Chapter 15
In Which Herb and Lorna’s Grandson and Biographer Is Born
BUSTER LEROY DROWNED when his ship, a destroyer escort, was torpedoed in the North Atlantic. The news came one Wednesday evening, while Herb was in the dining room at home, playing Piper Poker with the Spotters Club, some spotters who had begun getting together every Wednesday evening.
“Okay,” said Dexter Rice, “what’ve you got?”
“Three pair. Heinkel one-elevens, Mitsubishi Zeroes, and Dornier two-seventeens,” said Bob Schoop.
“Damn!” said Simon Misch. “I should’ve known you were bluffing!”
“Three pair: one-elevens, Zeroes, and two-seventeens. That’s good,” said Dexter. “That’s good. But it’s not good enough, I’m afraid.” He spread his hand on the table. “A pair of Kawanishi Emilys, a pair of Junkers eighty-eights, and three Messerschmitt one-oh-nines.”
“I don’t believe it!” said Simon. “I could have taken that pot. Look at this! A double full house: Dornier seventeens over Mitsubishi Bettys over Stukas. I’m no good at this game.”
“All right, all right,” said Dexter, shuffling. “My deal. The game is twelve-card draw. Kawasaki Nicks are wild. Sturmvogels and Zeroes or better to open.”
The phone rang. “Deal me in,” said Herb. “I’ll be right back.”
It was Jack Leroy. He could barely manage to tell Herb what had happened. The Leroys had known the awful news since that morning, but they’d been enclosed in their grief. Only when the sun went down and Jack made himself a drink did he even realize that other people needed to know. Ella came to mind, and he knew that he had to call and tell her. When he had given the operator the number, he prayed silently that she wouldn’t answer. When Herb answered, he thought that he really ought to ask Herb to put Ella on so that he could tell her himself, but then he realized with relief that he couldn’t not tell Herb, now that Herb was on the phone. He told him.
“My God,” said Herb. “Oh, my God.” He didn’t say anything else. He just set the handset in the cradle.
Dexter was finishing a joke: “ — so she says, ‘But this has to be Thursday because the iceman always comes on Thursday, right after the milkman and just before the grocery boy!’ ”
Hilarity followed. Bob Schoop, with a bite of sandwich in his mouth, kept repeating, “Tell Herb. Tell Herb.”
Herb stood with his hands on the edge of the table, saying nothing. After a while everyone noticed that he was just standing there, and everyone noticed the look on his face. “What’s the matter, Herb?” asked Dexter.
“That boy — Buster Leroy — he’s dead.”
“Dead?” said Simon, who lived near the Leroys and had had his Babbington Reporter delivered by Buster, his garden weeded by Bert, his car washed by the pair. “Dead?”
“Who is he?” asked Bob.
“Come on,” said Simon, who understood at once. “We’ve got to go.”
“Who is he?” asked Bob.
“I’ll tell you outside,” said Simon. “Come on.”
They were gone in a few moments. Herb stood at the table. Bob’s sandwich lay on his plate, a couple of bites out of it. Dexter had left an untouched half. They should have taken those sandwiches, thought Herb. He picked up his beer glass and took a swallow. The table was littered with spotters’ cards. Herb gathered them up and made a neat stack. He carried the plates into the kitchen. He wrapped the uneaten sandwiches in waxed paper. He washed the dishes. He finished his beer. He wiped the dining room table with a dishcloth and dried it with the dish towel. He turned the kitchen light off, went into the dining room, where the telephone was, on a table in a corner near the living room, and called Lorna in Baltimore.
[to be continued on Friday, October 7, 2022]
In Topical Guide 355, Mark Dorset considers Ships: Warships: World War II Destroyer Escort from this episode.
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