The rain had let up and now was little more than a heavy mist. At Tarlow’s Point he stopped his car and plunged down the path. When he came to the little grove of pine trees, he could see the beach and that no one was there. From the litter, the empty beer cans, the wet cellophane wrappers, he knew that they had left unexpectedly and in a hurry.
Then he saw the arrow on the log. Carefully he made his way to the house and up the back steps. He put his ear to the door and listened hard but heard nothing. He circled the house, went up to the front door, and again listened, then essayed a timid knock. He waited, listening, and this time he thought he heard something. He knocked harder and called “It’s me, Stu. You kids there?”
Instantly the door was thrown open, and his friends crowded around the doorway.
“Hey, you had me going there for a while.”
“We thought you weren’t coming back. We left an arrow with lipstick. Did you see it?”
“How’d you get in?” Stu asked. “Was the door open?”
“Nah, we climbed in through a window in back.”
“Well, we better get going.” said Stu. “The cruising car goes by here, and they check the unoccupied houses. They got a list”
They piled into the car, and Stu turned on the ignition. From in back Adam Sussman called. “Say, how about Moose?”
“What about him?” asked Stu.
“He’s in there. He passed out, and we had to put him to bed.”
“We’d better get him. We can’t leave him in there like that.”
“There’s no room for him, especially the shape he’s in.”
“He wasn’t invited to this party.”
“Yeah, but he got us in out of the storm.”
“I want to go home,” wailed one of the girls. “My folks will be awfully worried.”
“Get going, Stu,” said Bill Jacobs. “We can swing back afterward and pick him up.”
Stu and Bill Jacobs took Didi home last, and Alan Jenkins went along because his motorcycle was parked in the Epstein garage. The house was dark when they arrived, and on the kitchen table Didi found a note from her mother: “Gone to the movies—maybe somewhere for coffee afterward.”
“You guys want some coffee?” she asked. “Yeah. I could use something hot,” said Jacobs.
“I should be starting back.” said Jenkins, “but—okay, I’ll have some too.”
“But what about Moose?” asked Stu.
“He’ll keep.” said Jacobs. He laughed harshly. “He’s good for hours.”
“The way he poured that stuff down—” Stu shook his head. “Still, you wouldn’t think beer would have that effect on him. At school I’ve seen guys who drank the stuff practically all night—”
“It’s wasn’t the beer,” Bill Jacobs explained, “although he had quite a few of those. As soon as we got into the house, he found himself a bottle of Scotch. He did the same trick with that—you know, tossing his head back and taking it down. He must’ve polished off half the bottle in a couple of swallows.”
“Half a bottle?” said Stu, marveling. “And he passed out? Complete? Blotto? What’d you do, leave him lying on the floor?”
“On the floor!” Jacobs was indignant. “Hell no, on one of the beds.”
“Well, like they say, on the floor he can’t roll off,” said Stu defensively.
Jenkins laughed, and Jacobs said grimly, “The way we laid him on the bed he won’t roll anywhere.”
“There was one of these plastic sheets,” Jenkins explained, “and we wrapped him up real good.”
“Just like you swaddle a baby in a blanket,” Jacobs added with satisfaction.
Didi came in with coffee. They sipped it in silence, each immersed in his own thoughts for the moment.
The Stu said suddenly, “Hey, how are we going to get back in? We’re not going to have to go through the window, I hope? You shut the door.”
“No sweat,” said Bill Jacobs. “I left it on the latch.”
Jenkins set his cup down and rose lazily to his feet. “I better be starting. Got to get up real early tomorrow.”
“Hey,” said Bill. “With Stu driving, I’m not sure I can handle Moose alone if he should start acting up. Can’t you give us a hand?”
Jenkins smiled and shook his head. “You’re asking the wrong party. Far as I’m concerned, he can stay there until he turns to green mold. If I was you cats, I’d forget about him.”
As the roar of Jenkins’ motorcycle died away. Stu said. “What was he so up tight about?”
Didi answered. “Moose was dumping on him most of the evening. Frankly, I don’t blame Alan.”
“Well, that leaves us in a bind,” said Jacobs. He went to the window and looked out. “And it’s started raining again.”
They sat around and talked, waiting for the rain to let up. Every once in a while one of them would wander to the window to peer at the rain-lashed streets.
Suddenly a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, followed immediately by a tremendous crash of thunder, and the room was plunged into darkness.
“That must have got a transformer.” said Jacobs, looking down the darkened street. “Maybe the substation; it’s dark all up and down the street.”
“You got any candles. Didi?” asked Stu.
“I—I guess so.” Didi’s voice sounded frightened in the darkness, and then he felt her hand groping for his. He put his arm around her.
“Tell you what. Rather than sweat this out in darkness, why don’t we all get in the car and drive over to pick up Moose now? The way it’s coming down, it can’t last long.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mr. Morehead was apologetic. “Believe me, Mr. Paff, if I didn’t have to meet my wife at the airport—”
“But I’ve arranged with the other men in the deal to meet them at the house. You could have let me know earlier.”
“I didn’t expect her until tomorrow, Mr. Paff. I just got a call from New York, from the airport. Look, you don’t need me there anyway. You can get the key from—”
“Don’t tell me to go to see that son of a bitch Begg again. He’ll tell me he can’t get away from his two-bit store and that he can’t let me have the key because I might steal the furniture. Furniture! I’ve seen better at the Morgan Memorial. I’ll drive up with a truck and load it with his goddam ratty furniture.”
The other chuckled. “Begg is an old Yankee, all right. But look, how would it be if I left the key in Lynn?”
“Happens I’ve got to check something at the Lynn alley.”
“Well, that’s fine then. You know the drugstore on the corner where my building is? I’ll leave the key there, and you can pick it up.”
“Well. I guess that’s all right. You just be sure that there’s no slipup. Give them my name and tell them what I look like so there won’t be any question when I come in for it.”
“Nothing to worry about, Mr. Paff. And you look over the property as long as you like. Just be sure you turn out the lights and lock the door when you leave.”
At the Lynn alley the manager greeted him with, “Your wife just called. Mr. Paff, and said for you to call a Mr. Kermit Arons.”
Arons was remorseful. “Gee, Meyer, you’ll never guess what I went and did. After I made this appointment with you for tonight I forgot all about my sister-in-law’s wedding anniversary. She’s throwing a big shindig, and if I don’t go to it, well, I might just as well start discussing visitation rights to the children with my lawyer. So for tonight, I’m afraid you’ll have to count me out.”
“But we’ve got to act fast on this thing, Kerm. We can’t futz around.”