“But Dressner knew that—”
“I do Doc a favor; he does me a favor. Hell, that’s the way the world is.”
“But I could still report it.”
“And make a hell of a lot of trouble for Doc, and for me, and for yourself? Don’t be such a damn fool.”
Steve thought it over. He said, “I owe you a lot. It would have been a mess.”
“A manslaughter rap. They fix easy, but it clobbers you somewhat. And those kids. Damn, they’re nice kids. They wouldn’t like it knowing their daddy kills a man with his hands.”
“I... suppose you’re right.”
“I do you a favor. Someday you do me a favor. That’s the way the world goes.”
“I guess there isn’t much I could do for you.”
“You could be wrong there, Stevie. Something will come up. It always does. Funny how it always does. You know something? You need a drink. Come on in and sit on the porch with me.”
Steve went blindly along. He kept thinking of the way Marty had fallen. That instant before the blow was struck was the last instant of consciousness left to the man. He was dead even as he fell.
Lew sent a surly Irene off to make drinks. Steve said in a low tone, “Who knows about it?”
“Well, the people who were here Saturday. But you don’t have to worry none. They’re good boys and girls. They don’t talk. If they were talkers, I wouldn’t have them around. I couldn’t afford it.” Lew switched the porch light on, got the morning paper, found the item, folded it uppermost, and handed it to Steve.
Steve’s hand shook as he read it. He handed it back. Irene brought the drinks, slumped silently in a chair near them. Lew said, “What do you do at that Jennings and Ryan?” Steve told him.
Lew asked, “How about orders for new stuff? You put them in?”
“With George Ryan’s approval. There’s a lot of money involved. One big bulldozer can come to over thirty thousand dollars.”
“How are deliveries?”
“Pretty tight. There’s so much road work all over the country, and also the Army, Navy, and Air Force are in the market. Deliveries stink, as a rule.”
“Yeah. That’s what Ricky Vogeling was telling me a while back. You got much back-ordered?”
“About a million dollars’ worth.”
“Important to your outfit, I suppose.”
“It’s critical. If it doesn’t come through we won’t be able to fulfill on contracts that have already been placed with us. Some of them have penalty clauses.”
“They treat you right down there, Stevie?”
“They’ve been fine. After my wife died I kind of went to hell. They were pretty patient with me.”
“Maybe they were figuring you’d been a good man before and you’d be a good man again, and it was worth it — you know, for business.”
“I don’t think that was it.”
“You think maybe Ryan loves you? You think it would break him up, you not in the office?”
“No, but—”
“Leave off him, Lew,” Irene said petulantly. “The guy likes his job so he likes his job. Don’t clob it for him.”
“You drag your tail in and fill these glasses again, sugar,” Lew said mildly. Irene slouched off into the dark house, banging the screen door loudly.
“She’s a moody kid,” Lew explained. “Up one day. Down the next.”
Irene came back and said, “That Diana of yours is a bug. I got some material today. Tomorrow we make a new dress for that doll.”
It was the moment to object, but Steve didn’t know how to do it. The death of Marty had taken away some of his freedom of will. “That’s fine,” he said weakly, feeling that he had betrayed Diana in some obscure way.
“How about you and Paulie coming along to the ball game with me Saturday? I got a season box,” Lew said.
“Okay,” Steve said without enthusiasm. He finished his drink and stood up.
“Don’t rush off, Stevie. The gang will be along soon.”
“I’ve got to go. Thanks for the drinks. And thanks — for the other thing.”
“Nothing to it. I told you how it works. Everything is favors.”
The long night was sleepless, miserable. Half a dozen times he got out of bed and sat by the window and smoked. The fine elation of the possible date with Gloria had turned dull. He remembered the warmth of her first genuine smile. And all the time she had known of Marty’s death. It indicated a very special form of callousness. Apparently he had read character into a face where there was none, crediting her with a warmth and sensitivity that were not there. Perhaps, right to the core, she was as cold as her manner had been at first.
In some intricate way the fates had delivered him into the hands of Lew Prade. He felt listless, defeated.
The next morning he drove to the office, wearied by the long night. By midmorning he began to have the forlorn hope that perhaps Lew Prade was working some sort of a gag, some sort of incomprehensible joke.
He phoned Dr. Dressner. An unfamiliar voice took his number and told him Dr. Dressner would phone him back. The doctor phoned about a half hour later.
“Yes, Mr. Dalvin. Hand giving you trouble?”
“No, it’s not that, Mr. Prade gave me that information last night. About... Marty.”
“Oh yes. Novecki. Unfortunate.”
“Doctor, could there have been any other cause? I mean, was it definitely the result of his — fall?”
“There’s no doubt whatever. Along with the concussion there was some deep brain damage the X-rays didn’t pick up. Slow hemorrhage. Nothing we could do about it.”
“Mr. Prade told me not to — give the authorities any. additional information about the accident.”
Dressner’s voice tightened. “I can’t conceive of how you might have any details on this matter, Mr. Dalvin. I hope you can see precisely what I mean.”
“Yes, I can, Doctor.”
After he had hung up it took him a long time to get his mind back to the work piled on his desk, the phone calls that had to be made, the follow-ups on purchase orders.
For the rest of the week Steve went through the routine of living and working in a haze of apathy and confusion. The children had discovered that the ban on the Prade property was off. Mrs. Chandler threatened to leave, and Steve did not dare bring it to an issue. The children sensed the strangeness in him. and they seemed shy and uncomfortable in his presence. A lot of the good of the past six months seemed to be coming undone.
On Saturday he went to the game. Irene went, too, and a couple he had met before, called Pritch and Bunny. The hand had stopped hurting, but it itched like fury under the cast. It was a doubleheader, a good contest, and he watched with mild interest.
Monday morning George Ryan came into his office and closed the door. He looked uncomfortable. He sat in the chair beside Steve’s desk, got his pipe going to his satisfaction, and then he said, “Steve, the last thing I want you to think is that I’ve been spying on you.”
“What are you getting at, George?”
“Al Freelander told me he saw you and Paulie at the game Saturday in Lew Prade’s box.”
“That’s right.”
“I had my car in Dave Quinn’s garage last week. He said that Prade had given your boy a bike, given your girl a big expensive doll, and given you a case of Scotch.”
Steve said harshly, “Exactly one week ago I told you of an incident that happened in his back yard. Lew felt at fault. He had those presents delivered. I couldn’t give them back without being a boor about it.”
“That’s a pretty unpleasant tone of voice, Steve.”
“I can’t help that. Do you blame me for being a little sore? You’re making some sort of implication that I’m tying myself up with Lew Prade.”
“If that’s the way you want it. boy, I’ll raise my voice a little, too. This is a damn clean company, and I’m proud of it. My two boys will be working in the company someday and I want them to be proud of it, too. We’ve never bought contracts, made kickbacks, or bribed inspectors. If we’d done that sort of thing it would have helped a lot when we were hungry for contracts. But we didn’t do it. I’ve always said that what my employees do on their own time is their own business. But you have a responsible job here. And everything Lew Prade touches he dirties. He’s got a thousand angles, all of them crooked. So I’m asking you, both as a boss and as a friend, what the hell are you doing running around with Lew Prade?”