“No, sir,” the skinny man said. “It’s just that I can’t stand up—the way my leaves are. It wouldn’t look right.”
“It doesn’t look right now,” the judge said tersely. “It looks perfectly dreadful.”
The skinny man flushed a still deeper shade of red and agitated his leaves. “I’m sorry, your honor.”
“It’s too late to be sorry,” the judge said. “Now, suppose you just tell me what you people were doing, running around indecently exposed.”
“Well, your honor,” the skinny man said hopefully, “we were having a picnic.”
THE judge blanched a mottled grey. “So I’ve heard,” he said. “There’s no need to be defiant about it, you know.”
“It was all very nice and orderly,” the man offered, “until Mr. Pillsworth showed up.”
“And then it got disorderly?”
“Everything got completely out of hand.”
The judge’s gaze swiveled toward Marc with gloomy speculation. “This fellow Pillsworth must exert a powerful influence everywhere he goes,” he said. He turned back to the nudist.
“Just how out of hand did everything get, would you say?”
“I don’t know exactly,” the skinny man said. “Everyone was leaping about and running. It got pretty hard to follow. I don’t think there were any broken bones, though.”
“Broken bones!” the judge wheezed. He closed his eyes, as though to blot out a vision too awful for observation. When he opened them again, they were fixed on Hotstuff Harold.
“And how did you and your disreputable friends get mixed up in this?” he asked malevolently.
“We weren’t mixed up in it,” Hotstuff Harold said innocently. “We didn’t know anything about these nudists until close to the end. We were very shocked at them.”
“I dare say,” the judge said dryly. “And may I ask, since you were out merely sniffing the flowers, how you all happened to be armed with guns?”
“Well,” Hotstuff said vaguely, “we botanists can’t be too careful, you know. There might be snakes.”
“There are snakes,” the judge said evenly, “and this courtroom is fairly crawling with them. Don’t tell me that you were shooting up the countryside just to be on the safe side. Don’t tell me that!”
“No, sir,” Hotstuff said sullenly. “I was goin’ to, but I won’t.”
Floss stepped forward, her hair in wild disarray. “Look, your honor,” she said, “I guess we might as well come clean. We was only out doin’ a little job for Pillsworth.”
“What!” the judge said. “You mean to say this Pillsworth commissioned you to do murder for him?”
“Well, not exactly murder,” Floss said ingeniously. “We was just arrangin’ a little accident—outa gratitude.”
“This Pillsworth is a veritable fiend!” the judge said hollowly. “He’s even managed to corrupt the underworld!” He glanced around the room. “Where’s this bus thief I’ve heard about?”
The disconsolate driver shuffled forward. “That’s me, I guess,” he said.
The judge studied the man pettishly. “You admit stealing this bus?”
“I guess I did steal it,” the driver said, “if you want to be technical about it.”
“And I do,” the judge said. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Well,” the driver reflected, “I didn’t exactly steal it with malice aforethought. That is I wasn’t even thinking about stealing it until Pillsworth came along and asked about it.”
“Don’t tell me this Pillsworth persuaded you to take the bus?”
“Well, the money, was quite an inducement.”
FOR a moment, the judge appeared to brood into space, then, decisively, he turned to Sergeant Feeney.
“Wake this Pillsworth monster up,” he said.
“Yes, your honor,” the sergeant said and advanced toward Marc.
“I’ll help,” Floss said, joining him. “I’ll loosen his tie.”
“Thanks, miss,” the sergeant said. “And I’ll rub his wrists.”
The court became quiet with speculation as Floss and the sergeant labored to arouse Marc. The stillness was soon shattered, however, as the door at the rear flew open and Julie, followed by Mario, flew down the aisle, her eyes ablaze.
“Stop!” she yelled. “Stop everything!”
“Madam! the judge said, “the court is in session!”
“That’s just fine,” Julie said. She looked around wildly. “Where is he? Have you got him under restraint?”
“Have we got whom under restraint?”
“My husband, Marcus Pillsworth. Is he tied up?”
“He’s under arrest,” the judge said. “Should he be under restraint, too?”
“Should he!” Julie said. “He’s mad! He tried to shoot us and when that didn’t work he chased us with this frightful bus!”
“How awful!” the judge said. “Your husband appears to be a one-man crime wave.”
“Then he took the silver and my jewelry!” Julie nodded. She turned to Mario. “Isn’t that right, Mario?”
“Yes, Madonna,” Mario said.
The judge shook his head. “Your husband hasn’t missed a trick today. I never saw anyone so hell-bent for criminality.”
“I want a divorce!” Julie cried.
The judge held up a hand. “Just a minute!” he cried. “I’m losing track.” He consulted the sheaf of reports before him. “Now, taking it from the beginning, your husband’s crimes, since only this morning, include possession of lewd pictures, jail breaking, destruction of private property, resisting arrest, disturbing the peace, assaulting seven officers, collusion in an automobile theft, lewd and immoral conduct, two attempts at murder, harboring criminals and, now, grand larceny and perhaps an insurance swindle.” The judge paused for breath. “That’s just hitting the high points.”
“I want a divorce!” Julie insisted.
“You certainly shouldn’t have any trouble getting one,” the judge said firmly.
The skinny nudist, stirred uneasily. “Your honor,” he said timidly, “what about our leaves? Now, they’re beginning to dry out. They may even fall!”
The judge started, banging the gavel with reflexive nervousness. “Your leaves are entirely your own responsibility!” he snapped. “If they’re drying out, then just don’t rustle them.”
“That doesn’t allow us much freedom of movement,” the nudist said.
“From what I’ve heard, that’s probably all for the best. And if I hear any rustling I’ll know what to make of it.” The judge turned back to Julie. “After your husband answers the charges ... ”
At this point, Marc, responding to treatment, sat up and opened his eyes. He looked around at the assemblage and smiled bewilderedly.
“Fiend!” the judge thundered.
“Hold him back!” Julie screamed. “Don’t let him near me!”
Marc started violently, and Floss put out a hand to steady him.
“Get your sticky hands off that man!” a voice hissed.
EVERYONE turned in surprise to see Toffee, newly reinstated to the realm of reality, move forward.
“I was only tryin’ to help,” Floss said defensively.
“I saw you palm that wallet,” Toffee said hotly. “Put it back, you campfollowing kewpie before I crack your plaster!”
“Okay,” Floss said, replacing the wallet, “but I guess I’ve got as much right to him as you.”
“You’ve also got a right to be carried out of here feet first!” Toffee said. Doubling her fists, she stepped forward. “What kind of flowers do you want on your coffin?”
“Why, you redheaded hellcat ...”
The gavel banged thunderously. “Just what’s going on here?” the judge roared, leaning across the bench. He pointed to Toffee. “How did you get in here?”
Toffee moved sinuously toward the bench. “Don’t upset yourself with worrisome details, judge,” she smiled. “Let’s just stop flubbing around here a
nd get on the ball.”
“What!” the judge yelled.
“You’re far too upset to handle the situation sensibly. Anyone can see that.”
“Are you in contempt of court?” the judge wheezed.
“Please don’t ask me that, judge,” Toffee said sweetly. “Let’s be friends.”
“Now, look here ...”
“Be calm, judge!” Toffee said. “If you don’t settle down we’ll have to find someone else. Now, who’s being charged with what around here?”
“Who is that woman?” Julie demanded sharply.
Toffee smiled at her winsomely. “It would only upset you to know, dear,” she murmured.
The gavel banged again, announcing that the judge had regained the gift of speech. “Silence in the court!” he bellowed. He turned eyes heavy with vexation on Toffee’s pert face. “If I give you a resume of the court’s activities until the awful moment of your intrusion, will that make you feel sufficiently included in things?”
“That would be fine, judge,” Toffee said pleasantly.
“God in heaven!” the judge moaned and took a deep breath. In a rumbling voice he enumerated again the list of Marc’s crimes. As he did so, Marc’s expression became more and more incredulous.
“But that’s not true!” he cried out. “Almost none of it, judge!”
“Certainly it isn’t,” Toffee said. “In the first place, those lewd pictures were planted on him.”
“That’s right, judge,” Hotstuff said contritely. “I eased ’em onto him.”
“And he didn’t wreck any store, either,” Toffee said hotly. “It was the sergeant and his clumsy chums. As for assaulting them, I’d be happy to oblige.”
“And about the bus,” Marc said. “I hadn’t any reason to suspect it was stolen.”
“I guess that’s right, judge,” the driver said sadly. “I didn’t tell him it wasn’t mine.”
“There’s something else you didn’t get straight, judge,” the skinny nudist said. “His behavior wasn’t lewd or immoral. It was just that he had his clothes on. Naturally, we were upset.”
“He wasn’t shootin’ at anyone, either,” Moose put in. “He was just tryin’ to stop us.”
“Wait a minute!” the judge yelled. “In a minute you’ll be trying to tell me this Pillsworth is a saint.” He coughed excitedly. “I’m pleased that you’ve all decided to incriminate yourselves, but you still haven’t succeeded in clearing Pillsworth. There are still the charges of jail breaking and jewel robbery.” He levelled his gaze on Marc. “What have you got to say to that?”
MARC’S interest, however, had been diverted by Hotstuff, who, for the past several minutes had been staring with unbroken fascination at Mario. Overlooking Hotstuff’s begonia infested shorts, Marc followed the pickpocket’s gaze across the courtroom.
The first thing Marc noticed was that Mario was not comfortable under Hotstuff’s curious stare. The second was a large birthmark, roughly the shape of an eagle, on Mario’s forearm.
“My word!” Marc murmured.
“Mr. Pillsworth!” the judge said. “Would you mind giving your attention to the court?”
“Oh, yes, your honor,” Marc said, “I was just noticing the birthmark on Mr. Matalini’s arm. Its resemblance to an eagle is remarkable.”
“Birthmark?” the judge said, glancing at Mario. “What birthmark?”
“Well, judge,” Marc said, “you can’t see it. But with my eyes the way they are ...”
“Mayfair Marvin!” Hotstuff ejaculated loudly. “Well, I’ll be damned!”
“You be quiet!” the judge said. “No one asked you anything.”
“But I’m telling you something!” Hotstuff said excitedly. “That guy is Mayfair Marvin with a dye job and a moustache. He’s one of the hottest international jewel thieves in the racket!”
“What!” the judge said. “Isn’t there anyone innocent in this court?”
Mario, who had suddenly lost his ruddy complexion, edged toward the exit. “That’s preposterous!” he said.
“Yeah?” Hotstuff drawled. “Let’s check that birthmark with the official descriptions.” He turned to Julie. “If you want to know where your jewelry is, lady, just ask this bum.”
Stricken, Julie turned to Mario, who refused to meet her gaze.
“How about it, Marvin?” Hotstuff said. “Do you fork over the rocks or do I tell the court about that job in London when ...”
“All right!” the bogus Mario said weakly. He turned to Julie. “If you look under the hedge at the end of the drive you’ll find your jewelry buried there. I meant to come back for it later, after a fortuitous call to the bedside of my dying mother.”
“Sergeant Feeney,” the judge said, “grab that man and have him locked up.”
“Yes, your honor,” Sergeant Feeney said and, taking Mario by the arm, relievedly escorted him from the room. As he did so, Julie buried her face in her hands and began to cry.
“There!” Toffee said elatedly, turning to the judge, “you see? There goes another charge!”
“There’s still the one of jail breaking,” the judge said spitefully. “It simply means that the charges, instead of being centralized with one man, are now more evenly distributed. In a minute now I’m going to start throwing sentences around here like rice at a wedding. The lot of you—with the exception of Mrs. Pillsworth—can start planning a nice long retirement.”
AS the judge leaned down to study and rearrange the reports before him, Toffee turned quickly to Marc.
“Do you still have the elixir?” she asked.
“Huh?” Marc said, his eyes on Julie.
“The elixir,” Toffee said. “Give it to me!”
“Oh, that,” Marc murmured. He reached into his pocket, extracted the partially filled bottle and handed it over. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Toffee said. She advanced happily to the bench and stood for a moment gazing soulfully into the judge’s scowling countenance.
“If you need some help,” she said demurely, “I’ll be glad to give you a hand. You’ll probably never figure it out all by yourself.”
“What!” the judge said, infuriated.
“Well, let’s face it,” Toffee said innocently, “with a muckle-head like you running the show we’ll never get anywhere.”
“You are in contempt!” the judge screamed. “I thought so all along!”
“Well, you must admit it’s a pretty contemptible court,” Toffee said. “Nothing personal, judge, but ...”
“Silence!” the judge cried. “Dont’ say another word or I may have to send myself up for murder! I ...” The rest was lost in a fit of coughing.
Quickly, a triumphant gleam in her eye, Toffee reached to the water pitcher at the side of the bench, emptied the elixir into it and poured a draft for the judge.
“Here, judge,” she said, “pull yourself together.”
The judge drained the glass and, closing his eyes, leaned back in his chair. Through the ensuing silence, Toffee returned to Marc’s side.
“His honor may see things a little differently now,” she mused.
“Why should he?” Marc said angrily. “All you’ve done is insult him.”
“I also fed him the elixir.”
“You—you gave him that!”
“In the water,” Toffee nodded. “I hope it works.”
“But it’s unpredictable! There’s no telling how he’ll react.
“Any change,” Toffee said, “is bound to be an improvement.”
During this exchange, the judge seemed to have fallen into a doze. For a time, while the court waited breathlessly, he remained still, then he stirred. Drowsily, he opened his eyes and sat up. Looking enormously refreshed, he surveyed the defendants before him blankly for a moment and then, quite astonishingly, grinned with a sort of gentle mischievousness. He looked around at Sergeant Feeney, who had just returned from the cells.
“Well, hello, sergeant,” he said. He made an inquiring gesture toward
the defendants. “Who are all these attractive people?”
“Huh?” grunted Sergeant Feeney. “Why they’re bein’ tried, your honor.”
“Tried?” the judge said. “How do you mean?”
“You’re tryin’ them, that’s all,” Sergeant Feeney said, puzzled.
“I am!” the judge said. “Then I must stop it instantly. I assume that when you say they’re being tried, you mean someone has been very trying with them. I can see, now that you mention it, they look a bit put out. Well, we’ll have to do something about that.” He smiled at Marc and Toffee and the others with winning graciousness. “I want you to know that I’m grateful to you all for coming today, and I’m sorry if I’ve bored you.” He turned back to Sergeant Feeney. “Have I been lecturing on the life of the mollusk again, or something like that?”
SERGEANT Feeney observed the judge quizzically. “Your honor, this is a gang of desperate criminals and you’re the judge who’s ...”
“Oh, no, no!” the judge laughed suddenly. “Oh, you’re mistaken, sergeant! I’m no judge.” His expression, however, became thoughtful. “It’s curious, though, that you should think that, because I do have a vague recollection that I once was a judge—though it may have been a dream—and I wanted nothing more than to forget it. I got so weary of having to be virtuous all the time. But, I’m sure it was only a dream. Aren’t you?”
“Your honor!” the skinny nudist said plaintively. “I really think something ought to be done about our leaves!”
“Your leaves?” the judge asked.
“Yes, your honor. We need fresh ones desperately.”
“My, my,” the judge said admiringly, “don’t you all look cool and comfortable, though?”
“Huh?” the nudist said. “You mean you aren’t sore at us any more for being nudists?”
“Sore at you?” the judge said. “Why should I be sore at you? As a matter of fact I’ll tell you a little secret.” Abandoning the bench and descending to the floor, he lifted his robes to display a pair of bare and knobby knees. “On warm days I never wear pants!” he chortled.
“My gosh!” the nudist said.
“Hey, what about us?” Hotstuff said. “Are you going to let them off and send us up for taking pot shots at Mario?”
The Complete Adventures of Toffee Page 76
