“Just their word against mine, and there was tw6 of them, not even counting the kid. Anyway, the local police always favor a merchant in their own town: that figures.” He shook his head. “For that matter, they might have a relative on the force.”
Bobby crossed her big arms, which were bare below the elbow. Except for church services on Sunday she wore loose housedresses she made herself. She had a good deal of gray in her hair, but her plump cheeks, flecked with permanent freckles below the hazel eyes, had a youthful color and sheen.
“But you would be telling the truth.”
Dolf groaned, “Aw, I don’t know, Bobby.” But talking with his wife as usual made him feel better, and when she said, “Let me get some soup in you before you do anything,” his appetite suddenly returned.
Roberta went to call their other boy from upstairs. Meanwhile Tony came in unsummoned from outside. Seeing him vigorously wash his hands at the sink reminded Dolf that he should make his own ablutions, and he did so, accepting from the patiently waiting Tony the coarse, outsized off-white towel, a former flour bag that had been hemmed up.
Bobby returned to the kitchen and served four large bowls of thick vegetable soup that swarmed with yellow dumplings. She waited patiently for hers to cool, but both Dolf and Tony, with much spoon-blowing, had swallowed half their portions by the time the second son arrived. His formal name was Adolf, Jr., but so as to forestall confusion he had since childhood been called Jack. He was a studious sort and spent most of his time reading books, yet, as luck would have it, enjoyed perfect vision. At fifteen he was of average size, a couple of inches shorter than his brother. His assigned chores were, according to his own preference, indoors if possible, cleaning the basement and the like, though he carried out the garbage. He and Tony, being of different temperaments, had always got on well. They were rarely seen together except on such occasions as this.
Dolf himself hardly did more than glance at the newspaper, and he resented Jack’s obsession with reading more than he himself understood, and he was usually, secretly, exasperated with him. For example, in distinction to Tony, Jack was never so eager for a meal that he came to it without being called. When he was summoned, however, he arrived with reasonable promptness and therefore could not be criticized.
Vapors from the hot soup put a fog onto Tony’s glasses. He removed them and cleaned them on some folded squares of toilet paper he carried in his pocket for that purpose. His face had the funny blurred look that habitual wearers of eyeglasses seemed to have when they took them off: as if the spectacles are normally worn instead by the other person. Dolf couldn’t help feeling that the boy would be defenseless at such a time, but if he had whipped the Huff kid he was far from it.
Squinting at his father, Tony said, “I thought of somebody else I know over in Millville: the oculist who makes my glasses.”
Dolf swallowed some soup without chewing the soft solids therein. That was a luxury; his teeth were not all they should be. “That’s right. But I don’t see how he would be involved.”
Tony returned the glasses to his face. “I think he’s in that family.”
“Doctor Adams?” Dolf knew the name well, having to pay the bills.
“He’s married to a Huff,” said Tony.
“I’ll be damn.” This man had made plenty off Tony, who though careful was often involved in the sort of strenuous activity in which glasses were broken.
Bobby gently reproved her husband. “I wish you could find a better word.”
“I’m sorry,” said Dolf, “I wasn’t thinking.” He looked toward Jack. You didn’t have to worry that Tony would pick up foul language, but Jack might be another case.
Jack however was interested in the greater matter. “ ‘Involved’?” he asked. “What does that mean, Dad?”
Dolf dipped his spoon in the soup.