Firestarter(40)

"Bobbi!" he said loudly.

She looked around then, and smiled a little too widely. "Oh, sure," she said. "I love milk."

Andy saw a warning glance pass from Irv to his wife: No questions, not now. He felt a sinking despair. Whatever had been left of their story had just gone swirling away. But there was nothing to do except sit down to lunch and wait to see what Irv Manders had on his mind.

9

"How far from the motel are we?" John Mayo asked. Ray glanced down at the odometer. "Seventeen miles," he said, and pulled over. "That's- far enough." "But maybe-""No, if we were going to catch them, we would have by now. We'll go on back and rendezvous with the others."

John struck the heel of his hand against the dashboard. "They turned off somewhere," he said. "That goddam flat shoe! This job's been bad luck from the start, Ray. An egghead and a little girl. And we keep missing them."

"No, I think we've got them," Ray said, and took out his walkie-talkie. He pulled the antenna and tipped it out the window. "We'll have a cordon around the whole area in half an hour. And I bet we don't hit a dozen houses before someone around here recognizes that truck. Late-sixties dark-green International Harvester, snowplow attachment on the front, wooden stakes around the truck bed to hold on a high load. I still think we'll have them by dark."

A moment later he was talking to A1 Steinowitz, who was nearing the Slumberland Motel. A1 briefed his agents in turn. Bruce Cook remembered the farm truck from town. OJ did, too. It had been parked in front of the A amp;P.

A1 sent them back to town, and half an hour later they all knew that the truck that had almost certainly stopped to give the two fugitives a lift belonged to Irving Manders, RFD 5, Baillings Road, Hastings Glen, New York.

It was just past twelve-thirty P.M.

10

The lunch was very nice, Charlie ate like a horse-three helpings of chicken with gravy, two of Norma Manders's hot biscuits, a side dish of salad, and three of her home-canned dill pickles. They finished off with slices of apple pie garnished with wedges of cheddar-Irv offering his opinion that "Apple pie without a piece of cheese is like a smooch without a squeeze." This earned him an affectionate elbow in the side from his wife. Irv rolled his eyes, and Charlie laughed. Andy's appetite surprised him. Charlie belched and then covered her mouth guiltily.

Irv smiled at her. "More room out than there is in, button."

"If I eat any more, I think I'll split," Charlie answered. "That's what my mother always used to... I mean, that's what she always says."

Andy smiled tiredly.

"Norma," Irv said, getting up, "why don't you and Bobbi go on out and feed those chickens?"

"Well, lunch is still spread over half an acre," Norma said.

"I'll pick up lunch," Irv said. "Want to have a little talk with Frank, here."

"Would you like to feed the chickens, honey?" Norma asked Charlie.

"I sure would." Her eyes were sparkling.

"Well, come on then. Do you have a jacket? It's turned a bit chilly."

"Uh..." Charlie looked at Andy.

"You can borrow a sweater of mine," Norma said. That look passed between her and Irv again. "Roll the sleeves up a little bit and it will be fine."

"Okay."

Norma got an old and faded warmup jacket from the entryway and a frayed white sweater that Charlie floated in, even with the cuff's turned up three or four times.

"Do they peck?" Charlie asked a little nervously.

"Only their food, honey."

They went out and the door closed behind them. Charlie was still chattering. Andy looked at Irv Manders, and Irv looked back calmly.

"You want a beer, Frank?"

"It isn't Frank," Andy said. "I guess you know that."

"I guess I do. What is your handle?"

Andy said, "The less you know, the better off you are."

"Well, then," Irv said, "I'll just call you Frank."

Faintly, they heard Charlie squeal with delight from outside. Norma said something, and Charlie agreed.

"I guess I could use a beer," Andy said.

"Okay."

Irv got two Utica Clubs from the refrigerator, opened them, set Andy's on the table and his on the counter. He got an apron from a hook by the sink and put it on. The apron was red and yellow and the hem was flounced, but somehow he managed to avoid looking silly.

"Can I help you?" Andy asked.

"No, I know where everything goes," Irv said. "Most everything, anyhow. She changes things from week to week. No woman wants a man to feel right at home in her kitchen. They like help, sure, but they feel better if you have to ask them where to put the casserole dish or where they put the Brillo."

Andy, remembering his own days as Vicky's kitchen apprentice, smiled and nodded.

"Meddling around in other folk's business isn't my strong point," Irv said, drawing water in the kitchen sink and adding detergent. "I'm a farmer, and like I told you, my wife runs a little curio shop down where Baillings Road crosses the Albany Highway. We've been here almost twenty years."

He glanced back at Andy.

"But I knew there was somethin wrong from the minute I saw you two standing by the road back there. A grown man and a little girl just aren't the kind of pair you usually see hitching the roads. Know what I mean?"