by Helen Wells
“Look,” Cherry said. From their car they watched Bunny, plump and puffing, come out of the house, carrying a big, heavy suitcase, and put it into the white car. Bunny’s hair was disheveled, and she wore sloppy bedroom slippers; otherwise she was neatly dressed in a silk suit and earrings, as if almost ready to leave. Bunny hurried back into the house, leaving the front door open.
“Maybe Irene Wick will come out next with her suitcase,” Grey muttered. “She can’t see us.”
“Maybe isn’t good enough,” Arnold Goldsmith said. “We’re going in there. Now. Be quick!”
They slid out of their car, walked around the corner, came out from behind the concealing hedge, and ran up the walk of the white brick house. To Cherry that flagstone walk seemed miles long as she ran, and she hated what she was doing. Had to do. She noticed that the tall, dense hedge enclosed this entire property, like a wall. Bunny called out in confusion: “Who’s there?” The three of them gained the porch just as Bunny started to close the house door. The lawyer walked in anyway, saying, “Mrs. Belfinger, I must see you! I’m sorry, but I must!” Cherry and Grey followed him into an entrance hall.
“Who are you? Get out of my house—all three of you!” Bunny screamed. “I’ll call the police!”
“I wish you would,” Arnold Goldsmith said. “Mrs. Belfinger, I am a lawyer, and this is Dr. Grey Russell from whom you stole, or at least whose stolen money you received—”
“Get out! Get out! I don’t know any of you!” Bunny’s pretty, plump face crumpled and she started childishly to cry.
Grey looked as embarrassed and disgusted as Cherry felt. None of them felt any sentimentality for thieves. “Mrs. Belfinger, I am here to arrest you and Irene Wick,” he said. “And I’m here to get back money stolen from two other doctors and myself—”
Bunny drowned Grey out when he said the word “stolen.” “I am not a thief!” she shouted. “I don’t know anything about you and your silly money!”
“Mrs. Belfinger, as a citizen I arrest you for felony,” Grey said. He took hold gently of her arm. “Where is Irene—”
“Don’t you dare touch me!” Bunny screamed. She broke free and lunged toward the open front door. But Cherry stamped hard on Bunny’s foot, and Bunny in pain and surprise stopped and just stood there. The lawyer looked at Cherry with astonishment, then admiration. He said:
“Mrs. Belfinger, stop that sniffling and tell us where Irene Wick is.”
Bunny wiped her eyes and sulked. “I don’t know anyone of that name,” she loftily informed the lawyer.
“You’re Irene Wick’s accomplice,” Cherry said. “I’m Dr. Fairall’s nurse and I found the ‘Dinosaur Three’ note in the wastebasket at her desk. I saw you meet Bally in the museum. I saw you accept money from him—” Bunny’s face froze into a blank stare. “I saw you,” Cherry persisted, “buy a red lizard handbag. And I saw Irene Wick carry that red handbag—you gave it to her this weekend.”
“You’re lying,” Bunny spat at Cherry. “You didn’t see any such things! Lies! Lies!”
Cherry said, “I see something interesting in the living room,” and went in there. The two men followed, shepherding Bunny. Cherry thought she heard a door close softly somewhere—it sounded like a closet door or room door—but she could not be sure. Arnold Goldsmith heard it, too, for he lifted his eaglelike head. He stationed himself in the open archway between living room and entrance hall, where he could watch the entrance door and the driveway. Anyone entering or leaving these hedged-in grounds would have to pass along the driveway.
The living room was richly furnished. What had caught Cherry’s eye was an open suitcase on the floor, carelessly filled with a silver coffee service and silver flatware, as if being packed in haste. Cherry noticed a woman’s pink coat lying on a sofa. The weather was too warm for a coat—unless one were going on a trip to a cool climate. Cherry picked up the coat. Under it lay a small car case and a second woman’s coat, of conservative tan—for a taller woman than Bunny. For someone of Irene Wick’s size.
Cherry put down the coats and looked squarely at Bunny. “Where is she?”
‘’If Mrs. Wick will cooperate with us and with the police,” the lawyer said, loudly enough to be heard in other rooms, “you both will get off more easily.”
Only silence answered the lawyer. Then footsteps sounded on the porch. The doorbell rang. A young woman’s cheerful voice—not Mrs. Wick’s voice—called out:
“Hi, Bunny! Here are your kids back from playing at our house!”
Grey prodded Bunny. She called out:
“Thank you, Jean. I—I’m—Excuse me, but I can’t ask you in—”
Arnold Goldsmith, standing near the house door, nodded to the woman. He murmured, “A little difficulty, unfortunately.” Cherry had a glimpse of the neighbor and of two small girls with her.
“Oh.” The neighbor looked curiously at Mr. Goldsmith, then said, “Sorry I barged in at an awkward time! I’ll see you later, Bunny.”
Grey prodded Bunny, who answered nervously. “Yes. Oh, yes, Jean.”
“By the way, Bunny,” the neighbor called, “I hope nothing serious is wrong?”
Bunny went white. “Oh, no. Nothing much.”
“Then why,” the neighbor called, “did your sister leave last night for New York, and then come right back here this morning?”
So Irene Wick was Bunny’s sister!
The lawyer stepped forward toward the neighbor. “Excuse us, madam, you may see your friend later. We have an emergency to take care of now, I’m afraid. Come in, children,” he said gently, “come in.”
The neighbor muttered something and went away. Arnold Goldsmith stood aside and smiled at the two little girls who uncertainly came into the living room.
Round-faced and brown-haired like Bunny, they were about four and six years old. They wore blue play dresses and red shoes. Cherry felt sorry for them. She said impulsively:
“What dear children! Won’t you tell us their names, Mrs. Belfinger?” Cherry knew it was important not to frighten these little ones.
“Betty Lou is my big girl,” Bunny said tonelessly, “and Janie is my little girl.”
The visitors smiled and said hello. The two little girls looked solemnly back at them. The older child asked, “Mommy, who are these people?”
Bunny hesitated. “Tell you later. Are you hungry?” The children nodded.
Cherry called, “Irene, come out! If you care anything for Bunny and her children, come out!”
Someone moved, somewhere in the house. Grey pointed to a telephone on a coffee table. The lawyer nodded and said, “Call the police now.” Both little girls started to cry. Grey let their mother go to comfort them, as he unhappily telephoned.
Suddenly someone ran through the entrance hall, flashing past the lawyer. A flash of something red, too—He reached for, but could not catch Irene Wick who flew out across the porch. She raced down the porch steps, but by now, Cherry was running after her. Irene Wick pounded along the driveway, heading for the car. She called out:
“Bunny! Bunny! You’ll be all right! I’ll—come back for—you—later—”
Cherry ran headlong, blindly, slamming into Irene Wick just as she reached the white car. Cherry was going at such speed that it threw her hard against Mrs. Wick, and they both fell against the side of the car, then toppled to the ground.
“—come back for you and the children!” Irene Wick was still screaming. She clawed furiously at Cherry’s face, scratching with her nails.
Cherry grabbed the woman’s wrists, and struggling, forced Irene’s arms slowly down to her sides. Cherry pinned her to the ground. Irene Wick was scratching and biting when Grey came to rescue her.
“You vicious woman!” Cherry gasped. She climbed to her feet. She felt blood on her scratched face, and her shoulder was sore—wrenched. Never mind—the main thing was that Grey had Irene on her feet away from the car, in his grip.
The red purse lay in the driveway. Cherry picked it up
. Mrs. Wick was limping into the house in Grey’s custody. Cherry first looked into the white car, and saw that the car keys were there. Then she followed into the house, bringing the red purse.
The lawyer was saying to Bunny, “The nurse, not you, will feed the children, Mrs. Belfinger. You’re staying on that chair where I can watch you.”
He asked Cherry to take Betty Lou and Janie across the hall into the dining room and serve them lunch, which their mother said was ready in the refrigerator. The frightened children did not want to leave the living room and their mother. Cherry gently coaxed them, and Bunny said, “Be good girls and go with the nurse.”
“Are you really and truly a nurse?” Betty Lou asked, round-eyed. Cherry nodded. “Then where’s your white dress and white cap?”
Janie answered scornfully, “In the laundry. Or she left it home. Come on, I’m hungry.”
So Cherry fed the children. She felt deeply sorry for them, and tried to calm them and reassure them, telling stories and jokes and a puzzle. When she heard the police car arrive, she shut the dining-room door. Where would the children go, if their mother as well as Irene Wick received a prison sentence? Who would take care of them? Cherry hoped the court would be merciful.
“More milk, Janie? Betty Lou? There’s one more cookie with your name on it.”
Betty Lou studied the last cookie. “Where’s my name on it?”
Harsh sounds of whimpering came from the other room against calm, male voices. Cherry heard Irene Wick cry out, “It’s a relief to tell! I’ve been under such a strain—!” Then came Bunny’s softer voice, saying something quiet, resigned, and undistinguishable.
Grey came into the dining room. “Cherry, the lawyer and the police officers and I are taking—I mean, going with Irene and Bunny to—” He glanced at the children. Betty Lou, at six, might be able to gather that he meant to the magistrate, to jail.
“Yes, I understand,” Cherry said.
“Will you stay here with these two pretty girls?” Grey smiled at the children, who trustfully smiled back at him.
“Of course I’ll stay,” Cherry said. “We’re right in the middle of a story.”
“Their mother says Mattie, the day maid, will be here soon. But you stay until—until arrangements are made, will you? I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”
And Grey left, closing the door behind him.
Cherry kept the two little girls with her in the closed-off dining room. Through the windows and trees she saw a police car drive away. Mrs. Wick and Grey were in it. The lawyer drove off in his car with Bunny and another police officer. Once more the house grew quiet.
“Where’s Mommy?” Janie asked, yawning.
“She’s gone downtown with your Aunt Irene,” Cherry said. Janie’s face started to pucker up. Cherry quickly changed the subject. “Who’s ready for a nap?”
“Tell us another story,” Betty Lou said.
“Janie, would you like to hear another story?” Cherry asked.
“Yes. I’m sleepy,” Janie whispered.
Cherry offered to tell them another story in their own room, while they got ready for their nap. Betty Lou needed persuasion, but she and Janie led Cherry upstairs to their bedroom. There Cherry recounted one of Hans Christian Andersen’s wonderful tales, and eventually she got the two children tucked into their beds. They fell asleep.
Cherry sat down on a child’s chair, resting, waiting.
A middle-aged woman in an apron came to the door and looked in. “I’m Mattie,” she whispered to Cherry. “Isn’t Mrs. Belfinger here? And I’m so surprised by those suitcases—”
“Ssh.” Cherry joined the houseworker in the hall, closing the children’s door, and said softly, “Hello, Mattie. I’m glad you’re here. Mrs. Belfinger has gone downtown. She didn’t know just when she’d be back. I’m a nurse, I’m Cherry Ames.” The woman nodded. “You and I, Mattie, are to stay with Betty Lou and Janie until we hear—hear from their mother,” she finished lamely.
Mattie, though she looked mystified, said only, “Well, let’s go downstairs, Miss Ames, so as not to disturb the young ones. Betty Lou is a light sleeper.”
Downstairs, the maid went about her work without asking Cherry any more questions.
Cherry sat down rather self-consciously in Bunny’s lavish living room. She thought over what had happened today, so far. Then, as time dragged on, she read through a newspaper.
Someone knocked lightly. “Didn’t want to startle you,” Grey said as Cherry looked up.
Bunny was with him. She looked exhausted, dazed, but relieved. “Where are the children?” she asked Cherry. Then, to Mattie, who came halfway into the hall, “Are they fed? Asleep?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mattie said. “The nurse took care of them.”
“Thank you,” Bunny said to Cherry. She glanced up at Grey. “May I—? I’d like to go up and see them.” When Grey said, “Certainly,” Bunny ran up the stairs. Mattie followed her.
Grey called after them, “We’re leaving now,” but no one answered. He turned to Cherry.
“She’ll be allowed to stay with her children,” Grey said as he and Cherry walked out of the house. “At least for the time being—she’s out on bail. The court allowed her bail because of the children. But Irene’s in jail.”
“Where she deserves to be,” Cherry said. “But what a thing to happen to those children!”
Grey soberly agreed. He looked at his wristwatch. “We have patients to think of. Mr. Goldsmith has lent me his car, so we can drive back promptly to New York. He’ll return by train. He has to stay here in Greenhill to handle legal details. But there’s no need for us to stay. Come on, Cherry. Back to New York. But first—” Grey lifted her face to his. “I’ll have to kiss you later.”
“All scratched up, aren’t I?”
“It’s one of the very best faces, scratches and all,” Grey said. “We’ll get you fixed up at Brown’s Pharmacy and then you owe me a kiss. For bravery.”
“Whose bravery?” Cherry asked. “After all, Irene scratched and bit me.” And she managed to laugh.
CHAPTER XIV
Lady in a Trap
SILENCE—DELAYS—WHO COULD WAIT AND NOT WONder? Cherry did her nursing work, and with her Spencer Club friends planned a party. She was working with Grey at Dr. Fairall’s late on Tuesday when the lawyer telephoned them.
He told them what happened after Cherry and Grey had left Greenhill. He and a police officer, using the warrant, had searched Bunny’s house. In the closet of the children’s bedroom they found suitcases packed with their expensive clothes and toys. Bunny and her sister, Irene Wick Sproull, also had hastily packed two suitcases apiece full of expensive clothing, furs, jewelry, and perfume. One suitcase was left empty. Irene Wick admitted it was to have held stolen cash.
Her system of stealing was simple. In her uniform pocket, at work, she kept cash paid daily by the patients, and cash rake-offs she received occasionally from Bally and other favorite suppliers. Mrs. Wick regularly went to the doctors’ bank to deposit their patients’ checks and cash—as much of the cash as she did not steal. On these bank visits, Mrs. Wick took a few extra minutes to hide the stolen cash in her safe-deposit box. She never put much into her New York bank account where there would be a record of it. In the safe-deposit box there could be no record.
Instead, Mrs. Wick gave large sums of cash at intervals to her sister. Bunny had another name than Wick, lived in another town, and could not readily be connected with Irene. Bunny banked part of the stolen money in a Greenhill savings account in her own name, and she drew extravagantly on it.
Bunny also stashed away still larger sums in a safe-deposit box in the Greenhill bank. This cache was kept there against the dangerous day when Irene might be suspected, and would need to get away fast.
For Irene Wick was a practiced, professional thief. She had worked this racket before, under various names, fleecing doctors in distant parts of the country. She had a police record. Otherwise, all bu
t two times she had managed to escape, just one step ahead of the law, and “disappear.” But no matter how large a sum she escaped with, she always went back to her racket. Mrs. Wick, a divorcee, and her widowed, younger sister were greedy for material wealth, and did not care how they got it. Irene Wick was liable, the lawyer said, to several years’ imprisonment and a big fine, on charges of felony. Bunny, as her accessory after the fact, was equally liable, for a prison sentence and fine, her children notwithstanding.
The lawyer would eventually succeed in recovering for his three doctor clients the very large sum in Bunny’s bank account and in Bunny’s safe-deposit box. For now, the money was impounded. This sum did not entirely make up for what Irene Wick had stolen. Mr. Goldsmith expected that when the case went to trial, the court would order the sale of furs, jewelry, and luxury household furnishings that the two women had bought. Proceeds would be returned to the three victimized doctors.
The lawyer reported that Mrs. Wick was surprised that Cherry and Grey had traced her to Greenhill. As secretary she knew, of course, that Dr. Fairall continued to keep on file her “letter of reference” with its Greenhill address. But since the personnel file was confidential, in fact half hidden by medical books, Irene Wick felt fairly safe. At least no one but trusting Dr. Fairall would ever see that faked letter from Greenhill. She never dreamed that Grey and Cherry would look up her reference, much less follow it up with a visit to Greenhill.
Irene Wick brought lump sums of stolen cash to her sister in Greenhill.
She spent many but not all weekends in Greenhill. Once in a while Bunny came to New York to pick up the cash, whenever Irene felt it was growing risky to do so herself. “A cool, professional thief,” the lawyer called her. Not so cool now that she was caught—she had developed a facial tic, and actually had cried when arrested.
“I can’t feel sorry for her,” Cherry said to Grey.
