“I think so.”
“That’s alright.”
“Well, look who threw them. Anyhow, Tiger—Coach McDrew—deserves all the credit—He’s great.”
“Pretty good coach, huh?”
“Aw, the best. Listen, he’s the best. He can get anyone to play—really play—”
“Is that the secret, then?”
“I think so. Ask the guys on the team. Lot of those boys, they’re nothing great. He just gets them to play their best, he gets the best out of them, all of us. That’s it”
“That right?”
“Right.”
“Sawyersville’s sure lucky to have him.”
“You’re right.”
“You don’t do too bad on the scholastic side either, Jim—”
“Well—I’m no brain.”
“Not bad, though. You’re up there, alright.”
“Well, if I try hard maybe I can nail down a little scholarship—”
“That’s right.”
“I wouldn’t mind going to State.”
“There's a place.”
“Tiger went there.”
“So I heard.”
“He was a pretty good player, I heard.”
“Quarterback—right?”
“That’s right.”
They fell silent. Surcher gazed at the boy.
“Got any girl friends, Jim?” He asked, casually.
“Well, a few—”
“Where? Here at the High School?”
“Uh—well, one or two—”
“Care to tell me their names?”
The boy looked him over.
“What for?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just to fill up this page.”
The boy grinned. Already, Surcher had grinned.
“Couldn’t say they’re really girl friends—here at the school, I mean—Just gals I kind of—hang around with, take out sometimes—know what I mean?”
“What are their names?”
“Well—there’s Mona Drake—”
“Uh huh.” The Captain was writing it down.
“And—uh—Sandra Lane—”
“Uh huh.”
178 Pretty Maids All in a Row “That’s about all.”
A pause.
“Are they both colored girls, Jim?” Surcher asked.
“That’s right.”
“You don’t have any white girl friends, Jim?**
“You kidding, man?”
Surcher paused, looked up from his writing.
“Not here at the school?”
“Oh man—”
“Sure about that?”
“I’m sure.”
Surcher again paused, his eyes on the boy.
“You like white girls, Jim?”
The lad’s eyes hit back. He didn’t answer this time.
“You don’t like white girls, Jim?” Surcher tried.
No answer again.
“Which is it? You like them—or you don’t like them— Jim?”
“You’re kidding me.*’
“No, I’m not kidding you.”
“What you trying to prove?”
“It's a routine question, Jim.”
“I'm not answering it.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not answering it”
“You said that.”
“Want to know something, Jim?”
“Just don’t kid me—”
“I think you like them a little bit.”
They sal quietly, eyes on each other.
“Jim—do they call you 'Kid'?” Surcher asked finally. His tone was innocuous.
The boy didn't move.
“Is that your nickname, Jim?”
Nothing.
“I’ll tell you, Jim—Quite a few of your friends say it is.” “What of it?” The boy said, suddenly.
There was a knock on the door. Surcher called out, “Come in,” and Grady walked in. He said, “Here it is,” handing over a folder to Surcher, and walking out, without as much as a glance at the boy.
Pretty Maids All in a Row 179 Surcher opened the folder and perused its contents, for a little while. He nodded his head, finally. Then, lifted his eyes and looked at the boy.
He said, “Know what I’ve got here—Kid?”
“Uh uh,” said Jim.
The Captain sat back in Proffer’s comfortable chair.
“Your fingerprints, Jim,” Surcher said, “Remember we took them when you came in? While you were waiting out there to be called?” He paused, watching the boy slowly nod. “We took everybody’s, you know—” Once more he paused. Tve got yours here.” He surveyed the lad, who sat quietly.
“Kid—” The Captain went on— “Jim—What did you think of Jill Fairbunn?”
He watched the boy as he answered, “She was alright”
He hadn’t faltered, delivering that answer.
“Just alright?” Surcher inquired.
“I liked her.”
“I guess she was a big help to the team all the time—at all those games—”
The boy nodded.
“Talk to her much?”
“Once in a while.”
“She was a real friendly girl, wasn’t she?”
“She sure was.”
“Ever try dating her up?”
Silence.
“She went out with your quarterback, Dink Reagan, once in a while, didn’t she?”
“1 guess she did.”
“A real quarterback that kid, isn’t he—?”
“He is.”
“Wouldn’t she give you a date, Jim?”
The boy stared at him.
“How many times did she turn you down, Jim?”
“What’s your angle?” The boy said.
Angry—or rattled? Surcher tried hard to tell.
“Angle?” He asked.
“What you driving at, man?”
“Listen, did you ask her?”
“What if I did?”
“What was her answer?”
“You got something on me?”
180 Pretty Maids All in a Row “Like what, Kid?”
More silence. Surcheris eyes remained on the lad.
“She said maybe,” Jim said.
“Did she, Jim?”
“That’s right. She did.”
“And what else did she say?”
Again, silence. The boy kept on looking at him.
Surcher said, quietly, “That was a cockteasing answer, wasn’t it, Jim?”
“She was no cockteaser, man.”
“Wasn’t she?”
“No, man.”
“What was she?”
“What you after?”
Silence. Only.
Now Surcher said, quietly, as always, “What else did she say, Jim?”
The boy answered, “She said she’d like to. But it would be pretty hard to. Pretty rough on her—if she did.” He paused. “You know how it is.”
Surcher nodded, barely.
“You really liked that girl, didn’t you, Jim?” He asked, in
his way.
“She was great.”
“I think you really were stuck on that girl—Jim.”
No answer.
“Ever try any other way to get a date?”
“Oh—I dunno. Phoning her up.” He paused. “Writing her a note—maybe.” Surcher stopped.
No answer. Surcher waited patiently.
At last, the boy said, “What’s up, man?” His eyes on the Captain.
Surcher lifted something out of the folder. It was the letter.
“Jim. listen—” Surcher said, holding it up for the lad, “ever seen this little letter before?”
He watched the boy studying it. He waited to hear something. But the boy said nothing.
“Did you write that?” Surcher asked, very quietly.
No answer.
“Jim, guess what—” Surcher said, “I think you did.” He paused. “I’d put all the gold in Fort Knox that you did.”
Pretty Maids All in a Row 181 Again he paused. “Know why?” A pause. “Your prints. Your prints were on it, Jim.”
“MY fingerprints?” The boy said.
“Right.”
The boy moved around a little bit in his chair. Surcher’s eyes stayed right on him. He still held the letter. The brief little letter. He had plenty of copies of it.
“Did you write it, Jim?”
The boy said “Captain, I better get hold of a lawyer.”
“A lawyer?” Surcher said, “What for, Jim?”
“I smell a frame.”
“A frame?”
“Quit kidding me.”
“Did you, Jim?”
“You know I did.”
“That’s all I asked.”
Silence. Surcher placed the letter back in the folder. He sat back, quietly, observing the lad. In the outside office, Miss Cray mire’s domain, a phone just could be heard, ringing. It sounded far, far away. It stopped, finally.