"You mean--" Sol put his napkin in his lap. "You mean _you_ dream about
the same place?"
"Sure," Sally piped. "We all go there at night. I'm goin' to the palace
again, too."
"If you brush your teeth," Mom said primly.
"If I brush my teeth. Boy, you shoulda seen the exelution!"
"Execution," her father said.
"Oh, my goodness!" Mom got up hastily. "That reminds me. I gotta call
poor Mrs. Brundage. It's the _least_ I could do."
"Good idea," Dawes nodded. "And I'll have to round up some folks and get
old Brundage out of there."
Sol was staring. He opened his mouth, but couldn't think of the right
question to ask. Then he blurted out: "What execution?"
"None of _your_ business," the man said coldly. "You eat up, young man.
If you want me to get Sheriff Coogan lookin' for your car."
The rest of the meal went silently, except for Sally's insistence upon
singing her school song between mouthfuls. When Dawes was through, he
pushed back his plate and ordered Sol to get ready.
Sol grabbed his topcoat and followed the man out the door.
"Have to stop someplace first," Dawes said. "But we'll be pickin' up the
Sheriff on the way. Okay with you?"
"Fine," Sol said uneasily.
The rain had stopped, but the heavy clouds seemed reluctant to leave the
skies over the small town. There was a skittish breeze blowing, and Sol
Becker tightened the collar of his coat around his neck as he tried to
keep up with the fast-stepping Dawes.
* * * * *
They crossed the street diagonally, and entered a two-story wooden
building. Dawes took the stairs at a brisk pace, and pushed open the
door on the second floor. A fat man looked up from behind a desk.
"Hi, Charlie. Thought I'd see if you wanted to help move Brundage."
The man batted his eyes. "Oh, Brundage!" he said. "You know, I clean
forgot about him?" He laughed. "Imagine me forgetting that?"
"Yeah." Dawes wasn't amused. "And you Prince Regent."
"Aw, Willie--"
"Well, come on. Stir that fat carcass. Gotta pick up Sheriff Coogan,
too. This here gentleman has to see him about somethin' else."
The man regarded Sol suspiciously. "Never seen you before. Night _or_
day. Stranger?"
"Come _on_!" Dawes said.
The fat man grunted and hoisted himself out of the swivel chair. He
followed lamely behind the two men as they went out into the street
again.
A woman, with an empty market basket, nodded casually to them. "Mornin',
folks. Enjoyed it last night. Thought you made a right nice speech, Mr.
Dawes."
"Thanks," Dawes answered gruffly, but obviously flattered. "We were just
goin' over to Brundage's to pick up the body. Ma's gonna pay a call on
Mrs. Brundage around ten o'clock. You care to visit?"
"Why, I think that's very nice," the woman said. "I'll be sure and do
that." She smiled at the fat man. "Mornin', Prince."
Sol's head was spinning. As they left the woman and continued their
determined march down the quiet street, he tried to find answers.
"Look, Mr. Dawes." He was panting; the pace was fast. "Does _she_ dream
about this--Armagon, too? That woman back there?"
"Yep."