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“
Or
that I came here late Monday night and hid it because I work here and
have a key. But that doesn’t explain why Jasper Vital and Larry
thought I was a gangster too when I told them that I worked for you.”

“
My
God, what are you saying? Did , you tell the police that?”

“
I
had to.”

Mr.
Redfern said bitterly: “You don’t care what you do to my
reputation as a businessman.”

“
All
right, fire me.”

He
looked at me with his mouth working, as if it were practicing for
words as soon as his brain released them. Then he said weakly, “I
guess we’re ‘'both excited,” and went into the
office.

After
I swept the showroom and polished the four floor models, there was
nothing to do but wait for customers. In front of the store a
streetcleaner was running his broad broom along the curb. In fiction,
detectives who shadowed a suspect liked to disguise themselves as
streetcleaners, but the trouble with that idea was that I’d
known this particular streetcleaner since before the war. The man
studying the hardware display across the street was a better
candidate for a shadow, though my favorite at the moment was the
elderly gentleman doing nothing for a long time except sit behind the
wheel of a parked car. Or there could be more than one, crooks as
well as cops waiting for me to lead them to the bag.

For
all I knew, I was surrounded by shadows watching every move I made.
It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.

When
I returned from lunch, Mr. Redfern was singing the praises of the
Planet convertible to a young couple who were so obviously newlyweds
that they inspired benign smiles. Mr. Redfern stepped away from them
and intercepted me at the office door.

“
Mr.
Weaver there is waiting for you,” he told me.

A
man was sitting deep in one of the showroom wicker chairs. He looked
up at me from an illustrated Planet folder on his knees. I didn’t
know him.

“
What
does he want?”

“
What
do you think we sell here?” Mr. Redfern snapped. “A car.
A friend of yours gave him your name and he said he’d wait till
you got back from lunch. He’s been waiting half an hour
already.”

I
hung up my hat in the office. When I returned Weaver was standing
beside the four-door sedan. He was a short, slim man with a blank
face. He wore his clothes too tight, and the width of his shoulders
was largely padding. .

“
I
guess you’re Adam Breen,” he said when I came up to him.

“
You
said somebody gave you my name?”

Instead
of answering that, he patted a fender of the sedan. “This is a
neat little job. How much?”

“
Thirteen-sixty,
F.O.B. Who did you say recommended me?”

He
looked past me to Mr. Redfern and his two customers and then smiled
up at me. I’m wondering how much you like your wife and
daughter.”

It
was gibberish. “What?” I said.

“
I
bet you’d feel pretty bad if anything happened to them,”
he tossed casually at me and sauntered around the hood of the car.

His
voice wasn't slow and dragging. I had never heard it over the phone.
There was more than one, of course — an organization. I hurried
after him. He had the front right door open and his head was inside,
examining the dashboard. Just another customer looking at a floor
model.

“
The
bag?” I whispered hoarsely. “Is that what you want to
know about?”

He
straightened up. He didn't have to. His patiently waiting smile was
enough.

“
Can’t
I make you people believe that I don’t know a thing about it?”
I said.

“
That’s
a pretty little wife you have,” he observed pleasantly. “And
a sweet little daughter.” And he sauntered to the street door.

With
a hand on the doorknob, he turned to look at me. He was giving me
this last chance. I could knock him, down with one blow. I could
wring his neck with my two hands. And then what? Call the police and
tell them: Here, arrest this man because he asked me if I cared for
my wife and daughter. If anybody was arrested, I’d be the one,
for assault and battery, and Mr. Redfern and the newlyweds would
testify that I had started it without provocation.

I
forced myself to remain where I was, and he went out, closing the
door behind him. He strolled past the window with his hands in his
pockets and his mouth puckered as if whistling.

Mr.
Redfern strode indignantly over to me. “Why did you let a
customer go out so quick?”

“
What?”

“
He
came to buy a car. He told me. He waited for you half an hour and
then you let him go in two minutes. What kind of salesmanship is
that?”

“
He
only wanted to know prices,” I muttered.

I
went into the office. Mrs. Hesterberg was typing. I scooped her phone
off her desk and dialed my home number. There was no answer. There
usually wasn’t at that time because Esther went shopping or
visiting after lunch. So far there was no urgency. They were trying
to scare me into handing the bag over without fuss or trouble.
Working on my nerves. That took time. They’d do that for
another day or two before they started getting tough.

“
Is
anything wrong?” Mrs. Hesterberg asked.

I
was sitting with one thigh over the corner of the desk and holding
the dead phone forgotten in space. I cradled it.

“
Wrong?”
I said. “Everything is wonderful.”

She
stared at me through her harlequin glasses, and I went into the
maintenance room to get away from her. The next time I called home I
did it from the corner drugstore where Mrs. Hesterberg wouldn’t
be able to heckle me. Still no answer. And if she had been home, what
would I have said to her? Lock yourself and Carol in the house and
.don’t open the door to strangers? I unwound myself from the
booth and returned to work. ’

Two
boys hardly old enough for driver’s licenses came in with money
in their pockets to buy a used car. They were bright boys. They
practically took three or four jalopies apart before they decided on
a real buy for one-ninety. By that time it was after four. I let Mrs.
Hesterberg handle the bill of sale and walked to the drugstore.

Esther’s
voice over the wire loosened my insides.

“
How’s
everything, baby?” I asked, trying to make myself sound like a
husband taking a few minutes off for an idle chat with his wife.

“
That
man — you know — who didn’t call again. My heart
stops beating every time I hear the phone ring.”

“
Forget
him. He must have found out by now he made a mistake. How’s
Carol?”

“
I’m
worried about her. She hasn’t come home from school yet.”

For
a long moment I stopped living.

“
Adam?”
Esther said. “Were we cut off?”

I
cleared my throat, but I couldn’t get the deadness out of it.
“Does she always come right home from school?”

“
We’ve
got to do something about that child. Twice last week she went
straight from school to play with friends without coming home first.
I tell her and I tell her, but she doesn’t listen to me.”

“
Why
don’t you call the homes of her friends to see if she’s
there?”

“
I
did, those I know. But it’s the beginning of the term and she’s
made new friends.”

“
I’m
coming right home.”

“
Don’t
be so upset, darling. I’m sure she’s all right. After
all, she’s done it before.”

“
I’ll
be right home,” I said, and hung up.

Esther
was standing on the front steps. She came down to the sidewalk to
meet me.

“
So
she hasn’t come home yet,” I said woodenly.

“
I
told you it happened twice last week and it turned out all right.”

“
It’s
four-thirty.”

“
She
was out till five one day last week.”

“
Dammit,
this isn’t last week!” I felt my voice crack. “It’s
my fault. I should have called for her at school. I should have gone
straight to the police when Weaver — “

And
then I saw her. She was running toward us with a doll half her own
size clutched to her chest.

“
Papa,
Mommy, look what I have!” she shouted when she was still
several houses away.

I
ran to Carol and swung her up in my arms. The doll was squeezed
between us. She pulled it free and waved it at Esther.

“
Mommy,
look what I have.”

“
Carol,
where were you? “ Esther tried to sound stern, but there was
vast relief in her tone.

“
Papa’s
general bought me this beautiful doll.”

“
My
what?” I said.

“
Your
general. Your general in the army. Don’t you remember him,
Papa? He said you were his bravest soldier.”

“
What
in the world are you talking about?” Esther said.

“
Papa’s
general. He took me for a ride in his car and bought me ice cream and
bought me this doll. He paid thirteen dollars for it, Mommy.”

“
Can
you make sense out of what she’s saying, Adam?”

I
held Carol closer to me. I said dully, “Let’s go into the
house,” and I carried Carol and the doll into the living room
and sat down on the couch with her on my lap.

Esther
stood watching Carol remove the doll’s bonnet. She was merely
puzzled. She didn’t know yet how frightening a doll could be.

I
ran my fingers through the doll’s golden curls. “It’s
a lovely doll, Carol,” I said. “When did you meet the
general?”

“
When
I got out of school. He asked Betty McCarthy if she knew a girl named
Carol Breen and I heard him and said I was Carol Breen and he said he
was your general. Papa, he said you were his bravest soldier, in
France and you’d told him all about your little girl and the
first chance he got he came to see me. And we got in his car —”

Esther
said, anxiously now: “Carol, don’t you know better than
to get into a car with a strange man?”

“
He
wasn’t a strange man, Mommy. He was Papa’s general. Of
course he didn’t-wear a uniform, but Papa doesn’t wear a
uniform any more either.”

“
Where
did he take you when you got into his car?” I asked.

“
He
took me for an ice cream soda. He was very nice. He asked me if I
wanted another soda, but I was full and I said no, thank you.”
She looked up at Esther for approval. “I was very polite,
Mommy. I said no, thank you.”

“
I’m
glad to hear that, dear,” Esther muttered. Her eyes were
becoming afraid.

“
Then
he took me for a long, long ride in his car,” Carol went on
happily. “Then he took me in a toy store and let me pick out
anything I wanted. Wasn’t that nice of him? I picked out this
doll. He paid thirteen dollars for it. Isn’t that a lot of
money, Papa?”

“
Yes,
Carol. How did he speak? I mean, did he speak very, very slowly?”

“
Oh,
yes, very slow. Like Dinah Jane’s mother. You know how slow
Dinah Jane’s mother talks, don’t you, Mommy?”

“
Oh,
God!” Esther said.

Her
face had disintegrated into a blur of tragedy. She knew now. There
was no way I could have spared her.

“
What
happened then?” I forced myself to ask Carol.

“
Then
he drove me home.”

“
I
didn’t see you get out of a car.”

“
I
got off at the corner. He was in a hurry.”

This
man Weaver had merely asked if I cared for my wife and daughter. He
himself had merely bought a little girl ice cream and an expensive
doll and than had taken her home. There had been no crime, not even
an expressed threat. They were only making me die a thousand deaths.

“
Adam,
what does it mean?” Esther said shrilly.

I
should have put my arms around her and held her to me and given her
lying words of comfort. But there were still questions to ask Carol.
I patted that soft little hand. “What did he look like, Carol?”

“
Why,
Papa, don’t you know what your general looks like?”

“
I
had several generals. Did he tell you his name?”

Her
smooth brow creased. “I don’t think he did.”

“
Was
he fat or thin? Tall or short?”

“
Oh,
very tall,” she replied brightly.

“
Taller
than I am?”

“
Oh,
much taller. I bet he was eight feet tall.”

“
Tell
me—” I said, and stopped.

The
phone was ringing.

The
crack of doom will be the ringing of a phone. Esther put her hands to
her face.

“
Oh,
God!” she said.

I
stood up, I went out to the hall and looked down at the phone and
after a few seconds I picked it up.