‘Chartreuse Mulligan Dowdy; 49, liable. Many claim injuries aboard charter schooner
South Wind
in wreck off Mexican reef. Crew abandons ship. Captain reported en route to Maine. Details in later edition.’“

She looked up to see Miss Tinkham and Mr. Cobb shaking hands.

“How did you manage this?” she said.

“A printer friend,” Mr. Cobb said. “Persuaded by Andrew Jackson.”

“How many copies did you get for twenty dollars?” Velma smiled.

“Three,” Miss Tinkham said. “Velma will never tell, Mr. Cobb.”

“Now we have to see if it really works,” Velma said. “Should I take it over to them?”

“Try phoning first,” Miss Tinkham said.

Velma came back in a few minutes. “They’re there, all right.”

“I hope they haven’t already seen the evening paper,” Miss Tinkham said.

“Those two aren’t interested in current events,” Velma said.

“What we had in mind,” Miss Tinkham said, “was to buy back the wreck of the boat from her.”

“She hasn’t any right to it at all,” Velma said. “She’ll unload quick enough if she falls for this.”

“How was her attitude the last time you saw them?” Miss Tinkham said.

“She was crowing over me,” Velma said. “She thinks she took Ethelbert away from me.”

“We’d rather sweep the streets than have Captain Dowdy feel we lost the boat for him.”

“She’ll wise up if anybody offers her money,” Velma said. “The idea is for her to get out from under.”

She took her keys and the copy of the paper. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Keep out of sight and put one of the copies on the cashier’s desk.”

“My fingernails are gnawed off to my elbow,” Mr. Cobb said.

“Stop before you reach your shoulder,” Miss Tinkham said. “Here they come now.” Ethelbert and Chartreuse, minus her usual amount of make-up, followed Velma to the booth next to the one that hid Miss Tinkham and Mr. Cobb.

“My advice is to blow,” Ethelbert said. “Palm Springs is out.”

“Back to Arizona,” Chartreuse said, “where I can stand on my constitutional rights. Forty-nine! And me only thirty-two! By rights I oughta sue them!”

“You’re in no position to do that,” Ethelbert said. “What about the movie company? They said we had to stay off the place.”

“They can’t keep us out of every motel in Arizona,” Chartreuse snapped.

“What you oughta do is get rid of the thing,” he said, “dump the damn boat quick.”

“He did it to spite me,” Chartreuse whined. “Why, those people can sue me for millions!”

“It shouldn’t happen to a dog on his honeymoon,” Velma agreed. “I hope you’re covered with all kinds of liability insurance?”

Chartreuse shook her head miserably.

“I know now that’s why he put the boat in my name; so I’d be the one to take the rap.”

“You got a lot of influence in this town, Velma,” Ethelbert said.

“Plenty.” Velma lit up a fresh cigar. “What good is influence? It’s not my boat.”

“I wish it was,” Chartreuse said.

“Give it to her,” Ethelbert shouted. “Get it in somebody else’s name.”

“Sh-h-h!” Velma whispered. “Want the cops down on you faster than they are?”

“Is it safe in here?”

“Safe as anywhere,” Velma said. “The waiters don’t come on till five.”

“Can’t you do something, Velma?” Chartreuse groaned. “You’ve got all kinds of pull and I haven’t got anybody to help me out.”

Velma paused just long enough.

“I try to be a good loser.” She looked at Ethelbert. “Let me make a couple of phone calls.”

Miss Tinkham and Mr. Cobb sat in the next booth, not daring to move. Miss Tinkham had her fingers crossed so far they looked like pretzels. Velma came back shaking her head.

“The only way they’d do anything for me, those stinkers, is if the boat was mine. If I was in trouble, they’d help me. No friendship in them. They figure they could attach the Club.”

“Hell, give it to her,” Ethelbert said. “Sign it over to Velma, for a dollar and other considerations.”

Chartreuse clutched at the straw. “I’ll give you a bill of sale. Ethelbert can witness it.”

Velma studied the proposition. She shook her head.

“I don’t see how I can do it; it’s going to cost me at least a grand to square it with the boys.”

“We’ll put up whatever you need to fix it,” Chartreuse said. “Be a whole lot cheaper than those damages.”

“Ice doesn’t come cheap,” Velma said.

“Ice?”

“Incidental Campaign Expenses. I’ll have to phone my lawyer.”

“It’s the only thing, Toozie,” Ethelbert whispered. “She knows the ropes in this town.”

“It will have to be done quick as greased lightning,” Velma said. “The title turned over to me and notarized. Where are the papers?”

“Wouldn’t you know it would happen to me?” Chartreuse moaned. “The papers are on the boat. It’s the law.”

Velma slapped her hand down hard on the table to cover the faint sound from the next booth. She was certain Miss Tinkham had fainted.

“You’re done, girl. Done,” Velma said. “The Coast Guard may have them by this time. Let’s not lose our heads: write me out a bill of sale to the schooner
South Wind,
sign it the way your name is on the title papers, and then we’ll have it notarized with your present married name. It’s the best we can do right now.”

“What about the notary? We hadn’t ought to be seen around offices here in town,” Ethelbert said.

“Start writing it out,” Velma said. “I’ll get a friend of mine over here with his seal in a few minutes. Be sure you spell my name right: Yandell. Two l’s.”

Miss Tinkham and Mr. Cobb stayed frozen against the wall of the booth. Miss Tinkham had unclasped her crossed fingers and clutched them together in the attitude of fervent prayer.

Velma handed Chartreuse a clean menu. “Write on the back of this: ‘For the sum of one dollar and other considerations, I, Chartreuse Mulligan Dowdy, sell outright, in fee simple, the schooner
South Wind,
of which I swear and assert I am the legal owner; all title and ownership reposing in said boat, I hereby assign and convey to Velma Yandell, proprietor of the Pango Pango Club, and hereby agree to sign over to said Velma Yandell the official Coast Guard registration of said vessel as soon as same is attainable.’ Read it over while I go get Solly.”

“You ought to back-date it,” Ethelbert said, “to be out of it ’way before the accident.”

“This is Solly,” Velma said. “What’s that about back-dating?”

Solly set down his triple Scotch without ice and looked over the bill of sale.

“I don’t mind,” Solly said, “but Velma’d be in trouble with the authorities for not re-registering the boat in her name. You only got a few days to report change of title. I forget just how many. I didn’t know you were interested in boats, Velma.”

“Hadn’t you ever heard of my yacht club: Yandell’s-On-The-Rocks? Let’s get the signing done; these folks are on their honeymoon.”

“Funny time to sell your boat. Been a fine place for a honeymoon…” Solly peered nearsightedly at the menu.

“They both get boat-sick if they pass a travel ad in a window,” Velma said.

Chartreuse signed her name with the fancy writing and circles instead of dots over the i’s. “Chartreuse Mulligan Dowdy. And Chartreuse Mulligan Dowdy Tights underneath. Okay?”

“Put down the date of your divorce and your marriage to Ethelbert so Solly can notarize that, too,” Velma said.

“Duly sworn and subscribed…” he muttered and banged down the seal. “That ought to do it. Gimme the pen.”

“Pour yourself a drink on your way out,” Velma said. “I’ll give you a receipt.”

“Receipt!” Chartreuse squeaked. “Couldn’t we just forget I ever had anything to do with the rotten business?”

“If that’s how you want it,” Velma said.

“We gotta get going.” Ethelbert rose.

“Where are you going to be? How am I going to find you to sign over the registration papers? By rights, you ought to stay in town…”

“Not for anything in the world!” Chartreuse moaned. “We stayed too long now. First time in seven years that I want a drink.”

“They’ve got enough on us without liquor on our breath,” Ethelbert said. “We can make Yuma tonight.”

“I got a friend there runs the Desert Rose Motel,” Chartreuse said. “We’ll stay there till we hear from you.”

“Don’t louse me up.” Velma stubbed out her cigar and handed Chartreuse a dollar bill. “I’ve written down your car registration and the name of the motel on this.” She slipped the bit of paper in her pocket. “You’re not in the clear until the title is recorded right here in the home port in my name. I’ll bring the papers myself. You better be there!”

“We stand to lose more than you do, Velma,” Chartreuse said. “We’ll be there.”

“Better pick up a copy of the newspaper,” Ethelbert said, “in case things go sour and we need it for your lawyer.”

“You can have that one on the cashier’s desk,” Velma said.

“Have they really gone?” Miss Tinkham whispered. She was pale and drawn. Mr. Cobb was wilted away.

“You must be dead,” Velma said. “This isn’t much,” she held out the bill of sale, “but it’s the best I could do. That damn Tooner!”

“The Coast Guard is your best bet,” Mr. Cobb said. Miss Tinkham picked up one of the cold glasses of beer Velma set in front of them and emitted a long sigh.

“He can’t have got so far away in less than twenty-four hours.” Velma banged the table with her open hand. “I’m going to have one try anyway; the marine operator may be able to rouse him on that ship-to-shore phone. You ought to get out in the air. Miss Tinkham. You look faint.”

“Mr. Cobb will come home with me and help me carry the message to Garcia.”

“There’s no use going back to Mrs. Feeley’s until we know something,” Velma said. “I’ll put in the call.”

“Speed in completing the signing is essential. Otherwise, they’ll have time to discover the hoax,” Mr. Cobb said.

“It is almost as frustrating as giving a “woman a dozen new hats and locking her in a room without a mirror,” Miss Tinkham said.

“She’ll call me back.” Velma came up with a tray. “I’m starved.” The headwaiter was seating early diners. “It won’t be long until the place fills up. We’d better go into my office.”

Miss Tinkham jumped as the phone shrilled. Mr. Cobb moved forward to the edge of the chair.

“Ready with schooner
South Wind.”
They could hear the clear tones of the operator. “The party wants to know who is calling, please.”

“Velma Yandell, of the Pango Pango.”

“One moment, please.”

Velma smoked furiously, rolling her eyes around in her head.

“Tooner?” she shouted. “Where the hell are you?” Sounds like static filled the air. “What’s it to me? I’ll tell you, wise guy. I could be signing over the boat registration to you this minute if you hadn’t hauled…What’s that? You damn well better believe me. Where are you? If you want that boat back, you get that registration in here quick. How did we? Foxed her out of it, that’s how. But it won’t keep, not even in dry ice, more than another day.” Miss Tinkham could hear the captain’s bass explosions over the wire. “All I’m telling you is that I have a bill of sale and a signed agreement to sign over. You’ve got them, haven’t you? It’s no trick.” Velma held the receiver at arm’s length. “We scared the begracious out of them. Where? In Arizona, dope. I’ll hire a plane and take the papers over, but can’t you get it through your dome? You’ve got to bring the papers back to me to be signed by Chartreuse! How the hell do I know?” She gestured frantically to her friends. “Look! If you don’t tell me how long it will take you to get in with the registration, I swear I’ll send the Coast Guard after you. The boat is mine, now. You’ve moved it from the home port without the bill of sale. We’ll see how stubborn you are!” The sounds emanating from the receiver made Miss Tinkham think of the assorted asterisks used in the funny paper to represent profanity.