Hand Me a Fig Leaf (1981) by James Hadley Chase

Author:James Hadley Chase [Chase, James Hadley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

chapter six

From a call-box on the highway. I called the sheriff s office.

Bill Anderson, sounding efficient, answered.

"Bill, I'm reporting that Fred Jackson's cabin has been done over." I said. "I thought you should know."

"Done over?"

"That's right. Taken to pieces."

There was a pause, then he said, "Excuse me, Dirk, but what are you doing up there?"

"I felt lonely. I have a thing about frogs."

Another pause, then he said, "Oh. Well, maybe I had better come up."

"That's why I'm telephoning, and while you're at it, Bill, bring the sheriff, Dr. Steed, an ambulance and two husky men in waders."

"What was that?"

"I forget to mention it but Harry Weatherspoon is taking a bath in the frog-pond. He's very dead, and the frogs seem to resent it," and I hung up.

I went back to the cabin, sat on the bench in the shade and waited.

An hour later, the sheriff s car came up the narrow lane with Bill Anderson driving and Sheriff Mason and Dr. Steed seated at the back. The car was followed by an ambulance, containing the two coloured men I had seen before, and two big white men, wearing dungarees and waders.

I walked over to them as they all got out of their cars.

Sheriff Mason was as a little unsteady on his legs and stank of Scotch. Dr. Steed looked a little older, if that was possible, and worried. Bill Anderson was pop-eyed.

"Take a look in there first, gentlemen," I said and waved to the cabin. "Mr. Weatherspoon is in no hurry."

Looking suspiciously at me, the sheriff and Dr. Steed entered the cabin.

"Better take a look, Bill," I said. "It's a nice piece of destruction."

He joined the other two.

One of the coloured ambulance men looked hopefully at me.

"We got another customer?"

"That's right. He'll be wet, so, if you have a mackintosh sheet, bring it along."

The three men came out of the cabin.

"Tech! Tech!" Dr. Steed said. "Vandals! Kids these days! They've no respect for anyone's property!"

"What do you think, Sheriff?" I asked.

Mason blinked, then nodded his head.

"Yeah . . . vandals."

"Doesn't it look as if someone came up here looking for something?"

"Vandals," he repeated.

"What's this about Mr. Weatherspoon?" Dr. Steed demanded. "Are you saying he is dead?"

"I would say so, but you might think he's just fooling." I turned to one of the men in waders. "You'll need a grappling-hook."

He gave a wide grin.

"Got one." and he produced a long boat-hook from the ambulance. The other man in waders produced a big mackintosh sheet. At least. Bill Anderson had been efficient.

I led the way.

Sheriff Mason had difficulty walking along the narrow path to the pond. One of the men in waders had to help him.

The frogs were back, using Harry Weatherspoon as a raft. They all vanished into the pond as we arrived.

I moved into the shade and propped myself up against a tree while the rest stood around, gaping.

Finally Dr. Steed said, "Poor fella. Terrible! All right, boys, get him out."

The ambulance men spread the sheet and the two men in waders moved into the pond and with the boat-hook drew Weatherspoon's body towards them.

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