The Mouse in the Mountain - Norbert Davis (dark academia books to read txt) 📗

think you're just being silly with your suspicions of Mr. Doan."

Captain Perona turned to look at her. "I asked you earlier this afternoon if you wished to be arrested. You said, no. Have you changed your mind?"

"No," said Janet.

"Then do not meddle in affairs that do not concern you."

"Slap his ugly face, dearie," Amanda Tracy urged. "Kick him in his shins."

"What are you doing here," Captain Perona inquired, "besides making a nuisance of yourself?"

"I'm staying here, fancy-pants, because the roof came off my house. Only Doan, thank God, wasn't around to shove me under it when it started to fall. You'd better pinch him, Perona, before he kills all the rest of us."

"Mind your own business."

"All right," said Amanda Tracy. "How about the earthquake, then? That's my business from now on."

"All rescue work has been organized completely by the military. Property is being guarded, people have been removed from dangerous buildings, and the injured--and others--have been taken care of. There is no disorder of any kind, and there will be none."

"Too bad," Amanda Tracy remarked. "How many people killed?"

"Nine, including Senorita Van Osdel and Senor Eldridge."

"How many hurt?"

"Seventeen severely injured, including Maria. They are in a temporary hospital in charge of Lieutenant Ortega and military nurses and attendants. There were thirty-four others who were injured, but not seriously enough to require more than first aid treatment. Only about five buildings collapsed completely. Many others were damaged badly. We have not had time for a complete survey as yet. The earthquake was sharply localized. Both Mazalar and Santa Lucia felt it only faintly. Is that sufficient information to satisfy you?"

"Yup," said Amanda Tracy.

Doan said casually: "How about witnesses? Did you find anybody who saw what happened to Maria and the Van Osdel?"

"Not yet. There was very great confusion at the time of the earthquake, as you know. People were too interested in their own affairs and their own safety to pay much attention to their surroundings or what other people were doing. We are still investigating."

"I don't get this," said Henshaw. "Why all the argument about Patricia Van Osdel's death and the attack on Maria? It's easy to see what happened. Some of these natives around here noticed how spiffy she was dressed, and one of them just batted her one and Maria, too--and ran off with her dough and stuff. This burg looks to me like it's practically full of thieves."

"Speaking of thieves," said Captain Perona, "it is my duty to inform you that unless you make immediate cash retribution for the articles you stole this afternoon, you will be arrested and tried by a military court."

"What?" Henshaw shouted indignantly. "Articles I stole?"

"You were seen and identified by six witnesses."

Henshaw slapped himself on the forehead. "That damned Mortimer! I told him not to lift that junk! Look, Captain. It was the kid took them, not me."

"You are responsible for him."

"Like hell! I'm no more responsible for Mortimer than you are for Hitler!"

"Will you pay, or will you go to jail?"

"Put Mortimer in jail," Henshaw invited.

"Wilbur!" Mrs. Henshaw shrieked.

"One hundred and fifty dollars, please," said Captain Perona evenly.

"What!" Henshaw moaned. "Oh, now wait a minute. It was only some old spurs and a hat. Look, I'll make Mortimer give 'em back!"

"The owner does not want them back. He wants the money to repair his store. And, in this case, he has the choice. I might mention that the jail is very crowded and uncomfortable at this time and that, under military law, the penalty for looting is death."

Henshaw stared. "You said--death?"

"Yes."

"Oh!" said Henshaw. "Oh--oh--oh!" He produced a book of travelers' checks and a fountain pen. "One hundred fifty... Here! Take 'em! Oh, that Mortimer! Oh, just wait!"

"Wilbur," said Mrs. Henshaw, "you won't lay a hand on him--not even a finger. It's all your fault. You tempted him."

"I--I tempted... I never did! I did not! I'll tear him limb from limb! I'll wring his scrawny neck!"

"Enough," said Captain Perona, folding the travelers' checks carefully. "There is another very vital matter. The reason for the trouble with the man, Garcia, and for the presence of a company of soldiers here, and the reason you were warned not to come is that it was suspected that a criminal by the name of Bautiste Bonofile was hiding in disguise in Los Altos. He has now been identified as one Tio Riquez."

"Hey!" Amanda Tracy blurted in amazement. "You don't mean the old drip who had charge of the museum?"

"That old drip," Captain Perona confirmed bitterly. "He had held that position for years, and he had managed to fool everyone. As it was, he was uncovered by accident."

"Well, I like that," said Janet.

"A very attractive accident," Captain Perona corrected, bowing in her direction. "This man is still at large in Los Altos. He cannot--and neither can any of you--possibly escape from the town. We will find him in a short time, but in the meantime I warn you to stay close to this hotel. This man is desperate and very dangerous."

"A public enemy, I bet," said Henshaw. "I've never met one. Bring him around when you catch him."

"I do not think he will be taken alive."

"What was in the museum cellar?" Janet asked curiously.

"We have not been able to determine fully as yet. There were rifles, as he said, as well as a considerable amount of other loot."

"Where'd the old boob steal it?" Amanda Tracy asked.

"That is a military affair," said Captain Perona.

Doan yawned. "He picked it up when he was riding around with, a gent named Zapata."

Captain Perona spun on his heel. "How did you know that?"

"Eldridge told me."

"What else did he tell you?"

"Nothing," Doan answered warily.

Captain Perona leaned over the table. "If you knew--if you even suspected--that Tio Riquez was Bautiste Bonofile and did not inform the military authorities, you are going to find yourself in some serious trouble. Very serious, indeed."

"Why don't I keep my big mouth shut?" Doan asked, sighing. "I didn't know. Eldridge didn't, either. Honest."

"Ah-lou," said a thick, wheezing voice, and an incredibly fat man in a rumpled uniform that was too loose for him everywhere except across his paunch and too tight there rolled himself through the door and peered at them glassily through eyes that were yellowish, bloodshot marbles pouched in bluish puffs of flesh.

Captain Perona saluted stiffly. "This is Colonel Callao. He is a filthy, stupid swine, as you can plainly see. He thinks he understands and speaks English, but he does not. Nevertheless, he will be insulted if you attempt to speak to him in Spanish. Speak English, and he will grin like the fool he is and pretend to understand you. Am I not correct, Colonel?"

"Yuzz," said Colonel Callao, grinning proudly. "Ah-lou. Goom-by."

"He is not," said Captain Perona, nodding politely to him, "representative of the Mexican Army. He is a holdover from the old days. He is slightly drunk now but not enough, I do not think, to collapse or vomit on the floor or to perform any of the other antics such pigs usually indulge in when they are intoxicated to a sufficient degree."

Concha burst through the door like an explosion, her short skirt swirling, her magnificent eyes shooting sparks.

"I heard you! I heard every words you say! And I tell him, too!"

"I would not advise you to," Captain Perona warned smoothly. "For your own --safety. This one, ladies and gentlemen, calls herself Senora Eldridge."

"I am!" Concha shrilled furiously. "I have the papers to prove!"

"Forged, no doubt," said Captain Perona.

"Sure! Forged absolutely genuine!" Concha jerked at Colonel Callao' s arm. "There! That one! The little fats with the big, dumb dog! He's killing my husband!"

"Goom-by," said Colonel Callao helpfully.

"He is! Give him the pinch! Puts him in jail! Shoot him!"

"Bang-bang," said Doan.

"Stop that screaming," Captain Perona said to Concha, "and tell us why you think Doan killed your husband."

"Think! I never think! I see him with these eyes. I see him say to my husband he is going to bury him in Mexico! Then comes the earthquake! Grrrrumble-boom-boom! Right away the fats jumps on my husband and beats him and kicks him and hits him on the head and chokes him and bites him with the big, dumb dog!"

"I'm so sorry," said Lepicik, "but you really didn't see any of that."

Concha glared at him. "You are a little, skinny, big liar!"

"No," said Lepicik, "because I saw you on the Avenida Revolution going away from the house toward the market square just before the earthquake. I noticed you particularly because you are so beautiful."

"Hah?" said Concha, startled.

"Beautiful," Lepicik repeated. "Very. And photogenic, too."

"What's does that mean?" Concha demanded suspiciously.

"It means you would photograph well. Your features are superbly proportioned, and --if you will pardon me --you have a lovely figure. I trunk you would be an outstanding success in motion pictures."

"Why you think that?"

Lepicik smiled apologetically. "I'm a motion picture director."

"Hah! You? Where you work?"

"I'm temporarily at liberty, but I think I can arrange for you to have a screen test, if you wish."

Concha's eyes glistened. "I wish lots!"

"Senora Eldridge," said Captain Perona, "did you see Doan kill your husband?"

"Me?" Concha asked. "No. I am in the streets being beautiful where the skinny one sees me."

"You were lying, then."

"Sure," said Concha. "I don't like the fats. We got no troubles until he comes and kills my husband, I guess."

"Get out of here!" Captain Perona snarled. "And stay out!"

Concha put her thumbs in her ears and wiggled her fingers at him. "Pah! Pooey!" She stuck out her tongue and made a horrid face.

Captain Perona made a move toward her, and she whirled and ran gracefully out the door.

"Goom-by," said Colonel Callao placidly.

"You are right for once, you drooling donkey," said Captain Perona in his smoothest tones. "We are leaving. You tourists, remember what I have told you and govern yourselves accordingly. You will hear from me again soon."

"Not too soon, I hope," Greg told him.

Captain Perona ignored him. He and Sergeant Obrian escorted Colonel Callao politely out the door.

"I got to go get some more of my junk," Amanda Tracy stated. "See you later, kids."

"If you will pardon me," said Lepicik, "I think I will continue my nap."

He went back up the stairs, and Henshaw followed him quietly and purposefully.

"Wilbur," said Mrs. Henshaw. "Where are you going?"

Henshaw didn't answer.

"Wilbur!" Mrs. Henshaw shouted. "Don't you dare sneak in and strike Mortimer! Wilbur!" She got up and ran up the stairs after Henshaw.

"I think I'm drunk enough for the present," Greg said. "I'm a little short of cash. I'll let you pay for the gin."

"Well, thanks," said Doan. "You're too good to me." He waited until Greg had gone upstairs and then nodded to Janet. "Have you got your purse with you?"

"Yes " said Janet, picking it up from the chair beside her. "Here."

"Let me see it, will you? Just throw it over."

She tossed the purse to him. It was a large one made of composition leather, and Doan opened it and fumbled around in its interior while Janet stared at him in amazement. He finally came up with a .25 caliber automatic hardly larger than a package of cigarettes.

"You'd be a sucker for a pickpocket," he said.

"Did you--did you put that in there?" Janet asked.

Doan nodded. "Yeah. I was afraid I might be met by a welcoming committee here and searched like I was just now." He searched in the purse again and found an extra magazine for the automatic.

"Mr. Doan," said Janet, "you lied to Captain Perona. You did have another weapon, and you should have given it to him when he asked you to."

"He doesn't need it. He's got lots of guns." Doan put the automatic and the extra magazine in the breast pocket of his coat. It made no noticeable bulge. "Have a drink?"

"I don't drink."

"What a pity," said Doan, having one himself.

Carstairs growled at him.

"Mr. Doan," said Janet, "I think he's right. I don't think you should impair your faculties when everyone suspects you of--of everything."

"I don't have any faculties to impair," Doan answered.