Fletch

14

Using his telephone credit card, Fletch spent an hour in an overstuffed chair in the playroom of the Racquets Club. The room was dark and cool, and no one was at the billiard tables or the ping-pong tables or watching the television.

First, he called the home number of Marvin Stanwyk in Nonheagan, Pennsylvania.

“Mr. Stanwyk?”

“Yes.”

“This is Sidney James of Casewell Insurers of California.”

“How are you, boy? What did you decide about picking up that Bronze Star?”

“I haven’t decided yet, sir.”

“Doubt you’ll ever be offered another one.”

“I didn’t expect to be offered this one.”

“I say you should pick it up. Never know. You might have a son, someday, who’d have some interest in it, or a grandson.”

“I don’t know, sir. Women don’t seem to be having children these days.”

“You know, you’re right about that. I wouldn’t mind Alan and his wife producing a child.”

“What?”

“Don’t you think it’s time they had a child? Been married how long? Six, seven years?”

“They don’t have a child?”

“Indeed not. That would get us to come out to California. Boy, girl, anything. We wouldn’t miss seeing our grandchild.”

“I see.”

“Well, Mr. James, I imagine you called to ask how we are again. Mrs. Stanwyk and I are both well. Just beginning to think about lunch.”

“Glad to hear it, sir.”

“You must be a pretty ambitious fellow, working on a Saturday. I have to go back to the hardware store myself after lunch, but I thought I was the only man left alive who still works on a Saturday. Of course, in your case, you may have to work on Saturday because you spend so much time the rest of the week calling up people.”

“We’re trying to pin down just how much flying your son does.”

“Too much.”

“You say he comes to see you every six weeks or so.”

“About that.”

“How long does he stay with you?”

“A night or two.”

“Does he stay in your house?”

“No. He and the copilot or whatever he is stay at the Nonheagan Inn. They have a suite there. Alan’s like you. If he’s not on the phone forty-five minutes an hour, he thinks the world’s going to end. He needs the hotel switchboard.”

“How much do you actually see him on a visit?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to your questions, but a man who won the Bronze Star must know what he’s doin‘. Mostly they come for breakfast.”

“They?”

“He and the copilot. Name is Bucky. That’s why my wife always makes him buckwheat cakes. He loves them. He can put away more buckwheat cakes than you need to shingle your roof.”

“Is it always the same pilot?”

“No. Twice it’s been other fellows, but I don’t remember their names. Usually it’s Bucky. Then, sometimes, Alan might come over by himself later, for supper. Not always. We don’t see that much of him when he’s here, but we guess he just finds his old hometown restful.”

“Yes, of course. How long has he been doing this?”

“Visiting us regularly? Since he became the big cheese out at that airplane company. I guess business brings him east more now.”

“The last six or seven years?”

“I’d say the last four years. We saw him hardly at all when he was first married. Which is apt to be the way.”

“Why do you say he flies too much?”

“Flying’s dangerous, son. Especially in a private jet. Anything could go wrong.”

“You mean he could get hurt.”

“He could get killed. I haven’t heard they’re making airplanes out of rubber yet. He’s already been in one air crash, you know. Two, in fact. Overseas.”

“I know. You didn’t mind his boxing, though, when he was a kid.”

“Who says we didn’t?”

“You did mind?”

“We did about everything we could think of to make him stop. Every afternoon down there in the cellar beating the beeswax out of the punching bags. Whump, whump, whump. Till supper time. There was a period when he was out fighting two nights a week. No one’s brain can stand that. I was sure his brain was going to run out his ears. Enough ran out his nose.”

“Why didn’t you stop him from boxing, then?”

“If you ever have a son, you’ll find that when he gets to be fourteen or fifteen there are some things you can’t tell him not to do. The more you tell them not to smash their heads against the wall, the more they insist upon doing it. They never believe they’re going to need things like brains later on in life.”

“Then why didn’t he go on to the nationals?”

“You can’t figure the answer to that question?”

“No, sir.”

“Girls, son; girls. No matter how much time fifteen-year-old boys spend thrashing around in the basement, sooner or later they notice girls. And that’s the end of their thrashing around in the basement. The boxing gloves were hung up and out came the pocket comb. I admit, though, it took us a while to figure it out. He had sure wanted to go to the nationals, and he was very, very good at out-boxing people. Suddenly, before the nationals, the house stopped shaking, the whumping ceased. We thought he was sick. The night he told us he was not going to the nationals was about the happiest night of our lives. The punching bags are still hanging in our basement. Never touched them since. They need a rest after the beating they took. Then, of course, Alan took to flying airplanes. Sons just don’t know how to keep their parents relaxed. I’m sure you weren’t a bit kinder to your parents, Mr. James.”

“I guess not. Maybe it’s just as well your son and daughter-in-law don’t have a child.”

“Aw, no. Bringing up kids is not the same as eating creamed chicken, but you shouldn’t miss it.”

“Well, I guess that’s all for now, Mr. Stanwyk. Thanks again.”

“Say, son?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you called back, because I didn’t know where to reach you. I’ve been thinking about your Bronze Star. I want to make a deal with you.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you ought to pick it up. What I’m thinking is this. You pick the Bronze Star up and send it out to us. We’ll admire it and hold it for you, and someday when you want it, when you have a kid or something, we’ll send it back to you.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“What do you say? If anything happens to us, we’ll make sure you get it somehow. We’ll leave it with the bank along with my wife’s best shoes.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s a long life, son, and your feelings change about things. You send the Bronze Star on to us, and we’ll take care of it for you.”

“You’re a sweet man, Mr. Stanwyk.”

“I don’t understand that California kind of talk.”

“May I think about it?”

“Sure. I’m just thinking it might make the whole thing easier for you.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Call anytime. I bought some more telephone stock last night.”

“The Nonheagan Inn. Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon. This is Mr. Alan Stanwyk.”

“Hello, Mr. Stanwyk. Nice to hear your voice, sir.”

Teenage girls looked into the Racquets Club playroom. Apparently Fletch was not what they were looking for.

“I’m calling myself because it’s Saturday and I just decided I might come out next weekend.”

“Oh?”

“Why does that surprise you?”

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to sound surprised. It’s just that we look forward to seeing you every six weeks or so, and you were here just two weeks ago.”

“I may change my mind about coming.”

“It will be perfectly all right if you do, sir. We’ll keep the suite for you until we’re sure you’re not coming.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Stanwyk.”

***

“Swarthout Nevada Realty Company.”

“Jim Swarthout, please.”

“I’m sorry, sir, Mr. Swarthout is out with a client.”

“When do you expect him?”

“Well, sir, it is Saturday afternoon…”

“I see.”

“May I have him call you after he calls in?”

“No, thanks. He’ll be in the office Monday?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll get him then.”