“I remember,” Mark Wedmer said quietly. He was staring at Randy Maxwell, perhaps remembering that he had always been the ringleader in those scenes of childhood torment.
“Of course the stables are new since your time,” Dean Adams was saying. “One of our 1945 graduates donated them. He’s quite a successful oilman now.”
Randy took the lead going back, keeping them laughing with a string of jokes about traveling salesmen and sailors’ girls. It was much like the old days. They might never have left Aldon, except that now they were twenty-five years older and their steps were a little heavier along the path.
Dinner was a rousing affair, with the entire student body rising in a singing tribute to the old grads. The president gave a proper speech, and then Dean Adams took the microphone.
“We have the old boys back every year,” he began, “and I suppose by now I should be over the emotions of the event. But I’ll tell you it still moves me, still almost brings a tear to my eye. I like to think that we at Aldon have done something quietly great, that we’ve helped supply the leaders of this great land of ours. Not every class can be made up of one hundred percent winners, but every class has its share. The class of ’44 graduated at a difficult time in life, for our country and for yourselves. There aren’t many of you still alive, but those who are tell us that even at the brink of war Aldon could still turn out boys—and men—to excite our pride.
“This evening I’m especially pleased to be able to announce a memorial to your class, and to its brave members who died in battle. Your classmate Mark Wedmer has advised me of his intention to donate $100,000 to Aldon over the period of the next three years, to be used for a new science wing, something we’ve needed for far too long. I know you’ll join me in offering heartfelt thanks for the generous gift, on behalf of the class of 1944.”
There was a round of applause from the student body, and from the old boys, though Gent noticed that Randy Maxwell kept his hands in his lap. The old days were not so far gone after all. Perhaps Randy realized that this gesture was only Mark’s way of revenging himself for all those afternoons of teenage cruelty so very long ago.
After the speeches there were more songs, and then a basketball game in the new gym. Gent realized as the evening wore on that he’d fallen into an easy companionship with Cottrell and Maxwell, almost as if they were back in those golden pre-war days. They cheered together at every basket, and at the end of the game they clustered around the bench, talking with the boys and the coach. It was like old times.
Oddly, Mark Wedmer had joined them. He did not hang back as had been his habit in those earlier days, but instead seemed almost to be leading the conversations. He addressed many of his remarks to Randy, something he’d never ventured to do when they were classmates. “What do you think, Randy? They’re surely taller boys than in our day.”
“Yeah,” Randy agreed uncomfortably. “Sure are.”
Charlie Cottrell put his arm on Mark’s shoulder. “That was quite a thing, donating a hundred grand! I don’t see that much in ten years on the newspaper.”
“It was nothing,” Mark said. “Just making up for the old days.”
There was a strained silence, and Tom Gent leaped into it. “Randy, you haven’t seen the new swimming pool, have you? It’s right at the other end of this building.
The three of them strolled off in that direction, with Mark Wedmer bringing up the rear. It was obvious they were not to be rid of him that easily. They passed through a ceiling-high folding partition that separated the gym from the pool, and Gent began filling the awkward void with words. “Here it is, Randy. Great thing, isn’t it? Dean Adams says it’s NCAA regulation, just like all the colleges have.”
They stood at the edge of the pool, watching the gentle movement of the water from some unseen source. The odor of chlorine was heavy in the still air of the building.
“Diving and everything!” Charlie Cottrell observed. “They never had anything like this in our day. If they had, I’d probably have been a swimming champ in college.”
“You didn’t go to college, remember?” Randy reminded him.
“I did for a year, until I was drafted. I was doing good, too. I was really doing good.” He looked down at his hands. “I wonder where I’d have been today if the war hadn’t come along.”
Randy Maxwell gripped the tubular ladder that led into the pool at one end. “Probably you’d have been an investment banker, like Mark here. Right, Mark?”
“Maybe. Then again, maybe not.” Randy moved over closer to him. “Remember the time we tied you to the bed and gave you a hotfoot? Remember when we dumped the pail of water on you from the window?”
“I remember,” Mark Wedmer answered, tight-lipped.
“Those were the days. Things you can remember all your life.”
Cottrell joined in, chuckling. “There was the time we sneaked into town and left you to take the blame. Remember that, Mark?”
“I remember,” he repeated.
The crowd from the basketball game had departed now, and there was only silence from behind the big folding partition. The water, blue, clear, continued to ripple ever so slightly. Randy Maxwell chuckled too, and even Tom Gent joined in. They all remembered.
“But now we’re just old boys,” Randy said. “That was long ago.”
Mark turned as if to walk away from them, and Randy pushed him, hard. Mark staggered to keep his balance on the edge of the tile pool, but then slipped and toppled in. The water splashed the others as they stood laughing on the edge.
“I can’t swim,” Mark shouted. “Help me!”
Randy Maxwell stood with legs spread and hands on hips, looking down at the struggling figure in the water. “There’s the ladder, fatso. Grab hold of it.”
Somehow, gasping and snorting for breath, Mark managed to fling out a hand and catch the metal ladder. “I… help me…”
They stood there a moment longer, watching Mark struggle, and then Charlie Cottrell stepped forward. He brought his foot down hard on the grasping fingers that clung to the ladder. “Swim around a bit longer, Mark,” he said. “Swim around a bit.”
“I… help me… I can’t swim… Please…”
He tried to reach the edge of the pool one more time, but now they were all three on him. Gent grabbed Mark’s hair and forced his head under the surface, holding it down.
Mark broke free and pushed out to the middle, away from his tormentors. He gave one last terrified cry against the clear blue water, and then went under.
For a long time the three men stood there at the pool’s edge in silence, and Randy Maxwell slowly smoked a cigarette. He waited until the water again was perfectly smooth, with only the slight ripple they’d noticed before.
Then, finally, he turned to the others and said, “We’d better get some help for him. After all, he’s one of the old boys, like us.”
Acknowledgments
“Twilight Thunder” (Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, January 1962). Copyright © 1961 H.S.D. Publications, Inc.; renewal copyright © 1989 Edward D. Hoch.
“The Night My Friend” (The Saint Mystery Magazine, British edition, July 1962). Copyright © 1962, 1990 Edward D. Hoch.
“The Suitcase” (The Saint Mystery Magazine, September 1962, as by Pat McMahon). Copyright © 1962 Fiction Publishing Co.; renewal copyright © 1990 Edward D. Hoch.
“The Picnic People” (Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, March 1963). Copyright © 1963 H.S.D. Publications, Inc.; renewal copyright © 1991 Edward D. Hoch.
“Day for a Picnic” (The Saint Mystery Magazine, November 1963, as by Pat McMahon). Copyright © 1963 Fiction Publishing Co.; renewal copyright © 1991 Edward D. Hoch.
“Shattered Rainbow” (Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, January 1964). Copyright © 1963 H.S.D. Publications, Inc.; renewal copyright © 1991 Edward D. Hoch.
“The Patient Waiter” (Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, May 1964). Copyright © 1964 H.S.D. Publications, Inc.; reprinted
by permission of the author.
“Too Long at the Fair” (Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, October 1964). Copyright © 1964 H.S.D. Publications, Inc.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“Winter Run” (Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, January 1965). Copyright © 1964 H.S.D. Publications, Inc.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Long Way Down” (Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, February 1965). Copyright ©1965 H.S.D. Publications, Inc.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“Dreaming Is a Lonely Thing” (Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, March 1965). Copyright © 1965 H.S.D. Publications, Inc.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“In Some Secret Place” (The Saint Mystery Magazine, August 1965). Copyright © 1965 Fiction Publishing Co.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“To Slay an Eagle” (The Award Espionage Reader, 1965, as by Stephen Dentinger). Copyright © 1965 Universal Publishing and Distributing Corp.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“They Never Come Back” (Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, February 1966). Copyright © 1966 H.S.D. Publications, Inc.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Only Girl in His Life” (Signature, February 1966). Copyright © 1965 Diners Club, Inc.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“It Happens, Sometimes” (The Saint Mystery Magazine, April 1966, as by Stephen Dentinger). Copyright © 1966 Fiction Publishing Co.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“A Girl Like Cathy” (Signature, October 1966). Copyright © 1966 Diners Club, Inc.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“What’s It All About?” (The Saint Magazine, January 1967, as by Stephen Dentinger). Copyright © 1966 Fiction Publishing Co.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“First Offense” (Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, January 1968, as by Stephen Dentinger). Copyright © 1967 Davis Publications, Inc.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“Hawk in the Valley” (Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, August 1968). Copyright © 1968 H.S.D. Publications, Inc.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Ring with the Velvet Ropes” (With Malice Toward All, 1968). Copyright © 1968 Mystery Writers of America, Inc.; reprinted by permission of the author.
“Homecoming” (Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, April 1969). Copyright © 1969 H.S.D. Publications, Inc.; reprinted by permission of the author.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Compilation and Introduction Copyright © 1992 by Francis M. Nevins, Jr.
Cover design by Jason Gabbert
978-1-4804-5646-4
This 2013 edition published by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
www.mysteriouspress.com
www.openroadmedia.com
EBOOKS BY
EDWARD D. HOCH
FROM MYSTERIOUSPRESS.COM
AND OPEN ROAD MEDIA
Available wherever ebooks are sold
Otto Penzler, owner of the Mysterious Bookshop in Manhattan, founded the Mysterious Press in 1975. Penzler quickly became known for his outstanding selection of mystery, crime, and suspense books, both from his imprint and in his store. The imprint was devoted to printing the best books in these genres, using fine paper and top dust-jacket artists, as well as offering many limited, signed editions.
Now the Mysterious Press has gone digital, publishing ebooks through MysteriousPress.com.
MysteriousPress.com offers readers essential noir and suspense fiction, hard-boiled crime novels, and the latest thrillers from both debut authors and mystery masters. Discover classics and new voices, all from one legendary source.
FIND OUT MORE AT
WWW.MYSTERIOUSPRESS.COM
FOLLOW US:
@emysteries and Facebook.com/MysteriousPressCom
MysteriousPress.com is one of a select group of publishing partners of Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
Open Road Integrated Media is a digital publisher and multimedia content company. Open Road creates connections between authors and their audiences by marketing its ebooks through a new proprietary online platform, which uses premium video content and social media.
Videos, Archival Documents, and New Releases
Sign up for the Open Road Media newsletter and get news delivered straight to your inbox.
Sign up now at
www.openroadmedia.com/newsletters
FIND OUT MORE AT
WWW.OPENROADMEDIA.COM
FOLLOW US:
@openroadmedia and
Facebook.com/OpenRoadMedia
Night My Friend Page 34