A few days before school began, Mrs. Warren dropped by with a little girl. She called into the kitchen, “Anybody home? I brought somebody for you to meet.” She put an arm around both Kate and the other child. “This here’s Judy Davis. She’s the daughter of my new dairyman. I been telling her all about you, and how you’ll be taking the school bus together.” The two children sized each other up, and then Kate said, “Want me to show you some of my dolls?”
That evening as Ben was helping her with the dishes, Phyllis glanced through the window to the grape arbor where Kate and her new friend were engrossed in coloring books. She handed Ben a plate. “Kate’s room is a shambles, but I couldn’t care less. They’ve had such a marvelous time all afternoon.”
Judy put down a crayon, and blew a wisp of blonde hair away from her eyes. “Wasn’t this a good idea? I wish we’d thought of it sooner.”
Kate agreed, “Mm-mm.”
The other child deliberated over a picture. Then she said, “I think I’ll color her breeches green, dark green.”
Kate popped her bubble gum in disgust. “Listen, if I can remember to call you Judy, you’d just better learn to say slacks. You want to get me in trouble again?”
Destruction is Always Arranged
by Gilbert Ralston
If you have something illegal to do, you had best do it yourself. The fob will then be done to your horrendous satisfaction. You will also save time — though you may, conceivably, also find yourself serving it.
Archer entered the little shop, the ting of the door chime almost covered by the ticking of the clocks lining the shelves upon the walls. The room was small and softly dark, only the hands of the seated man at the high bench at the end of the room appeared to be illuminated by the light from a gooseneck lamp. He crossed the room, waiting patiently while the spatulate fingers of the workman maneuvered a tiny cog into the jeweled bed of a clockwork mechanism, after which the piece was placed precisely in the center of a square of cloth. Then one of the brightly illumined hands moved to the edge of the bench to touch a switch, flooding the room with light.
Shrugging the loupe out of his eye, the fat man stared at him impassively, his bulbous eyes wetly intent. “May I be of service?” he said, the words precise, the tone musical, touched faintly with accent.
“Daggett sent me,” Archer said.
The fat man sat unmoving, not a muscle indicating that he had heard.
“He said to give you this.” Archer reached into the pocket of his jacket, placing a torn piece of pasteboard on the bench.
The man reached into a drawer, then neatly fitted the torn half of Archer’s card into a matching half, laying the two pieces on the bench without comment. After a moment’s examination he heaved his blocky figure off the stool to cross to the door of the shop, which he closed and locked, turning again to face the younger man. “You may call me Jaeger,” he said. “Come.” He led the way through a door set in the back wall, to a richly furnished living room, sumptuous leather pieces harmonizing with a muted Oriental rug. “Be seated, Mr. Archer.”
“You know my name?”
“Yes.” Jaeger was dialing the telephone, turning his gaze once again to his visitor, holding the stare unblinkingly while he awaited a response. “Describe Archer,” he said into the receiver, his eyes flicking over Archer’s body as he received the information. “Hold out your right hand, Mr. Archer. I wish to see your ring.”
“You’re very careful,” Archer said, holding out his hand.
“Very,” Jaeger replied, cradling the phone. “Do you like music?” He indicated the neat rows of phonograph records near the console across the room.
“Yes.”
“It is the only reality,” Jaeger said, crossing to the wall. “Schubert?”
Archer nodded.
The swelling strains of the Second Symphony filled the room.
“I will turn it low. Then we can talk.” Jaeger sat, folding himself into one of the leather chairs. “No unnecessary details, Mr. Archer, and no names. The address, the layout of the building, what you want done, and when. Nothing more.” Unconsciously his right hand beat time to the music as Archer took some papers from his pocket.
“Here’s a drawing of the interior of the house. A photo of the outside.”
“Expertly done,” Jaeger said, his lips pursing a little as he studied the blueprint.
“I am an architect.”
Jaeger fixed him with a steady gaze. “I know,” he said.
“The address of the house is on that envelope. Here are the keys.”
“Neighbors?”
“None nearby. The house rests on a cliff overlooking the ocean on a seven-acre plot.”
“It is tenanted?”
“Not at present.”
“Why don’t you sell it?”
“My father left it to me when he died a year ago. The restrictions of the will do not permit a sale.”
“But you may collect insurance?”
“Yes.”
“A stone house. Slate roof. Awkward. You wish a total loss?”
“Yes. A total loss.”
“Do you have gas in the house?”
Archer nodded.
“Show me where the gas line is.”
Archer pointed to a closet leading off the living room. “It comes in here at the back of this closet, branches off to the kitchen at the back, another branch of the pipe through the wall to the fireplace in the living room.”
“There is a cellar?” Jaeger asked.
“No. The house is on a concrete slab.”
“The interior walls?”
“Brick or stone, for the most part.”
Jaeger looked up at him. “It’s not an easy problem. We shall have to blow it up.”
“Yes,” Archer said.
“To blow it up is easy. To simulate an undetectable gas explosion is an art.”
“That’s why I am here.”
“My service is expensive, Mr. Archer.”
“How expensive?”
“Five thousand dollars... in advance.”
“Twenty-five hundred now and twenty-five hundred more when the job is done.”
Jaeger made a little deprecating gesture with his hands. “All. Now,” he said. “In cash.”
“How will you do it?” Archer asked.
“First the money.” Jaeger crossed to the phonograph. “Delius?” he asked politely.
Archer reached for the envelope in his jacket pocket, opened it, and tossed it on the coffee table beside the chair.
“Listen to this,” Jaeger said. “It soars to the skies.” He counted the money methodically, placing the bills in little piles in front of him, a thousand dollars to a pile. “This is music, too,” he said.
“Now tell me how you will do it.”
“It is necessary that I tell you. I shall need your help.”
“My help?”
“You must prepare the house according to my instructions. Also, there are some supplies that I will need. You will buy them, thus making yourself accessory before the fact.” The thick lips twisted into a smile. “My insurance policy.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“Your money is on the table. Take it and go.”
Archer hesitated. “What would you want me to do?”
“You will close the house up tightly, leaving the furniture and personal effects intact.”
“What else?”
“You will discreetly purchase a case of dynamite and an ordinary automobile storage battery, leaving them on the closet floor.”
“Dynamite?”
“You are an architect. You will know where to buy it or where to have it bought.”