wheels. It had a big door in the center of its nose and a low fire door. Gradually it became red and soft with rust and gradually the mallow weeds grew up around it and the flaking rust fed the weeds. Flowering myrtle crept up its sides and the wild anise perfumed the air about it. Then someone threw out a datura root and the thick fleshy tree grew up and the great white bells hung down over the boiler door and at night the flowers smelled of love and excitement, an incredibly sweet and moving odor.
In 1935 Mr. and Mrs. Sam Malloy moved into the boiler. The tubing was all gone now and it was a roomy, dry, and safe apartment. True, if you came in through the fire door you bad to get down on your hands and knees, but once in there was head room in the middle and you couldn’t want a dryer, warmer place to stay. They shagged a mattress through the fire door and settled down. Mr. Malloy was happy and contented there and for quite a long time so was Mrs. Malloy.
Below the boiler on the hill there were numbers of large pipes also abandoned by the Hediondo. Toward the end of 1937 there was a great catch of fish and the canneries were working full time and a housing shortage occurred. Then it was that Mr. Malloy took to renting the larger pipes as sleeping quarters for single men at a very nominal fee. With a piece of tar paper over one end and a square of carpet over the other, they made comfortable bedrooms, although men used to sleeping curled up had to change their habits or move out. There were those too who claimed that their snores echoing back from the pipes woke them up. But on the whole Mr. Malloy did a steady small business and was happy.
Mrs. Malloy bad been contented until her husband became a landlord and then she began to change. First it was a rug, then a washtub, then a lamp with a colored silk shade. Finally she came into the boiler on her hands and knees one day and she stood up and said a little breathlessly, “Holman’s are having a sale of curtains. Real lace curtains and edges of blue and pink — $1.98 a set with curtain rods thrown in.”
Mr. Malloy sat up on the mattress. “Curtains?” he demanded. “What in God’s name do you want curtains for?”
“I like things nice,” said Mrs. Malloy. “I always did like to have things nice for you,” and her lower lip began to tremble.
“But, darling,” Sam Malloy cried, “I got nothing against curtains. I like curtains.”
“Only $1.98,” Mrs. Malloy quavered, “and you begrutch me $1.98,” and she sniffled and her chest heaved.
“I don’t begrutch you,” said Mr. Malloy. “But, darling— for Christ’s sake what are we going to do with curtains? We got no windows.”
Mrs. Malloy cried and cried and Sam held her in his arms and comforted her.
“Men just don’t understand how a woman feels,” she sobbed. “Men just never try to put themselves in a woman’s place.”
And Sam lay beside her and rubbed her back for a long time before she went to sleep.
Chapter IX
When Doc’s car came back to the laboratory, Mack and the boys secretly watched Hazel help to carry in the sacks of starfish. In a few minutes Hazel came damply up the thicken walk to the Palace. His jeans were wet with sea water to the thighs and where it was drying the white salt rings were forming. He sat heavily in the patent rocker that was his and shucked off his wet tennis shoes.
Mack asked, “How is Doc feeling?”
“Fine,” said Hazel. “You can’t understand a word he says. Know what he said about stink bugs? No — I better not tell you.”
“He seem in a nice friendly mood?” Mack asked.
“Sure,” said Hazel, “We got two three hundred starfish. He’s all right.”
“I wonder if we better all go over?” Mack asked himself and he answered himself, “No I guess it would be better if one went alone. It might get him mixed up if we all went.”
“What is this?” Hazel asked.
“We got plans,” said Mack. “I’ll go myself so as not to startle him. You guys stay here and wait I’ll come back in a few minutes.”
Mack went out and he teetered down the chicken walk and across the track. Mr. Malloy was sitting on a brick in front of his boiler.
“How are you, Sam?” Mack asked.
“Pretty good.”
“How’s the missus?”
“Pretty good,” said Mr. Malloy. “You know any kind of glue you can stick cloth to iron?”
Ordinarily Mack would have thrown himself headlong into this problem but now he was not to be deflected. “No,” he said.
He went across the vacant lot, crossed the street and entered the basement of the laboratory.
Doc had his hat off now since there was practically no chance of getting his head wet unless a pipe broke. He was busy removing the starfish from the wet sacks and arranging them on the cool concrete floor. The starfish were twisted and knotted up for a starfish loves to hang onto something and for an hour these had found only each other. Doc arranged them in long lines and very slowly they straightened out until they lay in symmetrical stars on the concrete floor. Doc’s pointed brown beard was damp with perspiration as he worked. He looked up a little nervously as Mack entered. It was not that trouble always came in with Mack but something always entered with him.
“Hiya, Doc?” said Mack.
“All right,” said Doc uneasily.
“Hear about Phyllis Mae over at the Bear Flag? She hit a drunk and got his tooth in her fist and it’s infected clear to the elbow. She showed me the tooth. It was out of a plate. Is a false tooth poison, Doc?”
“I guess everything that comes out of the human mouth is poison,” said Doc warningfully. “Has she got a doctor?”
“The bouncer fixed her up,” said Mack.
“I’ll take her some sulfa,” said Doc, and he waited for the storm to break. He knew Mack had come for something and Mack knew he knew it.
Mack said, “Doc, you got any need for any kind of animals now?”
Doc sighed with relief, “Why?” he asked guardedly.
Mack became open and confidential. “I’ll tell you, Doc. I and the boys got to get some dough — we simply got to. It’s for a good purpose, you might say a worthy cause.”
“Phyllis Mae’s arm?”
Mack saw the chance, weighed it and gave it up. “Well— no,” he said. “It’s more important than that. You can’t kill a whore. No — this is different I and the boys thought if you needed something why we’d get it for you and that way we could make a little piece of change.”
It seemed simple and innocent. Doc laid down four more starfish in lines, “I could use three or four hundred frogs,” he said. “I’d get them myself but I’ve got to go down to La Jolla tonight. There’s a good tide tomorrow and I have to get some octopi.”
“Same price for frogs?” Mack asked. “Five cents apiece?”
“Same price,” said Doc.
Mack was jovial. “Don’t you worry about frogs, Doc,” he said. “We’ll get you all the frogs you want. You just rest easy about frogs. Why we can get them right up Carmel River. I know a place.”
“Good,” said Doc. “I’ll take all you get but I need about three hundred.”
“Just you rest easy, Doc. Don’t you lose no sleep about it. You’ll get your frogs, maybe seven eight hundred.” He put the Doc at his ease about frogs and then a little cloud crossed Mack’s face. “Doc.” he said, “any chance of using your car to go up the Valley?”
“No,” said Doc, “I told you. I have to drive to La Jolla tonight to make tomorrow’s tide.”
“Oh,” said Mack dispiritedly. “Oh. Well, don’t you worry about it, Doc. Maybe we can get Lee Chong’s old
