The Diamond Bikini (10 page)

“I reckon that’s right,” Pop says. He eased the car up the hill, taking it slow and easy across the bumps. Uncle Sagamore got out and opened the wire gate. We went through and he got back in. We started up the sandy road through the pines. Just before we got to the top of the hill the car stalled. It just stopped right in its tracks.

“Well,” Pop says. “Why you reckon it did that?”

“Sure is funny.” Uncle Sagamore says. “Mebbe you better try the starter.”

Pop ground on the starter, but nothing happened. He pulled out the choke and ground some more. It didn’t start.

I looked over his shoulder. “Hey, Pop,” I says. “I see the trouble. Looks like the key ain’t turned all the way on.”

“Of course it’s turned on,” Pop says.

“But, look—”

“Damn it,” Pop barks at me. “I tell you the key is all right.” He went on grinding on the starter, with the choke pulled all the way out.

“But, Pop—”

“Will you hush about that key?” he snaps at me. “Look—” He took hold of the key, and sure enough it did turn a little. It hadn’t been quite all the way on, just like I told him.

“Well, I’ll be dad-burned,” he says.

“Well sir, the fool thing,” Uncle Sagamore says. “Who would of thought that?”

Pop pushed on the starter again, “Well, we’ll go now.” The engine turned over, but nothing happened. It wouldn’t start.

“I think you got it flooded,” I says.

“Something’s sure wrong,” Pop got out. Then Uncle Sagamore opened his door and got out too. Pop raised up the hood, and they stood looking at the motor.

“Reckon there could be something wrong amongst all them wires?” Uncle Sagamore asked. “Such a passel of ‘em in there, man wouldn’t never know if they was hooked up right.”

I didn’t bother to get out. You could see what was wrong. He’d been turning the motor over all that time with the switch of the choke pulled out, and he’d flooded her. As soon as it set for a few minutes it’d be all right. Funny Pop couldn’t figure that out; he knew a right smart about motors as a rule. But it was all right with me. It was nice there, all sunshiny and warm, with the little breeze whispering through the tops of the pines. I just sat there with my feet on the bag of dirty clothes and wondered if we’d get back in time so I could go swimming with Miss Harrington. I sure hoped so.

Just then there was the sound of another car coming up the road behind us, coming real fast like whoever it was was in a big hurry. They threw on the brakes and slid to a stop in the ruts right behind us. I got out to see who it was. And doggone if it wasn’t Booger and Otis in the sheriff car.

They got out, one on each side. They had on their white hats, pushed back on their heads kind of free-and-easy like, and their gun-belts, with the bone handled guns hanging down on their right leg. They both had on a little short khaki jacket and a black tie, and they looked real spruce. There was a kind of grin on their faces, like they’d both thought of the same joke at the same time. Booger’s gold tooth just shined.

Uncle Sagamore straightened up and looked at them, and then he grinned kind of sheepish. “Well sir, by golly,” he says, “if it ain’t the shurf’s boys, Sam. You recollect Booger and Otis, don’t you?”

Pop looked at Uncle Sagamore, and Uncle Sagamore looked at Pop, both of ‘em like they was uneasy about something and trying not to let on. Then Pop swallowed like he had something stuck in his throat and said, “Why, sure I do. I’m real proud to see you boys again.”

Booger and Otis walked on around the car real slow, not saying a word. When they got in the road in front of it they just stood there with their thumbs hooked in the gun-belts. They looked at each other in a way that made you think they was going to bust out laughing any minute, but then their faces got real serious.

“Why—uh—you having a little trouble, Mr. Noonan?” Booger asked, real anxious. He didn’t mean Pop, though, because he was looking at Uncle Sagamore.

But before Uncle Sagamore could say anything, Otis says, “Why, Booger, I do believe Mr. Noonan’s car has broke down.”

Booger looked amazed. “Well, is that a fact?” he asked. “Now, ain’t that a embarrassing thing to happen? I mean, right at a time like this.”

Otis nodded his head real solemn. “It sure is,” he says. “But ain’t he the lucky one we come along so we could help him?”

Uncle Sagamore pulled his right foot out of his shoe and used his big toenail to scratch his other leg with. He looked down at the ground. “Shucks, boys,” he says. “I don’t reckon it’s nothin’ very serious. Likely me an’ Sam can get her goin’, an’ we wouldn’t want to put you boys out none, you bein’ busy an’ all. I think you can get around us all right, by just pullin’ out of the ruts.”

Booger and Otis stared at each other, like they was horrified just even thinking about it. “Go off and leave you broke down like this? Why, Mr. Noonan, we wouldn’t dream of it,” Otis says. “Good heaven, Booger, how many times you reckon the sheriff has told us? Boys, he always says, any time you can be of any help to Mr. Noonan, you just pitch right in there and give him a hand. Mr. Noonan’s a taxpayer, Otis he tells me. I know for a fact his taxes is paid in full right up through 1937.”

Uncle Sagamore took out his big red handkerchief and mopped his face, and then rubbed it around on top of the bald spot on his head. “Well sir, you boys make me feel real proud, talkin’ like that, an’ it’s downright neighborly of you to offer to help, but me an’ Sam ain’t in no hurry an’ we’d be just mortified at causin’ you any sort of trouble.”

Booger held up a hand. “Not another word, Mr. Noonan. Not—another—word. Pu-leese! What kind of men you think is in the sheriff’s department, if they can’t help out a fine up-standin’ citizen like you when they see him in trouble?” He stopped then and looked at Otis. “I say there, Mr. Sears, you know a little something about motors, don’t you?”

“Why, yes, Mr. Ledbetter, a little,” Otis says.

Booger nodded. “Well, that’s fine. Now. What would you says might be causin’ the trouble?”

Otis put his chin in the palm of his right hand and sort of frowned. “Hmmmm,” he says. “Now this here is just a guess, mind you, but offhand I’d say they’s a pretty good chance it’s a plugged gas line.”

“Well, is that a fact?” Booger asked. “Now. Where would you start to look for a thing like that?” Otis scratched his head and looked real thoughtful. “Well, there’s a number of places she might be clogged up. We might look in the trunk, or under the back seat, or in the upholstery, or even underneath, along the frame.”

“But wait a minute,” Booger interrupts him. “Wouldn’t you need a search warrant to go poking around in somebody’s car like that?”

“Why, shucks, no, I wouldn’t think so,” Otis says. “Not to look for a clogged gas line.” He turned to Uncle Sagamore. “Ain’t that your opinion, Mr. Noonan?”

Uncle Sagamore mopped his face again. “Why-uh-” He says.

“Why, of course not,” Otis says. “It’d just be silly. A neighborly gesture like that?”

So they walked along on each side of the car. Booger come to the back door I had left open when I got out. He stuck his head in and hefted the bag of clothes.

“Well, well,” he says. “What have we got here? Looks like a whole passel of laundry. And, by golly, here’s a cardboard box under it, where you wouldn’t hardly notice it if you didn’t happen to be looking for a clogged gas line. Box just settin’ there, all covered up.”

Otis came around to that side too. They looked at each other, real puzzled.

“What do you reckon is in there?” Otis asked.

Booger shook the box a little.

“Well, heavens to Betsy,” he says. “Listen. It sort of gurgles. You reckon it’s surp, or perfume, or something? Maybe it’s Channel Number Five he’s taking to one of his lady friends.” He thought for a minute, and then slapped his hands together. “No. I know what it is. I bet Mr. Noonan has got some spare gasoline in this here box.”

Uncle Sagamore scratched his left leg with his right toenail again.

“Why, shucks, boys,” he says. “That there’s just some of my tannery solution. I was gonna send it to the Gov’ment to have it analyzed.”

Booger and Otis straightened up. “Well, what do you know about that?” they says. “Tannery solution. Who would of thought it?”

“Sure,” Uncle Sagamore says. “That’s all it is, boys.” Then he looks down inside the hood at the motor again and points a finger and says to Pop, “Hey, Sam, how about that there loose wire? You reckon that could be causin’—”

“Well, I’ll be dad-burned,” Pop says. “That’s it for sure. Now, why didn’t I see it before?” He bent over the fender and reached in under the hood. Then he straightened up. “Well, she’ll run now.”

Uncle Sagamore patted the bald spot on his head again with the handkerchief. “Well, we’re sure obliged to you boys for stoppin’ to help,” he says. “Reckon we’ll run along.”

“Oh, don’t rush off, Mr. Noonan,” Booger says. He winked at Otis and they both grinned.

Otis reached into the cardboard box and brought out one of the jars of tannery juice. He held it up to the light and squinted at it.

“Hmmmm,” he says. “Sure is a purty color. I reckon Mr. Noonan has been puttin’ a little burnt sugar in his tannery solution, Booger. Gives it that aged-in-the-wood look, just like Old Grandpaw.”

They looked at each other real solemn, but you could see they was having trouble keeping their faces straight. Then Otis snickered. And then Booger snickered. They busted into a regular guffaw. Next thing, they’re having to hold each other up, they’re laughing so hard.

Booger wiped the tears out of his eyes. “Tannery solution!” he says, and then doubled up and started to howl again. They both leaned against the car, just whooping. You could of heard ‘em a mile.

At last they get control of theirselves again, and Booger says, “Well, I reckon we better get going. We’ll leave her right in there so they can confiscate the car too. You get in the back seat and ride in with them, Otis, and I’ll foller in the other car.”

Pop jumped up like he’d been stung. “Hey what are you fellers talkin’ about? Confiscate the car? This is
my
car.”

Otis stared at him. “Well, mister, you sure picked a hell of a poor time to say that.”

“Now, look, boys,” Uncle Sagamore says, “you’re makin’ a big mistake. I tell you that’s just tannery solution I’m sendin’ to the Gov’ment.”

Booger just shook his head. He was too weak to laugh any more. “Wait till the sheriff hears that one,” he says. “Boy, I can hardly wait to see his face when we drive up. All these years he’s been tryin’—”

It seemed to me like the joke had gone far enough, whatever it was. I couldn’t figure why they wouldn’t believe Uncle Sagamore, but somebody ought to straighten ‘em out. “But, look, Mr. Booger,” I says, “it is tannery juice.”

Pop and Uncle Sagamore whirled around real fast and looked at me. “That’s right, Billy,” Uncle Sagamore says. “Maybe they’ll listen to you. Tell ‘em just what I told—I mean, how you seen us take that right out of them tannery tubs. You rememeber.”

“Why, of course, I remember.”

“You see there?” Uncle Sagamore says to Booger. “This here boy hisself had just told you. He seen us take it out of the tubs.”

Booger and Otis stared at me and then at each other, sort of disgusted. “Ain’t it awful?” Otis says. “A young boy like that. They ort to take him away from ‘em.”

“You’re makin’ a mistake, boys,” Uncle Sagamore says, but it didn’t do any good.

They just motioned for us to get back in. Otis climbed in the back with me. When Pop stepped on the starter this time, the motor started right up, and we took off. Booger followed right close behind us in the sheriff car.

When we passed Mr. Jimerson’s house he was lying on the front porch in the shade with his bare feet sticking out towards the road. He raised his head up and stared at the two cars and then at Otis in the back seat of ours, and he rubbed his eyes. Then he bounced right straight up like he’d been stung by something, and started yelling, Trudy! Trudy! They got him! They won’t run over no more of our hawgs!”

He disappeared inside the door just as we went around the bend in the road.

Pop and Uncle Sagamore were real quiet all the way to town. When we got there, Otis says, “Go on around the square and park right in front of the courthouse.”

It was about noon by this time and the streets was pretty quiet. That is, they was at first. That sure changed in a minute. But right now there was just a few people sitting on benches under the trees, and some birds making cooing sounds high up under the roof of the courthouse. We stopped at the curb, and Booger pulled up right behind us in the sheriff car.

There was another man with a white hat and a pistol-belt sitting on the steps leading up to the big door. Otis stuck his head out and says to him, “Pearl, tell the sheriff to come down. We got something for him.”

Pearl jumped up and his eyes got big. He stared at Uncle Sagamore. “You got him? You —you mean—him?” He stood there then, with his mouth open, just pointing.

Otis grinned. “I hope to tell you we got him. We got him but good.”

Pearl whirled around and ran up the steps like a bear was after him.

Otis got out, and Booger come up from the other car. They was grinning from ear to ear.

I heard somebody running along the street yelling, “They got Sagamore Noonan. Caught him with it!”

People began to come out of the door of the courthouse and down the steps. They crowded around. More was running this way from the stores around the square. You couldn’t hardly move. Pop and Uncle Sagamore and me had got out, but now we was pressed back against the car by the crowd.

“I don’t believe it,” somebody says in all the jam pushing around us. “They won’t never catch Sagamore Noonan dead to rights. He’s too smart for ‘em.”

Somebody else says, “The hell they won’t. There he is, right there, ain’t he?”

Somewhere in the back, a little kid was yelling, “Papa, hold me up. I want to see Sagamore Noonan!”

Cars going by in the street was stopping. It was jammed up from curb to curb. People was craning their necks. It was a regular uproar with everybody trying to talk at once, asking questions and pointing and hollering at each other.

“Is that really him?”

“Sure. The one that looks like a pirate.”

“That’s Sagamore Noonan?”

“Sure, that’s Sagamore Noonan.”

“I don’t care what they say, they ain’t got him.”

“Of course they have.”

“It’ll backfire on ‘em some way. You just wait.”

“I hear they found the still and ten thousand gallons of mash.”

“They caught him running off a batch.”

The little kid was screaming. “I wanna see Sagamore Noonan. I wanna see Sagamore Noonan, I wanna see Sagamore Noonan.”

“You just wait,” a man says in the crowd right near us. “The whole thing’ll blow up right in their faces. It always does.”

I looked at him. He was a big man with a dark-complected face, wearing a baseball cap.

Another man says, “You want to make a bet?”

“Ten dollars says he’ll walk right out of here and they can’t hold him. He always does,” the baseball cap man says.

“He won’t this time.”

“Put your money where your mouth is,” the baseball cap man says.

“I’ll take five of that,” somebody else yells.

“Here’s five,” another man says, pushing through the crowd.

“Give me five too,” somebody else shouts.

Everybody was jostling and shoving and waving money. The crowd pushed us back against the car even closer. Booger nudged a man standing close to us.

“Cover all that Sagamore money you can,” he whispers. “We got him dead to rights this time. Get down five hundred for me an’ Otis if they’ll bet that heavy.”

The man nodded and started pushing through the crowd. Uncle Sagamore didn’t say anything. He looked real discouraged. He took off his shoes and put them in through the window of the car so he could scratch his legs with his toes, and just stood looking down at his feet. There was so much yakking you couldn’t hear whether he was talking or not.

Then all of a sudden a little roly-poly man with a red face come shoving his way through the crowd like he’d been shot out of a cannon. It was the sheriff. He had his hat in his hand, wringing it the way you would a wash-cloth.

He jumped at Booger and Otis like he wanted to kiss ‘em both. “Pearl says you got him!” he yells. “Says you caught him with the goods.”

“You bet we did,” Booger says. He pushed the people back and opened the car door. “Look!”

The bundle of dirty clothes had been pushed off, and the top of the cardboard box was open. You could see the four fruit jars.

“Glory, glory, glory!” the sheriff yelled.

“Praise the Lord!” There was tears in his eyes and he was grinning from one ear to the other. Words just come spouting out of him.

“How did you do it, boys? How did you ever manage to catch him? We been a-tryin’ for ten years! Hey, stand back, everybody! Make room for the photographer. Get the photographer down here. Get witnesses.”

Witnesses, I thought. There must have been two thousand people jammed around us in the street and on the sidewalk and the courthouse lawn.

He went right on, half-way between laughing and crying. “Get a picture of it in the car, and then another with me holding it behind the car, so the license plate will show. Boys, how on earth did you do it? We can confiscate the car, of course. Two whole gallons of evidence—oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. We’ll put it in the safe. No, by God, I’ll put it in the vault in the bank and pay the storage charges on it myself. But how in the world did you manage to outfox him?” He ran down at last.

Booger and Otis was laughing again. Booger wiped the tears out of his own eyes. “He says it’s tannery solution. Honest to God, sheriff, that’s what he told us!” He broke down and howled some more. Then he got a grip on his-self and went on, “He outsmarted hisself this time. You know what the old wart hog done?”

The sheriff began to jump up and down. “No,” he yells. “Of course I don’t know what he done. That’s what I keep asking you. What did he do?”

Booger and Otis both started talking at once. “Well, he set fire to an old stump down there in the bottom, see? That was to draw us down there out of the way, so he could sneak out without us getting a look at his car. But we got wise as soon as we seen it was just a stump, and rushed back, and sure enough, that was what he was up to. But—but—”

They both leaned against the car, roaring fit to bust.

“But what, dammit?” the sheriff yelled.

“But the car broke down!” Booger whoops. “So there he was, sitting there like a crippled duck, with two gallons of it on him right in broad daylight! So he tells us it’s tannery solution!”

The sheriff just shook his head with the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Boys,” he says, “this here is the proudest day of my life. I won’t never forget this.”

Uncle Sagamore mopped the sweat off his face. “Shurf,” he says, T don’t know what all this hooraw’s about, but if your men ain’t got nothin’ better to do than go around pickin’ on honest citizens that’s trying to scratch a livin’ tanning a little leather—”

The sheriff bristled up to him like a little banty rooster. He shook a finger in his face. “You shut up, Sagamore Noonan,” he says. “Try to outsmart my boys, will you? Well, we got you this time.”

The photographer took pictures of the four jars and the box and then pictures of the car. A lot of people in the crowd was hollering to have their bets paid. “There’s the evidence, ain’t it?” they says.

“No, sir,” others were saying. “Bets ain’t settled till we see ‘em close the cell door on him. That’s Sagamore Noonan, you fool. You just wait.” These ones seemed to be kind of losing heart, though. The baseball cap was still talking loud, but it was like he wasn’t so sure any more.

Booger picked up the box and started towards the courthouse. “Come on, Sagamore Noonan,” the sheriff says. Then he looked at Pop. “How about this one?”

“He admitted it was his car,” Otis says.

The sheriff let out a yell. “Glory hallelujah! Two Noonans in one haul. Come on, men.”

It looked like everybody had forgot about me. I began to be scared. They was going to draft Pop and Uncle Sagamore, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. They started pushing through the crowd, with the sheriff and the man named Pearl holding them by the arms. I followed along behind with all the people pushing around me as we went up the steps into the courthouse. We climbed up some more steps to the second floor and into a big room that had
Sheriff
wrote on a sign nailed to the door. Two girls was writing on typewriters at some desks, and there was a lot of steel cabinets with drawers in ‘em. People come crowding in behind us till the whole room was full.

Booger put the box down on the desk where one of his girls was writing. Him and Pearl and Otis and the sheriff crowded round. “Stand back a little, folks,” the sheriff was yelling. “Give us a little room here. We got to photograph the evidence once more.”

Some of the people pushed back till they cleared a little space around his desk. Pearl motioned for Pop and Uncle Sagamore to move back towards the corner of the room. I stood close to Pop because I was still scared. There must have been twenty, thirty people in the room, all grinning, and the door was packed solid so no more could get in or out.

The photographer got his camera ready. Now,” the sheriff says. “I want one shot of me opening a jar of the evidence.” He stopped then and thought about it. “No, by golly,” he goes on, “these two smart deputy sheriffs of mine was the ones outfoxed the old devil and caught him, so we’ll all three have our picture made with a jar of it.”

Otis and Booger just grinned like big chessie cats. They reached in the box and each got a jar.

“Shurf,” Uncle Sagamore says, “I keep tryin’ to tell you you’re makin’ a mistake.

“Shut up, Sagamore Noonan,” the sheriff says. “We don’t want to hear no more out of you.”

Uncle Sagamore scratched his leg with his big toe and looked down at the floor. “Shucks,” he says, kind of tired and put out, “all this hooraw over just a little dab of tannery solution.” People just snorted at him and looked back at the sheriff.

The sheriff held up his jar and looked through. He grinned. “Sure is a purty color ain’t she?”

Booger sat down on the corner of the desk and held his out in his hand, looking important. “I don’t never drink nothing but Old Sagamore Tannery Solution,” he says.

Everybody laughed. The photographer’s flashlight went off, and all three of them started trying to twist the jars open. That glue had set, so I wondered if the caps would come off at all. They caught the bottom of the jar in one hand and the cap in the other and twisted till they made faces. Uncle Sagamore and Pop leaned back against the wall and watched, real interested.

All of a sudden the sheriff’s jar just came right apart in his hands as clean as a whistle. The tannery juice went every which way, all over his clothes and the papers on the desk, and on the people standing around. It ran down his pants legs into his shoes. And before anybody could yell or jump or anything, Booger’s jar did the same thing. It was just like they had been sawed in two, and it was right where Pop and Uncle Sagamore had tested them with that string. Otis’s jar didn’t break, but when he jumped back he dropped it and it broke all to pieces on the floor.