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He searched through the house and then put on his raincoat andwent out to the garage. The Stoker painting was not there.
Five minutes later, he got a phone call. The voice was muffledand unrecognizable, although the caller had identified himself as RupertVlad, afriend and a committeeman in the Count Dracula Society. Since Forrytook all his calls through the answering service, he could listen in and determineif he wished to answer any. This voice was unfamiliar, but the name got thecaller through.
"Forry, this isn't Vlad. Guess you know that?" "I know," said Forry softly. "Who is it?" "A FRIEND, Forry. You know me, but I'd just as soon not tell you
who I really am. I belong to the Lord Ruthven League and the Count DraculaSociety, too. I don't want to get anybody mad at me. But I'll tell yousomething. I heard about you getting that painting of Dracula by Stoker. I was going tocome over and see it. But I attended a meeting of the Lord Ruthven League...andI saw it there."
"You what?" Forry said shrilly. For once, he had lost his self-
control "Yeah. I saw it on the wall of, uh, well..." There was a pause. Forry said, "For the sake of Hugo, man, don't keep me hanging in
air! I have
a right to know!" "Yeah, but I feel such a shit finking on this guy. He..." "He's a thief!" Forry said. "A terrible thief! You wouldn't be a
fink. You'd be doing a public service! Not to mention servicing me!" Even in his excitement and indignation, he could not keep frompu
"Yeah, uh; well, I guess you're right. I'll tell you. You goright over toWoolston Heepish's house. You'll see what I'm talking about."
"Woolston Heepish!" Forry said. He groaned and then added, "Oh, no!"
"Uh, yeah! I guess he's been bugging you for years, right? Ikinda feel sorry for you, Forry, having to put up with him, though I must say hedoes have a magnificent collection. I guess he should, since he got some of itfrom you."
"I never gave him anything!" "No, but he took. So long, Forry."
CHAPTER 26
Fifteen minutes later, Forty was outside the Heepish residence. This was two blocks over from Forry's own house, almost even with it. In the darkand the driving rain, it looked like an exact duplicate of the Ackermansion. It was a California pseudo-Spanish bungalow with a green-painted stuccoexterior. The driveway was on the left as you approached the house, and when youstepped pastthe extension of the house, a wall, you saw the big tree that grew inthe patio. It leaned at a forty-five degree angle across the house, and itsbranches laylike a great hand over part of the tiled roof. At the end of thedriveway wasthe garage, and in front of the garage was a huge wooden cutout of amovie monster.
You turned to the right and onto a small porch to face a woodendoor plastered with various signs: NO SMOKING PERMITTED. WIPE YOUR FEETAND YOUR MIND BEFORE ENTERING. THE EYES OF HEEPISH ARE ON YOU (hinting at theclosed-circuit TV with which Heepish sca
VOLAPUK SPOKEN HERE. (This bugged Forry, who was a long-time and ardent Esperantist. Heepish not only imitated Ackerman with the Esperanto, but, in his efforts to go him one better, had learned Esperanto's closest rival, Volapuk.)
Forry stood for some time before the door, his finger held out topress onthe doorbell. The skies were still emptying their bins; the splash ofwater was all around. Water roared out of the gutter drains and covered thepatio. Thelight above the door gave a ghastly green illumination. All that thescene needed was thunder and lightning, the door swinging open slowly andcreakingly, and a tall pale-faced, red-lipped man with sharp features and blackhair plastered close to his head, and a deep voice with a Hungarian accentsaying, "Good evening!"
There was no light from the interior of the house. Every windowwas curtained off or boarded up or barred by bookcases. Forry had notseen the interior of the house, but it had beep described to him. His ownhouse was so furnished.
Finally, he dropped his hand from the doorbell. He would scoutaround a little. After all, he would look like an ass if he barged indemanding to havehis painting back, only to find that his informant had lied. It wouldnot be the first time that he had been maliciously misinformed so he would getinto an embarrassing situation.
He walked around the side of the house and then to the back. There should be a room here which had once been an anteroom or pantry for thekitchen. In his own house, it was now piled with books and magazines; in fact, hekept hiscollection of Doc Savage magazines just off the kitchen door.
The curtains over the windows were shut tight. He placed his earagainst thewindow in the door but could hear nothing. After a while, he returnedto the front. That there were two cars in the driveway and a number parked, in the street might indicate that Heepish had guests. Perhaps he shouldreturn to his house and phone Heepish.
Then he decided that he would confront Heepish directly. He wouldnot givehim a chance to deny he had the painting or to hide it.
Having made up his mind, he still could not bring himself to ringthe doorbell. He went to the front of the house and stood in the bushes for a while while the rain pelted him and water dripped off the branches. Theconfrontation was going to be dreadful. Highly embarrassing. For both of them. Well, maybe not for Heepish. That man had more nerve than a barrel of brass monkeys.
A car passing by threw its water-soaked beams on him for aminute. He blinked against the diffused illumination and then walked from underthe shelter of the bush. Why wait any longer? Heepish was not going to come outand invite him in.
He pressed the button, which was the nose of a gargoyle facepainted on thedoor. A loud clanging as of bells came from within followed byseveral bars of organ music: Gloomy Sunday.
There was a peephole in the large door, but Heepish no longerused this, according to Forry's informants. The pressing of the doorbell nowactivated a TV camera located behind a one-way window on the left of the porch.
A voice from the Frankenstein mask nailed on the door said, "As Ilive and don't breathe! Forrest J (no period) Ackerman! Thrice welcome!"
A moment later, the door swung open with a loud squeaking as ofrustyhinges. This, of course, was a recording synchronized to the door.
Woolston Heepish himself greeted Forry. He was six feet tall, portly, soft-looking, somewhat paunched, and had a prominent dewlap. Hiswalrus moustache was bronzish, and his hair was dark red, straight, andslick. He wore square rimless spectacles behind which gray eyes blinked. He hunchedforward as if he had spent most of his life reading books or working at a desk. Or standingunder a rainy bush, Forry thought.
"Come in!" he said in a soft voice. He extended a hand which Forry shook, although he wished he could ignore it, let it hang out in the air. But, afterall; he did not know for sure that Heepisb was guilty.
Then he stiffened, and he dropped Heepish's hand.
Over Heepish's shoulder he saw the painting. It was hung atapproximatelythe same place it had hung in his house. There was Dracula sinkingthose longcanines into the neck of a blonde girl!
He became so angry that the room swirled for a moment.
Heepish took his arm and walked him towards the sofa, saying, "You look ill, Forry. Surely I don't have that effect on you?"
There were five others in the room, and they gathered about thesofa where he sat. They looked handsome and beautiful and were dressed inexpensiveup-to-the-latest-minute clothes.