Mrs. Fallmark?” Vern asked cautiously.
The answer was equally cautious. “Yes. Who is this, please?”
“Mrs. Fallmark, this is Varaki’s Quality Market. We’ve just been checking our records and we find that on the order that was delivered to you yesterday, the canned cat food wasn’t included. You paid for it as part of the order, but it was left out by mistake.”
“But I’m positive it was—”
“This is Vern, the delivery boy, ma’am.”
“Oh. Would you mind holding the phone a moment? Let me check and make sure. I can almost remember putting it away.”
He stood in the silent store, holding the phone. She came back on the line. “I could have sworn I put it away.”
“We didn’t want you to be caught short, ma’am.”
“Will you deliver it Monday, then?”
“It’s no trouble to run out with it right now. I have to come out that way anyway. I’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”
“All right, then.”
He hung up, pleased with the way he had handled it. There had been four cans of cat food on the Saturday order. If the phone were tapped, that would check with the order. He put four cans of cat food in a paper sack, went back through the house, and got in the truck.
Mrs. Fallmark lived with her juvenile husband in a residential district that had once been fashionable. The house was pseudo Moorish, finished outside in a weary shade of yellow cement plaster. He turned into the drive and parked behind a dusty new Buick. He carried the sack onto the back porch of the house and rapped on the screen door. The inside door was open. A cat peered around the corner of the kitchen doorway, looking down the short hallway at him, legs crouched.
Mrs. Fallmark came to the kitchen doorway. “Bring it right in, Vern,” she said. She was a heavy matronly woman with a blue-purple tint to her gray hair. Her hair was always so carefully waved that it looked carved from stone.
He walked in and set the sack on the kitchen table. The cat stalked around him.
“What’s this all about?” she demanded. “What are you doing here on Sunday? I’ll be damned if I like it.”
“I’ll be damned if I have any interest in your opinion. I want four caps and a hypo.”
“I don’t retail.”
“Right now you do. And it isn’t retail. It’s a free gift.”
“Who do you think you are, Vern?”
“I’m the delivery boy. This is an emergency. I got orders from topside. Pick it up from you. They don’t want me contacting any pusher. They said come to you. And just incidentally, if it came to a case of their getting along without me or without you, who do you think they’d pick? Don’t let the fact that I bring groceries go to your head. I either get the four caps and the hypo in three minutes, or you get cut off at the pockets.”
“Big talk!”
He went over and leaned against the sink and lit a cigarette. He looked at his watch. The cat nuzzled his leg with the side of its head. “Suit yourself,” he said.
“An emergency?”
“A user who might spoil the delivery setup.”
She turned heavily and walked out of the kitchen. She was back in a few minutes. She handed him a new hypo in the original plastic and cardboard case in which it had come from the druggist. The seal was broken. He slid the box open and saw the caps and slid it shut.
“Thanks for being so obliging, Mrs. Fallmark.”
“You go to hell.”
He stood inside the screen door, looking out. The street was empty. He got in the truck and drove back to the store. He had been gone forty minutes. He saw that the ancient Varaki sedan was parked behind the store. The timing had gone bad. It made it a little tougher. As he came in the door Gus called him. “Vern? Vern, that you?”
He went to the living-room door. “Believe it or not, I had to make a delivery. You owe me overtime, Pop. That Mrs. Fallmark called up and said we forgot to put in the cat food on yesterday’s order.”
Walter was squatting in front of the television set. He
The answer was equally cautious. “Yes. Who is this, please?”
“Mrs. Fallmark, this is Varaki’s Quality Market. We’ve just been checking our records and we find that on the order that was delivered to you yesterday, the canned cat food wasn’t included. You paid for it as part of the order, but it was left out by mistake.”
“But I’m positive it was—”
“This is Vern, the delivery boy, ma’am.”
“Oh. Would you mind holding the phone a moment? Let me check and make sure. I can almost remember putting it away.”
He stood in the silent store, holding the phone. She came back on the line. “I could have sworn I put it away.”
“We didn’t want you to be caught short, ma’am.”
“Will you deliver it Monday, then?”
“It’s no trouble to run out with it right now. I have to come out that way anyway. I’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”
“All right, then.”
He hung up, pleased with the way he had handled it. There had been four cans of cat food on the Saturday order. If the phone were tapped, that would check with the order. He put four cans of cat food in a paper sack, went back through the house, and got in the truck.
Mrs. Fallmark lived with her juvenile husband in a residential district that had once been fashionable. The house was pseudo Moorish, finished outside in a weary shade of yellow cement plaster. He turned into the drive and parked behind a dusty new Buick. He carried the sack onto the back porch of the house and rapped on the screen door. The inside door was open. A cat peered around the corner of the kitchen doorway, looking down the short hallway at him, legs crouched.
Mrs. Fallmark came to the kitchen doorway. “Bring it right in, Vern,” she said. She was a heavy matronly woman with a blue-purple tint to her gray hair. Her hair was always so carefully waved that it looked carved from stone.
He walked in and set the sack on the kitchen table. The cat stalked around him.
“What’s this all about?” she demanded. “What are you doing here on Sunday? I’ll be damned if I like it.”
“I’ll be damned if I have any interest in your opinion. I want four caps and a hypo.”
“I don’t retail.”
“Right now you do. And it isn’t retail. It’s a free gift.”
“Who do you think you are, Vern?”
“I’m the delivery boy. This is an emergency. I got orders from topside. Pick it up from you. They don’t want me contacting any pusher. They said come to you. And just incidentally, if it came to a case of their getting along without me or without you, who do you think they’d pick? Don’t let the fact that I bring groceries go to your head. I either get the four caps and the hypo in three minutes, or you get cut off at the pockets.”
“Big talk!”
He went over and leaned against the sink and lit a cigarette. He looked at his watch. The cat nuzzled his leg with the side of its head. “Suit yourself,” he said.
“An emergency?”
“A user who might spoil the delivery setup.”
She turned heavily and walked out of the kitchen. She was back in a few minutes. She handed him a new hypo in the original plastic and cardboard case in which it had come from the druggist. The seal was broken. He slid the box open and saw the caps and slid it shut.
“Thanks for being so obliging, Mrs. Fallmark.”
“You go to hell.”
He stood inside the screen door, looking out. The street was empty. He got in the truck and drove back to the store. He had been gone forty minutes. He saw that the ancient Varaki sedan was parked behind the store. The timing had gone bad. It made it a little tougher. As he came in the door Gus called him. “Vern? Vern, that you?”
He went to the living-room door. “Believe it or not, I had to make a delivery. You owe me overtime, Pop. That Mrs. Fallmark called up and said we forgot to put in the cat food on yesterday’s order.”
Walter was squatting in front of the television set. He
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