"Yes," Mrs. Keitelbein said. "At least we hope they will."
"Put me down," he said. "I'm sure I can make it to class one or two hours a week."
Thanking him, Mrs. Keitelbein departed. The door closed after her.
Good for Junie, he said to himself.
And now dinner.
"You mean you signed up?" Margo demanded, as they seated themselves at the table.
"Why not?" he said. "It's common sense and patriotic."
"But you're over your head in your contest."
"Couple hours a week won't make any difference," he said. "You make me feel guilty," Margo sighed. "I've got nothing to do all day, and you have. I should go. Maybe I will."
"No," he said, not wanting her along. Not if it was going to work out as a means of seeing Junie. "You're not invited. Just me."
"That seems unfair," Vic said. "Can't women be patriots?" Sammy spoke up, "I'm a patriot. Back in the clubhouse we've got the best atomic cannon in the United States, and it's trained on Moscow." He created explosion-noises in the back of his mouth.
"How's the crystal set coming?" Ragle said.
"Swell," Sammy said. "It's finished."
"What have you picked up?"
"Nothing so far," Sammy said, "but I'm just about to."
"You let us know when you do," Vic said.
"I just have a few adjustments to complete," Sammy said.
After Margo had cleared the dinner dishes away and brought in the dessert, Vic said to Ragle, "Make any progress today?"
"I got it off at six," he answered. "As usual."
"I mean the other business," Vic said.
Actually he had done very little. The contest work had tied him up. "I started listing the separate facts in the magazines," he said. "Under different categories. Until I get it broken down and listed there's not much I can say." He had set up twelve categories: polities, economics, movies, art, crime, fashions, science, etc. "I got to looking up the different auto dealers in the white section, under their brand names. Chevrolet, Plymouth, DeSoto. They're all listed except one."
"Which one?" Vic said.
"Tucker."
"That's strange," Vic said.
"Maybe the dealer has some personal title," Ragle said. "Such as 'Norman G. Selkirk, Tucker Dealer.' But anyhow, I pass it along to you for what it's worth."
Margo said, "Why do you use the name 'Selkirk'?"
"I don't know," he said. "Just selected at random."
"There's no random," Margo said. "Freud has shown that there's always a psychological reason. Think about the name 'Selkirk.' What does it suggest to you?"
Ragle thought about it. "Maybe I saw the name when I was going through the phone book." These damn associations, he thought. As in the puzzle clues. No matter how hard a person tried, he never got them under control. They continued to run him. "I have it," he said finally. "The man that the book _Robinson Crusoe_ was based on. Alexander Selkirk."
"I didn't know it was based on anything," Vic said.
"Yes," he said. "There was a real castaway."
"I wonder why you thought of that," Margo said. "A man living alone on a tiny island, creating his own society around him, his own world. All his utensils, clothes--"
"Because," Ragle said, "I spent a couple of years on such an island during World War Two."
Vic said, "Do you have any theory yet?"
"About what's wrong?" Ragle inclined his head toward Sammy, who was listening.
"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."