Free Amazing Mrs. Pollifax by Dorothy Gilman Page B

message from your sister this afternoon—”
    “Yesterday afternoon by now—”
    “—and you’d never seen me before in your life. This is going to be very illicit, I may get caught, and you’ve said yourself that you’re a physical coward.”
    He said fiercely, “Of course I’m a coward but I absolutely loathe being pushed around—I told you that—and these men stole my uncle’s jeep, dumped a dead man in our garage and kidnapped your friend. Now do let’s stop talking—of course I’m going with you!”
    Mrs. Pollifax smiled faintly. “All right,” and returned her glance to the house. It was a two-storied rectangle of pale stucco with blue shutters. She wondered if Stefan and Otto had gone upstairs or down to the basement but there were no clues. She tiptoed to the screen door and peered inside; directly opposite, scarcely five feet away, a back staircase rose steeply toward the top of the house. Her decision had been made for her: they would try the upstairs first. “Look,” she whispered, pointing.
    To the right lay a long kitchen, brightly lit but empty of people although she could hear the sound of running water from a distant corner. Mrs. Pollifax slowly opened the screen door, testing for squeaks. Nothing happened and she slipped inside and across to the staircase with Colin directly behind her. She did not pause until she was halfway up the stairs. Here the rising sounds of the party proved an irritant: it was a very large party and the murmur of voices rose and fell in waves, but if they concealed any sounds that she and Colin made they had the disadvantage of concealing approaching footsteps as well. She felt trapped in noises, all of them confusing; still, she could not remain exposed on this stairway for any length of time and so she rallied, brought out her absurd wooden pistol and moved to the top of the stairs.
    Here she met a wide carpeted hallway containing sixdoors, all of them closed. On her right, at the far end, the hall terminated in a stairwell and the carpet overflowed the stairs like a waterfall of gold; it was from this end of the house that music and conversation rose almost deafeningly. Mrs. Pollifax headed in the opposite direction, on the supposition that these rooms were farthest removed from people, and people would be what Stefan and Otto must avoid if they were here, and the thought of their being here—of all places!—still baffled and shocked Mrs. Pollifax.
    The first door they opened was a bedroom but except for ornate hangings and baroque furniture it was empty. The second door proved to be a linen closet. With some impatience Mrs. Pollifax threw open the door to the third room, only to be reminded that impatience bred carelessness, for this time she had opened the door to a bedroom containing three people—the impact took her breath away—and in unison, also stunned, three people turned to stare at her.
    It was as if she had abruptly cut the switch on an unwinding reel of film. Magda lay across a chaise lounge like a bundle that had been flung there, and Stefan, leaning over her, looked up in the act of withdrawing a hypodermic needle from her arm. Otto stood on guard a few feet from Mrs. Pollifax, his mouth open as he stared at her. He was the first to react: he moved so swiftly, so menacingly, that without a second to think about it Mrs. Pollifax lifted her right hand, flattened it as Lorvale had taught her, and dealt Otto a crisp karate chop to the side of his throat. He stared at her in astonishment and then his eyes closed and he sank slowly to the floor. Behind her Colin gasped,
“Mrs. Pollifax!”
    “Get his gun,” said Mrs. Pollifax crisply.
    Colin stooped and plucked it from the floor, pocketing his own wooden prop. Holding the live gun he gestured Stefan away from Magda. “Against the wall,” he ordered, waving the gun with growing enthusiasm.
    Mrs. Pollifax, her flowered hat only a little askew, went at once to Magda, who was trying to stand.