"The cops from yesterday?"
"Just one of them's a cop. He's up there in an old Chevy the color of a lima bean."
"And he put a bug on the car?"
"He must've."
"Go take a walk somewhere for maybe five minutes," the voice behind her said. "Get him to follow you. I'll take care of it."
So she did, and the cop followed her, and Freddie took care of it, and now, as she waited for the Rhinebeck traffic light to turn green, Bart Simpson came up and sat next to her, saying, "Only one of them was a cop?"
The light changed; traffic moved. As she drove on through town and out to the countryside, Peg told him her story, and then said, "How've things been with you, since yesterday?"
"Weird," he said. "I took the subway to Manhattan — it's really dirty down there, Peg, after a while you could see my feet, I think a couple little kids did see my feet—"
"That must have been kinda scary."
"Good thing it wasn't rush hour. I got off at Times Square and went to a movie and washed my feet in the men's room—"
Slyly, she said, "Not the ladies' room?"
"I don't know why I didn't thinka that," he said. The Bart Simpson face was deadpan. "Anyway, then I sat there and watched a Disney movie five times. You can't believe, Peg, you just can't believe, how not funny after a while it is to see a wet Labrador retriever in a station wagon with six little kids and an actress on coke. And every time you see a can of housepaint you say, "Oh, boy, here comes that one again.'"
"Sounds like no fun."
"They oughta change the rating system," Bart said. "They oughta have a 2D rating, for movies that are Too Dumb to put up with."
"It might bring more people in," Peg suggested. "Especially out-of-towners."
"Good for them," Freddie said. "Finally, after the fifth time, the movie stopped and everybody went home, and I got a good night's sleep."
"On a movie chair?"
"No no, the manager had a nice sofa in his office. Smelled like Dr Pepper, that's all. They have these dust cloths they put over the popcorn stand at night, so I used a couple of them for sheets and blankets, and it was pretty good."
"Be glad nobody walked in."
"The first movie's at noon," he said. "I was up long before then, had breakfast at the food stand, and took off when they unlocked the doors, before Disney could get at me again."
"And went to the railroad station?"
"I was on my way," he assured her, "but those city streets are crowded, you know, and this time of year most of them seem like they're Europeans, talking all these other languages, and they got no radar at all, they bang into each other all the time and they can see one another. So I had like fifteen blocks to go to get to Penn Station, and I just wasn't gonna make it, so I ducked into Macy's and went up to furniture and fell asleep again on a sofa in there and woke up when a fat lady sat on me."
"No!"
"Yes. She let out a holler and so did I, but with her holler nobody heard mine, so I got outta there, and she was saying that was the lumpiest sofa she ever felt in her life."
"I bet. Then what'd you do?"
"I made it over to Penn Station — another dirty place, believe me — and saw when the next train was, which was like over an hour—"
"They don't go very often," Peg agreed. "I think we'll travel mostly by car."
"Me especially," Freddie said. "Anyway, I tried to keep out of the way, but what you got in railroad stations is people running, and wherever I went that's where somebody wanted to run, so finally I hid behind a homeless guy against a side wall, and when he accidentally leaned back and found me there I told him just to mind his own business."
"You talked to him?"
"I was tired of gettin out of people's way, Peg. So I said, "You just do what you're doin, don't mind me back here, I'm not gonna bother you, just do what you're doin,' which was nothin much except to hold up a message on a piece of cardboard and stick out a used plastic coffee cup for people to put quarters in, which mostly they don't."
"But what did he do?" Peg wanted to know. "When you talked to him, and he couldn't see you?"
"Well, first he jumped—"
"Naturally."
"But then he just got sad and shook his head and said, "It's my old trouble comin back. And I was doin so good. And now it's my old trouble comin back.'"
"Oh," Peg said, brought down. "I feel sorry for the guy."
"Me, too," Freddie said. "So I told him, "You shoulda took your medicine, like they told you.' And he said, "Oh, I know, I know.' And it was gonna be my train then, so I said, "Take your medicine and I'll never bother you again. Is it a deal?' And he said, "Oh, I will, I will.' And I gave him a little pat on the back, and his eyes got all wide, and when I went away he was thinking it over, and I think maybe I did some good there today, Peg."
"That's nice," Peg said. "That was good of you, Freddie."
"So then I got on the train," Freddie said, "and it was only like half full, so I had no trouble about a seat by myself, and here I am, except I'm hungry. All I had was breakfast at the movie."
"Which brings up an issue," Peg said. "You didn't tell me food doesn't disappear right away."
"Uh-oh. Yesterday, huh?"
"Yes."
"I thought maybe you wouldn't want to know."
"You were right. But now I do. How long does it take, anyway, to uh, you know, disappear?"
"Couple hours," Bart said, looking hangdog. "I'll make sure, Peg, I don't remind you again. You know, if those cops hadn't showed up—"
"I know, Freddie," she told him. "You're doing your best, I know you are."
"Thanks, Peg."
"And we'll be home pretty soon." They were driving through bright green June scenery, rounded hills, tiny white villages, red barns, wildflowers on the roadsides, horses in fields, cows in fields, even sheep in one field, afternoon sun smiling down on the countryside, corn and tomatoes growing in tight rows, the gray van with Peg Briscoe and Bart Simpson running deeper and deeper into the landscape. "From here on," Peg said, "we've got it made."
26
Peter and David dressed for the meeting. Fumbling with his necktie, getting it wrong again, David said, "I don't know what's wrong with this tie."
"You're nervous, David," Peter explained. His tie was perfect, he was even now shrugging into his blazer, shooting his cuffs. "Calm down, why don't you?"
"Of course I'm nervous. Peter, for God's sake, you're nervous, too, you're just covering it, keeping it inside, you know that's—"
"Tie your tie, David," Peter said, not unkindly. "We'll be all right."
That trace of sympathy in Peter's voice was enough; David calmed down at least enough to tie his tie so the end neither dangled at his crotch nor covered a mere two buttons of his shirt. Slipping into his rough jacket with the brown suede elbow patches — his defensive garb was professorial, while Peter's was aristocratic — David said, "All right. I'm ready. For whatever comes."
What came first, by prearrangement, was Bradley Cummingford, a large sandy-haired man with a big round open face and eyebrows of such a pale pinky-orange as to almost disappear. He wore a blue pinstripe suit, white shirt, muted blue tie, and black tassel loafers, and he carried an attachй case of extremely expensive leather, and he greeted them with a firm handshake and a clear eye and no nonsense. This was a Bradley Cummingford seen in a whole new light. Prior to this, they had only known Bradley in playful mode, when he was a very different person, in a very different place.