A large number of cars had stopped, and so many curious on-lookers were wandering around, it was impossible to determine which, if any, group surrounded an injured person. As Sam slid out of the right-hand side of the ambulance, he spotted a seat cushion lying in the ditch near the overturned sedan, and in the dark mistook it for a body.
As the cushion was still some yards beyond where the ambulance had halted, Sam ran around the front of the vehicle instead of the rear. But when he reached a point near the left front fender, he saw his mistake and turned to look for Dave. Then he saw that Dave had stopped the ambulance right next to an injured man lying on the shoulder, and was already pulling open the rear doors.
Reversing himself, Sam rushed back along the left side of the vehicle, catching his shoulder sharply on the side-view mirror as he passed. It gave him a painful bruise, but in the flurry of helping Dave load the injured man into the ambulance he forgot about it.
There was only one injured person, and he was unconscious. As always Sam Potter drove to the hospital while Dave sat in back with the patient. They had almost reached the village line before Sam grew conscious of his shoulder aching. Then he remembered bumping the side-view mirror and glanced at it reproachfully.
The ambulance’s siren had pulled all other traffic to the sides of the road, but one truckman had neglected to dim his highway lights. Just as Sam glanced at the sideview mirror, the ambulance interior was flooded with light. And to his surprise Sam noted that his jostling the mirror had turned it so that he had a full view of the back.
Then his surprise changed to horror as he saw the reflection of his partner’s raised arm. What looked like a small blackjack was in Dave’s hand. In the momentary illumination Sam saw it descend in a vicious arc onto the already injured head of their passenger.
Sam was so shocked by what he had seen, it didn’t even occur to him to demand an explanation from Dave. With his mind in a turmoil, he roared on to the hospital.
He said nothing to Dave as they carried the stretcher inside, nor anything while they waited outside the door of the emergency room for the doctor’s verdict.
He continued to remain silent when the doctor came out and announced laconically, “DOA.” The doctor handed Dave a wallet and said, “Seems to be plenty of identification in there.”
While Dave counted the money and wrote out a receipt which he gave the charge nurse, Sam thought over the appalling sight he had seen. He examined his partner carefully, but could detect nothing in his manner indicating a guilty conscience.
Prior to the advent of the new ambulance service, it had been the chief nurse’s duty to contact accident victims’ next of kin, but since both Averill and Clemson and Potter had volunteered to take this unpleasant task off her shoulders for cases they brought in, she had gladly relinquished the responsibility. Now Sam had another wait while Dave made a long-distance call from the superintendant’s office.
Sam didn’t go in with him. He didn’t want to listen to his partner’s sympathetic voice as he broke the news, nor to his respectful explanation that it was the Potter and Clemson Ambulance Service and Mortuary calling. Particularly he didn’t want to hear Dave’s question as to what disposition the next of kin wanted made of the body.
He still had not spoken to Dave when they returned to the ambulance. By force of habit he climbed in the right side of the cab, as he always did when they left the hospital, leaving the driver’s seat for Dave. The first thing Dave did was glance at the side-view mirror.
Looking puzzded, Dave reached through the window to straighten it, then paused and carefully studied its present angle. When he saw it gave a full view of the rear, he gave Sam a quick sideglance.
Sam nodded his head and said in a dispirited voice, “I saw it.”
Dave made no comment, merely starting the engine and driving away. But several times during the short trip home he glanced surreptitiously at his partner. Even in the dark Sam could tell that the thin man’s face was pale.
When they pulled into the garage, Dave could stand the suspense no longer. “What are you going to do, Sam?” he asked in a slightly high voice.
“I’m going to think awhile before I do anything,” Sam said heavily.
He climbed out of the cab and made straight for the casket display room, leaving Dave to close the garage doors alone. When Dave came down a few moments later, Sam was seated with his pipe going and was staring off into space.
Dave’s face was now very pale. After watching Sam hesitantly for a minute or two, he disappeared into the embalming room. Five minutes later he returned with two glasses of lemonade. Sam accepted one mutely and waited until Dave had his pipe going before he spoke.
Then he said, “This wasn’t the first one, was it, Dave?”
Without looking at him, Dave shook his head.
“We’ve been averaging two to one over Averill,” Sam said.
“Maybe they’d all have died anyway,” Dave said in a low voice.
Sam looked at him steadily until Dave said in a defensive tone, “It’s paid off the hearse and got us back on our feet. Without all those extra cases, we’d be bankrupt by now.”
Sam drew thoughtfully on his pipe. “There’s that, of course,” he conceded.
He continued to puff his pipe for some minutes. Finally he took it from his mouth and drained a quarter of his lemonade.
“If I called the police,” he said reflectively, “I guess the business would be finished. Even if they electrocuted you and cleared me, the mortuary would never survive such a scandal.”
Dave said nothing.
“Maybe they would all have died anyway,” Sam said.
Dave said with a faint note of relief, “Of course they would have, Sam.”
Sam drained the rest of his lemonade and tapped some of the ashes from his pipe to make it draw better. In a brisk tone he said, “I guess the best thing to do is change our procedure a little. You shouldn’t have all the responsibility. Hereafter I’ll ride in back half the time.”
He looked up and met Dave’s eyes. The two men smiled at each other.
Rendezvous
by James T. Farrell
Amabelle had always wanted to go to New York. But she had a special reason for wanting to go there alone...
1
Arthur and Annabelle had gone to college together. They had been good friends in college, nothing more. Arthur, as a student, had been lacking in self-confidence, and had not been at all aware of the attraction of his personality, the power of his mind, and the appeal he had to others, especially to girls. Annabelle had seemed to him to be both a beautiful and an intelligent girl. At times, when they were both at dances or parties, he would feel a desire for her, but he never knew how to act upon it. He was checked by his own timidity. He was afraid to make his desire known to Annabelle, afraid of rejection. So they had been merely friends in college.
Annabelle was tall, dark and stately. She was both handsome and healthy-looking. She had a frank face and manner, dark eyes which shone and sparkled, a well-formed face, and a shapely, if rather large, figure. She was very popular, well-liked and gay in the company of others. Her parents had both died, and she had been raised by an uncle. She was deeply attached to the memory of her father, spoke of him often, and believed that, had he lived, he would have been a great man. He had been a very successful lawyer and, also, he had been cultivated. He had read much, gone to plays, enjoyed music and painting. He had been extremely fond of his daughter, had played with her when she was a tot, had often taken her out on walks, to the zoo, on expeditions about Chicago. His death, which came suddenly as a result of a heart attack, had almost shattered her. For over a year, she had been a meek little girl, secretly believing that she had, in some way, been responsible for his death.