“My turn is what I meant. Was okay?”
“Very smart. Walter?”
“I can hear you. Don’t yell.”
“You haven’t heard from Folsom.”
“I know that.”
“What I mean is, why haven’t you heard from Folsom?”
“Huh?”
“Why!”
“He hasn’t called.”
It was time for the turn which was just as well because I felt like starting the conversation over. The first one hadn’t been any good.
There were two swimmers standing at the edge of the pool and they were watching. They weren’t watching Lippit and his smart turn, but me.
“You’re going to crush one of those toes any minute,” said one of them. “You got a clomp slipping.”
At this point I had more slipping than a clomp. I nodded at them, rearranged my fingers, and went after Lippit again.
“Walter?”
“I can hear you. Wasn’t so good, was it?”
“Very smart. Listen, Walter. I don’t like what goes on the West Side.”
“What goes?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen Folsom. Just some of his friends.”
“I haven’t seen him either. I just told you.”
Somebody walking by knocked into me at that point, so Lippit thought all the cursing was about that. He tried to look up at me but it was the wrong angle. He kept swimming as before.
“Jack?” he said.
“I hear you.”
“You got crazy looking toes, did you know that?”
“No. I didn’t. I really didn’t, Walter.”
“What I mean is, from this angle. They’re probably all right, any other angle.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean, don’t get me wrong.”
“God forbid. When are you coming out, Walter?”
“Two more laps. Watch this turn, will you please?” and he touched, swiveled, ducked under, pushed off.
“Okay?”
“Very smart. Listen. I want you to come out and talk this thing over. I don’t like what goes on.”
“You said nothing is going on. What’s the matter with you today, Jack?”
“I don’t like those men Folsom’s got working for him.”
“I’m getting all out of breath talking to you, Jack.”
“I’m sorry. How about coming out now, Walter.”
“Can’t do that.”
“Listen. You’re just as winded now as you expect to be after all those licks…”
“Laps.”
“All right All right!”
Then came the turn again. The two swimmers were still standing at that end of the pool and they were watching me. One of them held a sock.
“You’re pacing him too fast,” said one of them. “That’s not good for him, his age.”
“You dropped this,” said the other one. He draped the sock over one of my fingers somewhere and then it was Lippit’s turn again.
“Okay?”
“Very smart.”
“What those guys say, something about my turns?”
“They think you should stop swimming. They think you’re pacing me too fast.”
“Very smart. But I can’t laugh now. I’ll swallow water.”
I quickly tried to think of a joke, a real killer of a joke, but nothing came to me. And my fingers felt as if they had been doing all the walking.
“You swim, Jack?”
“Some. Mostly summers.”
“That’s not enough, Jack. You need exercise.”
“I get that. I really do, Walter.”
There was more health talk from him and then no talk at all, this being the last lap. He had to concentrate and I tried not to concentrate on anything at all, hoping for sheer blankness to relax me. This time there was no smart turn at the end of the lap, but a wild thrashing for ultimate speed and then a great slap of the hands on the tiles. Lippit stood up in the water and breathed like a pump going. The two swimmers were still standing there.
“You made it,” said one of them.
“Made it? What in hell do you mean, made it?” said Lippit.
“We mean him there,” said one of the swimmers and he nodded at me. “We had this bet on he’d let go the clomp.”
But Lippit was still offended. He climbed out of the pool and huffed and puffed a few times. Then he and I walked to the door.
“Who’s he think he’s kidding with that accent,” said Lippit. “Like he was some kind of a lord or something?” He snorted water. “What were you clamping, anyway?”
“I was clamping clomps.”
Lippit just gave me a look and then one of the swimmers caught up with us. He was holding a sock. I said, “Thank you,” and, “just hang it on the same place,” and then we went into the locker room. While Lippit took a shower I sat on a bench and unbent my fingers. When he came back and got dressed I was well enough to dry my feet.
“Your toes look all right now,” he said.
“Yes. I was going to ask you about that.”
“But what’s the matter with your fingers?”
I said, “Walter. I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s probably just the angle, you know? I mean it isn’t like having the wrong toes or too many feet or something like that, right?”
“Christ. You are huffy today.”
“I just don’t want any more talk about it. Like I’m a freak.”
I bent down for my things and it now turned out I had two shoes, one clomp, and three socks.
Lippit saw this but said nothing. He turned away and coughed into his towel the way anyone might who’d been swimming more than was good for his age.
Chapter 9
We sat in that room over the swimming pool and sent the kid out to bring us some lunch. There had been one call from Folsom. He had called to say he was checking around and that he had everything under control. And there had been no action. Lippit and I sat at the table and I smoked a cigarette. He was tapping his pencil.
“By the clock,” he said, “there should have been something by now.”
“It’s maybe because Folsom scared everyone off. Or because you ripped Benotti’s phone out of his wall.”
Lippit didn’t appreciate that humor and just gave me a look.
