The Scapegoat Read online

however,of people who'd died.

  * * * * *

  Even as he talked, I was carefully sliding my chair back. If I couldreach the phone in the hallway without being noticed, it would befairly simple to get help. But he saw what I was doing and laughed.

  "Edward," he said, "I know you don't believe me, but stick around untilI prove it."

  What happened next almost made me sick to my stomach. His face, whichhad been as wrinkled as a fielder's mitt, all of a sudden took on theappearance of a disturbed reflection in a pool of water. His flesh beganto writhe like a tangled mass of earthworms. Thirty seconds after itbegan, he'd sloughed off thirty years. Even his beard, which had been aswhite as shower-room tiling, became a fierce, dead black.

  I heard Tommy pipe, "Gol_lee_!" and Nan sigh--only it sounded more likea groan. I shook away the dazed feeling and it was immediately replacedby a great excitement.

  "Listen here," I said hoarsely, "this story will set the whole countryon its ear. With my by-line on it!"

  "Oh, Ted," Nan cried, "don't let him take you in! It's a trick.It's--it's mass hypnotism or something."

  "The trouble with you," I said, "is you don't believe even what you seewith your own eyes!"

  The next day, I went to see Jones. We'd decided--Ashe and I--upon acourse of action. The existence of Ashe was to remain a secret, but Iwas to keep my job with the paper at all costs. Then we could sit backand wait for the opportune moment to spill it, a time when we had thebest angle and were positive Ashe wouldn't be labeled a hoax.

  Driving to the plant, I was tense enough to snap. It was not entirelyfrom the unabated heat, either. I didn't like the way Ashe had actedduring the latter part of the evening.

  Naturally I had felt disappointment at not being able to reveal hispresence. But what rankled most was the guy's colossal gall. Okay, soI'm childish, only I just don't like to have someone gobble up my shareof the dessert.

  He'd also borrowed all the cash in the house and then demanded I draw onmy bank account. I quickly discouraged that. But the topper was hisforcing Nan and me to sleep on the couch while he used the bed. He saidhis bruises still hurt, even though they weren't visible.

  * * * * *

  My mood didn't improve when Jones kept me waiting for over an hour.Surprisingly enough, he was in good spirits. As I entered the office, heindicated one of the leather chairs and said with a laugh, "Sit down,Ted. I've got some good news."

  My opinion of him the previous evening obviously hadn't been taken verymuch to heart. Sourly, I told him, "As a publisher, you should know thatgood news is no news."

  The smile left his face. Then, with a visible effort, he forced it back."You have something there, Ted. You certainly have. But point of view isimportant, also. You see, they've arrested a gang of kids forshoplifting. One of them is Tommy, your son."

  I jumped up. "Arrested Tommy!"

  "Now wait, Ted. Don't go off half-cocked. It's a break. Don't you see?You can cover delinquency with the lid off now. You'll be writing as aparent in the same boat with other parents...."

  I could still hear his frantic noises after I'd slammed the door behindme and run the length of the corridor.

  At the police station, I had the distinct feeling they'd been waitingfor me. I knew most of them, especially the big red-headed guy whobeckoned me into a rear office. His name was Thompson--Detective EmanuelThompson. He always looked as if he wore a football uniform under hisdark blue suit. My articles had roasted him plenty. He handled juveniledelinquency cases.

  "Well, Mr. Potter," he greeted me, smiling tightly, "we meet underunfortunate circumstances."

  "Can the phony sympathy," I said. "You're not the type. Just let me seemy boy."

  He used a red-and-blue handkerchief to wipe the dampness from his beefyneck. "I think we'd better have a little talk first."

  "I got no talking to do. This is a lousy frame-up against me and thepaper. Get my son out here and do it fast!"

  * * * * *

  He put the handkerchief away, sighed and reached for the phone.

  It really got me when Tommy came into the room. He'd been crying; hisface was streaked, and he looked scared and forlorn.

  "Son," I said, finding it difficult to keep the rasp out of my voice,"if you've got a hat, put it on and let's go."

  Thompson pulled out his handkerchief again and carefully lowered himselfinto the chair behind the desk. "You don't seem to understand, Mr.Potter. Your boy is in trouble. He's been identified as leading a gangof kids who spent most of the morning shoplifting in stores all overtown."

  "That's bull," I said. "How could my boy do a thing like that? He's onlytwelve. Who identified him, anyway?"

  "The shopkeepers and the other members of the gang."

  * * * * *

  For one awful moment, I felt a great cavity of doubt. "Son," I asked,"what's this all about?"

  Tommy's face creased with fear and tears brimmed his eyes. "It wasAshe," he quavered.

  "Ashe?"

  "Yes. I told him about the gang."

  "Gang?"

  "The Red Skulls."

  "What the heck are you talking about?"

  "Some of the fellows got together and built a hut for a club-house overon the garbage dump. We call ourselves the Red Skulls. I was madeleader. I'm called the Skull Cap."

  "Why haven't I heard about this?"

  "You never asked, Dad. I tried to tell you one night, but you werehurrying to get to that road-house on the turnpike. You said you had abig lead on juvenile delinquency."

  "Well, you certainly didn't try very hard," I said angrily. "What wasthis gang's purpose?"

  "Oh, different things. One of the fellows has a .22 and we hunt rats.Then--"

  "Go on."

  "That's all."

  "You started to say something else."

  He kicked at the floor. "Aw, gee!"

  "Let's have it!"

  "We smoked."

  "Smoked!"

  He nodded.

  "And what else?"

  "That's all. Honest!"

  Thompson said, "What about shoplifting?"

  "No," sniveled Tommy. "That was Ashe. He wanted me to talk the gang intoshoplifting, but I wouldn't. Then he changed himself to look like me andtalked the fellows into it when I wasn't around. I only know about itbecause I ran into them after they'd been in a store...."

  Thompson gave me a funny look. "Who's this Ashe he keeps talking about?"

  I started to tell him. Then I got a sudden mental flash of how idioticit would all sound. "The boy," I said evenly, "is beside himself becauseof all he's been through. It's time to call a halt to this farce. I'mgoing to hire myself some legal talent."

  He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

  Tommy grabbed my arm and cried, "Please don't leave me, Dad!"

  I pulled away from him, feeling as if I'd dropped him off a cliff.

  Right outside the station, I met Nan. She was pale and breathless. Joneshad phoned the news. She wanted to go to Tommy immediately.

  I guided her to the car and pushed her inside. "Listen here," I saidtensely, "for once, don't make a fuss. Just help me find Ashe. He's theone who can free Tommy."

  * * * * *

  She began to laugh. "That's a hot one!" she gasped. "That's really a hotone!"

  I shook her, thinking she was hysterical.

  She stopped laughing and swallowed hard. "Ashe is home."

  "Home?"

  "Blind drunk, with a blonde on his knee."

  I tramped so hard on the accelerator that it must have scraped theground all the way home. Ashe didn't hear me pull up to the housebecause the radio was going full blast. I hit the light switch in thehallway and the brightness flared against the lengthening afternoonshadows, spotting him and the blonde on the living room couch.

  The blonde looked as if she'd come from a burlesque runway. Ashe dumpedher on
the floor and staggered to his feet. He'd changed his appearanceagain. Now he looked a strikingly handsome twenty-five. He came forwardto throw a heavy arm around my shoulder.

  "Glad to see you, Ted," he mouthed. "Ran out of money. Must have more.Small loan...."

  I put both hands on his chest and pushed. He stumbled back and thuddedagainst the wall. "The police have picked up Tommy," I said flatly."He's been