the golden gumdrop caper, part 18

by manfred skyline

illustrated by roy dismas and konrad kraus

originally appeared in the june through september 1956 issues of last stop - excitement magazine

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

pete palomine continued his account of the origin of the golden gumdrop: after a while, perci returned with a suspiciously short length of rope. buppo thrust the rope at joto. “no more talk! go, my fine hero!” joto virtually tore the rope from buppo’s hands before he could change his mind. buppo looked around the shaft with a sly smile. “now, my hero, all we need is something firm to peg the rope to, eh? do you see anything?” joto slammed his pick into the floor of the shaft. it only went in a few inches. the villainous kardo laughed. “that is not very good, prince. here, let a man try.” and he slammed his pick into the floor, but with about the same success as joto. “we are wasting time,” growled buppo. “tie the rope to one or the other. here - “ he pointed to kardo’s’s pick - “this is closer to the hole. let us proceed.” joto tied one end of the rope to kardo’s pick and the other around his waist. perci tried to protest. “you should use the one further from the hole, because the leverage - “ “enough!” cried buppo. “are you ready?” he asked joto. without another word joto lowered himself into the hole. he knew right away that there was nothing beneath him. here was his chance. his chance to somehow escape from the mines, to somehow reunite with his beloved green star. he let go of the rope. what joto and the others did not know was that a tremendous earthquake, unprecedented in the history of the empire and probably triggered by the very enterprise - of the mining for the golden pearl at the heart of the earth - that they were engaged in, had just erupted and that the capital and the surrounding countryside were being reduced to powder even as joto fell into the center of the earth… joto seemed to fall forever… into darkness… and when he awoke… he was in a small boat drifting down a dark tunnel. at first joto thought he was alone in the boat, but then realized it was being piloted by a little hunchbacked woman. she looks like a witch, he thought. i must have died, and now i am in the twenty-seventh circle of the underworld, the one populated by hideous witches and gorgeous dragon-women. suddenly the boat bumped to a stop. they had come to a rise over which the water only trickled, not enough to carry the boat. the witch got out and began walking down the tunnel, with the boat-pole over her shoulder. “should we drag the boat?” joto called after her, but she did not answer or look back. he hurried after her. the tunnel got darker and narrower, then completely black. joto thought he could he hear the witch scurrying along in front of him, or could he? suddenly he saw something shining by the side of the tunnel. not a lantern, but something lying on the ground. as he got closer, it almost blinded him. it was the pearl! the pearl of armon-mu! * cosima woke up. pete was still running on with his ridiculous story about the pearl of gumma-goober or whatever. cosima was a very well-bred person and one of the best bred things about her was the ability to sleep with her eyes open and an expression of polite interest on her face, when the occasion called for it. pete paused. was it for dramatic effect, or had he noticed that she had been asleep? cosima smiled. “this is all very interesting, pete. why don’t we take a little break? get up, stretch our legs, freshen our drinks?” “sure, if you like.” “did i just hear the front door open?” cosima asked. she stood up. they could hear voices on the floor below, and then coming up the stairs. “that must be conrad,” cosima muttered. “i hope he is alone, but he probably isn’t.” the voices got a little louder. “it sounds like that damned ramirez fellow,” cosima sighed. “what a bore.” “ramirez?” pete asked. he looked toward the door. “ramirez? not - “ “he calls himself frisco johnny ramirez,” said cosima. “does the name mean anything to you?” part 19

the golden gumdrop caper, part 17

by manfred skyline

illustrated by roy dismas and konrad kraus

originally appeared in the june through september 1956 issues of last stop - excitement magazine

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

in the prison library, the afternoon went by. lombardo spent about twenty minutes looking through the art section and finally found a book to his liking - john addington symonds’s life of michaelangelo. he checked it out without he or slade mentioning their earlier conversation, and left the library with lombardo gone, there was no one left in the library except doc phillips and slade. slade picked up the book - think and grow rich, by napoleon hill - that lombardo had left with him. he had not wanted to look through it with lombardo still in the library because he didn’t want lombardo asking him any questions about anything he might find in it. not that he really expected to find anything . lombardo’s - or his friend gray’s - message was either going to be apparent right away or slade was not going to bother with it. he flipped through the pages. there was a faded newspaper clipping stuck in the middle of the book. slade took it out, after looking up to make sure no one had just entered the library. the clipping was not as old as he had thought at first glance.. but it was smudged, as if it had been wet and then dried out. the top of the page with the name of the paper had been cut off. it was obviously a back page story in a small town newspaper. the headline read: local lass expounds lapidary lore "miss sandra stevens, known familiarly as “sandy” to patrons of the local post office and library, turns out to have a most interesting hobby - researching the histories of “fabulous gems”, especially those supposedly with curses on them, or with other tales of disaster attached to them. sandy enthralled those who showed up at her talk at the smith street branch library with some rousing yarns about several colorfully named gems - such as “bluebeard’s beauty” and “the flower of madagascar” - but the one that aroused the greatest interest was the “pearl of armon-mu” otherwise known as - and this got the biggest chuckle of the night from the enraptured audience - “the golden gumdrop”. according to sandy, the “golden gumdrop” first surfaced during the crusades - when king richard the lion-hearted accepted the pearl as ransom for a thousand infidel princes he had taken captive in a great battle outside jerusalem. however the pearl was lost again when king richard granted an interview to a young princess of the infidels who was pleading for the release of her brother - the most wicked of the infidels whom the pope wished to interrogate personally as to the exact dimensions of hell. when the princess was ushered into the heroic monarch’s presence, she immediately turned into a demon, put a spell on him, and made off with the precious pearl. the pearl next appeared in the thirteenth century, when the celebrated friar roger bacon was reputed to have purchased it - with his immortal soul or “something of equal value” according to sandy - with an eye toward using it as the centerpiece of his alchemical studies. but he, too, had it stolen by a witch or demoness under circumstances which brought the friar to the attention of the holy inquisition. slade skimmed through to the bottom of the page. there seemed to be more to the little story, but the clipping was not complete. if miss sandy had any ideas on the current location of the gumdrop, it was not in the article, or at least not in the clipping. so what was the point of gray or lombardo giving him this? just to show that they knew there was such a thing as the pearl of armon-mu aka the golden gumdrop? was there more to come? slade already knew all about the golden gumdrop - and the other jewels mentioned in the story, and the stories attached to them. as well as the stories about a lot of other fabulous jewels. he made it his business to know. even if most of the stories - about demons and such - were hokum, it was always good to know them when you were trying to get them, or to sell them if you got them. it all went back to his old mentor max jacob. max had a little shelf of books in the back room of his pawn shop. the books he had on it were the bible, the koran, the sayings of confucius, the upanishads, bernal diaz’s history of the conquest of new spain, rasselas, and journey to the western islands of scotland by samuel johnson, candide by voltaire, the essays of macaulay, sartor resartus by thomas carlyle, and his favorite, the one he consulted most often - a two volume edition of the complete sherlock holmes. it was from sherlock holmes that max derived the theory that he passed on to stan, that the brain could only hold so much information and only that which might benefit a person should be retained: “You see,” Holmes explained, "I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend upon it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones." "But the Solar System!" I protested. "What the deuce is it to me?" he interrupted impatiently; "you say that we go round the sun. If we went round the moon it would not make a pennyworth of difference to me or to my work." so over the years stan had filled his brain up with information about famous and legendary jewels, especially those which might be turned to a profit under the right circumstances. stan remembered everything he had ever heard or read about the golden gumdrop, including who might have first called it that - variously ascribed to john dillinger, jimmy walker, and william randolph hearst . and the last person seen actually wearing it - mademoiselle pauline slivovitz, the fabulous but little known rival of mata hari, who had, among other things, singularly contributed to the success of poland against the bolsheviks in 1920. and slade knew the most important thing of all about the golden gumdrop. he knew where it was. at least, he trusted that he knew where it was. it was in a trunk he had left in the safekeeping of the celebrated broadway actress miss hyacinth wilde, in her suite at the venerable hotel st crispian, on bedford street, in new york city. part 18

the golden gumdrop caper, part 16

by manfred skyline

illustrated by roy dismas and konrad kraus

originally appeared in the june through september 1956 issues of last stop - excitement magazine

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

in our previous chapters, we met the international jewel thief stanley slade, recently recaptured after a daring escape from prison, and the notorious adventuress angie ricardo, recently sentenced to a long term in a federal penitentiary. angie has been contacted by the lawyer dick richmond , on behalf of the "thin man"... who get her released, for their own purposes..., after a brief stop, where she encounters an old friend , angie continues on her way. in her tentative destination of yonkers, she encounters a couple of children of the night... preparing to meet angie after her escape, dick richmond makes a startling discovery ... what time was it? dick reached the desk and felt for the thin man’s pulse. nothing. i’m not a doctor, dick told himself. i am just not doing this right. he tried again. still no sign of a pulse. taking a deep breath, he lifted mr sylvester mcdowell jefferson’s head from the desk. he did not seem to be breathing. dick felt under the thin man’s vest and shirt for a heartbeat. nothing there either. what time was it? it was time to face facts. sylvester mcdowell jefferson, the very wealthy and quite mad “thin man” was dead. in the middle of the very dicey undertaking dick was assisting him in. leaving dick to pick up the pieces. he just wished he knew what the pieces were, and where they were. dick’s first thought was to try to get to angie ricardo. but was that really the best thing to do? it might be too late to meet her anyway, and she might be on her way to - anywhere, to rio de janiero or paris or macao… on the other hand, if somehow the police picked her up, then the consequences might be too awful to contemplate… leaving the thin man’s body here might present problems too, if somebody came across it before he could return. did anybody know he had been here? should he try to clean up after himself, clean up the ashtrays and glasses and such so that no one would know anyone had been here…? no, dick thought, that stuff is only for detective novels and the movies… he just wanted to get away. he came to a decision. he decided to try to meet angie. on his way out the door he stopped. could he get back in to the thin man’s house, and this room? taking another deep breath, he went back to the dead man and fished through this pockets. he found a bunch of keys. no time to check them, they had to be what he needed. when he got outside, the skies were just turning light. the air was cold and foggy, but felt good. had he not been in tighter situations before? and come out of them like a champ? he was on his way. * “how long are we going to wait for this friend of yours?” salome asked. it was now fully light, but there was no sign of life around ronnie’s roadhouse. only a few cars had passed by, but none had even slowed down as they passed angie and the two girls parked in the desoto. “not much longer,” said angie. “i tell you what. we will wait for two more cars to go by. if he doesn’t show up, we will move on.” “to new york?” salome asked. angie hesitated. “no. we will go back to the bus station, one more time.” “what?! are we going to go back and forth all day?” “no. here’s what you do. just go in, get your cokes or candy bars, and if you don’t see him in there, or somebody who looks like him, we will be on our way - to new york.” two more cars went by in the next four minutes. they headed back to the bus station, angie driving carefully. there were people on the street now, people at bus stops, kids going to school. angie stopped two blocks from the bus station. she didn’t want to run into the cop who had questioned them before. thinking about him almost made her not want to check the bus station again, but she decided to risk it. “all right,” angie told salome. “you remember what to do, right?” “um - not exactly. what am i supposed to say to this person again?” “just something like, excuse me. sir, are you looking for miss brown?” “he calls you miss brown?” “miss brown, miss jones, miss smith… if he’s the right guy he will know something is up. if he just looks at you and says, excuse me. little girl, i have no idea what you are talking about, just say sorry, and don’t push it. can you do that?” “i can do it. and i wait how long?” “don’t wait at all. just get your cokes and if he’s there, he’s there. and if he isn’t, come right back.” “all right. you want a coke yourself?” “sure.” salome got out of the car. when salome was one block away, another car, a shiny new green packard, came up behind the desoto and passed it. “that’s him!” angie gasped. she started the car but before she could pull out, dick richmond pulled over about twenty yards in front of her. he had seen her. he got out of the packard, and as casually as he could, walked back to the desoto. angie reached over and opened the passenger side door for him. “good morning, counselor. i can’t tell you how glad i am to see you.” dick richmond did a double take when he saw pippi in the back seat. angie turned to pippi. “honey, go follow your friend. both of you come back in ten minutes, but don’t get in the car until you see that this gentleman is gone. got that?” “yes, ma’am.” pippi got out of the car and headed toward the bus station without looking back. dick watched pippi walk away. “what was that all about?” “nothing. just a couple of kids hitching to new york. i thought it might throw the cops off - who’s looking for a woman with kids, right?” “you didn’t tell them anything?” angie laughed. “what am i going to tell them when i don’t know anything myself?” “that little girl - i thought she looked familiar.” “really? forget it. i hope you have some good news for me - like telling me what’s going on - and i really hope you have some money for me. that forty dollars you left me just won’t do.” dick cleared his throat. “i’m sorry, but i do not have good news.” he looked intently at angie. “in fact i have terrible news - the worst possible news.” “oh. and what might that be?” “the whole thing is off.” “what do you mean, off?” “ha, ha - i don’t mean you have to go back to prison. in fact, you come out of all this free as a bird - you can take the car and be on your merry way - with the whole blue world your oyster.” “but what happened?” “what happened is that the fellow who is bankrolling this whole thing is dead. he just up and died.” “are you sure?” “am i sure? yes, i saw the body - you could say i discovered the body myself. in fact, i have to get back and notify the authorities, so if you will excuse me -“ dick reached for the door. “it’s been a pleasure - “ angie grabbed dick’s arm. “hold on, counselor, hold on. let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” “i’m sorry, but - “ “hear me out. somebody went to a lot of trouble to set this thing up - springing me the way you did. there has to be something here for us. if we just stay calm and don’t panic.” dick stiffened at the suggestion he might be panicking. “that is all very well, but as far as i know one person set it up and he’s dead. and i really don’t know what he intended at this point.” angie didn’t let go of dick’s arm. “listen. here’s what we’ll do. do you know where red’s west side diner is?” dick started. “why, yes i do. i know it very well. in fact i have frequently attended the nightly card games there.” “well, that’s good, counselor, that’s great - that’s a good sign. all right, today is thursday. on monday, let’s say monday at three in the afternoon, meet me at red’s. we’ll talk things over , see where things stand. how does that sound?” “i suppose i could do that.” “good. i might have altered my appearance. or i might not be there in person, but if i am not red or whoever is there will have a message from me. all right?” “yes, that sounds good.” dick just wanted to get away. “and just one more thing.” “what?” “i could use whatever cash you can give me.” dick sighed. “of course, that’s - that’s very reasonable.” he reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. without counting them, he took the greenbacks from it and gave them to angie. angie quickly counted them. five double sawbucks, a sawbuck, an abe, and a deuce. one hundred and seventeen dollars. “thank you, counselor.” but dick was already gone. * salome and pippi sat in the bus station, sipping their cokes. “what do you make of all this?” salome asked pippi. “the lord seems to be working in mysterious ways,” pippi answered carefully. “he sure is,” salome agreed. “even for him.” part 17

the golden gumdrop caper, part 15

by manfred skyline

illustrated by roy dismas and konrad kraus

originally appeared in the june through september 1956 issues of last stop - excitement magazine

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

in our previous chapters, we met the international jewel thief stanley slade, recently recaptured after a daring escape from prison, and the notorious adventuress angie ricardo, recently sentenced to a long term in a federal penitentiary. angie has been contacted by mysterious personages, including the "thin man"... who get her released, for their own purposes..., after a brief stop, where she encounters an old friend , angie continues on her way. in her tentative destination of yonkers, she encounters a couple of children of the night... “are we going to new york now?” salome asked again. “maybe.” angie was watching the young cop in the rear view mirror as he got back in his squad car. “maybe? what’s maybe?” “we got one more place to check.” “check for what?” salome asked. angie started to say, what do you care? but said “ for my lawyer friend”. “but he was supposed to be here!” “i figured he might be here, but he might be at this other place, too. i already checked there once.” the cop had pulled out. angie started the desoto and began pulling away from the curb. “hey!” salome shouted. “hey what?” “what about our cokes?” “and my hershey bar?” pippi added. “we haven’t got time for that. i don’t want to be here if that cop comes back.” “you don’t. what about us?” angie stopped the car. “girls, i am not kidnapping you. you invited yourselves into my life. if you want to stick with me, maybe we can be useful to each other. i’ll scratch your back, and all that. if not, you can just get out of the car right now, all right? with no hard feelings.” salome thought for a few seconds. “if we get out, can we keep the two dollars you gave us?” “yes! now make up your minds.” salome looked over at pippi. “it’s nice and warm in this car,” pippi said. salome nodded. “we’ll stick with you for now,” she told angie. “great.” angie started the car again and they headed down the street away from the bus station and back toward ronnie’s roadhouse. she checked the rear view mirror again for any sign of the police. “now,” angie said, when had left the bus station behind, “do you know where the train station is? there must be one.” “why do you want to know here the train station is?” salome asked. “i just do. do you know where the train station is?” “you are heading in the right direction,” pippi told her. “it’s on the other side of town.” “thank you. that’s good.” they were on streets with dark houses. angie slowed down. the streets were quiet. the two girls were quiet, just watching the houses go by. * dick richmond was walking again, for the millionth time, through the endless corridors of the horace mann school. they were filled with water. then they turned into a beach. pete jones, his old sailing instructor, was waiting at the end of the corridor/beach. he was selling salt water taffy at a little stand. dick couldn’t reach him. he wanted to swim but was afraid of getting his argyle socks wet. a woman’s voice - an old woman’s voice, as old as pete jones - his wife? - called out - “toonerville trolley! toonerville trolley! west 43rd street! get your hot fried chickens here!” dick woke up. it took him him a few seconds to remember where he was, and a few more to remember who he was. he wasn’t at horace mann any more. he was a grown man, a member of the bar. and he was working for a certifiably insane client. he was in a chair, fully dressed except for his jacket, and his tie was loosened. he was hung over - though no more than on almost any other morning. he was in the study - or library - of the home of sylvester mcdonnell jefferson - “the thin man” - his immensely wealthy but insane client . the only light in the room came from a small desk lamp. sylvester mcdonnell jefferson was sprawled face down across the desk with cards from his endless game of solitaire scattered on the desk and on the floor. was he dead? dick forced himself up from his chair and approached the desk. what time was it? was he supposed to be in yonkers meeting angie ricardo? who hopefully had enough sense to figure out where to meet him? and had she been there and gone? what time was it? dick reached the desk and felt for the thin man’s pulse. * the sky was turning light. the area around ronnie’s was still deserted. not a car or person in sight. angie stopped about a hundred feet from it. “now what?” salome asked. “we wait. to see if my friend shows up.” “and how long might that be?” a good question, thought angie. a very good question. she had a feeling the whole thing was turning into a complete fiasco, and that she would be back in the prison in time for lunch - if somebody didn’t shoot her. “i don’t know . forty-five minutes, an hour. if the street gets busy we’ll probably split.” “and then, finally, will we go to new york?” “sure, we’ll go to new york. if nothing else happens, and we are still here to go to new york.” “what else could happen?” “a lot of things could happen. but like i said, i’m not keeping you here. get out any time you want.” “it’s still nice and warm in the car,” said pippi. she yawned. “i think i am going to take a little nap.” “it might get real warm,” angie told her. “that’s all i am saying. consider yourselves warned.” she took out her cigarettes and lit one. part 16