Up in Honey's Room

Walter said, “You tempt them to try to escape, so you can shoot them?”

“Come on, Walter, I’m fooling with them, trying to understand what they think about being locked up. You see them in the chow hall three times a day eating like wolves, you understand how important food is. It’s the reason when they do escape, get a few miles down the road from the camp, they turn around and come back.”

“There must be some,” Walter said-sounding to Honey like he was being careful, picking his words-“who escape with the intention of returning home to Germany, if they see the possibility of it.”

“I know there was a German flier back in ’42,” Carl said, “almost got to Mexico. He’s the only one comes to mind.”

Walter said, “I read in the newspaper about two officers who escaped from a camp.” Walter still careful. “I believe it was four or five months ago?”

“Last October,” Carl said. “Yeah, they were picked up.”

Honey saw Walter stopped cold.

He said, “Are you sure?”

“They broke out of Deep Fork, near my dad’s place.”

“This is in Oklahoma?”

“Yeah, the camp’s called Deep Fork, named for a creek that runs through there. The one officer had a girlfriend lived nearby. He’d slip out and visit her every once in a while-you know, to get laid-and was counting on the girlfriend hiding them. She did for a couple of days, but must’ve got nervous and blew the whistle, turned them in.”

“I must be thinking of two others who escaped,” Walter said. “The newspaper reported a nationwide search was on for these two.”

“That’ll sell papers,” Carl said, “but they’re the ones I’m talking about. They made half-ass civilian suits from uniforms and drove out of the camp in a truck delivers movies.”

Walter said, “Well,” sounding to Honey like he was giving up. But then he said in an offhand way, “Do you happen to know their names?”

“It was a while ago,” Carl said. “The girlfriend had a weird name I’d never heard before, but I can’t remember hers either.”

Walter said, “Why didn’t I read the two officers were captured?”

Not giving up if he could help it. Honey waited for Carl to explain, if he could.

“I think there was a question of whether they should prosecute the girlfriend,” Carl said, “for giving comfort to the enemy, if you know what I mean. But since she did turn them in, the U.S. attorney decided not to prosecute, keep her neighbors from throwing eggs at her and cutting off her hair. No more news about the escape was good news for the girlfriend. Pretty soon the papers stopped asking about the two guys.”

“The ones you say were captured,” Walter said. “Where are they now?”

“Back in camp. The one guy’s Waffen-SS. I think they’re the SSers in the military. The regular SS are the guys who run the extermination camps, shove live people into gas chambers. Am I right about that, Wally?”

“Do you have to call me that?”

“What? Wally?”

“My name is Walter.”

“You ever go by Walt?”

“It’s Walter.”

“I tried calling him Walt,” Honey said, “he had a fit.”

“How about a nickname?” Carl said. “What’d your mom call you when you were a kid?”

Honey knew but waited for Walter. He shook his head and Honey said, “His mom called him Buzz.”

“Where’d that come from?”

“He was his sister’s little buzzer,” Honey said, “the one that quit talking. She was learning English and had trouble saying brother. He told me his dad never called him anything but Valter.”

“I was wondering,” Carl said, “you asked if I knew their names, the guys that escaped?”

Walter hesitated. “Yes . . . ?”

“What’re the names of the guys you were thinking of?”

Honey squeezed his arm as he was raising it, slipping his hand into a coat pocket.

She thought Walter would stall, blow his nose or start coughing, at least clear his throat.

He didn’t, he said, “I hesitate because it’s been so long since I read about them in the newspaper. I thought if you said their names it would refresh my memory. But you offer me no help.”

Honey watched him shrug, then look up as Carl stepped toward him, a marshal’s card in his hand.

“This is my Oklahoma card, but I put the Detroit FBI office phone number on it. In case you remember the names of those boys. You understand I live down there. I knew ’em pretty well.”

Twelve

They were on Ten Mile Road again driving back to Honey’s, what was left of a red sky behind them. Carl turned on the headlights. Honey, comfortable, her legs crossed, lighted a cigarette and held it out to Carl, a trace of lipstick on the tip.

He said, “Not right now, thanks,” and turned to look at her. “You were funny, talking to him about his sister.”

“His sister the sister,” Honey said. “I thought we did all right.” She opened the vent window and flicked the ash from her cigarette. “I loved Walter asking if you happened to know their names.”

“He had to ask, didn’t he?”

“You said you didn’t remember, but they were picked up in a couple of days. Now he was confused. Wait a minute-are we talking about the same guys?”

Carl said, “I was hoping he’d ask if I meant Jurgen and Otto. If he’d said their names I would’ve handcuffed him to that ugly chair he was sitting in and taken a look around. That’s not a bad place for the Krauts to hide out.”

Honey was grinning now. “You threw it back asking him for the names. That was beautiful, it sounded so natural. But he got out of it and didn’t seem too concerned after that.”

“He thought he was off the hook. He gave himself away when he asked if I happened to know their names, like he was only curious.”

“I thought you’d tell him, get right to it. But you didn’t.”

“If I had, what would Walter say? Never heard of ’em. But who else were we talking about, busted out of a camp in Oklahoma last October?”

Honey said, “That doesn’t mean they’re with Walter.”

“If they aren’t, he knows where they’re staying. The G-men’ll get a warrant that says something about suspicion of subversive activity. We’ll put Walter on the rack, stretch him out and ask about the spy ring.”

Honey said, “You’re only interested in Jurgen and Otto, aren’t you?”

“The Bureau thinks they could be helping the spies. It’s okay with me. We locate the two boys, I’m taking ’em back to their home in Oklahoma.”

He glanced at Honey. “You see how Walter was looking at you?”

“He still loves me.”

“I could’ve stepped outside, give you a chance to reminisce.”

“Tell him a joke?”

“Ask him how he’s doing. His piles still acting up? You’re right, that’s why he thought your piles joke was funny. He’s dropped his drawers in the doctor’s office, knows the scene.”

“Walter hasn’t changed one bit. He was born an old man and he’s stuck with it.”

“You want to see him again?”

“For what?”

“He looks like he needs a pal, somebody he can tell his innermost thoughts to.”