“What does he say?”
“He says the young lady is mentally unstable and of low character. It seems that he and the congressman observed her in the car for some time before the crash. They say that her behavior was most erratic, that she wailed and shrieked and at one point tried to abandon the car in full motion.”
“How else can you abandon a car?” the judge said sharply. “You have to be in full motion.”
“I mean the car was in full motion.”
“I see. Where was this gentleman and the congressman while they were doing all this observing?”
“They were in the second car. The congressman was driving. The dark man is his bodyguard. He was cleaning his gun at the time and that’s how he happened to shoot the third car, although the young lady insists he was trying to shoot her.”
“I think I’ve lost the thread,” the judge said foggily. “Who was in the third car?”
“The man with the skinny legs who says he isn’t Pillsworth, and a blond woman.”
“He says he isn’t Pillsworth and a blond woman?” the judge asked, his eyes loosening in their sockets. “Why should he say a thing like that?”
“No, no,” the cop said earnestly, “he just says he isn’t Pillsworth.”
“Then he admits to being a blond woman?” the judge gasped. “He must be mad!”
“No,” the cop said, “he doesn’t admit anything about being a blond woman.”
“Then he denies being a blond woman,” the judge said with relief. “I wish you’d give me this story straight. Who accused him of being a blond woman in the first place?”
“No one,” the cop said, almost tearfully. “He was only accused of being Pillsworth.”
“Pillsworth? You mean the fellow the hospital’s looking for? Who said he was Pillsworth?”
A look of doom came into the cop’s eyes. “The—the other one, your honor,” he said.
“The other what?” the judge glowered. “Stop being evasive and answer my questions.”
ROONEY swallowed fatefully. “The other Pillsworth,” he answered. “He accused Pillsworth of being Pillsworth—that is unless he’s Pillsworth himself. Only he melted away so I guess we’ll never really know. The blond woman insists she can’t identify him.”
There was a dreadful silence as the judge tapped the palm of his hand with the gavel. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling then levelled it slowly on Rooney.
“So we’re back to the blond woman again, are we?”
“I’m afraid so,” Rooney admitted weakly. “That’s her over there, looking mad.”
“I had hoped we were through with the blond woman,” the judge said acidly. “I thought we’d washed the blond woman up.”
“No, your honor, I’m afraid not.”
“This isn’t the same blond woman that Pillsworth denies being, is it?”
“No, sir.”
“Does she deny that she’s Pillsworth, is that it?”
“No, sir,” Rooney sighed hopelessly. “She’s just a blond woman. She refuses to give her name because her husband’s a butcher.”
“Is she a defendant or a complainant?”
“A complainant,” the cop said. “She said that Pillsworth stole her car and pinched her. That is if he’s Pillsworth, and he denies it.”
“Don’t you mean he pinched her car?”
“No, sir. He stole her car, but he pinched her—on the thigh.”
“My word!” the judge said.
The cop nodded. “She wants to sue someone, only since there were two of them she doesn’t know which one did the pinching. She can’t be sure whether it was this Pillsworth or the other one—if you follow my meaning.”
The judge paled. “Are you being deliberately cryptic, Rooney, or is it simply that you can’t see your way clear to be clear, if I make myself clear.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow you, your honor.”
“Just a taste of your own medicine, Rooney,” the judge said vengefully. “How do you like it?” He turned his gaze moodily on the blond. “About this blond ...?”
“Yes, your honor?”
“She gets everything all snarled up. Everytime she enters the picture it ceases to make sense. Do you suppose this would all clear up if I just had her thrown out of court?”
“I don’t think so. With or without her, things are snarled up just the same. I’ve never seen so much snarling in all my life; these people just don’t seem to like each other.”
“What about this fellow who denies he’s Pillsworth?” the judge asked. “Is he the only pure defendant in the bunch?”
“Oh, no, your honor. He’s the biggest complainant of the lot. And he’s far from pure. He’s accusing the congressman of being the head of a gang of subversives who are planning to kill the entire population with bacteria.”
THE judge leaned across the bench, plainly scandalized. “The congressman!” he gasped. “Why Congressman Entwerp was a classmate of mine!”
“Yes, your honor. And he’s threatened suit against this fellow for slander.”
“Good,” the judge said. “Have this Pillsworth or whoever he is brought before the bench. Obviously, he’s a low criminal type. It sticks out all over him.”
The cop nodded and turned in Marc’s direction. “You,” he said. “The judge will hear you.”
Across the room, however, Marc gave no sign of hearing. Instead, he was gazing intently at the vacant chair next to his own. On his face was an expression of anxious annoyance.
“Now, look, George,” he said, “You owe it to humanity to show yourself and help get this mess cleared up. Why not be a good loser for a change?”
The empty chair shifted, just perceptibly, with an air of complacency.
“Maybe they’ll hang you,” George replied hopefully from thin air.
“Don’t be silly,” Marc said, “There’s no reason why they should. Come on, now, be a good fellow and help get this over with.”
“Oh, I’m going to help get it over with,” George said pleasantly. “When I’m through, they’ll lower the boom on you so hard you’ll be the first man in history to be buried in an envelope.”
Just then Toffee leaned forward and touched Marc’s arm. “The judge wants to speak to you,” she said. “Come on, let’s go.”
Marc glanced around. “Did he call you too?”
“Well, no,” Toffee admitted, “but I’m an interested party. I want to see that you get fair treatment.”
“Couldn’t you just stay out of it?” Marc pleaded. “‘Couldn’t I just handle this myself?”
“Nonsense,” Toffee said. “You need me. Come on, the old gaffer’s beginning to look apoplectic again.”
“Oh, all right,” Marc sighed. Getting up he followed Toffee to a position before the bench. The judge glowered down at them critically.
“So glad you finally found you could come,” he said.
“Thank you,” Toffee beamed. “It’s nice of you to have us.”
The gavel barked irritably. There was silence until the judge’s eyebrows ceased to twitch.
“What are you doing here?” the Judge enquired with forced composure. “Who called you forward?”
“Lots of people have called me forward,” Toffee said, “but that’s just talk, judge. I’m just impulsive.”
“Silence!” the judge said. “Good God, girl, no one asked you for any sordid confessions. I just want to know what you’re doing here?”
Toffee nodded toward Marc. “I’m with him,” she said.
“Then he’s the man who was with you in the green sedan?”
“Oh, no.” Toffee shook her head. “He’s the other one.”
The judge blanched. “The other one?” he asked apprehensively.
Toffee nodded. “They’re exactly alike. Only this one is nicer. That’s why I switched.”
The judge raised his gavel warningly and turned to Marc. “Are you twins, sir?”
Marc opened his mouth to speak, but before he could
George’s voice sounded immediately behind him.
“Do I look like twins, you thickheaded joker?” the voice asked. “And if you must drink in the morning for Godsake lay off the cheap stuff so you don’t see double. I always heard justice was blind but I didn’t know it was blind drunk.”
THERE was an ominous silence in the court as the judge raked Marc with a glance of pure loathing. “Are you deliberately in contempt of court?” he asked.
Again Marc started to speak and again the voice beat him to it. “In it?” it said. “I’m fairly swimming in high octane contempt.”
The blond who had been watching these proceedings with growing agitation suddenly sprang from her chair. “That’s him!” she yelled hysterically. “I’m positive!”
“Be quiet, you!” the judge barked. “I’ve had enough out of you!”
“But he pinched me!” the blond cried.
“You’re lucky that’s all he did,” the judge snapped.
“But you don’t know where!”
The judge eyed her distantly. “With that lumpy figure of yours,” he said, “it could scarcely matter. Now, shut up.” He turned back to Marc. “I understand you’ve been making libelous remarks against Congressman Entwerp.”
Marc looked around hopelessly, afraid to open his mouth lest George would take over again. He compressed his lips into a thin line.
“Speak up, man!”
Marc looked up unhappily. “I—I—,” he murmured fearfully.
“What’s the matter with you?” the judge asked. “Let’s hear your accusations against my good friend the congressman.”
“The congressman?” Marc ventured, then brightened as he noticed there was no interference from George. “Oh, yes. The congressman must be imprisoned at once, your honor. He’s a national menace. He instigated a propaganda program to dope the public against the threat of the foreign powers. But worst of all, he has enough bacteria culture to murder the entire population.”
“And what’s more,” Toffee broke in, “he pinched my gadget.”
The judge’s eyes swiveled about hauntedly. “He what?”
“Pinched my gadget,” Toffee insisted. “The one with the button.”
“Now just a minute,” the judge said a little wildly. “Wasn’t it the blond woman who had her gadget pinched?”
“Don’t be silly,” Toffee said. “She hasn’t a gadget to be pinched.”
“She hasn’t?” the judge said in a startled whisper. “What happened to her gadget?”
“I guess she just didn’t have one in the first place,” Toffee said. “You can’t just go out and buy them, you know.”
THE judge turned to the cop. “Do you know anything about why this blond woman doesn’t have a gadget?” he asked interestedly.
“Search me,” the cop said. “I didn’t know she didn’t. Maybe it’s because her husband’s a butcher. Maybe ... ”
“Don’t,” the judge cried, shuddering. “Don’t go on! I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Well, who cares about her gadget anyway?” Toffee asked bewilderedly. “It’s my gadget I’m trying to tell you about.”
“And I don’t want to hear about it,” the judge said shortly. “This court is no place for examination room discussions.”
“Or much of anything else,” Toffee retorted angrily. “Especially justice.”
“Look, judge,” Marc put in desperately. “You’ve got to listen to me. About all this bacteria...”
“Bacteria?” the judge said, startled. “What about bacteria?”
“It’s a threat,” Marc said. “It’s got to be stopped.”
The judge nodded. “My dentist said the same thing the other day. Are you a dentist?”
“Of course I’m not a dentist,” Marc said. “It’s the congressman.”
“That’s preposterous,” the judge said. “The congressman isn’t a dentist, never has been. You’re just trying to rattle me.”
Again, as Marc started to speak, the voice from behind took over. “That’s rich, that is,” it slurred. “You were rattled the day you were born, you old tosspot, and you’ve been getting balmier ever since. If you have the brain of a gnat ...”
The gavel smashed down on the bench like the crack of doom.
“Go!” the judge said. “Go and leave me alone! You’re all trying to drive me out of my mind.”
“With a mind like yours,” Toffee said, “it would be a fast drive on a kiddy car.”
“Go!” the judge screamed. “Go away!”
Defeated by sheer volume, Marc and Toffee retreated back to their chairs and sat down. The one next to Marc’s scraped back a trifle of its own volition.
“You fiend!” Marc hissed at the empty chair. “That was a fine mess, wasn’t it?”
“Glad you admire my work,” George said complacently out of thin air. “Isn’t it remarkable how exactly alike our voices sound?”
“Go to hell,” Marc said sullenly.
“If I do I’ll probably meet you there,” George said. “The old boy has you marked down for a sanity test, I heard him say so as you left up there. Somehow, it warms me to think of you locked up with a bunch of homicidal maniacs. Who’s to say what might happen to you?”
The gavel rapped on the bench again, this time more calmly.
“I’d like to speak to the congressman,” the judge announced. “Not that I put any stock in the ridiculous accusations of that blackhearted nit-wit, but I would like to talk to someone rational for a change.”
Across the room, the congressman rose from his chair with portly composure.
“I’m happy for the opportunity to defend myself against the ravings of this lunatic,” he said smoothly, “though I’m certain the court hasn’t taken them the least bit seriously.”
“Of course not, congressman,” the judge said grandly. “This court is always fair and impartial. Step up and have a chair. I’m sorry I can’t offer you a drink during session, but perhaps we could have lunch together somewhere?”
“Good grief!” Toffee whispered. “They’re carrying on like old sweethearts.”
THE congressman smiled pityingly at Marc. “Actually, I have the greatest compassion for our poor friend here,” he said magnanimously. “Who knows what dreadful experience drove him out of his senses?”
“Why the old foghorn!” Marc hissed between clenched teeth. “He’s got enough gall to float a fleet.”
“As for his fantastic charges,” the congressman continued, “they’re almost too silly to refute.” He beamed on the judge. “I think you know just about how subversive I am, your honor.”
The judge smiled broadly. “Call me Ralph,” he said.
“Okay, Ralph,” the congressman smiled. “And about that bacteria business; the only bacteria culture I have is home in the refrigerator. I just happened to let some cheese go mouldy.”
The judge laughed immoderately. “Oh, Congressman!” he gasped, wiping his eyes. “You always were a wit!”
Toffee frowned her disapproval. “This is worse than television,” she said.
“What am I going to do?” Marc said. “I can’t let him get away with it. I’ll wind up in an asylum while he sells the whole country down the river.”
Toffee nodded morosely. “We’ve got to think of something,” she said. “If they won’t listen to sense, I guess the only thing to do is resort to madness.”
“How do you mean?”
“Trade seats with me,” Toffee said. “I want to talk to George.”
“It won’t do any good. He won’t listen to sense any more than the rest of them.”
“That’s all right,” Toffee said. “What I have in mind is more nonsense—and a little hypnotism.”
“Hypnotism?”
“Uh-huh. I told you I’ve been studying. Come on, trade.”
AS unobtrusively as possible they changed seats. Toffee settled herself, crossed her legs with care, and turned to the vacant seat at her side. When she spoke her voice was husky and
confidential.
“Look, George,” she said, “I’ve been thinking...”
The chair quivered interestedly. “Yes?” George’s voice said out of emptiness. “What about?”
“You and me,” Toffee said. “I’ve just been going over things in my mind, and you know, George, I’ve really been sort of foolish.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well take the way I always favor Marc against you. Suddenly it just occurred to me that there’s no logical reason for it. After all you’re just alike except for a few little differences, of course.”
“Oh?” George said, a note of interest creeping into his voice. “What differences?”
“Well, for instance, you’re more aggressive, George. You have a more active, dynamic personality. You’re the sort who knows what he wants and goes out after it.”
“I suppose you could say that,” George admitted. “What else?”
“You’re cleverer, too. Look at the way you’ve got Marc bottled up right now, for example. He’s a dead duck. In fact, to tell you the truth, George, you make Marc look pretty sick. I’m beginning to think a girl would be much better off with you.”
George cleared his throat. “You’re sure you mean it?” he asked.
“Of course I do,” Toffee said. “Why wouldn’t I, George? It’s not just that you’re cleverer and more dominant than Marc, there are other little things too, things only a woman would notice. Your eyes, for instance.”
“My eyes?”
Toffee nodded. “Uh-huh. Your eyes are ever so much more exciting than Marc’s. I don’t know what it is, but there’s a subtle difference. I guess it’s personality. I’ve always noticed it.”
“Oh, my eyes aren’t all that good,” George demurred. “Pleasant and friendly, perhaps, but...”
“Oh, much more than that,” Toffee insisted. “Flashing and roguish.”
“You really think so?”
“Certainly. That and more.” Toffee paused for a moment, appeared hesitant. “George ...?”
“Yes, Toffee?”
“Would you show me your eyes? Just materialize them for a moment so I can gaze into them?”
The Complete Adventures of Toffee Page 67
