The Countess had it under surveillance!
There was a movement at the door which led to the upper floors.
Three girls came out. Did I know them? They looked familiar! One of them had an enormous belly. Maizie Spread!
The other two were Toots Switch and Dolores Pubi-ano de Copula, the alleged Mrs. Wisters! Their pictures had been in the papers often enough for me to be absolutely positive. They were giggling and talking amongst themselves. They walked along up the street.
The Countess Krak, obscured by the rush-hour traffic from these poor, unsuspecting, innocent young ladies, BEGAN TO FOLLOW THEM!
I knew at once what was going to happen. The Countess Krak was going to rush up to them and stamp them into the pavement. I was watching a murder about to happen.
Oh, thank Gods, I had been in time after all. I grabbed the phone. I rang Dingaling, Chase and Ambo.
"Did you get the injunction order and the commitment papers on that female fiend?" I screamed into the phone.
"Oh, yes, certainly. The process server is right here this minute! This is Dingaling. Are you Smith? This sounds like hysteria!"
"It is hysteria! That demon is following your three clients! Get her served! Get her committed fast! LOOK OUT YOUR WINDOW!"
"Instantly!" said Dingaling.
I rang off.
I clutched the viewer with both hands.
Oh, thank Gods, I had not been too late after all.
The Countess was following the three girls. She was not twenty feet behind them. You could even hear their giggles and laughter above the traffic roar.
The dark Dolores seemed to be in particularly high spirits. She said something especially gay and then gave Maizie Spread a hard punch in the swollen abdomen. Toots Switch laughed uproariously, like a train whistle.
Oh, the poor dears. All too soon would their gay and innocent laughter be stilled! Come on, process server!
THERE HE WAS!
The shabby man in the shabby coat, his shabby hat hiding his alert eyes. He knew the Countess. He had seen her personally in the condo. He was walking right abreast of her. I expected him to whip around and present his paper.
He was looking back. Maybe he was waiting for the police to assist or the Bellevue wagon to arrive.
He must be very cunning. A process server would have to be. He was now a yard ahead of the Countess.
He turned!
He went racing back down the street, looking at everyone he passed.
The process server raced by the Countess Krak again. He raced by the girls.
He turned and came speeding back. He passed the Countess.
With a shock, I realized that she seemed to be invisible to him. He hardly glanced at her. What crazy magic was this?
The girls walked three blocks.
They turned to some steps and walked down into a restaurant and bar, still laughing loudly.
The Countess Krak remained on the street. She
walked over to the curb. She looked up and down.
Then she turned and walked into the restaurant.
The three girls had taken a table over to the side. Toots Switch was calling out, "Where's the (bleeping) proprietor of this crummy joint?"
"Bartender!" yelled Maizie Spread. "Move your (bleep) and bring three shots of rye over here!"
The Countess Krak walked straight over to them. "Flowers? Flowers?" she was saying in a quavery voice I did not recall ever having heard before.
She reached down into a bucket she was carrying and picked up three corsages of violets. She leaned over the table and, one, two, three, pinned them on the coats of the girls.
The process server brushed the Countess aside and leaned toward the three girls. "Have you seen a huge woman? A fiend?"
They laughed at him, the poor innocent dears. "You flipped your wig, Shover?" said Dolores. Oh, Gods, what courage in the face of death!
"You!" said the process server, whirling around to the Countess. "You see any foul fiend in here?"
The Countess put a red carnation in the buttonhole of his overcoat. "That will be one dollar please," she said.
The poor man. He looked so frustrated. He ripped the flower out of his buttonhole. He threw it on the floor. He stamped on it with violence. "I've missed!" he shrieked. He rushed away, looking everywhere.
The Countess reached over and picked up the purse of Toots Switch. She had it open. "That's five dollars for your corsage," she said.
Toots let out a screech. She snatched the purse back. "Get away from us, you old bag!" she yelled.
The Countess picked up Maizie's purse and opened
it and fished inside. "That's five dollars for yours," she said.
"Well, (bleep) you!" howled Maizie, and grabbed her purse back.
Dolores was more alert. She had her purse up in the air, removing it from reach. The Countess reached right across. She grabbed it and opened it.
A gruff voice sounded. "What's this row?"
Krak turned. It was the proprietor. She said, "They won't pay me for the flowers they bought."
The proprietor snarled, "Get out of here, you old (bleep)!" And he grabbed at the purse to recover it.
The purse spun on its strap.
It collided with the top of the proprietor's head.
He went down like a building had fallen on him.
The Countess Krak walked out.
A guy on the street stopped. He said, "I'll take one of those, mother." And he bought a bunch of carnations from her for five bucks!
With a shock, I realized that the Countess, with all her stage experience, had disguised herself as a flower seller! No wonder the process server couldn't recognize her! They were common as soot along that avenue! They stood along the street or on corners and sold them to drivers.
Oh, I could handle that!
I reached for the phone to make the call that would get her picked up and sent to Bellevue.
But wait. What was the Countess doing? She had stepped into an alley. There was a rear entrance light dimly above her.
She was reading three cards! Oh, (bleep) her, she had taken something from each purse!
ADDRESSES!
She had the addresses of those poor, defenseless innocents.
All three were the same! The girls lived together!
It was an apartment way up in the Bronx, miles and miles from where I was.
Oh, Gods, this was HORRIBLE!
I grabbed the phone.
"Chase here."
"The woman you're trying to get served and committed is disguised as a flower seller!" I screamed. "She's plotting to slaughter your three clients with smashing brass heels! ACT! ACT! ACT!"
"Do you know anything else, Smith?"
"Isn't that enough?" Why wouldn't they listen?
"I mean," said Chase, "do you know where the murders will be done?"
"YES! YES! YES! In their apartment! She has the address!"
"But that's impossible. Not even the press knows about it. And that's pretty extreme security for us when we have been letting reporters sleep with them to get good stories. I think you must have..."
"My information is correct! I have undercover men on it. Informers! GET THE POLICE!"
"No, no!" said Chase. "Business like ours is far too touchy to cut the police in on it. We don't do it that way. We have a tough security company we use. Real man-killers. We'll put them around the apartment at once with orders to shoot on sight and at long-range. We'll also go through the formality of serving the commitment paper if the person is only wounded. Have no fears, Smith. We do these things well and legally, always. Anyone who tries to reach them won't have a chance. Thank you for your timely warning."
I rang off. I was much relieved. Thank Gods, Dingaling, Chase and Ambo and I were on the job.
The trap was laid.
The Countess Krak didn't stand a chance.
Is this the end of the Countess Krak?
Read MISSION EARTH
Volume 7
VOYAGE OF
VENGEANCE