on the ignition when it hit me. How fat-headed could you get? I reached for my wallet and snatched out the sheet of paper on which I’d scribbled the dope Lane had given me. The dates jibed, all right. Eager now, and very excited, I strode back into the drugstore and headed for the phone booth.
I couldn’t pull it on her, because she’d recognize my voice. But I could start with her. I dialed the business office of the phone company and asked for Ellen Beasley.
“This is that quiz man again,” I said. “If you’ll answer just one more for me I’ll quit bothering you.”
“Why certainly,” she replied.
“Who is the present principal of the junior high?”
“Mr. Edson. Joel Edson. And I believe he’s in town now. He just came back from some summer work he was doing at Gainesville.”
“Thanks a million,” I said.
I looked up Edson’s number and dialed. I was in luck.
“Yes, speaking,” he said. “Who is it?”
“My name’s Carter, Mr. Edson,” I said heartily. “And you’re just the man I was hoping to get hold of. I’m with Bell and Howell, and I wanted to see if I couldn’t work out a little demonstration for you and some of the School Board members—”
“For what kind of equipment?” he asked.
“Sound-motion picture projectors. You’ve got to see these to—”
He laughed. “You people ought to keep records. We’ve already got one of your projectors. And it’s working fine.”
I could feel excitement running along my nerves. That’s odd,” I said, mystified. “I wonder how the office fell down on that. You’re sure it’s one of ours?”
“Sure,” he replied. “We’ve had it about—hmm, four years, or something like that.”
“You didn’t buy it second-hand?”
“No. We got it direct from you people. I remember now, exactly when it was. It was October of ‘fifty-three, just a few months before Bob died. Bob Sprague, that is—he was the principal here before me. I was teaching physics and chemistry in the high school, and got in on the demonstration when Bob and his wife and your man were trying to wear down the Superintendent and School Board. Your man was here for several days, and as a matter of fact he sold the Board on buying one for the elementary school too.”
“Well, that’s one on us, Mr. Edson. Somebody just goofed in the office. I’m sorry I troubled you.”
“No trouble at all.”
“You don’t remember who the salesman was, do you?”
“No-o. I don’t recall anything about him except that he was a pretty big guy, and he talked a good game of football.”
“Well, thank you very much.”
My luck was really running. I was hot, and I knew it. I went back to the soda fountain and talked the clerk out of a handful of change and put in a call to Lane’s office in Miami.
“He’s not in,” his girl said. “But, wait a minute. He called in a little while ago on his way to see somebody in Miami Beach, and he gave me a number. Give me yours, and he should call you back in a few minutes at the outside.”
I gave her the number and sat down at one of the tables to wait. I had to be right; the hunch was too strong and the pieces were going together so beautifully I couldn’t miss. I gazed out through the window at the sun-blasted square, thinking about it, and then I was thinking of Georgia Langston. Goofing off, I thought. But it was pleasant.
The phone rang in the booth. I waved off the soda clerk and ducked in.
I have a long-distance call for a Mr. Chatham,” the operator intoned mechanically.
“This is Chatham,” I said. I accepted the charges and pushed in quarters until she was satisfied. “Hello. Lane?
He came on. “Yeah. My girl just got hold of me. I’m glad you called; I was just about to buzz you.”
“Good,” I said. “But first I’ve got a question. In ‘fifty-three, Strader was selling sound gear and motion picture projectors to schools and churches and so on. Whose projectors?”
“Bell and Howell.”
It was perfect, right down the line. “Well, look. Did he have an exclusive territory?”
“No-o. Not exactly, as I get it. The distributor’s territory, the one I gave you, was exclusive, but I think there were two salesmen working it for him.”
That wasn’t quite so good. But the odds were still much better than the mathematical fifty-fifty would indicate. “What’s new there?”
“Couple of things. I still haven’t come up with a girl friend with any Galicia angle to