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slim legrand’s letter to joe willis was short and to the point.
hey, old buddy, i will be drifting through your neighborhood in a few days and i might stop by and see how you are doing.
(signed) slim
“i wonder how he found out where i live,” joe muttered as dropped the letter on the kitchen table.
“well, he is an old army buddy, isn’t he?” molly asked. “aren’t old army buddies always looking each other up? they are in the movies. isn’t that what they are for?”
“i told you - he wasn't exactly a buddy. and i only knew him for a few months. and we didn’t keep in touch.“ joe stared into space, at least, he thought, slim had not mentioned where they had known each other - in punishment company m. joe did not want to have to explain to molly what he was doing in a punishment company.
at last joe said. “the only reason slim legrand would get in touch with me would be if he wanted something from me. and i don’t know what that could be. and i sure don’t have anything to give him.”
molly shrugged. “well, in that case, just tell him that. and besides, he doesn’t say he will drop by, only that he might.”
“yes, “ joe agreed. “you’re right.” if slim legrand wants something from me, he thought, there is no “might” about it.
*
slim heard a voice behind him. “what’s going on here?”
the voice of the general.
he turned and there was the general, in a long black coat hanging down to his polished black shoes and with a homburg on his head.
goldbrick was right behind him, in a chauffeur’s uniform.
slim kept one eye on the old man with the shotgun. “what are you doing here?” he asked the general. “i was supposed to pick wiley up and go out and meet you.”
“there’s been a change in plans.”
slim shrugged . “i guess. this fellow here with the shotgun looks like he has some plans too.”
*
pete’s right leg had fallen asleep. he had not felt comfortable stretching out in the completely dark theater and now his leg had fallen asleep.
and the movie, whether they had the reels right or not, was stupid. he decided to leave.
had he reached his seat from the right or left? he thought from the right, and he had only come in a few seats so he decided to leave in the same direction. he got up, stumbled on his asleep right leg, and pitched forward, immedately colliding with another person, who yelped like a kicked dog.
pete managed to get over the person and into the aisle, bumping against a wall. he still could not see a thing.
“my crackerjack! you made me spill my crackerjack!” an old man’s voice shouted.
pete saw a tiny glimmer of light on the floor which he hoped signified the exit and he scrambled for it.
“pay for my crackerjack, you jerk!” the old man yelled behind him. something hit pete on the head - a cane?
he got through the door into the little lobby. he glanced back and saw the door close on the old man, who looked a little bit like the desk clerk in the movie.
the girl in the ticket booth watched with a blank expression as pete stumbled past her into the street.
gasping in the fresh air, pete looked around. what time was it? the sky was overcast. was it getting late? had he fallen asleep in the strand theater? or was it just going to rain?
a raindrop hit him. good enough. he couldn’t trudge around looking for a job in the rain, could he? he had already spent enough time looking for a job.
he headed home. the rain began to fall a little harder.
22. moving on
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