The Alley (17 page)

"Hugsy!" said Billy. "Are you crazy? We need that to show detectives when we have the chance, to prove that this blood and the curtain blood are the same." Fortunately, only a faint fringe of brown had scorched the edges.

"Oh," said Hugsy. "I'm sorry. I thought you had already proved it!"

"I've proved it to us," said Billy, "but not to real detectives. We have to prove it to them if we ever have the chance."

Hugsy was ashamed. He had very good manners. "I'm sorry," he said again huskily. "I thought we were all real."

"Whee-ee." The judge sighed. "This trial is getting out of hand. It's all mixed up. Nobody knows any more whether they are real or not, ever since that real—perhaps—burglar came along. Why did he have to come along, anyway, and spoil a good game? We haven't finished the trial at all; we don't know what to think yet about the diamond ring and seeing through pockets and all. Here we are, holding one trial for one burglary—Connie's—and at the same time a new burglary may be being burglared down at Bully Vardeer's house. The crook policemen ... if they are crooks ... may soon be there, too, raking in their haul, their rings and things."

"How?" asked Greggie Goode. "How can I be robbing Bully Vardeer's house and at the same time be on trial here for robbing Connie's house?"

"That's what I mean," agreed Katy. "We're all mixed up, myself as well as you, Sergeant Rattray." ("Ts," thought Connie. "It's awful to have a judge mixed up.") "We'll recess," said Katy, "until after we find out more about what's going on. Let's go down to Bully Vardeer's house"

Everybody, with studied casualness, in case some accomplice of the bullet-head man had his eyes on them from somewhere, meandered with many stops and starts to Bully Vardeer's end of the Alley. They turned the corner of the T, and they reached the iron gate. All were scared, but they crowded to the iron gate, pressed against it and looked right and left as far as they could. They waited and they watched. Billy climbed the catalpa tree in Mr. Bernadette's yard to see if he could see anything. "Nothing doing. No sign of bullet-head," he said, "or of any lookout men—nothing!"

Then, along came Bully Vardeer, back from his walk with Prince, carefree, hat set on the back of his head, jaunty, in the true
boulevardier
fashion. He was completely unaware that he might have been burglarized—or was being considered for a burglary. He said good-naturedly, "Ho-ho! Moved up to my end of the Alley, eh? No bouncing balls now on the wall. I'm going to take a sunbath." And he went into his house with Prince, into their—it must have been—unbroken-into house, for there were no exclamations of shock, surprise, or cries of "Help, help, police!" And he went straight through his house and out the back door and sat down on the top step.

Judy Fabadessa said, "Oo-oo-oh! We should tell Mr. Below—tell him he's been talking to a burglar." Her enormous gray eyes looked larger than ever. All the children agreed that Bully Vardeer must be told that a short time ago he had been talking to burglar number one of the famous Ives's burglary, warn him that the dog conversation he had had with a stranger was the beginning of his house being cased . . as it had been of the Ives's ... and that the next thing he knew he might be broken into. Yes, he must be told, or they would be as bad as Mrs. Fabadessa in the kitchen or Mr. Fabadessa and the missionaries.

"You're the judge," said Billy. "You have your judge's robe on, Katy, so you tell him."

"No. Connie must," said Katy. "She's the one who knows the burglar."

In the end, Billy, being the lawyer, did the talking.

"Mr. Below," he said. Billy did not like to speak to grownups; but he had the clues, and these gave him courage. "Mr. Below," he said. The children had entered Bully's garden, not boisterously—quietly and in orderly procession.

"Yes, Billy," said Bully Vardeer, opening one eye. He always closed his eyes immediately on going out in order to get every bit of the sun's rays, even on his eyelids.

Billy spoke rapidly in a low, tense monotone. "You know that man," he said, "that you were talking to just now? The man with the round bullet-head who asked you, 'Does this dog bite?' Well, Connie and I think that he is one of the men, the main man, probably, of the bunch of burglars who broke into Connie's house on Alumni Day. He may be casing your house, him, he—and his other guys—men. He may be watching you right now, from somewhere, to see what time of day you go out walking Princey and what time you come in. He wanted to know if your dog is a friendly one or not, just as he did Connie and her mother about Wags. That man said to Connie and her mother the very same words he said to you, 'Does this dog bite?'"

Bully suddenly opened his eyes wide. His pointed, bushy eyebrows went way up on his forehead, and his pointed ears took in every word. He pressed his lips tightly together, which is the way he thought. Unlike some grownups who say "pooh-pooh" and walk off thinking that children do not know what they are talking about, he said, "Oh, yes, Billy? That's terrible!" He showed respect; he listened.

"Yes," said Billy. "We have evidence. You better keep on the watch, and you'd better keep your outer green door locked. Maybe you should have a burglar alarm put on your house—we're going to—and perhaps put a bucket of water over the door..."

"You are!" said Bully. "Well ..." he said. "Thanks for the tip. I'll be on the lookout." And he closed his eyes again, his eyelids being the only untanned part of him.

It put a damper on the proceedings to see Bully Vardeer go to sleep, so Katy said, "Recess until after lunch. Court dismissed!" she said. She hiked her father's robe up—not to get it any dustier—and she and everyone went home to lunch.

"Mama?" said Connie, going into the kitchen.

"Yes, darling?" said Mama.

"Mama, listen," said Connie. Connie told her mother about the bullet-head man, Bully Vardeer, Princey, the trial—everything.

Mama listened intently. She was very disturbed.
She
didn't close her eyes—go to sleep in the sunshine. Whenever Mama got disturbed over anything, Connie got calm. "Don't worry," she said reassuringly. "We will finish the trial this afternoon and then decide what to do."

"Well, I'll tell your father the minute he gets home and see what
he
wants to do," said Mama. "But," she added, "the minute you see that bullet-head man again, you come and see me. You should have done that this morning."

"We couldn't interrupt the trial," said Connie, pouring catsup on her beans. "Woops!" she said. "Too much!" Then she had some blueberry pie, and then she sat in her little red rocker and had some more conversation with Mama about the microscope and the clues. "You should have gotten A in science," her mother said. It was a wonderful conversation, and Connie regretted that soon she would have to go back outside and finish the trial. But she did—Billy Maloon came for her and they swung until everyone came back out to the Circle.

"Swingers!" said June with a sneer when she came out and saw them. "She has forgotten that we are all friends now," thought Connie, "that the burglary and the trial have made us all friends—big girls and little girls, G.G.C. or not G.G.C., boys ... all are friends now."

"Recess is over. The trial will now resume," said Katy. "All burglars back to the witness stand, please. Now, as we were saying when Bully Vardeer and the real burglar..."

"Sh-sh-sh..." said Connie. "He might be coming along again..."

"True," said Judge Starr, more than a little scared herself. She lowered her voice and said, "Your witnesses, Mr. Maloon."

"Yes, Your Honor," said Billy. "The defendants have already admitted having been on Story Street at the hour of the burglary, and owning 'Stanley,' and smoking a 'Mura,' and scratching their hands from breaking down the door—all more than enough to send these five men to Sing Sing. I accuse burglar number one, him—he—with the scratches on his hand (yeh, you, Arp) of doing the actual breaking in of the Ives's house." Then, pointing his finger at all five burglars, he said, "Did you or did you not break into the house of these innocent Ives people? Take all their things, suits, antiques, silver dollars, diamond ring?"

The five burglars hung their heads. Though they aimed to look ashamed, they were sniggering. The first one, Ray Arp, was finally able to speak. "True," he said. "We have to confess—the evidence being so exclusive—"

"Conclusive!" corrected Laura Fabadessa.

"...confess that we did, yes we did, break into the house on Story Street, marked on the door Number 175. But we didn't take no..."

"Didn't take any..." corrected Laura.

"Silence in the courtroom!" said Katy, whamming down her gavel.

"But," Ray went on, "we didn't take
no
diamond ring, and we didn't take
no
antique watches and
no
studs and
no
any such things. I wish we had tooken, but we hadn't tooken them. Sawtooth Pete—he was one of the guys outside, across the street—well, he give the signal that the kid and her maw had been sighted. That's when I got the blood on the curtain, looking out at him, at Sawtooth Pete." (Ray had to repeat the made-up name because it had proved a great success, having been met with howls of mirth, from Hugsy especially.) "Then, Sawtooth, he started whistling, 'Get Me to the Church on Time.' That was the scat signal—skidoo! The O. K., get-ready-to-bust-in signal is, 'On the Street Where You Live.'" Ray tried to whistle the latter. But since Ray could not carry a tune, you would not have known it from "Get Me to the Church on Time."

"No whistling in the courtroom," said the judge.

"...so all the loot we got was this crummy antique typewriter that we sold for two bucks..."

"Two bucks!" exclaimed Connie. "Why, that is the ancient typewriter of my father that he had in college, that he typed all his homework on, his themes, his papers, a poem—all! He had just given it to me for my own..."

"And Mr. Ives's three suits?" Billy suggested coolly.

"Yes," agreed Connie. "And remember, they were brand-new, too, you know. Papa never gets anything for himself; and he always sends back everything that Mama buys for him—says he can get along without this, without that. He has only two pairs of pajamas—he just took
one
pair to Europe with him, said he could wash it out overnight now and then.... But one day he just happened to have bought three brand-new suits—they were having a sale at Pete Rogers—we don't know what got into him; he just got them, got three brand-new suits. He hadn't even worn one of them once ... then, gone!"

"Why didn't he have one of the suits on? On such an important day as Alumni Day under the tents, why didn't he have one of them, at least, on?" asked June Arp crossly.

"Because it would not be seen under an academic robe. Why waste a new suit under a robe?" Connie asked scornfully. She was beginning to be able to stand up to the big girls. How brave the burglary had made her!

"They don't wear suits under robes, anyway, do they?" said Greggie Goode.

"Oh, yes," said Connie. "I think they do. I heard of it somewhere."

"Silence in the courtroom," said Katy again. Turning to Connie, she said, "Complainant, we are trying to recover your possessions for you—at least find out who got what—so please leave Pete Rogers out of this, and all other sidelines. Now, on with the trial-oh! Right, burglars?"

"Aye, aye, sir," said the five burglars. Again everyone was quite mixed up in his speech.

"We got ten bucks each for the suits," said Ray Arp, "because tags, pins, labels, and all them things were still in them. But jewels? We don't know nuttin' about dem jewels. Ask dem dicks dere."

"Dicks" is an underworld word for "cops." Connie knew that. But—what a turn for the trial to be taking! Her burglars were educated ones—not "dese, dem, dat, dere" sort of ones.

"Call the two first policemen to the stand," said Billy.

"Two first policemen to the stand-oh," chanted Judge Starr.

"Heaven's sakes! Now she is being a sailor," thought Connie. "A judge—a sailor!"

Laura Fabadessa and Gregg Goode returned to the stand. They were haughty and tried to look innocent by twiddling their thumbs and scanning the sky. "Your Honor," said Greggie, "this is a disgrace. Two honester policemen can't be found in the entire presink!"

"That may be," said Judge Starr dryly. "But the question today deals with you, you and Officer Ippolito, and not with the 'entire presink.' Did you or did you not take the famous jewels of the Ives family in which family they have reposeth for far longer than thou thinketh, me thinketh. I'll wager ye canst not count back as far as these jewels gothe..."

"Gothe?" said Greggie.

"Aye, gothe," said Katy.

"Go-eth," said Laura Fabadessa.

"Go-eth," said Greggie. "But, Your Honor," he said. "I object. No one, not even a judge, can wager in the courtroom. Wagering is betting, and betting is illegal in the presink."

Who would have thought that Greggie Goode, Little Greggie Goode, was so smart? And he wasn't the least bit stuck up. He was embarrassed, almost, by his smartness—didn't run around the Alley, beating his chest, saying, "I got all A's." "He should certainly be put in R. A. when he gets up to grade seven," thought Connie.

"Objection sustained," said Judge Starr.

Billy Maloon put in, "Your Honor. It is the lawyers who make the objections, not the accused."

"Correction sustained," agreed Judge Starr amiably. "I ask you..." said Katy, "and mind you—men—you are under oath to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth ... did you or did you not take the famous Ives jewels? You can be charged with purgatory if you lie."

Laura Fabadessa said coldly, "Perjury."

"Did you take the jewels?" the judge repeated, equally coldly.

Laura and Greggie, defeated, hung their heads. "Aye, aye, sir," they said. (They wanted to go to the Library Park—sit on the cannon—so they had resolved now to admit all and wind up the trial.) "We did."