The Hot Rock

7

"Toot toot," said Roger Chefwick. His three H-0 gauge trains were all in motion at once on his H-0 gauge track, traveling hither and yon around the basement. Relays tripped, electrical signals were given, and all sorts of things happened. Flagmen slid out of their shacks and waved their flags. Gondola cars stopped at appropriate places and filled with grain, only to stop again far away and dump their grain out again. Mailbags were picked up on the fly by mail cars. Bells rang at highway-railway crossings, bars went down, and when the train had gone by the bars went back up again. Cars coupled and uncoupled. All sorts of things went on.

"Toot toot," said Roger Chefwick.

A short and skinny man of late middle age, Chefwick was seated now on a high stool at his grand console, his practiced hands moving over the array of transformers and special switches. The waist-high plywood platform, four feet wide, flanked the wall on three sides of the basement, so that Chefwick in the middle of it all was like a man in the ultimate Cinerama. Model houses, model trees, even model mountains gave veracity to his layout. His trains traveled over bridges, through tunnels and around intricately curved multilayers of track.

"Toot toot," said Roger Chefwick.

"Roger," said his wife.

Chefwick twisted around and saw Maude standing midway down the cellar stairs. A vague, fussy, pleasant woman, Maude was his perfect mate and he knew how lucky he was to have her.

"Yes, dear," he said.

"Telephone, Roger," she said.

"Oh, dear." Chefwick sighed. "One moment," he said.

"I'll tell them," she said and turned to go back upstairs.

Chefwick faced his console again. Train number one was in the vicinity of the Chefwick freight yards, so he rerouted it from its original destination, Center City, and sent it instead through the Maude Mountain tunnel and on into the yards. Since train number two was just approaching the Rogerville station, he simply ran it onto a subsidiary track there to leave the main line open. That left train number three, currently heading through Smoke Pass. It took some intricate planning, but he finally brought it out of the Southern Mountains and shunted it onto the spur track leading to the old Seaside Mining Corporation. Then, pleased with his work, he shut off the master switches on the console and went upstairs.

The kitchen, tiny and white and warm, was full of the aroma of fudge. Maude was at the sink, washing dishes. Chefwick said, "Mmm. Smells good."

"Be cool in just a little while," she said.

"Can't wait," he said, knowing it would please her, and went through the tiny house to the living room, where the telephone was. He sat down on the doily-covered flower-pattern sofa, picked up the phone receiver, and said mildly, "Hello?"

A rough voice said, "Chefwick?"

"Speaking."

"This is Kelp. Remember?"

"Kelp?" The name did ring a bell, but Chefwick couldn't exactly remember why. "I'm sorry, I-"

"At the bakery," the voice said.

Then he did remember. Of course, the robbery at the bakery. "Kelp!" he said, pleased to have been reminded. "How good to hear from you again. How have you been keeping yourself?"

"Little a this, little a that, you know how it is. What I-"

"Well, it certainly is good to hear your voice again. How long has it been?"

"A couple years. What I-"

"How time flies," Chefwick marveled.

"Yeah, don't it. What I-"

"But I should certainly not have forgotten your name. I must have been thinking of something else."

"Yeah, that's fine. What I-"

"But I'm keeping you from telling me why you called," Chefwick said. "I'll listen now."

Silence.

Chefwick said, "Hello?"

"Yeah," said Kelp.

"Oh, there you are."

"Yeah," said Kelp.

"Did you want something?" Chefwick asked him.

It sounded as though Kelp sighed before saying, "Yeah. I wanted something. I wanted to know are you available."

"One moment, please," Chefwick said. He put the receiver down on the end table, got to his feet, and walked out to the kitchen, where he said to his wife, "Dear, do you know offhand the state of our finances?"

Maude dried her hands on her apron, looking thoughtful, and then said, "I believe we have just about seven thousand dollars left in the checking account."

"Nothing in the basement?"

"No. I took the last three thousand at the end of April."

"Thank you," Chefwick said. He went back to the living room, sat down on the sofa, picked up the receiver, and said, "Hello?"

"Yeah," said Kelp. He sounded tired.

"I am quite interested," Chefwick said.

"Good," Kelp said, but he still sounded tired. "We're meeting tonight," he said, "at ten o'clock, at the O. J. Bar and Grill on Amsterdam Avenue."

"Fine," Chefwick said. "See you then."

"Yeah," said Kelp.

Chefwick hung up, got to his feet, went back to the kitchen, and said, "I'll be going out awhile this evening."

"Not late, I hope."

"Not tonight, I don't believe. We'll just be discussing things." Chefwick got a sly look on his face, a pixie grin on his lips. "Is that fudge ready yet?"

Maude smiled indulgently at him. "I believe you could try a piece," she said.