Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [34]
38 Halloween
A sergeant at the Sixty-third Street police station telephoned to say they were holding Douglas. Mrs. Bridge, who had answered the telephone, gasped “Oh, my word!” and hurried into the living room where her husband was stretched out on the sofa listening to Nelson Eddy sing “Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life.” She knew how much he enjoyed Nelson Eddy and she did not want to interrupt. He was awake, she knew, but his eyes were shut and he was going to be annoyed. Grasping her beads, she leaned over and said, “Walter?”
He opened his eyes and looked up at her. He had been irritated by the ringing telephone and he could not help feeling annoyed with her too, although she would not have interrupted unless the call was important.
Mrs. Bridge, hopeful that he might be able to hear what she was saying and listen to Nelson Eddy at the same time, said in a subdued voice: “The police.” Then she straightened up doubtfully.
He glared at her because he could not understand. He had been dozing, and he was not sure he had heard what he thought he heard. But then he remembered that it was Halloween.
In the breakfast room he picked up the telephone and said “Yes?” and heard just about what he expected to hear. “All right,” he said when the sergeant finished, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Mrs. Bridge had followed him and stood by anxiously. She said, “I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“That unholy trio,” he said. “I should have guessed.”
“Oh, goodness, not again!” She knew he was referring to Douglas and his friends Rodney Vandermeer and Bobby Tipton.
“They turned over a can of garbage on Mr. Knapp’s porch.”
“Not really!”
“I am afraid it is all quite real,” he answered more sarcastically than he intended. He was still annoyed that the music had been interrupted; he looked forward to Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald each week at this time. Now the evening had been ruined.
“Shall I come along?”
“No. I’ll take care of it,” he said, and went to the hall closet to get his hat and coat.
Het Vandermeer was already at the station. The father of the Tipton boy, whom Mr. Bridge did not know, arrived a few minutes later. The victim, Mr. Knapp, was also there. They listened to the sergeant; they listened to Mr. Knapp; and finally it was agreed that no charges would be lodged if the boys apologized and cleaned up the garbage by seven o’clock the next morning.
On the way home Douglas said moodily, “I guess I better get up about five.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” said Mr. Bridge.
Neither of them spoke again. The night was cold and windy. Clouds were scudding across the moon. Dead leaves fluttered out of the darkness like moths and clung to the windshield of the Chrysler for an instant before disappearing. Douglas turned up the collar of his jacket.
As they came within sight of the house Mr. Bridge asked, “Are you glad to be home?”
“It’s better than a police station,” Douglas said. “Old man Knapp sure can run. I never figured an old geezer like that could run as fast. He must be about a hundred.”
“He was chasing you, was he?”
“Why else do you think we ended up in the police station?”
“I’ve been wondering about that. How did he manage to catch all three of you?”
“He never did catch me or Vandermeer. We outran him. But he was gaining on Tipton, so Tipton tried a short cut through McGreevy’s back yard, except he forgot they had a clothesline and just about strangled himself. That’s how Tipton got caught.”
Mr. Bridge parked the Chrysler in the garage and turned off the motor. Then he said, “You and that other boy, did a police car pick you up?”
“No. We got to the end of the block and waited, only when Tipton never showed up we figured old man Knapp had got him, so we went back.”
“That’s how he caught you?”
“No. We saw him hanging on to Tipton’s collar, so we gave ourselves up. Then he had Mrs. McGreevy call the cops.”
“Why did you surrender?”
“Who knows?” Douglas replied with a shrug. “We just decided to.”
After a few moments Mr. Bridge said, “Well, here we are. Let’s go in,” and he opened the car door. Douglas got out the