"You what? You don't have a driver's license, Fred!"

"Yeah, I thought that might be a problem but it's not like I don't know how to drive. I just ain't done it for sometime-but it's like swimming-you never forget."

"I know you haven't driven in 15 years! It's a wonder you did-n't kill yourself! How did you ever get them to rent you a car with­out a license?"

"I told them the license was in my other pants. It was just a garage that rents old junkers and they ain't particular. I made it out to Gruber's place with no problem, hardly." He took a long pull on his beer.

"Keep talking," Dean said.

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"This Gruber fellow tossed me out of the house like a Fuller Brush Jehovah Witness selling life insurance. Or, more rightly, never let me in."Dean turned and crossed the room in disgust. "How come?"

"Somebody got to him-that's a fact. At first he wouldn't answer the door but I could hear his wife bawling so I kept knock­ing 'til he came. He was scared. I had my foot in the door and he darn near busted it, all the time saying his wife had a big mouth and didn't know what she was talking about. I managed to push the picture of Byrne in his face and he says the guy didn't look nothing like that and I should get lost. I knew he was lying, I could tell."

"Maybe he was just worried you'd turn him in for trying to beat the sales taxes..."

"No, no. It wasn't like that. I told him I was just trying to locate the guy. But Gruber was scared. I know it. Besides, whoev­er was there followed me when I finally gave up and left."

"You're kidding!" Dean said, with dead seriousness.

Fred took a deep breath. "Nope. He chased me like a Saturday kid's movie. He really did. It scared the you-know-what out of me. I didn't fancy getting tied to no toilet again. One time's more than enough of that business."

Fred went on to explain that a maroon late model car was wait­ing at the end of the driveway leading into Gruber's place. The car had quickly made a U-turn and followed Fred, not taking care to disguise its actions. After making a few turns, Fred realized he was-n't imagining the car was tailing him. He managed to get a slow-moving truck between them on a winding road and nearly lost them until the road widened near Scranton. The car was never close enough for him to see the occupant.

The old man looked up with a broad smile. "But I lost the guy! I went down a one-way street the wrong way and he didn't have the guts to follow." He paused. "I figured no need to push my good luck so I drove back here to Parkside. Besides," he added, "Mrs. Glass was getting a mite too friendly and she's not much of a cook."




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