eerily persuasive (it was the resemblance to Wimsey, perhaps), and Ed had agreed to give
Todd to the end of the next Flunk Card period. And damned if Todd hadn’t pulled
through. The old man must have gone right through the whole family and really kicked
some ass, Ed thought. He looked like the type who not only could do it, but who might
derive a certain dour pleasure from it. Then, just two days ago, he had seen Todd’s
picture in the paper – he had made the Southern Cal All-Stars in baseball. No mean feat
when you considered that about five hundred boys were nominated each spring. He
supposed he might never have come up with the grandfather’s name if he hadn’t seen the
picture.
He flickered through the white pages more purposefully now, ran his finger down a
column of fine type, and there it was. BOWDEN, VICTOR S. 403 Ridge Lane. Ed dialled
the number and it rang several times at the other end. He was just about to hang up when
an old man answered. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello, Mr Bowden. Ed French. From Santa Donate Junior High.’
‘Yes?’ Politeness, but no more. Certainly no recognition. Well, the old guy was four
years further along (weren’t they all!) and things undoubtedly slipped his mind from time
to time.
‘Do you remember me, sir?’
‘Should I?’ Bowden’s voice was cautious, and Ed smiled. The old man forgot things
but he didn’t want anybody to know if he could help it His own old man had been that
way when his hearing started to go.
‘I was your grandson Todd’s guidance counsellor at S.D J.H.S. I called to
congratulate you. He sure tore up the pea-patch when he got to high school, didn’t he?
And now he’s All-Conference to top it off. Wow!’
‘Todd!’ The old man said, his voice brightening immediately. ‘Yes, he certainly did a
fine job, didn’t he? Second in his class! And the girl who was ahead of him took the
business courses.’ A sniff of disdain in the old man’s voice. ‘My son called and offered to
take me to Todd’s commencement, but I’m in a wheelchair now. I broke my hip last
January. I didn’t want to go in a wheelchair. But I have his graduation picture right in
the hall, you bet! Todd’s made his parents very proud. And me, of course.’
‘Yes, I guess we got him over the hump,’ Ed said. He was smiling as he said it, but his
smile was a trifle puzzled -somehow Todd’s grandfather didn’t sound the same. But it had
been a long time ago, of course.
‘Hump? What hump?’
“That little talk we had. When Todd was having problems with his course-work. Back
in ninth.’
‘I’m not following you,’ the old man said slowly. ‘I would never presume to speak for
Richard’s son. It would cause trouble … ho-ho, you don’t know how much trouble it
would cause. You’ve made a mistake, young fellow.’
‘But-‘
‘Some sort of mistake. Got me confused with another student and another grandfather,
I imagine.’
Ed was moderately thunderstruck. For one of the few times in his life, he could not
think of a single thing to say. If there was confusion, it sure wasn’t on his part.
‘Well,’ Bowden said doubtfully, ‘it was nice of you to call, Mr-‘
Ed found his tongue. ‘I’m right here in town, Mr Bowden. It’s a convention. Guidance
counsellors. I’ll be done around ten tomorrow morning, after the final paper is read.
Could I come around to…’ He consulted the phone book again. ‘… to Ridge Lane and see
you for a few minutes?’
‘What in the world for?’
‘Just curiosity, I guess. It’s all water over the dam now. But about four years ago,
Todd got himself into a real crack with his grades. They were so bad I had to send a
letter home with his report-card requesting a conference with a parent, or, ideally, with
both of his parents. What I got was his grandfather, a very pleasant man named Victor
Bowden.’
‘But I’ve already told you -‘
‘Yes. I know. Just the same, I talked to somebody claiming to be Todd’s grandfather. It doesn’t matter much now, I suppose, but seeing is believing. I’d only take a few minutes of
your time. It’s all I can take, because I’m expected home by suppertime.’
Time is all I have,’ Bowden said, a bit ruefully. ‘I’ll be here all day. You’re welcome to
stop in.’
Ed thanked him, said goodbye, and hung up. He sat on the end of the bed, staring
thoughtfully at the telephone. After a while he got up and took a pack of Phillies
Cheroots from the sport coat hanging on the back of the desk chair. He ought to go; there
was a workshop, and if he wasn’t there, he would be missed. He lit his Cheroot with a
Holiday Inn match and dropped the burnt stub into a Holiday Inn ashtray. He went to the
Holiday Inn window and looked blankly out into the Holiday Inn courtyard.
It doesn’t matter much now, he had told Bowden, but it mattered to him. He wasn’t
used to being sold a bill of goods by one of his kids and this unexpected news upset him.
Technically he supposed it could still turn out to be a case of an old man’s senility, but
Victor Bowden hadn’t sounded as if he was drooling in his beard yet And, damn it, he
didn’t sound the same.
Had Todd Bowden jobbed him
He decided it could have been done. Theoretically, at least. Especially by a bright boy
like Todd. He could have jobbed everyone, not just Ed French. He could have forged his mother or father’s name to the Flunk Cards he had been issued during his bad patch.
Lots of kids discovered a latent forging ability when they got Flunk Cards. He could have
used ink eradicator on his second and third quarter reports, changing the grades up for
his parents and then back down again so that his home room teacher wouldn’t notice
anything weird if he or she glanced at his card. The double application of eradicator
would be visible to someone who was really looking, but home room teachers carried an
average of sixty students each. They were lucky if they could get the entire roll called
before the first bell, let alone spot-checking returned cards for tampering.
As for Todd’s final class standing, it would have dipped perhaps no more than three
points overall – two bad marking periods out of a total of twelve. His other grades had
been lopsidedly good enough to make up most of the difference. And how many parents
drop by the school to look at the student records kept by the California Department of
Education? Especially the parents of a bright student like Todd Bowden?
Frown lines appeared on Ed French’s normally smooth forehead.
It doesn’t matter much now. That was nothing but the truth. Todd’s high school work
had been exemplary; there was no way in the world you could fake a 94 average. The boy
was going on to Berkeley, the newspaper article had said, and Ed supposed his folks
were damned proud – as they had every right to be. More and more it seemed to Ed that
there was a vicious downside to American life, a greased skid of opportunism, cut
corners, easy drugs, easy sex, a morality that grew cloudier each year. When your kid got
through in standout style, parents had a right to be proud.
It doesn’t matter now … but who was his frigging grandfather?
That kept sticking into him. Who, indeed? Had Todd Bowden gone to the local branch
office of the Screen Actors’ Guild and hung a notice on the bulletin board? YOUNG MAN
IN GRADES TROUBLE NEEDS OLDER MAN, PREF. 70-80 YRS, TO GIVE BOFFO
PERFORMANCE AS GRANDFATHER, WILL PAY UNION SCALE? Uh-uh. No way,
Jose. And just what sort of adult would have fallen in with such a crazy conspiracy, and
for what reason?
Ed French, aka Pucker, aka Rubber Ed, just didn’t know. And because it didn’t really
matter, he stubbed out his Cheroot and went to his workshop. But his attention kept
wandering.
The next day he drove over to Ridge Lane and had a long talk with Victor Bowden.
They discussed grapes; they discussed the retail grocery business and how the big chain
stores were pushing the little guys out; they discussed the hostage situation in Iran (that
summer everyone discussed the hostage situation in Iran); they discussed the political climate in southern California. Mr Bowden offered Ed a glass of wine. Ed accepted with
pleasure. He felt that he needed a glass of wine, even if it was only 10.40 in the morning.
Victor Bowden looked as much like Peter Wimsey as a machine gun looks like a
shillelagh. Victor Bowden had no trace of the faint accent Ed remembered, and he was