“We told you we’d be with you,” Shirley said calmly.
“Well, for heaven’s sake!” I panted. “I thought you were going to the Snack Shop. You weren’t trying to lose us?”
Sammy grinned. “Am-day i-tray. I wanted to bring Droopy Drip a book.” She held a thick volume under her arm, in such a way that we couldn’t read the title.
“And have you discovered a picture of A.G. in what, from its size and color, I deduce to be a Casting Directory?” Shirley asked.
“I know you get around, Samantha Spade! But you never got around Miss Zadig to let you take a Reference Work out of the Library!”
Sammy shrugged. “Sime Templar ‘borrowed’ it when she wasn’t looking. I told him it was in a good cause.”
“I trust you will use it in that spirit,” Shirley said pointedly. “But time is precious, and there is our invalid stretched out in the hammock.” As the gate creaked, Sutherland looked up. He was very pale and more Garfieldy than ever.
He turned his back and his voice was muffled by the pillow. “Go away.”
“We’re sorry you’re not well,” Shirley said. “We hope our visit will cheer you up.”
“I don’t want to talk. I promised Mother. Reggie wangled it out of me. Now I suppose it’s all over the school.”
“Oh my sacred aunt. I knew it. No. Absolutely no.” Reggie dropped mournfully to the ground. “Sufferin’ humanity. Why are girl friends.”
“Reggie never tells anything,” said Sammy. “Even when she means to, you have to dig it out of her sacred aunts and her howevers.”
Shirley drew up a wicker chair. “Did you know I was instrumental in recovering the Purloined Letterfile for Dean Dupin? No? That should guarantee my discretion. As for my friend Walsie, I have few secrets from her pretty little muddled head.” I sat down at her feet, feeling very proud indeed.
“Don’t mind me,” said Sammy Spade. “I’ll just hang over the gate and whistle when I spot the jailer.”
Sutherland sat up angrily. “Mother wants me to stick to my studies and become a great poet. You don’t realize she’s had to be both father and mother to me.”
“Well, that ought to keep her busy. Does she have to play Steady Date and Heartbeat too?”
“A boy’s best friend is his Mother. And no sacrifice is too great for mine. That’s why she bought this house—”
“With your money. Why doesn’t she get married again? She’s not so awfully faded and lots of old turks can’t tell a permanent blonde from a blonde permanent.”
“Mother wouldn’t ever leave me,” Sutherland said proudly.
Sammy groaned. “Some outlook. If you hadn’t been so bottle-fed, you could have digested your Angel cake.”
Which was Greek to me, but Sutherland turned white and Reggie moaned, “Oh my one aunt. I never told her. Not me. Don’t know how she got the name.”
“Oh, I have ways. ‘Hel-LO Hai-ry — this is your Angel speaking’—”
I thought he was going to leap at her but I guess he wasn’t up to it, so he sneered instead. “Mother was absolutely right. You’re nothing but a little snoop and a fellow would be a fool to get mixed up with you. Besides, we were just a couple of kids.”
“Oh we were, were we. And I suppose you’ve had a qualitative change in six weeks.”
“The logical effect of experience,” Shirley said drily. “Six weeks ago your mother had that unhappy encounter with Sammy. And your grandfather had his stroke immediately afterwards and she left for Miami. Actually it was the first time she ever left you alone at home.”
“First time she ever left him alone period,” said Sammy Spade.
“Mother didn’t want me to miss my midterms. She had to leave because her father was at death’s door.”
“And before he went through, she had to make sure about the will.”
Sutherland ignored her, which is the only way when Sammy’s determined to be difficult. She only does it to get you so riled you spill all sorts of things. “None of Mother’s family has money. They’re always trying to get some. That’s why Dad left everything in trust and specified this school, where nobody could get at me. I don’t know any of them, but my New York aunt and the one in California have daughters, and every month they want a Hundred Dollars or Two Hundred.”
“But what do they do with all that money?” I inquired.
“Only Od-gay knows,” said Sammy, “because Mrs. S. doesn’t send it. She doesn’t even send the Tuition till they dun her three times.”
“Certain types of relatives require their teeth straightened and permanent waves and courses in Dramatic School,” Shirley said.
Sutherland actually smiled. “If you were Sammy I’d say you’d been reading our mail.”
“A logical association — California — Hollywood — and having observed your mother,” Shirley explained drily. “After she left, you began to enter into things and even tried your first cigarette. I noticed a spot of ash on the lapel of your blue serge. We all had great hopes for you.”
“Not me,” muttered Sammy Spade. “Once a drip always a plumber’s pain.”
“But suddenly you canceled all engagements, saying you had to be at home for an important telephone call. From your mother, we might have assumed, only a daily call from Florida would be an uncharacteristic extravagance. I daresay she did call once, ascertaining that you were at home and implanting the fear of missing further calls if you remained away?”
Sutherland flushed. “She wrote me every day from Miami.”
“I see—” Shirley said musingly. “And meanwhile a strange young lady was calling you daily from Hollywood.”
“And writing!” Sammy said spitefully. “On pink paper S.W.A.K.”
“Which you are hiding under the pillow? I noted a spot of pink as we came through the gate.” Shirley moved the cushion, revealing a batch of letters all Sealed With A Kiss.
Sutherland picked up a letter, a faraway look in his eyes. “She read a poem of mine in the Poe Pourri—”
“Ah, of course. And wrote to say she liked it.”
“Oh my only aunt. Understatin’. Show her, old son—”
“Just Shirley,” Sutherland said pointedly, holding his hand over the signature. “Luckily it was typing and I managed to make out ‘Dear dear poet... immortal lines... Would I had words to tell...’
“How’d she come to see the Poe Pourri out there?” inquired Sammy who was too far away to read.
“Sutherland has relatives in California,” Shirley said. “Doubtless they showed our school paper to Miss—?”
“Gossamer,” said Sutherland. “Gossamer?” Sammy cried. “Oh no. Not Angel Gossamer!”
For the first time Sutherland looked at her. “You’ve heard of her? Angel Gossamer?”
“No, Sammy,” Reggie murmured reprovingly. “No.”
“No,” said Sammy meekly. “I was thinking of Bandage Gauze.”
“Imagine getting fan letters from a star!” I said.
Sammy snorted. “In what picture! Name any six.”
“Well, of course, she’s not a star yet,” Sutherland explained. “She’s a baby starlet. One of the major studios is grooming her for a contract.” I hoped it was M.G.M. because Charlotte Chan says they give the longest contracts with the most options. “I’ve got a picture if you’re interested.” If we were interested!
“She’s very pretty,” I said. And in a way she was, but it’s a way that isn’t very popular at Edgar Allan Poe. “And she does look familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen her somewhere.”