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Show FICTION I The Gentle Extortionist P - 1 M i. rr Things have a way of working out for the best and giving you renewed faith in people people like Marty Stone, who fancied himself a pretty hard-headed business man, and Doc Howell, who found that Marty's heart was softer than his head, but who couldn't cure the lump in his i own throat. tROM my small office I can see 'anyone who passes through the wide front doorway before he can j see me. In that brief perioc' I can size up a prospective customer, and that's how it was with Fred Miller. He was small and frail-appearing. There was nothing spectacular about him except his tie, but it was an eye-catcher. Like a nervous monkey, he batted his eyes rapidly to adjust them to the semi-gloom of the garage. ga-rage. I had time to catalog him as a cinch for a lot of extras. Seeing me in the office, he came over, hesitating at the door until I said, "Come on in." I stood to shake his thin hand. He had blue eyes that were deep-set deep-set in their orbits; they hung on mine like those of a dog that isn't sure of a kick or a caress. The flesh beneath them sagged into pouches, and his face was deeply lined. He had the unwholesome pallor of a ; man who spends a great deal of time in-doors. j "What can I do for you?" I asked. "Why," he said, "I want to buy a i car." "So do a thousand other people in 1 . this town," I reminded him. "I know. That's why I'm here now. I want to get on your list for a future fu-ture delivery." Even as I told him it would be at least two years before he'd get his car, the way tilings were moving, I was remembering things that I had heard about him how his home bad been broken, how his wife had taken their boy and gone out to the the way, Mr. Stone, how much will the car cost?" "Hard to say, Fred, right now it sells for eighteen hundred. But you guess with me as to what it will cost two years from now." I'm sure he only half-heard me. He said, like he was almost talking to himself, "Eighteen hundred. About what I figured. I'll have it." He wasn't like most of my customers; cus-tomers; he didn't keep harping on me for the new car. Until summer came, at any rate. Then one day he brought the boy in. He was lots taller than the old man, already, and devoted de-voted to him. From then on until th boy went back to the coast, they were in the garage at least once each day, poring over pictures of the new auto, questioning my mechanics, and discussing it between themselves. them-selves. Even after the boy had gone back to the coast, Fred would come in and pick up any new literature I might have on the car. I knew what he'd do with it, too; make notes in the margins, write letters about the auto, and send them all on to that boy. Time went along. The wife and my boys went off on a vacation. I never liked going home to ai empty house, so I would put it of to the last minute, and hang around the club till bedtime. That's how I found out that Fred liked the social life and late hours. I sort of figured that accounted ac-counted for the bags under his eyes. But Doc Howell set l'.e right He and I got away for a few days hunting, hunt-ing, and somehow on the way to the plugged some wires into a machine, and flicked a switch. "Doesn't seem to worry him. Can you tell me why?" Neither of us knew then, but we got the answer later. When his car was being unloaded at the railway dock, T called him. Most of my customers like to be on hand to get a first glimpse of the car for which they have waited so long. After awhile, he showed up, and I was shocked at his appear-' ance. He was walking slow and easy, like the old man he looked to be. His cheeks were hollcw, his sunken eyes deeper than ever. The pouches below them hung away down. But he was surely happy about the car. I told him it would take a couple of days to get it intc shape for delivery. "Good enough," he said, "I expect th.' boy over about then." I never saw Fred again. Doc let me know. He called me. "Come on over, will you, Marty?" I knew from his tone it was important, impor-tant, so I hung up and went right away. He was sitting in his private office. When I came in, he pushed a bulky envelope across the desk to me. It was addressed to me in an unfamiliar hand. Opening it, I found a two-thousand-dollar insurance policy with me as the beneficiary. The name of the policy holder? Fred A. Miller! I showed it to Doc. "Yeah," he said, "Fred died last night Natural Natu-ral causes, yet he could have lived a lot longer. Only eventually he would become an invalid, and his son would want to take care of him. On the other hand, he could duck out now and leave the lad something. I guess he chose to have the boy remember him as something other than a sick old man." I could see the picture. But you Just don't know what to say in such cases. So I guess I sounded a little irrelevant when I said, "Cars have gone up, Doc. This tw9 thousand won't cover it now." Doc looked as though he were disappointed in me. He pulled out his check book and picked up a pen. "Well, I want that boy to have that car, Martin. How much is the difference?" "Put that stuff back, Doc," I said, "you don't have a corner on soft hearts and softer heads." He grinned then. "I want to share it at least." After old Fred had been decently tucked away and it was amazing how many friends the old boy had I called the kid over to the garage. Doc and I led him to the car. "Here's something Fred wanted you to have," I told him. His eyes were so full he could hardly find the door handle. "And here's another thing he told us to give you." He took the slip of paper I handed him, and I was glad he couldn't read it right then. He only nodded; he couldn't talk, although twice he tried. He put the car in gear and backed out. Doc and I stood on the sidewalk to watch him drive down the street. About a block away, he pulled over to the curb and stopped. My guess 'was that he couldn't see through the tears that must have been tumbling down his cheeks. After all, he was only a kid. I shoved my hands into my pockets and looked at my feet, not talking. For a minute, Doc didn't say anything, either. Then: "What was that you gave him?" My tone was defensive. Hadn't Doc treated Fred for nothing? "You really didn't think I could keep that policy, did you?" Doc's voice was sort of soft and strange when he finally answered. "Fred sure knew a soft-hearted sucker when he saw one didn't he?" He turned and started off. "Now I'm going down to the office and see if modern medicine provides anything for a lump in the throat" If W w ' XJ i h W ' i - t ! MA1 ! f 1 "Here's something Fred wanted you to have," I told him. His eyes : ; were so full he could hardly find the door handle. coast It was said that Miller had : agreed to some fantastic alimony if only she would let the boy come to him for at least a part of the year. He had some tort of minor post in one of the government agencies in town; I knew it couldn't pay very much. I didn't see how he would be able to pay me for the price of a new auto, but two years is a long time and much could happen in i the Interim. Anyway, I could al- i ways sell a new car. So I felt around i In my desk and finally came up with i the list. "What kind do you want? 1 Coupe? Sedan?" "A coupe, please." j "With or without wheels?" ; j Fred smiled, tentatively. He wasn't I sure whether or not !ie was sup posed to laugh. "I'd like wheels, of course," he 1 answered. "Want to put something down?" "Yes. I'd like to. How much do you require?'' "Suit yourself. Even if you gi-ye me the full purchase price, it won't l bring your car any sooner." I He nodded. "Fair enough. I'll leave you two hundred." I took the bills and gave him a receipt Then I asked if he had a trade-in. He looked startled. "No, Mr. Stone, I haven't Is it necessary to have one?" "Oh, no. Not absolutely necessary." neces-sary." A trade-in is still nice to have, though, for there is money in those used cars. "I don't really have a car at all," he explained. "That's why I want this one. My boy will be coming to visit me every summer and he's getting get-ting pretty big now." His eyes lit up, talking about the kid. "In two years he'll be eighteen and he'll want a car. This is no tov n for a boy if he has to walk everywhere or depend on others for transportation. I plan to have a nice ruto for him when he's ready for it." "Yeah, yeah. That'll be fine." There was something holding back In him when he talked about that kid, and it made me uncomfortable. As though he might talk about him the rest of the day if he had any encouragement. But I wasn't giving i him any. "We'll see what we can do," I ! said, and stood up. j He arose immediately. "You're j busy," he was apologetic, "and I've J taken so much of your time." i "Not at all," I said, "come in and see me again." "Oh, I will," he answered, "you'll i get so tired of seeing me around j you'll want to throw me out. By mountains, Fred Miller crept into our conversation. Doc thought it a shame the ' way his wife treated him. "That woman milks him for every cent he can get. He owes everyone, including me." I thought about all the times I had seen Fred down at the club. Now it costs money to belong, and if one gets into the games very often, that's expensive, too. Fred didn't stack very high with me right then, because I couldn't see how he coulc be broke and keep up the activities ac-tivities I had observed. I guess Doc read my thoughts. "Don't be too hard on Fred, Marty," he said. "You may not know it but he isn't down there at that club every night just for fun. He has a sort of job; assistant to the steward. I rather suspect he lives on what he makes there, and sends his regular salary check out to the wife, for that boy." He watched the road for a few moments before continuing. con-tinuing. "Fred is not at all well. If he would take it easy, get a lot of rest and stop drinking, he might last a long time, but " his voice trailed off into silence. He rarely talked about his patients, I figured he thought he had said too much already. I forgot about Fred after that until un-til one fine summer day I found that the next car on my list was for him. But I was dubious about the deal. After all, I was in business to make money; there was a lot of names after his that would be a great deal better business. It looked like Fred Miller was about to get the go-by, at least for a little while. Then that same day I twisted my knee and had to go to Dot's office to get it wrapped. Climbing the well-worn well-worn stairs, I met Fred coming down. He looked just about all in, and very sad. I thought to myself: "Oh well, what can I lose?" and told him about the car. His face broke into a million wrinkles as he smiled. "That'- fine," he said, "that's good. The boy will like that." He went on dowr the steps with a lot more life to his tread. I went on up to Doc's. Just to make conversation, I asked him what was wrong with Fred. His answer was vague, as I might have known it would be. "Can't understand the little fellow; fel-low; he goes right on doing all the things I tell him are bad, yet he keeps coming in here to have me check him over. All I can do is shake my head, tell him to get more rest and stop burning the candle from both ends." He adjusted a couple of pads around my leg. t |