“I don’t know,” I said. “Possibly. Also, I want their car released.”
The attorney general shook his head. “Judge, we think that car is stolen. There are papers in the glove compartment in the name of one William D. Walker. We think—”
“Wait a minute!” I said. “Did you have a search warrant when you went rummaging through the car?”
He glared at me without answering.
“Damn it,” I said, “you know you needed a warrant to search that car. Anything you found will be inadmissible.”
“What the hell’s the difference?” he said. “As soon as we get the F.B.I. report, we’ll have plenty of corroborating evidence.” Flushing angrily, he said, “I’m not going to release that car, Judge. Not unless you order me to.”
The judge nodded. “You’ve got till noon tomorrow to make a case on the car. Otherwise, you’ll have to release it.”
Haggle smiled. “That’s fine. By tomorrow a federal lien is liable to be slapped on that car for a charge of transporting a stolen automobile across a state line.”
“If the car is stolen,” I said.
So that was the way the judge left it, and I was satisfied with the outcome. The sheriff took Kathy back to jail and Parrot Barrone walked back to my office with me. He was jubilant and had a strange, wild look in his eyes.
“I can get a thousand dollars easy,” he said, “by telephoning my dad’s office. Also—” he raised his eyebrows “—I’ll get an extra hundred for you, for doing such a great job.”
“That would be nice,” I said.
“If you’ll let me use the telephone in your office, I’ll make a collect call and get the money wired to me right away.”
“Be my guest,” I said, ushering him into the office. Then, while he closed the door and made his call, I caught up on my filing.
He came out with a grin a yard wide. “Success!” he said. “They’re sending enough to cover everything. I’ll pick up the money at Western Union late this afternoon.”
“Wonderful!”
“As soon as it arrives I’ll settle up with you and post Kathy’s bond. Then perhaps you’ll join us for dinner tonight?”
“I’d love to.”
He gave my hand a warm squeeze and said, “See you later, Lee. Will you be here in the office all afternoon?”
“Till five, at least,” I said. “Call me when you know something.”
“Of course.” He winked. “Adios, señorita.”
I worked all afternoon, typing up a couple of title abstracts, pausing occasionally to gloat over the way the hearing had gone. I was delighted to have earned a nice fee on a walk-in case. If I could get one like it every week or so, I’d soon be in clover.
Thinking back over it, I decided my initial impression of Parrot had been harsh and judgmental. Maybe he was a crook, but he operated with verve and charm. And quite possibly he wasn’t a crook. Who was I to say? In any event, he was entitled to legal counsel. I was a lawyer, not a moralist.
About five-thirty, I decided to lock up. Parrot still hadn’t called, so I assumed it had taken longer than he’d anticipated for the people at the other end to get the cash together. The money would surely arrive by morning.
I opened my purse to get my keys. They weren’t there. I stood there, puzzled. I’d had the keys when we got back from court. I’d unlocked the outer door and then dropped the keys into my purse, which had been on my desk all afternoon.
A chill went through my heart. Parrot! He’d been in my office with the door closed. Quickly I yanked the bottom drawer open and looked in the cash box. Empty. Cleaned out. The two gold pieces were gone, plus forty dollars and some change. Another twelve dollars had been taken from my purse.
Furious with myself for being so trusting, I ran down the steps and around the building. My car was gone. In a black, seething rage, I stalked into Sheriff Rex Ricketts’ office next door.
Rex was reading the Balsam Gap Bugle, his feet propped on the desk. He glanced up at me, then put his feet down. “What in the world is wrong, Lee?” he said with concern.
“That carpetbagging reprobate!” I sputtered. “That depraved scalawag! That oily-tongued hustler! Rex, I want to swear out a warrant against Parrot Barrone.”
“Parrot Barrone?” he said, astonished. “But he’s your client.”
“Was my client. That no-account swindler took my car and all the cash I had. I want him, Rex—” I pounded the desk “—I want him!” Then came a sudden thought. “And you’d better make sure his wife is still in her cell. I wouldn’t put anything past those two flim-flammers.”
The sheriff had a funny look on his face. “Why, she’s been gone since noon, Lee. Didn’t you know?”
“Are you serious? Since noon? How in the—? You mean Parrot posted bond?”
“Why, no. The judge said he didn’t need to. After the hearing this morning — right after I brought Kathy back to the jail — Judge Lively called me on the telephone and said he’d reconsidered. Said he’d decided to release Kathy on her own recognizance.”
“Her own recognizance?” Bewildered, I shook my head. That didn’t sound like Judge Lively. He’d have told me first, wouldn’t he? Then I thought about the phone call Parrot had made from my private office and I felt the blood drain from my face. “Oh, my God,” I said, sitting down. “Rex, what time did the judge call you?”
“Lemme check the log. Here it is. Eleven-forty-two, only a few minutes after we got back from the courthouse. Right after I hung up from talking with the judge, Parrot Barrone walked in and said the judge had sent him over to get Kathy. So I signed her out, naturally.”
“Naturally,” I said in a tiny voice. “We’ve been had, Rex. You and the judge and me and everybody.” I released my breath in a long, hoarse sigh. “We’d better get the judge on the phone.”
Sitting down to dial, I closed my eyes for a long moment and wondered why I hadn’t gone into teaching like my mother wanted me to.
Well, Parrot had indeed conned us all. He’d imitated the judge’s voice so well that the sheriff had been completely fooled. Later, after rehashing the whole mess, I concluded that Parrot had planned from the beginning to spring Kathy with a phone call, but he needed an opportunity to listen to Judge Lively’s voice. That was why he wanted the hearing. He was a master of voice mimicry. And he’d had to work fast, before the sheriff got an F.B.I. report on him. If he couldn’t get the Packard out of hock, he’d take my car, which I’d very conveniently pointed out to him. The Packard wasn’t his anyway, we learned. He was wanted in California, Arizona, and Nevada for larceny, embezzlement, bank fraud, larceny by trick, impersonating a bank officer, forgery, and even practicing medicine without a license. As far as the record showed he’d never been to Texas.
The Boone County police found my Studebaker, none the worse for wear, at the Booneville Airport. Parrot and Kathy had caught a plane for Charlotte, and there the trail turned cold.
The next day I received a postcard from Charlotte.
“Dear Miss Murphy, Thanks for letting me borrow your car, and for all your help. We really are grateful, and I’ll pay your fee in full the next time I strike oil. Kathy sends her best. Don’t take any wooden nickels. Love, Parrot.”
Strange as it seems, he did eventually pay my fee, and in a totally unexpected way. But that’s another story.
Spinning the Bottle
by Edwin P. Hicks
“You’ve got sense enough to pick up a buck or a five-dollar bill or maybe a ten-spot when you find it in the middle of a sidewalk, haven’t you, kid?”