I lit a cigarette and watched the effect on the morgue attendant with interest.
He got up deliberately and peered at the pile of clothes with glassy eyes.
“Astonishing how little these girls wear,” I said chattily, “just a handful of silk here and a wisp of silk there and yet they look marvellous.”
“Where is she?” he whispered, clawing at his throat.
“In the morgue by now,” I said, “but, she’ll be back.”
He gave a long sigh and fell down behind the counter. I didn’t blame him. It was a shock for a guy his age.
I left him there and ran round the counter. As I reached the head of the stairs that led to the morgue I saw Doc Ansell come stumbling up.
I ran down and grabbed him, “Doc!” I cried, “am I glad to see you!”
“Take care of him while I dress,” Myra’s voice said, “he’s still a little dazed.”
“Don’t hold that against me,” Doc said, gripping my hand, “I’ve had a very trying experience.”
The morgue attendant still lay behind the counter, but as we passed he sat up and peered at us.
“You won’t want this stiff any more,” I said to him. “I’m going to take it away and buy it a meal.”
Myra flashed into her clothes.
“Come on, Doc,” she said, slipping her arm through his, “let’s get out of here.”
As we went out, the morgue attendant gave a low wail and collapsed once more on the floor.
Chapter NINTEEN
I REALLY don’t think that I need keep you any longer. If you have read this far you’ll probably be like Maddox who never could bring himself to believe my story and if I hadn’t left New York, I’m sure he would have shanghaied me into a nut house.
The only defence I offer is that strange things do happen. I’m not suggesting that you should believe everything you read or hear, but if you make a habit of doubting everything you will miss much of the fun in life.
It was nice to have Doc Ansell with us again. It was nice for me to have Myra without Arym and to know that she wouldn’t suddenly shoot into the air or vanish without warning. She meant a lot to me and if I’d had to have her with her black magic, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But after the new moon she settled down to normal life again.
There was no trouble in getting Bogle out of jail. Summers was so pleased to have Kruger and his mob on ice that he was willing to give way of a small matter like releasing Sam.
I cannot close this story without telling you what happen to Whisky. The police rescued him from Peppj and held him for us. At midnight as we were hurrying with Doc to the police headquarters, there was a sudden uproar in the room where they had put Whisky. On going in they found Whisky trying to gnaw an immensely fat Mexican Who had mysteriously appeared out of thin air.
The Mexican had been so abusive and violent that the police kept him for us to see. You can imagine our feelings when Pablo was brought in, looking as if he could make mincemeat of us all.
Yes, Pablo had come back. He wasn’t any nicer and I can’t say I blamed him. To have been turned into a sausage and then eaten by a large wolfhound is a pretty harrowing experienced. He was inclined to blame Myra and me for it, and I felt, that if he were at large, he might resort to his horn trick some dark night when we weren’t expecting him.
I had a word with Summers and he sent Pablo back to Mexico under an armed escort. There, he was handed over to Mexican authorities who put a rope around his neck and strung him several feet into the air.
I never liked Pablo anyway.
Now that his influence had been removed from Whisky the dog was unable to talk. We regretted this because Whisky had been a sensible kind of dog and he invariably had a number of sensible things to say.
At first, Whisky was depressed because he couldn’t express himself, but, fortunately, he ran into a lady dog who took to him and they settled down quite happily together.
Myra and I decided to set up home on the Pacific coast. This decision was largely influenced by finding among Myra’s clothes twenty-four thousand-dollar bills. It was the reward that Arym had hidden on the night she met me for the first time on the stairs, three days after we had arrived in New York.
It seemed a waste of good money to return the money to Maddox. He had plenty of his own and we could use it to advantage ourselves. Besides, Maddox never really forgave me and as he spent much of his time making inquiries about lunatic asylums, it seemed safer to have a change of air.
Doc set himself up once again as a herbalist and Sam helped him. They insisted on sharing our house. It seemed only right to have them after all we had been through together and we invited Whisky and his lady friend to join us.
It is an odd thing, but I never did meet Myra’s father. We heard he had married a midget from a travelling circus, but we never had confirmation of this. Anyway, he dropped out of Myra’s life which was a good thing. I had enough on hand without having a midget for a mother-in-law.
I found a profitable market as a short-story writer and Myra was busy preparing for Ross Milan junior.
I always wanted a son. And, after the inevitable alarming span of months, a son arrived. He was a nice-looking kid, more like his mother than me. We were all crazy about him.
On the face of it, it looked like we had finished with black magic, policemen and hoodlums and were all set for a nice quiet trip to old age, but it didn’t work out like that.
One Sunday morning I was sitting at my desk trying to invent a situation for a story, when a sudden wild scream brought me to my feet. Throwing down my pen, I rushed into the garden.
Myra, Doc and Sam were staring into the sky with horrified expressions.
I followed their gaze and my reason almost crumbled.
Thirty feet or so in the air sat Ross Millan junior. He waved his toy Mickey Mouse excitedly when he saw me.
“Look, Pop,” he shouted happily, “I’m flying!”
THE END
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Miss Shumway Waves a Wand Page 25
