Skulldoggery

by Fletcher Flora

  Her approach to the problem was direct. If Senorita Fogarty, languishing in grief, was going on a diet of sex and oatmeal, she must be reached, clearly, through one of the media, and the one indicated was the latter, as Hester had already said, for the former seemed to offer nothing but a hideous restoration of Senorita’s interest in living, which was precisely the thing to be prevented. How, then, was the oatmeal to be dosed with sufficient poison to dispatch Senorita in short order? And how, when this was accomplished, was it to be made available in Mrs. Crump’s kitchen?

  Hester, being clever, quickly had a couple of ideas. She also had the idea that whatever was done had better be done soon. Mrs. Crump had told Lester that the diet of sex and oatmeal was merely projected, not already established, but it would certainly be established without delay. Hester concluded this from the simple observation that one does not ordinarily begin treating an ailing patient next week. One begins today, or tomorrow at the latest. Hester’s plan depended upon the treatment’s beginning tomorrow, and her optimism in this respect was supported by the fact that Mrs. Crump had not divulged her insidious intentions until this very afternoon. It was likely, therefore, that Mrs. Crump, who invariably did her shopping before noon, would have to lay in a supply of oatmeal tomorrow. Provided, of course, that there was not a supply at hand. Hester was inclined to scoff at this possibility, for she herself never ate breakfast at all, unless you counted black coffee, and she was cheerfully convinced that no one, not even the Crumps, would willingly consume oatmeal in preference to something edible. It would be necessary, at any rate, to go on the assumption that the oatmeal would be purchased tomorrow before noon, and the most logical person to carry in a supply properly dosed in advance was, in Hester’s judgment, no one but Mrs. Crump herself.

  There remained, of course, the problem of laying hands on an appropriate poison. For the solution of this problem Hester had, ironically, Crump himself to thank. Having a mind that was littered with remote odds and ends, she still remembered an afternoon long ago when, as a small girl, she had watched Crump at war with moles in Grandfather’s yard, and she still retained a bit of significant information acquired in that experience that would be useful now. Thus doubly armed with determination and a solid plan, she made her way to the shopping center near Grandfather’s house at which Mrs. Crump did her shopping. It included, besides a supermarket and several other shops of various kinds, a hardware store.

  In the supermarket, she explored the alleys until she found the shelves containing the cereals. There was a variety of oatmeals represented, and she was faced with the necessity of anticipating the selection of Mrs. Crump with her own. The odds against this might seem formidable, but in fact it was almost a sure thing. Among the boxes, there was one, labeled “Mother Murphy’s Quick-Cooking Oats,” that was easily distinguishable for its size, if not for the quality of its contents. Inside in the oatmeal, as the label guaranteed, was a free spoon. Moreover, despite its economy size and the premium, it was cheaper by several pennies than any other brand on display. It required only the most rudimentary knowledge of Mrs. Crump’s stringent sense of thrift to assure that she would by nature be seduced by Mother Murphy. Hester, therefore, helped herself to a box and carried it to the checkout counter with complete confidence in her judgment.

  Outside again, she walked along the sidewalk to the hardware store, into which she turned, making her way toward the rear among a hazardous collection of lawn-mowers and bicycles. She was met halfway by a dehydrated clerk wearing a green eyeshade and sleeve garters. He seemed astonished that a nylon and fur female like Hester should have wandered inadvertantly into a crude shelter for nuts and bolts. He asked her what he could do for her in a voice that implied deep skepticism of there being anything.

  “I would like,” she said, “some cyanide peanuts.”

  His eyebrows climbed. His expression was sympathetic.

  “Rats?” he said.

  “Moles,” said she.

  “Worse,” he said. “But these will do the trick. Nothing like a little cyanide to remove rodents.”

  Or presumptuous Chihuahuas, she thought. It was really rather astonishing, although handy, that something like cyanide, which could turn up your toes in an instant, could be bought in any hardware store without even a register to be signed that might possibly turn up later to complicate developments. The clerk brought down a small box from a top shelf, which he reached by means of a step-ladder, and Hester, after paying, put the box in the brown paper sack with Mother Murphy’s Oats, and went, carrying the sack, back to her apartment. She felt, all in all, that she had made a couple of quite shrewd purchases at very little expense to herself.

  Opening the box was a delicate operation, calling for the most meticulous care. Fortunately it was simply sealed, one flap overlapping another and glued down. By inserting a thin blade under the top flap, Hester was able to work the two apart without damage to either, thus revealing in time Mother Murphy’s nutritious treasure within. It was then in order to add the cyanide peanuts. First, however, realizing that peanuts in a box of oats could very well excite suspicion, Hester reduced them to a lethal powder, employing an empty gin bottle as a rolling pin. Then she mixed the powder well into the oats, using Mother Murphy’s premium spoon. After that, nothing remained to be done except to seal the box again, which was accomplished neatly with care and a little glue.

  Having completed the first phase of her plan, Hester set the box aside and went about her affairs, including dinner and dancing and a few hours sleep, until the second phase brought her, at the intolerable hour of nine o’clock in the morning, to the doors of the supermarket, which were just being opened to the public. It was necessary, of course, to be at her post and alert the first thing, so that Mrs. Crump couldn’t get in and out ahead of her, and it was also necessary to remain discretely inconspicuous, so that Mrs. Crump wouldn’t see her and be roused to the guard.

  After an interminable wait that was, in fact, little more than an hour, Hester was rewarded by the sight of Mrs. Crump claiming a wheeled basket from the supply at the front of the store. Pushing the basket ahead of her, she began a tour of the aisles, stopping here and stopping there, putting in this and putting in that, Hester trailing all the while at a safe distance, and bearing at the ready the doctored box of oats and peanut powder, the stuff of such a hot breakfast as Mrs. Murphy had never dreamed of. Eventually, Mrs. Crump turned down the crucial aisle and slowly approached the cereal shelves. Hester found herself suddenly holding her breath and aware of her pulse. Would Mrs. Crump stop, or would she not? Was Mrs. Crump after the curative companion to sex, or had the cure, after all, been already undertaken? Everything now depended upon Mrs. Crump’s next move.

  Her next move was a stop. She surveyed the display of oats and selected, sure enough, Mrs. Murphy’s. She put the box in her basket. She moved on, out of the cereal aisle and into an aisle of refrigerated cases. She parked her basket and began to move along slowly in front of the cases, accumulating on the way to the bacon a package of short ribs and two pounds of ground beef.

  In the meanwhile, although she didn’t realize it, she had acquired cyanide in her oats. Hester, knowing that this was the moment of crisis, the time for the switch if ever it would be, acted with decision and dispatch. She approached Mrs. Crump’s basket quickly and quietly. She switched boxes deftly. She retreated undetected. On the way out of the store, she left Mrs. Crump’s box of oatmeal on the shelf from which it had come. She wondered if Senorita Fogarty would be lucky enough to get a whack at sex before breakfast. Not really having anything personal against Senorita, she hoped so.

  And so it had been for Hester, when Lester arrived late in the afternoon, a pleasant and profitable double-lap of the clock. She was relaxed and hopeful and in good humor. Lester, on the other hand, was naturally depressed and desperate, and he rather resented Hester’s disgusting optimism, which he considered fatal at the worst and Pollyannaish at the best

  “What the devil�
��s the matter with you?” he said as he entered.

  “Nothing’s the matter,” she said. “Nothing at all. The truth is, I’m feeling exceptionally well, in spite of getting very little sleep last night.”

  “You may think that nothing’s the matter, but there is, and I am here to tell you what.”

  “What?”

  “Just wait till you hear.”

  “Is it necessary to wait? Why can’t you just go ahead and tell me?”

  Lester had folded into a chair, but he got up again immediately and began to pace the floor and snap his fingers.

  “Crump has bought a stud,” he said.

  “Well, what’s so unexpected about that? We knew that a stud was intended.”

  “Damn it, Hester, I wish you wouldn’t be so philosophical about everything. What was intended is different from what has been done. I tell you that Crump has already bought the filthy little beast, and he is at this moment taking him home to Senorita Fogarty on the bus.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw him, that’s how. Pearl and I followed him in the MG, and he went out to this kennel and bought the stud. He’s carrying him home in a cage with a handle on it.”

  “In that case, there is obviously nothing to be done about it. The stud must be accepted.”

  “I suppose a litter of pups must be accepted too?”

  “Not at all. As I explained before, there is quite an extended period of time, due to gestation, between sex and pups.”

  “Nevertheless, I am convinced that no time should be wasted. Senorita Fogarty’s oatmeal must be poisoned at once, even if it means my having to attempt it myself.”

  “Fortunately for all of us, that won’t be necessary.”

  “Why won’t it?”

  “Because I have already thought of a way to do it. In fact, while you were running around getting excited about studs, I have accomplished it.”

  “The hell you have!” Lester stared at Hester in disbelief. “How did you manage it?”

  “That’s my secret. It only required a little ingenuity and effort.'

  “Oh, come on, Hester. Tell me how.”

  “I won’t do it. Why should I? If you had had any talent yourself, you’d have thought of a way of your own.”

  “Are you lying? You better hadn’t be. There’s no time for that.”

  “Think as you please. As for me, although I have done a service for all of us, I expect no credit.”

  Lester, convinced, folded into the chair again and looked at Hester with his expression of skepticism changing to admiration and wonder.

  “All right, Hester. No one denies that you are especially clever at thinking up things. At least you can tell me what you used. You mentioned arsenic as a possibility.”

  “I changed my mind. I decided that cyanide would be more effective.”

  “Where in the devil did you get cyanide?”

  “At a hardware store.”

  “Are you serious? I thought you had to buy something like that at a pharmacy at least, and sign for it at that.”

  “What you do with your brain, Lester, cannot properly be called thinking at all. As a matter of fact, you can buy cyanide at the hardware store simply by asking for it. All you have to do is buy it in peanuts or something.”

  “In peanuts!“

  “Certainly. For moles and rats and things. All we need do now is wait for Senorita Fogarty to have breakfast. I wonder if we will be required to go to her funeral. I must say that I hope not, but as Grandfather’s first heir, she will probably rate it.”

  “Hester, you have taken a great load off my mind.” Lester sighed and stretched his legs and felt hopeful for the first time since when. “Do you happen to have a drink around the place?”

  12

  IF ONE can expect an ailing patient to be put under treatment without excessive delay, one should also be able to expect a quick report of the patient’s death if the treatment is fatal. The trouble was, Hester didn’t get any report. So far as she knew, Senorita Fogarty continued to live, replete with sex and gorged with cyanide peanuts. It wasn’t natural or reasonable, and Hester wondered why.

  Perhaps, she thought, the oatmeal diet had been abandoned even before it started. If so, it was damned deceptive of the Crumps and just showed you how thoroughly unreliable they were. They had been instrumental in putting Hester to a great deal of time and trouble, conceiving and executing her plan and all, and it was simply infuriating to think that it might all go for nothing. It was more hopeful to sustain a little longer, if possible, the conviction that the diet had merely been postponed temporarily, for one reason or another, and would shortly be imposed.

  Or maybe it hadn’t been postponed at all. Maybe it had been imposed immediately with all the results that could reasonably be expected from a cyanide breakfast. This was Hester’s second thought, and it shook her up. Was Senorita Fogarty indeed deceased? Could it be that the Crumps, with peasantlike cunning, were with-holding the truth in an effort to prolong their plush condition?

  Once it had occurred to her, there was simply no living with the thought in peace and patience. It was imperative that she find out at once if it were true or not, and she began to seek the best way to do it. She thought at first that she would squeal to old Brewster, thus rousing his suspicions and launching an investigation, but it didn’t take her long to reject this plan as untenable. For one thing, it was far too risky. Old Brewster, having a legal mind addicted to a nasty kind of logic, would certainly want to know what made her think Senorita Fogarty might be dead, and this could invoke embarrassing questions and unfortunate answers.

  Having rejected Brewster, she thought of employing a spy. An inventory of spies available, however, revealed no one but Uncle Homer, Aunt Madge, Flo, Junior, and Lester, not necessarily in the order of their availability or competence. As a matter of fact, when it came to competence, it didn’t make a penny’s worth of difference what order they were in. Lester had already demonstrated a pitiable incapacity for seduction or sedition or anything useful, and there was no rational reason to believe that any of the others were any better.

  Finally, on the principle that what is done is best done by oneself, she dressed for the street and walked to the neighborhood of Grandfather’s house. She did not repeat Lester’s error of making a bold approach, however. This would have entailed an encounter with Mrs. Crump, and Hester’s assets, which were considerable, were not the kind that were most effective with the distaff side. Her chances of eliciting anything of consequence in the way of damaging admissions were better by far with Crump himself, and it was her intention to catch him abroad on an errand. It was some forty-eight hours after the oatmeal switch when she took up a position at the corner of the block, and almost forty-nine when her patience was rewarded. The door of Grandfather’s house opened and closed, and sure enough, here came Crump.

  But not Crump alone. Prancing ahead of him at the end of a leash in revolting nudity was no one but Senorita Fogarty. Hester’s heart, beginning to sink, had a momentary lift. Was it actually Senorita, or was it the stud? Watching Crump and the Chihuahua approach, Hester leaned forward a little to the side to achieve an adequate angle of vision, and her heart went on sinking. The difference between a bitch and a stud is not hard to detect, even in Chihuahuas, and this was no exception. It was Senorita Fogarty, all right, as offensive as ever and certainly alive.

  Crump, being near-sighted, did not recognize Hester until he was almost abreast. Then he swerved and stopped and took a closer hold on the leash. Alarm and suspicion were apparent in his expression, but there was also a portion of something warmer. Instinct and experience made him wary, but his wariness, complete and truculant where Lester had been concerned, was somewhat modified for Hester. In brief, Crump had an eye, however defective, for a pretty girl.

  “Hello, Crump,” said Hester. “Walking Senorita, I see.”

  “So I am,” Crump said, as if prepared to defend his right.'

  “She
looks very lively, I must say.”

  “Why shouldn’t she?”

  “No reason at all. On the contrary. You’re taking excellent care of her, Crump. I can see that. Grandfather would be pleased.”

  “That’s more than can be said for some people I know.”

  “You mean Uncle Homer? He has behaved badly, I admit.”

  “Not only him.”

  “Well, we were naturally disappointed. Surely you can forgive us that.”

  “Maybe yes. Maybe no. It depends.”

  “You’re justified in being skeptical, Crump, but I for one am prepared to be amiable.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “That’s fair enough. You may be surprised to discover how amiable I can be with the proper person.” This was a bold stroke, possibly abortive, and Hester did not press it. “As you see, I was just on my way to make a call on you.”

  “In the middle of the morning? That seems a queer time to come calling.”

  “I didn’t think of that. I guess it’s because I’m used to running in and out of Grandfather’s old house at all hours.”

  “If you’re going to the house now, you’d better be careful. Mrs. Crump’s in a bad humor.”

  “I’ve changed my mind about going to the house. I’d much rather walk along with you.”

  ‘With me? Why?”

  “Can’t you guess? You’re much too modest. To be candid, you have a much warmer personality than Mrs. Crump.”

  “That may be. Almost anyone has a warmer personality than Mrs. Crump.”

  “Do you mind having me with you? I’d love to come.”

  “I guess it can’t do any harm.”