James Chase: Miss Shumway Waves a Wand

“Well, you can’t be interested in me,” she went on. “What do you do for a living?”

Ansell fiddled thoughtfully with his glass. I’m a healer,” he said simply. “I’ve studied the secrets of herbal medicine for years and I have perfected several remarkable remedies. Bogle is my assistant.”

She looked at him admiringly, “Isn’t that cute,” she said. “And what are these remedies?” Ansell had an uneasy suspicion that she was laughing at them. He looked at her sharply, but her admiration seemed genuine enough.

“Take my Virile tablets for instance,” he said. “If you’d seen Bogle before he had taken a course of these pills you wouldn’t have believed that he’d been alive to-day. He was thin, weak and depressed…”

She turned and regarded Bogle with interest. Bogle smirked. “Well, he certainly looks like he takes his daily dozen with a knife and fork now,” she said. “He’s a credit to you.”

Ansell pulled his nose thoughtfully. “Then there’s my bust developer,” he said and exchanged a quick glance with Bogle. “That in itself’s a remarkable invention. It’s brought happiness to hundreds of women.”

Myra looked at him in astonishment, “Psychologically, I suppose?”

“What’s she say, Doc?” Bogle asked, looking blank.

“In a way,” Ansell returned, ignoring Bogle. “But a good figure’s an asset to a woman in any country. I’ve some remarkable testimonials.”

Bogle leaned forward, “You ought to try a box, sister,” he said hoarsely. “Two bucks fifty. It’s dynamite!”

Ansell broke in hastily, “Now come, Bogle, that’s not complimentary. I’m sure Miss—er— Shumway’s a very nice figure.”

Bogle sneered, “She got tossed out of her job, didn’t she?”

“That would have nothing to do with it,” Ansell returned. “Of course, I’m not saying it wouldn’t make a big difference, but I’m sure Miss Shumway is quite satisfied with her figure as it is.”

Myra looked from Ansell to Bogle in bewilderment. “Up to now,” she said, “I thought it was pretty good…”

“Don’t be over confident,” Bogle said. “You can’t stand still these days. Progress, that’s what you gotta am for. Look at the way they’re developing the land.” He produced a pill box from his pocket and slapped it down in front of her.

“You’ve got to think and plan big, sister. Look at the pyramids. The guy who built them had a big mind. A box of this stuff and you’re way out front. You get confidence, see? The other dames get left in the cold. If you’ve got what it takes, it don’t matter if you have dandruff. You’re okay. And this is the stuff that’ll make you okay. It’ll take more than a silk-worm to louse up your job. Get figure conscious. Here, take the box. It’ll cost you two bucks. I’ll give you a fifty cent discount because I like you.”

Myra shook her head, “But I don’t want them,” she said.

“That’s what you think now,” Bogle persisted. “You’re young. Salt it away. It lasts for ever. You may never see us again. Wait ‘til you’re old. Wait ‘til some guy gives you the air.

She lifted her hands to her nose and made a little grimace. “Mind if I wash?” she said. “I’m all over beer.” She smiled brightly at them and swept away to the café.

Bogle watched her go. “What do you make of her, Doc?” he asked. “She came over here as tough as rusty nails, then she fell for my line like, a stupid native dope. Think there’s anything to her?”

Ansell was puzzled. “I don’t know,” he said frankly. “She’s too nice looking to be on her own. That’s what makes me suspicious. She’s too good to be true.”

Bogle said: “I don’t think I’d make that dame. She’s got a tongue like a razor. Suppose we blow before she comes back? I know her type. A dame who turns a guy down with silkworms ain’t going to play with me.”

Ansell signalled a waiter. “You’re improving, Bogle,” he said, looking pleased. “There was a time a good looking young woman could tie you in knots. Yes, I think you’re right. I see no reason why we should stay here. Anyway, we have work to do.” He groped for his wallet. “I’m quite sure that she can look after herself—” he broke off and stared wildly at Bogle.

“What’s the matter?” Bogle asked sharply.

“My money!” Ansell spluttered, going through his pockets feverishly, “It’s gone!”

“Gone?” Bogle repeated stupidly. “What do you mean gone?”

His eyes suddenly darkened and he began to search in his own pockets. The two dollars that Myra had given him for the box of pills and the five dollar bill he had saved were no longer to be found.

The two men stared at each other.

“The oldest, hoariest trick in the world,” Ansell said, trembling with rage. “And we fell for it. She knocked beer over me and shook rne down for what I’d got. That wasn’t enough for her. She frisked you as well.”

“What the hell are we waiting for?” Bogle snarled, kicking back his chair. “We’ve gotta nail that dame.”

The waiter came up with the check. He glanced at Bogle’s congested face and a look of alarm came into his eyes. “Is anything wrong, tenors?” he asked.

“We’ve been robbed,” Bogle snarled. “Get out of the way.”

“But the Senorita has gone,” the waiter said. “She has never robbed our clients before they settled their check. That is very bad of her.”

Bogle and Ansell stared at each other. “What do you mean?” Ansell demanded. “Do you know this girl?”

“Why, yes.” The waiter smiled, “she is very beautiful and she has very clever fingers. She comes here often. It is good for her line of work.”

Bogle clenched his fists. “What about us?” he said furiously. “Don’t we get any protection?”

The waiter lifted apologetic shoulders, “But the tenors asked her to their table. I thought you knew her.”

“Let’s get out of here, Bogle,” Ansell said. “We asked for it.”

“But, there is the question of the check,” the waiter said, looking distressed.

“Take it off the blonde when she’s in next time,” Bogle said. “And tell her from me that if I ever meet her again I’ll take her apart and find out what makes her tick.”

The waiter’s face darkened. “That is bad business, senor, she may not come back.”

Bogle didn’t quite like the look in his eye. “I don’t want you to lose by it,” he said. “Tell me, buddy, have you a girl friend?”

The waiter’s face brightened. “I have a very fine girl,” he said, flashing his teeth. “There is no other woman like her in the country.”

Bogle took out a pill box and gave it to him. “Make sure of that,” he said. “That’s worth two bucks fifty. I’ll make you a present of it.”

The waiter examined the box. Then he sneered. “She has had them before,” he said disdainfully. “The last time she took them she came out in a rash.”

“So what?” Bogle said, pushing him aside. “It gave her something to do, didn’t it?” and he walked across the patio with Ansell out into the street.

BEFORE I tell you how I came to meet Myra Shumway, I’d better give you her background, then we can go straight ahead without interruption.

Myra Shumway had not been telling the truth when she described herself to Doc Ansell as a newspaper correspondent For the past five years she had been a “dip.” If you don’t know what that means, just stand on any street corner and flash a fat bank-roll. Before long some dame will take it off you and you’ll know nothing about it until hours later. That dame was a dip.

Myra’s father was a magician who worked small-time vaudeville without much profit. Myra trailed along with him. When she reached the age of fifteen, her father decided that she should be his assistant. That was all right with Myra and she really worked at the job. By the end of the year there was no one on the Coast to touch her for speed, style and smoothness of execution. She could palm six cards with the speed of light. She could take a man’s vest off his back without him knowing it. That went for his suspenders too. In other words, she was good.