‘It’s Mr. Paston to you,’ said Edgar calmly.
The kid nodded. ‘That’s okay, Mr. Paston. And it’s Mr. McManus to you.’
Edgar adjusted his glasses. ‘Are you going to leave the store now, or do I have to call the cops and get you thrown out?’
McManus chewed, and looked Edgar up and down. ‘Is that the way you talk to all your customers, Mr. Paston? It seems to me that me and my friends, we’re just ordinary, law-abiding customers, and there aint nothing you can do to get us out of here.’
Edgar swallowed. The rest of the gang had now picked themselves up off the floor, and were lounging behind McManus in what they obviously considered were cool and threatening poses. One of them started cleaning his fingernails with a long-bladed knife.
‘You took beer,’ said Edgar quietly. ‘You took beer and you drank it.’
McManus raised his eyebrows. ‘Is there any law says you can’t consume food and drink on the premises, provided you pay for it when you leave?’
‘Yes, there is. Until you’ve paid for it, the stuff belongs to me, and if you drink it, that’s theft. Now, you’ve got ten seconds to get the hell out.’
McManus didn’t move. ‘If you’re saying I’m a thief, Mr. Paston, you’d better call yourself a cop and prove it.’
Edgar looked around the loutish faces of McManus and his gang, and then nodded.
‘Okay,’ he said tightly, and picked up the phone. The gang watched him with remote curiosity.
He spoke to the police, and then laid the phone down again.
‘They said a couple of minutes,’ he announced.
McManus shrugged. ‘Seems to me they take longer every time,’ he said, and his cronies all giggled.
It wasn’t long before they heard the sound of a siren outside, and the crunch of car doors being slammed. Edgar looked towards the front of the store, and saw two police hats bobbing towards him behind one of the rows of shelves. Round the corner by the dog-food came Officer Marowitz, and his partner Officer Trent. They were big, weatherbeaten local patrolmen, and Edgar knew them well.
‘Hi, Mr. Paston,’ said Marowitz. He had a broad, swarthy face and a drooping mustache. ‘Looks like you got Shark trouble.’
‘Wit-ty,’ sneered one of the kids.
Marowitz ignored him. ‘McManus,’ he snapped. ‘Have you been bothering my friend Mr. Paston?’
McManus grinned a foxy grin. ‘Mr. Paston here says I’m a thief. I drank some beer in the store, and he says I stole it. Look, I got my money all ready to pay, and he says I stole it.’
Marowitz sniffed. ‘Do you want to bring a charge, Mr. Paston?’
McManus said, ‘I didn’t steal it, man. The money’s here. I was thirsty, and I opened a couple of cans, that’s all.’
‘You shut your mouth, McManus. Do you want to bring a charge, Mr. Paston?’ Marowitz repeated.
Edgar Paston bit his lip, and then sighed. ‘I guess not. Just get them out of here.’
Marowitz shrugged. ‘It’s up to you, Mr. Paston. If you want to bring a charge, you can do so.’
Edgar shook his head. ‘For a few mouthfuls of beer, it isn’t worth it. But if there’s any more trouble, McManus, I know your face and I’m going to have the law on your tail so fast you won’t know what’s hit you.’
McManus grinned, and saluted. ‘Jawohl, mein Führer,’ he mocked.
Marowitz closed his notebook. ‘All right, you guys – scram. Next time you won’t be so lucky.’
Giggling and larking about, McManus and his gang shuffled out of the store, and then amused themselves for a few minutes by pressing their faces against the glass of the window, pulling grotesque faces.
‘They’re only kids,’ said Marowitz. ‘Weren’t you the same when you were a kid, Mr. Paston?’
Edgar looked up at him. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘I wasn’t.’
Marowitz grinned. ‘Well, don’t you worry. Different strokes for different folks. You have to remember these kids have got nothing to do in the evening around here. There’s no dance halls, no movies, and most of them are banned from the hamburger joints. It’s natural they’re going to raise a little hell.’
Edgar picked up the beer-cans that were strewn on the floor, and went to fetch a damp cloth to wipe up the mess.
‘You wouldn’t happen to have one of those cans of beer going spare, would you?’ Marowitz asked.
Edgar stared at him. Marowitz said, grinning, ‘It gets kind of dry, patroling around all evening.’
Edgar reached into the refrigerator and took out a six-pack of Old Milwaukee. He handed it over, and said flatly, ‘That’s one dollar and eighty-five cents. You can pay at the desk.’
Marowitz took the pack without a word. He muttered to Trent, ‘Come on, we got more friendly places to visit,’ and walked out. Just by the cash desk, he banged his money down in front of Gerry, and called out loudly, ‘Support your local police department!’
Edgar watched them drive away, and then went out into the car park to fetch the rest of his canned peaches. The night was growing cooler now, and there was a soft wind from the east. A couple of trucks bellowed past on their way to Jersey City, and one or two cars, but mostly the roads were empty and silent.
He didn’t realize what had happened at first. But when he reached into the back of the car, he noticed how low down it seemed to be. He frowned, and looked around the side. All four tires had been slashed into black ribbons, and the Mercury was resting on its wheel hubs.
Edgar stood there for a while, feeling utter frustration and despair. Then he slammed the tailgate angrily shut, locked it, and walked back to the supermarket.
Gerry was just counting up the day’s takings. ‘What’s wrong, Mr. Paston?’ he asked.
‘Someone slashed my tires. I’ll have to take the pick-up. Let’s get this place closed down for the night, and leave it at that.’
‘Do you think it was Shark McManus?’
‘Is that what they call him? Shark?’
‘I guess it was after Jaws. He’s a kind of
