James Chase - Miss Shumway Waves a Wand

I stared at him. “What do you mean… out? How about my contract?”

“That falls due at the end of the month,” Juden returned, looking unhappy. “He’s not renewing it. He says you’ve cost him plenty as it is.”

“The ungrateful rat,” I said bitterly. “After all I’ve done for him too!”

“Anything might happen to change his mind by the end of the month,” Ansell broke in. “I shouldn’t let it prey on your mind.”

“I know that kind of a guy,” Bogle added. “You ought to call on him and kick his teeth in. That’ll give him different ideas.”

“I think you’d better keep away from him,” Juden said, shaking his head. “He could get you on the blacklist if he wanted to.” He got to his feet, scratched his head and then said, “Before I go, wasn’t there something about a story? Wasn’t that why I came down?”

“Yeah,” I said. “But, now I’m out, I’m sticking to that story. Catch me making a present of anything to Maddox.”

“That’s not the way to go on,” Juden said. “If you’ve got a story, you’d better let me have it.”

“Not now. Maybe, later.”

He studied my face and decided that it was no use pressing me. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll be getting along.” He looked over at Myra, frowned, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to make of her,” he said, almost as if he were talking to himself. “You wouldn’t have a twin, would you?” he asked her hopefully.

“No,” Myra said. “Then, I just give up. You can waste a lot of time with a problem like this. Time’s money to me.”

“Well, so long, P.J.,” I said, shaking hands. “If I’m broke I’ll look you up.”

“Sure, anything like that.”

“Okay. Keep out of hospital.”

“Sure, last time I was in there, I took a turn for the nurse,” he returned and went off laughing like a hyena.

“That guy’s got nurses on the brain,” I said, relaxing. “Oh well, let’s forget him. I guess we’ll all get drunk. It’s a fine welcome to find your job’s been thrown in your face.” Myra finished her drink, gasped, and then waved violently to the barman. “Don’t you dare blame me,” she said. “I didn’t lose you your mouldy job.”

“I never said you did,” I said wearily. “Well, I’ve got to think of something…”

“You’re going to help me find this blonde harridan. How would you like that?” she asked.

“It’s an idea,” I said. “But, not a very profitable one.”

The barman came over.

“Four Tiger breaths,” Myra said. “And make them large ones.”

“You like it, madam?” The barman showed his pleasure.

“No,” Myra said, with a shudder. “But it likes me.”

I looked at the other two. “What have we got out of this so far? A couple of miracles and a talking dog. Surely, we can turn that little lot into hard cash?”

Ansell said, “We’ve got a great deal more than that. The first thing to do is to find Hamish Shumway and the girl who’s impersonating Myra. We must waste no time in doing it.”

There was an odd note of urgency in his voice which made me glance at him sharply. I had not seen him look so worried before.

“What have you got on your mind?” I asked.

“Plenty.” He paused while the barman came with the drinks and then when he had gone he went on “There’s evil in Nagualisrn. I feel some of that evil has broken loose.”

“I wish you would be quiet,” Myra said crossly. “You’re always the skeleton at the feast. To-night, we enjoy ourselves. To-morrow we go to New York.” And she raised her glass,

“The toast is frustration and confusion to killjoys!”

We drank.

IT wasn’t until we had been in New York for three days and we had more or less settled down in a Brooklyn apartment that I began to realize that Doc Ansell’s presentiments might have some foundation.

During those three days, we were all busy trying to find Myra’s father. Consequently, we didn’t see much of each other.

In spite of this, I was aware of a subtle change that had come over Myra. She was kinder and she did not pick quarrels with Bogle. She looked different somehow, although I did not stop to analyse just why she did look different. She also clung more strongly than ever to her policy of honesty, which unsettled us all.

The first real indication that things weren’t right happened on the third night of our stay in New York. I had been around the various Press Clubs hoping to pick up some clue to Shumway and I guess I must have been doing myself rather well. I wasn’t exactly tight, but I’d had enough to make me hesitate about ascending the stairs in the dark. Also, I couldn’t find the light switch.

I was standing in the lobby trying to make up my mind whether I’d go up on my hands and knees or sleep in the living-room, when I heard the sound of someone coming up the steps to the apartment. A moment later the front door opened and someone came in.

“Who’s that?” I said, peering into the darkness.

There was a faint gasp and I recognized Myra’s voice.

“Put the light on, will you?” I said, “I’ve been searching for the switch for the last five minutes.”

She didn’t say anything, but ran upstairs. I could just make out her shadowy form as she slipped past me.

“Well, that’s a nice way to treat a guy,” I said, “can’t you even say hello?”

By this time, she’d reached the top of the stairs and had disappeared.

Feeling a little mad and wondering what made her behave like this, I took the stairs with a rush and eventually got to the top. I went straight to Myra’s room and knocked on the door. There wasn’t any sound, so I opened the door and put my head round. The room was in darkness.

“Myra?” I called, “What are you up to?”

A sleepy voice came from across the room, “What is it?”

I groped for the switch and turned it on.

Myra sat up in bed. She was in a pair of gay pyjamas and she looked at me crossly. “What’s the big idea?” she snapped, “take that drink sodden face out of here and put it under a pillow.”

I stared at her. “But, you passed me a moment ago,” I said, feeling startled, “do you usually get into bed in two seconds?”

She sat further up in the bed. “You’re tight,” she said. “I’ve been asleep since eleven o’clock. Go away!”

I came into the room. “Seriously, sweetheart,” I said, “someone came upstairs. I thought it was you. Damn it, I’ll swear it was you.”

“This sounds mightily like the silk-worm gag,” she said, “get out of my room before I toss you out, you drunken heel!”

This brought me up short. I looked at her. This was the Myra I’d known in Mexico. A sudden change had come over her from the Myra I’d known during the past three days.

“Take it easy,” I said, “I’m not as tight as all that,” and I walked over to where her clothes were lying. I touched her dress. It was warm. “You’ve just got out of this,” I said, picking it up.

“Where did you get that from?” she asked, startled, “I put all my clothes away before I went to bed.”

“Yeah? Well, there’s a complete outfit on this chair. Look, one of us is nuts and it ain’t me.”

She climbed out of bed and came over. “But, I haven’t had these things out of my trunk since we came here,” she said, uneasily.

“Okay,” I said dropping the dress. “Forget it. I don’t want to know where you’ve been tonight. You don’t have to lie so hard.”

“I’m not lying!” she said angrily, “you’re trying to make a fool out of me!”