Rex Stout - Alphabet Hicks

“Did you see it go away?”

“Well, I—” That was as far as Tim got.

“You see,” Hicks explained, “if I knew what time it was taken it might help. I wouldn’t expect you to squeal on anyone. All I want is to get my car back.”

“You’re a liar,” the boy said. “It’s not your car, it’s one of Dundee’s cars. The Cadillac sixty-one. I’ve rode in it with Miss Gladd often and Ross too. And you’re a double liar because your name’s not Hicks!”

“Why isn’t my name Hicks?”

“Because it isn’t! You’re not so smart. Because he couldn’t—” Tim stopped abruptly.

“You’re wrong, Tim,” Hicks asserted. “I’m no more a liar than I am a dick or a cop. When I said it was my car I merely meant I was driving it. That’s a manner of speaking. You know that. I drove that car here from New York this evening. Now about the name. I’m astonished that you call me a double liar when I say my name is Hicks, because you look pretty intelligent. This evening around eight o’clock you were with a bunch of people around a cop up at the Dundee entrance. Weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Sure you were. I saw you. Didn’t a man go up to that cop and say his name was Hicks?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Wasn’t that man me?”

“How can I tell? I can’t see you.”

“I beg your pardon.” Hicks turned on the light and aimed it at his own face. “What about it? Am I that man?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Well, do you think I was lying to the cop too, when I told him my name? Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know.” Tim sounded stubborn. “But—”

“But what?”

“I’ve got my reasons.”

“I know you have. I knew you had reasons when you were so positive I was lying about my name. And I’ll bet I know what they are.”

“I’ll bet you don’t!”

“I’ll bet I do. You’re a friend of Miss Gladd, aren’t you? Since you go riding with her?”

“I sure am.”

“Okay, so am I. I’ll bet she took that car, which of course she had a right to do. I’ll bet she stopped at your house and asked you to come and stay here, and gave you a message for a man named Hicks when he showed up, and told you to be mighty careful not to give the message to anybody else. And that was your idea of being mighty careful, telling me I was a liar when I said my name was Hicks. Now you know my name is Hicks, so you can give me the message. Huh?”

“But you sent the message!” the boy blurted. “It was signed ABC, but she told Ross it was from Alphabet Hicks!”

On account of the dark, there was no necessity for Hicks to control his gape of surprise. It delayed his reply a second, however.

“You say,” he demanded, “she told Ross that?”

“Sure she did! When she was telling him to get out of the car. She didn’t want him to go with her.”

“Tim, look here.” Hicks put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m not a liar, and I’m a friend of Miss Gladd’s. Get that straight. Okay?”

“Okay. But—”

“No buts. Miss Gladd is in danger. I didn’t send her any message. If she got a message signed ABC it was a fake. It was from someone who wants to hurt her, maybe kill her. How did she get the message? Who brought it to her?”

The boy had slid off the fence. “But gee, I don’t—”

“Who brought it to her?”

“I did.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Mom took it on the phone. He — you telephoned—”

“I did not telephone. It was a fake. What did he say?”

“He said she was to drive to Crescent Road and he was in a car parked half a mile beyond Crescent Farm. License JV 28.”

“JV?”

“Yes. And Ross said—”

“Where was Ross?”

“He was sitting here in the car with her.”

“How did you know she was here?”

“He said on the phone. He said she’d be here in the car and she was, only he didn’t say anything about Ross, only Ross is all right. He said he didn’t think it was from you.”

“He was right. Did Ross go with her?”

“Sure. He wouldn’t get out. He’s nuts about her.”

“How long ago did they leave?”

“Well, I must have sat—”

“About how long?”

“I guess it must have been about ten minutes before you came. Maybe fifteen.”

“Where is Crescent Farm?”

“Over on Crescent Road. If you go straight on past Dundee’s, you take the first right, about a mile and a half, and on through Post’s Corners about two miles. There’s a lot of barns and a big white chicken house, on the right.”

“Is there a car at your house?”

“Yeah, but it’s not there, my dad works nights. Only Aunt Sadie’s car’s there, she came over on account of the excitement. Listen, if this is a plot you don’t need to worry Miss Gladd will get hurt, because Ross is with her and he’ll fight like a tiger. He’s strong. Once—”

“That’s fine, but I’ll go and see. Where’s Aunt Sadie’s car?”

“Over in the yard.”

“Come along and show me.”

“Sure.”

As they went down the road Hicks explained:

“No matter how strong Ross is, Miss Gladd might get hurt. So I want to get there as quick as I can. Would Aunt Sadie let me use her car if I asked her? What’s she like?”

“She’s a pain in the neck. Boy, is she stingy! The only way to do, we’ll just get in the car and go. Gee, it’s an emergency, isn’t it?”

“It sure is. But you can’t go, Tim. I’d love to have you, but it’s against the law. You’re a minor and I could be arrested and put in jail for kidnapping you. It’s a crazy law, but that’s it. We turn in here? Are they on the porch?”

“Naw, they’re inside. Gee, I want to go!”

“I know you do and I want you to, but that’s the law. Anyway, you’ll have to explain who took the car and why, or if they hear it leaving they’ll report it stolen. That’ll take a lot of nerve. Have you got enough nerve to do that?”

“Sure I have. But—”

It took persuasion to get Tim to agree to stay behind, but, being by nature a reasonable man, he finally consented. He would wait until the car was safely out of the yard and on its way, and would then apprise his womenfolk of the situation.

Luckily the key was in the dash. Hicks got the engine started with as little noise as possible, told Tim he was proud of him and Miss Gladd would be too, eased the car softly down the drive to the road, and turned right.

That, the short way to Crescent Road, took him past the Dundee entrance, but he went right on by at a good clip without meeting any attempt at interference. Evidently Aunt Sadie took good care of her property, for the car, a small sedan, without any pretensions to grandeur, nevertheless ran like a dream. In three minutes he came to the first right, which he took, and in another three minutes a cluster of outbuildings, the largest one square and white, told him that he was passing Crescent Farm; so he slowed down.

He crept along, entering a wood, but saw no car. A mile. Two miles. Three miles. The wood was far behind. At a widening of the road he turned around and started back, keeping a sharp eye to either side; but in another five minutes he was back at the cluster of outbuildings and had certainly had no glimpse of a car, neither a JV 28 nor a Dundee Cadillac. In a smaller building, apart from the others, with trees around it, there was a light and a radio going, and he drove into the lane, got out, and walked across the yard to a door.

“Is this Crescent Farm?” he asked a man in overalls who came and peered through the screen at him.

“This is it, yes, sir. Mr. Humphrey’s place is up the road. I’m Walt Taylor, the farmer. You looking for Mr. Humphrey?”