Craven Danger on the Run - Part Seven - A Conclusion - Of Sorts
The chauffeur got out of the driver’s seat of the long black limo, opened the rear passenger door, and out stepped Randolph Rockport.
“Ruth!” said Mr. Rockport. ”How are you holding up, my son?”
“I’ve told you never to call me that, Father. My name is Rutherford. I think you do it to just annoy me.”
“If I wanted to annoy you,” said Mr. Rockport, “I would have called you Helen and left you in the care of a savage nun at some run-down orphanage, instead of keeping you around to make a steady drain on my bank account. And who are all these people milling about? I told you this was all to be very hush, hush.”
“They just happened by, Father,” said Rutherford. “I didn’t invite them.”
Craven Danger, private investigator,” said Craven. “When trouble’s afoot, we’re there ta lend a hand!”
“You been workin’ on that motto for two months, Mr. Danger,” said Betty. “And that’s the best ya come up with?”
“I suppose ya think ya can do better?” said Craven.
“I can do better than a foot and a hand, Mr. Cornball,” said Betty.
“Oh, yeah?” said Craven. “I’d like ta see ya try, Miss know-it-all-the-time!”
“Let’s see,” said Betty. “Just off the top of my head, how about, Twin Dangers, private investigators? ‘Cause that’s what we are. You got us soundin’ like body parts salesmen! And why stop at a foot and a hand? Why not an arm and a leg. ’When trouble’s afoot, we’ll lend you a hand, an arm, and a leg. We’d even thrown in some brains, but only one of us has got ’em, and she ain’t givin’ 'em up so easy!‘“
“Whaddaya sayin’?” said Craven.
“I’m sayin’ what ya think I’m sayin’!” said Betty.
“Well, if your sayin’ what I think ya sayin’, that goes double for me with a sour puss on top of it all!”
“I ain’t never slugged a husband before, Mr. Danger!” said Betty. “But since you’re my first one, I’ll make an exception. Does the word ‘duck’ mean anything to ya? ‘Cause if it don’t, ya gonna have a shiner the size a Milwaukee!”
“Oh, yeah!” said Craven.
“Yeah!” said Betty.
A good ten minutes would go by before our heros are interrupted by an associate.
“Excuse me, you two,” said Sidney. “But I think we should all get goin’”
“Get goin’ where?” said Craven. “We still gotta discuss our new case with the Rockports. Then we gotta get out there and find the Butler’s. ‘Cause even though we know the Butler’s did it, they’re probably out there doin’ it to somebody else.”
“I don’t think so,” said Sidney. “You see, while you two love birds were havin’ your little squabble, a lot has been goin’ on.”
“Like what?” said Betty. “And where’d everybody go?”
“That’s what I been tryin’ ta tell ya,” said Sidney. “The case is over and everyone went home.”
“Over?” said Craven.
“Yeah,” said Sidney. “Over.”
“Well?” said Betty. “Are ya gonna tell us about it? Or should we run out ta the lobby first for some popcorn?”
“Okay, okay," said Sidney. “Ya see, it’s like this. A patrol car went passin’ by and saw us all standin’ around like city workers hangin’ around a hole in the ground. Seems they got a complaint. You with me so far?”
“Yeah, Sidney,” said Betty. “Go on.”
“When Rutherford Rockport sees the patrolman approaching with his hand on his gun, he starts cryin’ like a babe in the woods and confesses it was all a fake kidnaping. He was in it with the Butler’s the whole time. He says he did it for the money his daddy wouldn’t give him to pay the loan-sharks.”
“Ya mean that’s all there is ta this story?” said Betty.
“I’m afraid so," said Sidney.
“Ya mean it’s a stinkin‘ run a the mill rich kid pickin‘ his daddy‘s pocket ta pay the sharkies story?” said Craven. ”They don‘t even make up crap like that in the lowest a the low-brow private-eye magazines anymore.”
“I gotta tell ya,” said Betty. “I’ve read better. I’m gonna have ta start writin’ this stuff myself.”
“What say we hop in the cab,” said Sidney. “And we head back to the city where we belong. All this fresh air is makin’ me hungry. How about some Chinese take-out?”
“We’re in,” said Craven.
”Moo goo gai pan for me,” said Betty. ”And Mr. Danger, if you ask Mr. Chin ta throw some ketchup in with the sweet and sour sauce, like ya done the last time, I don’t wanna know ya anymore.”
“Ah, go on,” said Craven.
“FDR just loves his egg foo young,” said Sidney. “Don’t ya, boy? Come on, FDR. Hop in.”
FDR also loved chasing that barnyard skunk. Which will soon become apparent as our heros barrel down the highway and get a good whiff what country life can do to a dog. And where they’re sure to run into a few more mis-adventures.