Dream Town Page 2

coffee, Ma." He leanedback with a contented sigh. "Dream about it every night. Got so used tothe place, I get all confused in the daytime."

  Mom said: "I get muddle-headed too, sometimes."

  "You mean--" Sol put his napkin in his lap. "You mean _you_ dream aboutthe same place?"

  "Sure," Sally piped. "We all go there at night. I'm goin' to the palaceagain, 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 callpoor Mrs. Brundage. It's the _least_ I could do."

  "Good idea," Dawes nodded. "And I'll have to round up some folks and getold Brundage out of there."

  Sol was staring. He opened his mouth, but couldn't think of the rightquestion 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 uponsinging her school song between mouthfuls. When Dawes was through, hepushed 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 theSheriff on the way. Okay with you?"

  "Fine," Sol said uneasily.

  The rain had stopped, but the heavy clouds seemed reluctant to leave theskies over the small town. There was a skittish breeze blowing, and SolBecker tightened the collar of his coat around his neck as he tried tokeep up with the fast-stepping Dawes.

  * * * * *

  They crossed the street diagonally, and entered a two-story woodenbuilding. Dawes took the stairs at a brisk pace, and pushed open thedoor 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 cleanforgot 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. Hefollowed lamely behind the two men as they went out into the streetagain.

  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 justgoin' over to Brundage's to pick up the body. Ma's gonna pay a call onMrs. Brundage around ten o'clock. You care to visit?"

  "Why, I think that's very nice," the woman said. "I'll be sure and dothat." She smiled at the fat man. "Mornin', Prince."

  Sol's head was spinning. As they left the woman and continued theirdetermined march down the quiet street, he tried to find answers.

  "Look, Mr. Dawes." He was panting; the pace was fast. "Does _she_ dreamabout this--Armagon, too? That woman back there?"

  "Yep."

  Charlie chuckled. "He's a stranger, all right."

  "And you, Mr.--" Sol turned to the fat man. "You also know about thispalace and everything?"

  "I told you," Dawes said testily. "Charlie here's Prince Regent. Butdon't let the fancy title fool you. He got no more power than any Knightof the Realm. He's just too dern fat to do much more'n sit on a throneand eat grapes. That right, Charlie?"

  The fat man giggled.

  "Here's the Sheriff," Dawes said.

  The Sheriff, a sleepy-eyed citizen with a long, sad face, was rocking ona porch as they approached his house, trying to puff a half-lit pipe. Helifted one hand wearily when he saw them.

  "Hi, Cookie," Dawes grinned. "Thought you, me, and Charlie would getBrundage's body outa the house. This here's Mr. Becker; he got anotherproblem. Mr. Becker, meet Cookie Coogan."

  The Sheriff joined the procession, pausing only once to inquire intoSol's predicament.

  He described the hitchhiker incident, but Coogan listened stoically. Hemurmured something about the Troopers, and shuffled alongside thepuffing fat man.

  Sol soon realized that their destination was a barber shop.

  Dawes cupped his hands over the plate glass and peered inside. Goldletters on the glass advertised: HAIRCUT SHAVE & MASSAGE PARLOR. Hereported: "Nobody in the shop. Must be upstairs."

  * * * * *

  The fat man rang the bell. It was a while before an answer came.

  It was a reedy woman in a housecoat, her hair in curlers, her eyes redand swollen.

  "Now, now," Dawes said gently. "Don't you take on like that, Mrs.Brundage. You heard the charges. It hadda be this way."

  "My poor Vincent," she sobbed.

  "Better let us up," the Sheriff said kindly. "No use just lettin' himlay there, Mrs. Brundage."

  "He didn't mean no harm," the woman snuffled. "He was just purelyornery, Vincent was. Just plain mean stubborn."

  "The law's the law," the fat man sighed.

  Sol couldn't hold himself in.

  "What law? Who's dead? How did it happen?"

  Dawes looked at him disgustedly. "Now is it any of _your_ business? Imean, is it?"

  "I don't know," Sol said miserably.

  "You better stay out of this," the Sheriff warned. "This is a localmatter, young man. You better stay in the shop while we go up."

  They filed past him and the crying Mrs. Brundage.

  When they were out of sight, Sol pleaded with her.

  "What happened? How did your husband die?"

  "Please ..."

  "You must tell me! Was it something to do with Armagon? Do you dreamabout the place, too?"

  She was shocked at the question. "Of course!"

  "And your husband? Did he have the same dream?"

  Fresh tears resulted. "Can't you leave me alone?" She turned her back."I got things to do. You can make yourself comfortable--" She indicatedthe barber chairs, and left through the back door.

  Sol looked after her, and then ambled over to the first chair andslipped into the high seat. His reflection in the mirror, strangely grayin the dim light, made him groan. His clothes were a mess, and he neededa shave. If only Brundage had been alive ...

  He leaped out of the chair as voices sounded behind the door. Dawes waskicking it open with his foot, his arms laden with two rather largefeet, still encased in bedroom slippers. Charlie was at the other end ofthe burden, which appeared to be a middle-aged man in pajamas. TheSheriff followed the trio up with a sad, undertaker expression. Behindhim came Mrs. Brundage, properly weeping.

  "We'll take him to the funeral parlor," Dawes said, breathing hard."Weighs a ton, don't he?"

  "What killed him?" Sol said.

  "Heart attack."

  The fat man chuckled.

  The tableau was grisly. Sol looked away, towards the comfortinglymundane atmosphere of the barber shop. But even the sight of thethick-padded chairs, the shaving mugs on the wall, the neat rows ofcutting instruments, seemed grotesque and morbid.

  "Listen," Sol said, as they went through the doorway. "About my car--"

  The Sheriff turned and regarded him lugubriously. "Your _car_? Youngman, ain't you got no _respect_?"

  Sol swallowed hard and fell silent. He went outside with them, the womanslamming the barber-shop door behind him. He waited in front of thebuilding while the men toted away the corpse to some new destination.

  * * * * *

  He took a walk.

  The town was just coming to life. People were strolling out of theirhouses, commenting on the weather,
chuckling amiably about localaffairs. Kids on bicycles were beginning to appear, jangling the littlebells and hooting to each other. A woman, hanging wash in the back yard,called out to him, thinking he was somebody else.

  He found a little park, no more than twenty yards in circumference,centered around a weatherbeaten monument of some unrecognizable militaryfigure. Three old men took their places on the bench that circled theGeneral, and leaned on their canes.

  Sol was a