“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.”

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.”

“See if I can get him to spill the beans?”

“What do you think?”

“How would I approach him?”

“He still loves you, tell him you’re sorry for the way you walked out, not saying anything, not giving him a reason. You were just a kid, still immature.”

“Do I have to kiss him if he wants to?”

“I think once you two’re alone you’ll know what to say. Keep talking, it’ll come to you.”

“Where does this take place, in his meat market?”

“Find out when he’s out here and drop in. You don’t have to ask him for a date.” Carl stared at his headlight beams on the country road. “We can have supper if you want. Get hold of Kevin, see what he’s doing.”

Honey said, “Are you afraid to be alone with me?”

He looked over. She was taking a cigarette from the pack. “You want me to come right out and tell you?”

She said, “Of course,” and flicked her lighter.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, you and I start keepin’ company.”

She snapped the lighter shut and drew on her cigarette before saying, “If that’s how you feel, okay, let’s call Kevin.”

It was quiet in the car for a couple of minutes, Honey waiting for Carl to say something. It was his turn.

He surprised her.

“When you told Walter we met on a train-”

“I thought of it as I said it.”

“You ever meet somebody on a train?”

“I sat in the club car on the way to New York, for the Bund rally. Walter stayed in our seat to take a nap. He can sleep sitting straight up, like he’s at attention. I had a cocktail and began thinking of myself as a mystery woman, the guys in the club car wondering who I am. I’m wearing sunglasses and a nifty cloche down on my eyes, I must be somebody. A couple of different guys offer to buy me a drink, I say no thank you. I’m reading Newsweek. Finally a guy sits down next to me I think is interesting. He’s in his forties, not bad-looking. He’s wearing an expensive pinstriped suit. He tells me he’s a real estate investor in New York City, and for the next couple of hours he buys me cocktails, whiskey sours in the afternoon, while he guesses what I do and why I’m going to New York.”

“Did you tell him?”

“He wanted to see me. I told him to stop by the German-American Bund rally at the Garden, he’d get to hear Fritz Kuhn talk about Jews and Communists.”

“The real estate guy’s Jewish?”

“Yes, he is. So then I had to tell him about Walter and the reason I married him.”

“What’d he say to that?”

“He still wanted to meet me, so we did. We met for a drink and talked. He wanted me to leave Walter and stay with him in New York.”

“He’s married?”

“Divorced.”

“You trusted him?”

“He said I woke him up. Made him feel alive again.”

“I imagine so,” Carl said and waited while Honey took her time.

“I went back to the Garden to see Walter sieg heiling Fritz Kuhn and I thought, What’s wrong with me? Outside of being young and dumb.”

They were quiet again.

She said, “You know Kevin’s had his supper by now.”

Carl said most likely, his eyes on the road.

“Are you taking me to supper or dropping me off home?”

“We’ll stop somewhere.”

“I ask since you don’t care to have fun with women other than your wife.”

“If I can help it,” Carl said.