While he was waiting for him to come, Greg sat anxiously on the floor by the dachshund, trying to get him to respond. A half-hour later, the veterinarian, Dr. James T. Newhall, arrived. He was on the pudgy side with a round, beaming face and a boyhood love for animals.
When he finished his examination, he rose, puzzled. “Heartbeat’s good,” he commented, “and as far as I can determine he hasn’t suffered any physical injury. But something has caused him to black out. A shock of some kind.”
Greg was baffled. Blitzy, as usual, had been in the house alone all day. “He’s gotten to an age when he doesn’t like to run around much. Sits here on top of the divan most of the day and watches watches.
“
His words drifted away as he stared out of the window. “No it couldn’t be,” he mumbled to himself.
“What couldn’t be?” asked Dr. Newhall.
“Nothing.
“You saw something out there,” persisted Dr. Newhall. “Something that might have given him a jolt.”
Greg looked sheepish. “The neighbor across the street she had a tree taken out today. It was his favorite tree.”
Dr. Newhall smiled. “That could do it. Happens over and over, same as with people. That tree was his security, part of his life, his world.” He shook his head. “A frightful thing to have happen to you.” He added hurriedly, “That is, if you’re a doxy. Well, we’ll give him whirlpool baths and see if we can bring him out of it.”
His car had scarcely pulled away when Mrs. Macdougall waddled up. “Poor little fellow, we all loved him so. I’m going to miss him sitting in the window when I water my roses. I always looked over “
Greg broke in. “He’s going to be okay. He merely suffered a shock. Miss Randall cut down his favorite tree.”
“Oh, I’m so glad I mean, that he’s all right. My, what a start that gave me, seeing the doctor carry him out and him looking like he had passed on to his reward.”
All in the same breath, she asked, “And how is poor Miss Randall, is she feeling better? I saw you bringing her home, and with the doctor waiting in her bedroom, I didn’t want to barge in but I’m so concerned for the poor girl, her health never was any too good, too skinny, that kind they can go so fast, I had a cousin the spittin’ image of her
“
Greg left her standing in midsentence. Unmindful of traffic, he cut diagonally across the street. A neighbor passed and said hello but he neither saw nor heard her.
He knocked hard and repeatedly on Patti’s door, until Ingrid, out of breath, answered his summons. “I want to see your sister,” he said without preliminaries, his voice shaking.
Ingrid stared a moment before calling to the back recesses, “Patti, the monster’s here.” Turning to him, she said, “Greg, please, remember your image.”
“The heck with my image.”
“Oh, Greg, just when I thought
I’ve got a boy friend like you, but he carries tranquilizers and uses them when he’s about to go into orbit.”
“I don’t need any. I’m not excited. I’m going to keep perfectly calm.”
He continued hastily, “Poor old Blitzy. Did you see? The vet just carried him out. He’s going to give him whirlpool baths, and see if he can bring him out of shock.”
Patti appeared, and her eyes brightened at the sight of him. Ingrid put in hurriedly, “Blitzy’s sick.”
“Your apricot,” Greg said. “He watched them cut it down and went into shock. Something to do with his social security. But that’s not why I came over. Mrs. Macdougall heard a prowler in your bedroom, and since you and the kids are by yourselves
“
He brushed by Patti and Ingrid, saying, “I’d better take a look.”
“Greg!” Patti called so loudly that he stopped. “I just came from the bedroom. Nobody’s there.”
“Can’t be too careful these days,” he said, continuing doggedly.
“For heaven’s sake, Greg, if you don’t trust me, if you think I’m lying to you
‘
Ingrid said quickly, “Please, Greg, listen. You’re getting excited, and after you promised me
” She caught up with him in the hallway and grabbed him by the arm. “Come on into my room. I want you to hear a new Belafonte record I just got.”
Greg pulled away, but then Mike, emerging from his room, blocked his way. “Hi, Greg,” he said with an old-pal affableness note 12 that was unlike him, “you’re just in time to help me assemble my Telstar model.”
Mike stood his ground, bringing Greg to a quick, awkward halt. Behind him Patti asked, “Greg, how could you how could you let an old busybody wreck everything between us?”
Ingrid piped up, “Yes, how could you, Greg?” She added, “If you don’t believe my sis, I’ll swear to it, and you know I wouldn’t swear to anything and hope to die if I
“
Mike said, “This is the greatest model yet. You never saw anything like it.”
Greg shoved him aside and stepped into Patti’s bedroom.
At the pounding on the front door, and Ingrid’s call for Patti, Zeke anticipated trouble. He picked up his hat and coat and brief case, and stepped into the closet. He never could explain it afterwards but just as he was closing the door D.C. shot into the closet with him.
Zeke rid himself of a good sneeze to get into shape before Greg arrived. He heard the loud talking in the hallway, In-grid joining Patti in an effort to stop the onrushing Greg, and Mike making one last, brave stand.
Zeke reconnoitered in the small, dark closet. He remembered to switch off the radio. D.C. seemed quiet enough, rubbing against his trouser leg as if they were old friends.
Zeke heard Patti say, “I told you nobody was back here. I can’t understand you, Greg. I just don’t understand how you could believe that old gossip over me.”
Greg was walking about. “I didn’t believe her. But I got to thinking, what if somebody was hiding in your bedroom, and I didn’t do anything about it, and tomorrow I read in the newspapers
” ,
And then Zeke heard Ingrid, “I’m terribly disappointed in you.”
Near tears, Patti said, “You suspected me. You thought I had a man here.”
Ingrid said, “I think it’s all a mistake. Just a mistake. Let’s have a Coke and a good laugh about it.”
Zeke felt a sneeze approaching, and pressed a forefinger against the base of his nose to suppress it. So why don’t they get Greg Balter out? What in heaven’s name are they waiting for? He couldn’t stall the sneeze forever, not with the blasted cat brushing back and forth, back and forth, across his right calf.
He never knew exactly how it happened. All he remembered was that he pushed D.C. gently aside with one foot, and the next instant D.C. screamed murder in a shriek that must have rocked the neighborhood. Zeke’s blood shot through him like a drag race in progress, and thunder filled his head, and his body was paralyzed, until finally the little man at the controls of his shocked brain climbed out and ordered him to get off the cat’s tail. Great Caesar’s ghost, the little man repeated, get off the cat’s tail! And Zeke raised a foot. In the same instant he realized his hearing had been shattered along with his nerves and co-ordination.
The next moment the door was flung open, and Greg Balter stood before him, a portrait of magnificent outrage. Zeke emerged shaken to his toenails. His voice sputtered and died. He pushed the starter again, but the motor only spun a second, coughed, and gave up.
He heard Greg shouting, as if in a tunnel. “You an FBI agent! Taking advantage of a girl! Corrupting children! I’m going to report you to Washington . I’m going to get you fired. I’m going to have you cashiered out in disgrace. I’ll smear it over every newspaper in the country.”
Patti was crying. “Greg, Greg, please, Greg.” And Ingrid was shouting, “Greg! Listen to me. Greg! Listen to me.”