"It's okay," Vic said. "He's been following the whole thing. Haven't you, McBoy?"
"Yes," Sammy said.
With a wink to Ragle, Vic said to his son, "Tell us what's wrong, then."
Sammy said, "They're trying to dupe us."
"He heard me say that," Margo said.
"Who's trying to dupe us?" Vic said.
"The -- enemy," Sammy said, after hesitating.
"What enemy?" Ragle said.
Sammy considered and finally said, "The enemy that's everywhere around us. I don't know their names. But they're everywhere. I guess they're the Reds."
To the boy, Ragle said, "And how are they duping us?"
With confidence, Sammy said, "They've got their dupe-guns trained on us dead center."
They all laughed. Sammy colored and began playing with his empty dessert dish.
"Their atomic dupe-guns?" Vic said.
Sammy muttered, "I forget if they're atomic or not."
"He's way ahead of us," Ragle said.
After dinner Sammy went off to his room. Margo did the dishes in the kitchen, and the two men adjourned to the living room. Almost at once the doorbell rang.
"Maybe it's your pal Mrs. Keitelbein back," Vic said, going to the door.
Standing on the porch was Bill Black. "Hi," he said, entering the house. "I've got something for you fellows." He tossed Ragle a couple of objects, which Ragle caught. Ball-point pens, and good ones by their look. "Couple for you, too," Black said to Vic. "Some firm up north mailed them to us, but we can't keep them. Against a city ruling involving gifts. You have to either eat it up, smoke it up, or drink it up the day you got it, or you can't keep it."
"But it's all right to give them to us," Vic said, examining the pens. "Well thanks, Black. I can use these down at the store."
I wonder, Ragle wondered. Should we say anything to Black? He managed to catch his brother-in-law's eye. There seemed to be a nod of approval there, so he said, "You got a minute?"
"I guess so," Black said.
"There's something we want to show you," Vic said.
"Sure," Black said. "Let's see it."
Vic started off to get the magazines, but Ragle suddenly said, "Wait a minute." To Black he said, "Have you ever heard of somebody named Marilyn Monroe?"
Black, at that, got an odd, secretive look on his face. "What is this?" he drawled.
"Have you or haven't you?"
"Sure I have," he said.
"He's a phony," Vic said. "He thinks it's some gag and he doesn't want to bite."
"Give us an honest answer," Ragle said. "There's no gag."
"Of course I've heard of her," Black said.
"Who is she?"
'She-" Black glanced into the other room to see if either Margo or Sammy could hear. "She has about the biggest build there is." He added, "She's a Hollywood actress."
I'll be darned, Ragle thought.
"Stay here," Vic said. He went off and returned with the picture magazine. Holding it so Black couldn't see it, he said, "What picture has she made that's supposed to be her best?"
"That's a matter of opinion," Black said.
"Just name one, then."
Black said, "_The Taming of the Shrew_."
Both Ragle and Vic examined the article, but there was no mention of her having done the Shakespeare comedy.
"Name another," Vic said. "That one isn't listed."
Black gestured irritably. "What is this? I don't get to the movies very much."
Ragle said, "According to this article, she's married to an important playwright. What's his name?"
Without hesitation, Black said, "Arthur Miller." Well, Ragle decided, there goes all of that.
"Why haven't we heard of her, then?" he asked Black.
Snorting with derision, Black said, "Don't blame me."
"Has she been famous long?"
"No. Not particularly. You remember Jane Russell. That big build-up about _The Outlaw_."
"No," Vic said. Ragle also shook his head.
"Anyhow," Black said, clearly perturbed but trying not to show it, "they've got the machinery going. Making a star out of her overnight." He stopped talking and came over to see the magazine. "What is this?" he asked. "Can I look at it, or is it secret?"
"Let him see it," Ragle said.
After he had studied the magazine Black said, "Well, it's been a few years. Maybe she's dropped out of sight already. But when Junie and I were going together, before we were married, we used to go to the drive-in movies, and I remember seeing this _Gentlemen Prefer Blondes_ that the article mentions."
In the direction of the kitchen, Vic shouted, "Hey honey -- Bill Black's heard of her."
Margo appeared, drying a blue willow plate. "Has he? Well then I guess that clears that up."
"Clears what up?" Black asked.
"We had a theory we were experimenting with," Margo said.
"What theory?"
Ragle said, "It seemed to the three of us that something had gone wrong."
"Where?" Black said. "I don't get what you mean."
None of them said anything, then.
"What else have you got to show me?" Black said.
"Nothing," Ragle said.
"They found a phone book," Margo said. "Along with the magazines. Part of a phone book."
"Where did you find all these?"
Ragle said, "What the hell do you care?"
"I don't care," Black said. "I just think you're out of your mind." He sounded more and more angry. "Let's have a look at the phone book."
Vic got the book and handed it to him. Black sat down and leafed through it, with the same frenetic expression on his face. "What's there about this?" he said. "It's from upstate. They don't use these numbers any more." He slapped the book shut and tossed it on the table; it started to slide off, to the floor, and Vic rescued it. "I'm surprised at the three of you," Black said. "Especially you, Margo." Reaching out his hand he grabbed the phone book away from Vic, got to his feet, and started to the front door. "I'll bring this back to you in a day or so. I want to go through it and see if I can track down some kids Junie went to Cortez High with. There's a whole flock of them she can't find; they're probably married by now. Mostly girls." The front door closed after him and he was gone.
"He certainly got upset," Margo said after a pause.
"Hard to know what to make of that," Vic said.
Ragle wondered if he ought to go after Bill Black and get the telephone book back. But apparently it was worthless. So he did not.
Hopping mad, Bill Black flung open the front door of his house and ran past his wife to the phone.
"What's wrong?" Junie asked. "Did you have a fight with them? With Ragle?" She came up close beside him as he dialed Lowery's number. "Tell me what happened. Did you have it out with Ragle? I want to know what he said. If he said there had ever been anything between us, he's a liar."
"Beat it," he said to her. "Please, Junie. For Christ's sake. This is business." He glared at her until she gave up and went off.
"Hello," Lowery's voice sounded in his ear.
Black squatted on his haunches, holding the receiver close to his mouth so that Junie couldn't hear. "I was over there," he said. "They got their hands on a phone book, a current or nearly current one. I've got it, now. I managed to wangle it away from them; I still don't know how."
"Did you find out where they got it?"
"No," he admitted, "I got sore and left. It really threw me, walking in there and having them say, 'Hey Black -- you ever heard of a woman named Marilyn Monroe,' and then trotting out a couple of battered, weather-beaten old magazines and flashing them in my face. That was a miserable few minutes." He was still trembling and perspiring; holding the phone with his shoulder he succeeded in getting his cigarettes and lighter from his pocket. The lighter slipped from his hand and rolled out of reach; he gazed after it resignedly.
"Oh I see," Lowery said. "They don't have Marilyn Monroe. It didn't get fitted in."