"So we'll take some other car," Barney said. "The chief'll loan us something."
"A strange car pulling in? He'll be off like a shot."
Mordon Leethe broke a long and troubled silence, saying, "You said you'd give him to us, Miss Briscoe."
"I'll phone him," Peg said. "I'll tell him you guys have me, I'm your prisoner, and it's gonna get tough for me if he doesn't come here and talk it over."
Barney said, "And you think he'll show up, on your account?"
"If I'm wrong," she said, "I'm in deep trouble."
"You certainly are."
Wheedabyx came back in, then, looking disgusted, trailed by the thugs. Everybody ignored him. Leethe said, "Barney, I think it's worth the try. If Peg Briscoe is the hook that'll hold Freddie Noon to us, let's use it. If she isn't, let's find out now and go kidnap his mother next."
With a surprised laugh, Barney said, "Counselor, I'm beginning to rub off on you!"
"In for a penny," Leethe said. "Once she brought us to this police chief. . . . What happens when we leave here, Barney, and all these people start identifying us?"
"First they have to find us," Barney said. "Peg's the only one who knows who we are, and she isn't gonna tell, are you, Peg?"
"Not unless I can get away from you," Peg said, seeing nothing to be gained by trying to soft-soap these people. What she was up to would work, or it wouldn't work, that was all.
And Barney loved her answer. Laughing, he said, "That's right, Peg, not unless you get away from us, and that ain't about to happen." To Leethe he said, "Anyway, Counselor, I got my alibi all firmed up. Don't you have yours?"
"Not yet," Leethe said. He didn't look either happy or well.
"You'll be all right," Barney assured him, and turned back to Peg. "What's Freddie driving these days?"
"An orange Subaru station wagon. I bought it for him used."
Barney turned to Wheedabyx. "Chief, I need a phone for the lady, and an extension for me." He grinned at Peg. "Not that I don't trust you," he said.
52
Freddie was moping around the house, was what he was doing. He didn't feel like swimming in the pool, he didn't feel like watching a movie on the VCR, he didn't feel like sitting in the sun or in the shade or indoors or outdoors. He didn't feel like much of anything.
He had got dressed this morning, putting on summer shorts and a T-shirt and espadrilles, because we do spend most of our lives in clothing, so he just felt more comfortable that way. But no long sleeves, and no gloves, and no latex head, because who for? Not for himself. In those rare instances when he caught his own reflection, that passing image of the self-animated pale blue T-shirt and maroon shorts, in a mirror or a window or the face of the microwave, it just amused him. He kind of liked the look of himself in clothes; he thought it suggested something interestingly quirky about his personality.
When the phone rang, he was just about to put his gloves on, however reluctantly, so he could make a lonely sandwich just to keep his strength up. Then the phone rang, and he decided it was probably a wrong number or somebody trying to sell him something, so why answer. Peg wouldn't call in the middle of the day, she'd wait till this evening. In fact, as he remembered it, she planned to spend today probably getting her old job back, so she could look again into the mouths of people who had mouths you could look into.
(I hope I never have to have dentistry, he told himself, while the phone rang. Or surgery, come to think of it. Important life-threatening surgery. "Nurse, we must remove this spleen at once!" "What spleen is that, doctor?")
Four rings, and the answering machine kicked in, Peg's voice saying we're out, leave a message, see what good it does you; no, not the last part, that was implicit. Freddie took cold cuts and mayo and mustard from the refrigerator, noticing again how rapidly his hands got hot in these gloves, even when he was reaching into the refrigerator, and Peg's voice stopped on the answering machine, and then Peg's voice started again, saying, "Freddie, aren't you there? Oh, hell, if he's up at the pool, I don't know what to do. Jesus. Can I leave this number, he could call back?"
By that time, Freddie had the refrigerator door closed, the gloves off, and the phone in his hand, floating in space. "Peg?"
"I mean, he doesn't know where the number is, if I tell him this number."
"Peg?"
"What? Freddie, is that you? Are you there?"
"Hi, Peg," he said, smiling, happy to hear her voice, only faintly snagged by the realization she'd been talking to somebody else for a few seconds there. "I didn't think you'd call so early," he explained, "so I wasn't gonna answer."
"Well, this isn't a regular call," Peg said.
Then he heard the strain in her voice, and paid more attention to that memory of her speaking to somebody else wherever she was — not home, that was for sure — and he let the silence go by for a few seconds, during which time he heard breathing on the line that wasn't Peg — heavier, raspier.
"Freddie? Are you there?"
"Oh, I'm here, Peg. Where are you?"
"I'm at the chief's house."
Chief? What chief? Freddie's invisible brow furrowed; he could feel it. He said, neutrally, "Oh, yeah?"
"You remember. The guy with all the hats."
Then he did; the police chief, in Dudley, the guy they were going to keep clear of from now on. Feeling sudden concern for her, "Peg!" he said. "Did he nab you?"
"No, not him. In fact, he's nabbed, too. Remember that cop, moonlighting, followed me north that time?"
Oh, Freddie thought, so that's it. He said, "Is that him, listening on the line?"
"Yeah." Then, away from the phone, she said, "Why not? Am I supposed to pretend we're all stupid?" Back to Freddie, she said, fatalistically, "Yeah, it's him again."
"He gotcha at the apartment, right?"
"Right."
"Said lead me to Freddie, you led him to the chief instead, right?"
"Yeah, Freddie, right."
"That's pretty funny," Freddie said, grinning.
"Nobody here sees the humor, Freddie," she said.
"Ahhhh, yeah. I guess not."
"What this Barney wanted to do, Freddie, that's his name, he wanted to cut my finger off and mail it to you, with a phone number where you could call him and talk it over."
Barney is listening, Freddie reminded himself. Handle this situation. "Pretty drastic, Peg," he said, wondering was this Barney bluffing or was this Barney a maniac.
"There's other guys with—" Off, she shouted, "I'm telling him the situation, isn't that what you want?"
Freddie said, "Peg? Peg, never mind him, cut to the car crash."
"This is the car crash, Freddie."
"Okay. What do they want?"
"They want to talk to you."
"Then how come you're talking to me?"
A heavy male voice — this must be the maniac moonlighting cop, Barney — said, "We want you to understand, Freddie, what's goin on here."
"You're threatening a woman with a knife," Freddie said. "I think I got it."
"No no no, Freddie," said Barney's croaky wisenheimer voice, "that isn't the topic. You're the topic."
"Uh-huh."
"You're a valuable guy, Freddie, to whoever's got a handle on you. And what we think we got here, with Peg, we think we got the handle."
"They want you to get in the Subaru," Peg said, "and drive over—"
"I'll do the talking now, Peg," Barney said. "Hang up."
Click. Subaru: double-click.
Freddie said, "What do you want, Barney?"