Max lowered his shoe and turned toward the policeman who had rapped on the window of the car. He shouted out to him. “Yes? What is it, officer?”
The policeman answered. But he could not be heard inside the car.
“I think he’s trying to tell us something,” Blossom said.
“Wouldn’t you know it? Here I am, right in the middle of an emergency, trying to get someone to come over here, and that cop has to stand out there asking questions.” Again, he shouted out to the officer. “I’m sorry… I’m on the phone. Come back later!”
But the policeman didn’t go away. Instead, he opened the car door.
“I couldn’t hear a word,” the policeman said.
“I said, I’m on the phone!” Max yelled.
“You don’t have to shout. I can hear you now.”
“Oh… yes.”
“You’re on what phone?” the policeman said.
Max waggled the shoe. “This phone. And if you want to talk to your mother in Brooklyn, I’m sorry, but I’m in the midst of an emergency.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t want to bother you,” the policeman said. “I’ve just got one question. I got a call from headquarters. There’s some nut down here that’s calling the telephone company and saying he’s trapped in a limousine. I just wondered if you’d seen anybody like that. The operator is stalling the fella, and she’s traced the call to this vicinity.”
Max stared blankly at the policeman for a moment. Then he looked at Blossom, then at Fang, then back to the policeman. “I haven’t seen him,” he said.
“All right. Thanks for your cooperation.” He started to close the door.
“You can leave it open, officer,” Max said.
“Whatever you say.”
The policeman strolled on, looking this way and that for a lunatic trapped in a limousine.
Max spoke into his shoe again.
Max: Operator, I don’t think that was very nice of you.
Operator: I’m sorry. I heard what you said to the policeman, and I apologize. But it did sound a little crazy. Do you still want me to ring that telephone booth?
Max (smirking): Ring the telephone booth?
Operator: Yes.
Max: What do you think it is-a bell?
Operator: Yes, sir. All our telephones are Bell’s.
Max hung up his shoe.
“If there’s anything I can’t stand,” he muttered, “it’s a smart telephone operator.”
Max, Blossom and Fang climbed out of the car. Max slammed the door.
Glancing back, Blossom said, “So that’s why!”
“Why what?”
“Why nobody paid any attention to that message for help you wrote on the glass.”
Max looked. In lipstick on the car window he saw written:! PLEH
“Still… you’d think one of those beatniks would have understood it,” he mused. “Oh, well… another lesson learned. In every manner and every way, we grow smarter and smarter, day by day.”
A few seconds later, the trio entered the coffee house, the Idyll Hour.
“Before we continue the search for Fred,” Max explained, “I want to find Boris. There are a lot of sharpies down here in the Village, and an innocent tourist like Boris could be fleeced out of his eye teeth and never even know it. It’s my duty, as a typical New Yorker, to protect him. After all he’s done for us, it’s the least I can do.”
The interior of the Idyll Hour was dimly lit. Heavy drapery kept the sunlight out. Max squinted into the dimness and saw a long counter that held a number of espresso machines and a clutter of tables and chairs, all of which seemed to be occupied by young men and women in various modes of eccentric dress.
“I don’t see Boris,” he said.
The hostess approached them. She was a gorgeous brunette, dressed in tight-fitting pants and a heavy-knit sweater. She looked remarkably like Noel, the girl guide and secretary to the ambassador from Fredonia.
“Don’t tell me,” Max said. “Paree, Illinois, right?”
“ Oui! Summer of ’61?”
“Could be,” Max replied. “Frankly, the summer of ’61 is not very clear in my mind. So much was happening. But, enough of this chit-chat. I’m here, first, on a mission of mercy, and, second, on a mission of grave importance to the entire civilized world. So… number one… have you by any chance seen a little fat tourist from Zinzinotti, Alleybama?”
Noel shook her head. “Non.”
“Then try this one. How about a tall, skinny computer with revolving eyeballs?”
Noel brightened. “Oui, oui!”
Max turned to Blossom. “The translation of that is ‘yes and no.’ No, she hasn’t seen Boris, but, yes, she has seen Fred.” Then, facing Noel again, he said, “There’s more to this than meets the eyeballs, but, for the sake of expediency, let’s just say that this computer with the revolving orbs-who shall remain nameless-is a cousin of mine whom I’m trying to track down to deliver a message from his draft board.” He winked. “Get it?”
“Oh, oui! We are speaking, of course, of your Cousin Fred.”
“Exactly. Now, since you say you’ve seen him, could you tell us which way he went?”
“He went ‘Peep-a-dotta, poop-a-dotta, dippa-dotta-boop!’ ”
“I’m referring to direction.”
Noel pointed toward a door at the rear of the Idyll Hour. “He go thataway,” she said.
“Through that door, eh? I wonder if that could be a trap?”
“Oh, no.”
“Just to be on the safe side,” Max said, “you go first, and we’ll follow.”
“Oui.”
Noel threaded her way between the tables. Max, Blossom and Fang trailed after her.
When they reached the door, Noel glanced back over her shoulder cautiously, then pushed it open.
Beyond her, Max saw a row of slot machines. Facing them, playing them, were men and women of varying ages and shapes. They all had a dazed, distant look in their eyes. Here and there were persons whose eyes were revolving.
Max stepped inside, past Noel. “I don’t see Fred.”
“Not the people,” Noel said. “The machines. I’m certain that one of them is your cousin.”
“Possible.” He signalled to Blossom and Fang. “Let’s check it out.”
Blossom and Fang followed him into the room. The door closed. They waited as Max went from machine to machine, staring each one straight in the eye. After a few minutes, he returned.
“No Fred,” he said. “These machines are all too short.”
“I don’t know,” Blossom said. “That one over there… the one that no one’s playing. It looks a little familiar.”
“Let’s give it a double-check,” Max said.
They went to the machine.
Max peered at it closely. “Fred?”
No answer.
“No, on second thought,” Blossom said, “that isn’t Fred. As you say, Fred is taller. He’s also thinner.”
Max glanced around. “I wonder why no one’s playing this machine?”
“I’m sure there’s a reason,” Blossom said.
“It looks ripe for a jackpot to me,” Max said.
“Max, you can’t win on those things.”
“Normally, no,” Max said. “I happen to have a system, however.”
“That’s silly. You’ll just lose your money.”
“A foolproof system.”
“Rorff!”
“Stick to your liverwurst!” Max snapped.
“Come on, let’s go,” Blossom urged.
“I’ll just try one quarter,” Max said. “You see, my system is this: I figure that the people who play these machines, as a group, have the worst luck that it’s possible to have. So, naturally, they play the wrong machines. Consequently, the machine they’re not playing is the one that’s due to pay off.”
“That’s silly. I’m sure there’s some other reason why this machine isn’t being played.”
“All right… we’ll put it to the test,” Max said, taking a quarter from his pocket. He dropped the coin into the slot. “It’s my guess that somebody is going to be very surprised.” He pulled the lever.
The floor gave way, and Max, Blossom and Fang went hurtling downward into space.
“Surprised, aren’t you?” Max said smugly.
“HELP!”