“Good. Think clearly, then.”
“I think... I think you were calling for help.”
Dick exploded. “Help? Me? From a pipsqueak like you that I’ve never met until today?”
“Not likely, is it?” acknowledged Percy.
“No.”
“No — but the point is...” If Percy was sure of one thing now, it was that he wanted to go home. “The point is, no matter what you shay, I’m going to be drawn into this. I know you’ve got a heavy load, even for your broad shoulders, and I’m shorry. Like to help... not going to be drawn in.” He started to rise unsteadily to his feet, but the big man reached over and sat him down again.
“You are drawn in, old philosopher, up to your neck.”
“Yesh, but I’m drawing out now.” He tried to get up again.
“No, sit down till we sort this out,” said Dick, pressing him down again.
“No need to push me like that. I’m your friend, aren’t I? Tell you now... feel shorry for you... damn shorry... know you didn’t mean to do it. Know you were still fond of her, elsh why would you kisher goo’night?”
“It wasn’t always bad. Mostly it’d been good.”
“So, you had acshident... should’ve gone to pleesh... cleared the matter up... butcha didn’t... you thought you’d found freedom that’d last. You began to wish the silly ol’ biddy next door would go to pleesh... but she didn’t.” Percy’s mind was very clear now. He just wished the room wouldn’t float up and down.
“But she didn’t,” prompted Dick.
“So when I came ’long, you took... opportunity to get me involved.”
Dick was amazed. “You worked all that out?”
“By myshelf,” said Percy proudly.
Dick shook his head — slowly, because the drink was beginning to get to him, too.
“You must be off your rocker. I was just trying to allay suspicion. Now I’ve got you on my hands.”
“I’ll get off, then, no trouble. Tell you what I’ll do, I think you want help so I’ll help you... tell you what I’ll do... is the whisky finished?”
“Never!” Dick filled the glasses, then raised his in a toast. “To Mag.”
“Yesh, the nag. Tell you what I’m going to do, I’m going to do nothing, that okay, Dick?”
“That’s splendid, Percy, couldn’t be better.”
Percy struggled to his feet and once more Dick pushed him down again.
“You can’t go yet, old soldier, I need a guarantee.”
“Don’t push me down all the time. What guarantee?”
“That you won’t tell that chatterbox wife of yours.”
“Tell Pauli? Don’t ever tell her anything, old com-pat-riot, be all over the neighborhood if you do.”
“That’s right, Persh. Thash why need guarantee.”
Percy thought hard for a moment. “Crosh my heart and hope to die?”
Dick considered this, then shook his head sadly. “Not good enough.”
“How about Shcoutsh honor?” suggested Percy hopefully.
“Sorry, old sergeant... been a scout m’self... have to lock you in the cold room.”
“Can’t do that, cap’n, haven’t got my jersey on. Only a muffler.”
“Only soundproof room in the house,” said Dick.
“I (hic) presheate your point, old turnkey, but there’sh a problem. Pauli will come looking for me. That’sh it!” He snapped his fingers in delight. “Lock Pauli in cold room.”
“Stop her talking,” said Dick doubtfully.
“Stop me talking, too, colonel... get in trouble if I do.”
“Percy, you old Einstein, you’re a genius. How do we get her in?”
“Shimple... ring her up... tell her put on lotsh warm cloze... bring basket... gonna giver her some fenison. Then shut door.”
“Full marks, professor. What’s her number?”
“Pauli’s number? Cucumber.” He giggled. He thought hard. “Don’t know her number... never ring her up, see... I’m already there... don’t have to phone her.”
But when they tried to look up the number in the directory, the small print danced about so it was impossible.
“I’ll go and get her,” said Percy. “Sh not far.”
“Don’t be long,” said Dick. “Going out early tomorrow.”
“You gonna kill another old deer?”
“Now, now, none of that. Jush going deep bush for a few days. Clear up some problems. You go get Pauli.”
“Three minutes,” said Percy, but in his haste to stagger out he opened the wrong door.
“Tha’s a cupboard,” said Dick.
“Full of Mags,” said Percy.
“Relics of the days she had her boutique. Dress shop to you.”
“I know... this one’s got a foot missing.”
Somehow he managed to get home and fall up the front steps without hurting himself. Pauli came running out and helped him in.
“Where have you been? I don’t know what the Atkinsons must have thought. Thank goodness they didn’t see you like this — you’ve been drinking.”
“Jush one or two... lishen, Pauli... s’important... losh and losh cloze... big basket... get locked in cold shtore.”
“What on earth are you on about?”
“Cloze,” said Percy, “locked in Dick’s cold store... oh, I feel bad.”
Everything was going black and the house was on a roller-coaster...
Percy woke in the morning and reached across the bed for Pauli. She wasn’t there. A sudden vision of her locked in Dick’s cold storeroom sent him racing to the phone. He had already dialed the first two digits when he heard Pauli making tea in the kitchen. “Pauli! Thank God you’re here.”
“Where did you think I’d be?”
“In the freezer.”
“Now you just pop back into bed and I’ll bring you a nice cup of tea and some aspirin and when you’re feeling better you can tell me all about it.”
“Ow, my poor head,” he said and obeyed her instructions. He thought a lot about how much he should tell her, and eventually, over breakfast, he told her everything — well, as much as he could remember.
Pauli thought it all very funny. She didn’t believe Percy had really seen a foot in the cold room.
“What an afternoon you had, my poor darling! What are you going to do now?”
“Nothing,” said Percy, whose aching head took all the fun out of the episode.
“You’re probably right,” said Pauli. “You drank so much whisky that you couldn’t be sure what was going on.”
“No, it’s all very confused. I just wish I’d never noticed that smell. Do you know, I can still smell it.”
Pauli sniffed the air. “So can I, it’s coming from outside.”
She went to the front door and came back with a carton that had an unmistakeable effluvium about it and a note taped to it.
“Dear Percy (he read), I’m going bush for a few days. Here’s the venison I promised you. It’s just nicely ripe now so you needn’t hang it any longer. Sorry I teased you and got you so drunk. You’re a good sport. Dick. P.S. I’ll come and see you if I get back.”
“He means when he gets back,” said Pauli.
“Yes,” said Percy.
Percy opened the carton. Inside was a haunch of “nicely ripe” venison and beside it a plastic foot. On the foot was written “A souvenir from Mag.”
Pauli saw the funny side of it. “What a character. What a weird sense of humor! My poor old muggins, he certainly had you on a string. He must have had it all lined up for Mrs. Pew or whatever the busybody’s name is, only you came along and copped the lot.”
Percy found it more difficult. “I was the sucker all right. Never mind, we’ll have roast venison for dinner. It’ll make a nice change.”
“Pooh,” said his spouse, “we will not. You go and bury it in the garden.”
Percy dug a deep hole in the old strawberry patch, a place he thought fitting, and dropped the venison in it. “In you go, you stinking flesh. Dust to dust... Poor Dick. Are you digging a grave for your old mate somewhere out there in the forest? And who will bury you, Dick? Tane will take your spirit and cover your body with leaves. Such a strong old body. Such a waste... In you go, poor foot. Such an elegant pink foot. Not a bit like that old bluey-white one with the big bunion that’s punched forever on my memory tapes. But I won’t tell Pauli. Not ever.” He made a two-fingered salute. “Shcouts’ honor.”