The Mystery of the Singing Serpent - M. V. Carey [40]
At Beverly and Third, Jupe asked Hans to drive around a corner and park on a side street. Hans did so, then reached across the seat to open the door for Allie. “You want me to come with you?” he asked the boys.
“No,” said Jupe. “You wait here and relax. We may be gone for quite a while.”
“Okay.” Hans took a newspaper from under the seat and prepared to relax.
Allie and the boys rounded the corner and cut across the Hendricks parking lot. “That’s Noxworth’s store over there,” said Pete, pointing to the untidy place across the street.
Allie’s nose wrinkled with distaste.
The door of the Hendricks store opened and a small boy scooted out. Hendricks was behind him. “Don’t come back today,” Hendricks told the child.
Jupiter reached the door just as Hendricks was putting a key into the lock.
“Sorry,” said Hendricks. “I’m closed.”
“You received the serpent,” said Jupiter.
Hendricks straightened up, looked around and saw Pete. “You again!”
“Mr. Hendricks, we want to help,” said Pete.
“You do, do you? Okay, the cops filled me in on you. You kids are a bunch of amateur private eyes and you think you’re on to some big witch doctor thing. Now I think you’re nuts, but I can’t chance any lawsuits so I’m closing. Beat it.”
“You received the serpent,” said Jupe again.
Hendricks reached out and gathered up a fistful of Jupe’s shirt. “Did you bring that thing?” he asked. “If you did, I’ll wring your neck!”
Jupe didn’t try to break away. “We didn’t bring the serpent, but we know it must be a cobra with jeweled eyes. How did it arrive?”
Hendricks studied Jupe’s face, then let go of his shirt. He opened the door and pointed toward his counter. There was a gilded cobra, a duplicate of the one that had been sent to Pat Osborne.
“I went in the back room for a couple of minutes,” said Hendricks. “When I came back, that thing was on the counter.”
“I see,” said Jupiter.
“So you see. I’m glad. Now go. I’ve called the cops, but I don’t want anyone around just in case something does happen. So blow! Scram!”
A little girl scudded up to the store. Hendricks grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “Go home to your mother and stay there,” he ordered.
She gaped at him.
“Home!” shouted the delicatessen man.
The little girl went.
“Customers!” complained Hendricks. “They’re like termites. You can’t get rid of them.”
A man wearing stained blue trousers and an oversized, ragged coat made his unsteady way around the corner of the building. “Coffee?” he pleaded.
Allie examined the newcomer with interest.
She had seen few panhandlers in her life, and this one was especially seedy. He must not have
owned a shirt, for pink, wrinkled skin showed at
the neck where his shabby coat was open. His gray hair had gone uncut for many a month, and
the stubble on his cheeks was days old.
“Coffee?” he said again. “Say, mister, maybe
a sandwich? I haven’t eaten for two days.”
Hendricks dug into his pocket and pulled
out a roll of bills. He peeled off one without even looking at it and thrust it at the tramp.
“I’m closed. The guy across the street will sell you a sandwich.”
“You’re a good man,” said the tramp
warmly. He took the money, turned, stumbled
and fell into the rack of newspapers that stood beside the shop door.
“Blast!” cried Hendricks.
The tramp thrashed about, a jumble of arms,
legs and newsprint. “S’okay!” he said. He
untangled himself, lurched to his feet and
ambled away.
“Hey, mister!” called Allie. “Wait a second!” She darted forward to pick up a small, square black object from amid the drift of papers that now blocked Hendricks’ entrance.
“You dropped your radio.”
The tramp began to run.
“Allie.” Jupe kept his voice very calm. “Allie, give that to me.”
“Good lord!” said Hendricks.
Allie looked at the little black box in her hand. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
Hendricks snatched the thing and threw it. He threw blindly. It arched high