A Word to the Wisguy - Part 12 - A Conclusion - A Craven Danger Mystery
By the time our heroes came across the yellow Mercedes convertible, Boris Buttinski was out of the trunk and heading to the end of the pier.
Emmanuel the Emancipator had hopped back into his car and sped off to places unknown.
“Why is Boris walking so fast?” said Judy.
“There’s nothing at the end of that pier but water.”
“I don’t like the looks of this,” said Betty. “Sidney. Step on it! We got ta catch up ta Boris!”
“Step on what?” said Sidney.
“The gas pedal, ya dope,” said Craven. ”Whaddaya think?”
“Then why didn’t she say so?” said Sidney. “The only time I ever heard someone say ‘step on it!’ in my house was when the roaches would come out and play. ’Step on it, Sidney! my dad would say, before another one gets in my shoes!”
“We don’t give a hoot about your roach infrustration,” said Craven.
“Infestation,” said Betty.
“Whatever,” said Craven. “Just put ya foot on the gas pedal and make this box go real fast! We’re wastin’ time!”
“Hold on ta ya tail, FDR,” said Sidney. “I’m gonna make this thing fly!”
But before Sidney had a chance to fly, his tires took another course and went flat. All four of them.
“Let me out of this car,” said Judy. “I’ll get him myself!”
Judy got out of the car and ran a few yards before she came up with an idea.
“O, Romeo! Romeo!” she shouted. “Where fore art thou, Romeo?”
Boris Buttinski came to a sudden halt and spun around on his heels.
“Shall I hear what she gotta say,” said Boris, “or shall I flap my gums now?”
“Flap ‘em,” said Judy. “But take it from the top. Act II. Scene II. And give it all you got, my darling. Your Juliet awaits.”
“But, soft! what light ya got comin’ through ya windows?
It’s the east, and Juliet’s the lazy ‘ol sun.
So, get up, ya lazy 'ol sun, and murder that green-eyed moon,
Who’s sick ta his stomach with the grief,see?
That ya maid is a better looker than you,
But don’t ya be nothin’ like her, she’s just a
jealous old sea horse.
And her liver is sick and green, see?
And nobody but a damn fool is gonna wear it anyways, so cast that liver off ta the cat. He’ll eat it, I’m sure, see?
It’s my ‘ol lady, Oh, it’s my sweet babe!
Oh, I wish she knew how much I wanna score!”
”Bravo! Bravo!” said Judy. “That was a fine performance, Boris. I think I see some of the fisherman out here crying.”
“Ah, Judy” said Boris. “You is a sweetie.”
On the way back to the hotel, Judy told Boris about chasing down the yellow Mercedes convertible. And Boris told all about his adventure at the Flying Dolphin night club.
The police never did track down Emmanuel the Emancipator. But it is said that on one fateful night at a Key West cafe he would try to pick the pockets of a man by the name of Ernest Hemingway.
It is also said that Ernest Hemingway had a better idea about dealing with the Emancipator than the police would have.
“Instead of picking my pockets," said Mr. Hemingway, "How about I take you deep sea fishing?”
It is said that Emmanuel the Emancipator cried and was never heard from again.