Locomotive to the Past George Schultz (top 10 books to read TXT) 📖

did they arrive with the requested means of conveyance—but, also with groceries galore! Valerie asked if they’d bought out the A&P store. Eric replied—smiling broadly—that it had “only seemed that way”. Susan, then, accused her spouse, of “stealing Jason’s weird vernacular”.

A significant bonus: Eric volunteered to teach Valerie how to drive! Not only that—but, In his gorgeous Nash! And on the very next day! Which was Sunday!

“This whole thing is… well, it’s incredible,” the young woman had sniffed—a tear or two escaping, from each eye—as she’d, profusely, thanked the visitors. “I mean, listen… the incredible unselfishness . . . that you’ve shown us! That you’ve always shown us! The love! The out-and-out love! The devotion! I’ve never known . . . known such… such friendship! Such love! Not in my whole life! Nothing even close!” It was at that point, that she almost broke down!

“Well,” responded Susan, “we love Jason! But, we also love you! You’re a, beautifully-sweet, young lady! Jason has good taste . . . in selecting brides! Really good taste!”

“No better than you have,” acknowledged Jason, also-tearfully. “No better than you! No one better… than you!”

“Well,” observed Eric, “Valerie? Valerie, I imagine you’ll have to quit your job… at Wards . . . to take care, of our lovable little invalid here. Look! If it gets a little bit tight . . . financially, y’know… please, let us know. There’s always an extra buck or two… in Susie’s undies… and…”

“You stay out of my undies,” admonished his wife—laughing heartily.

“Oh… good Lord! I’ve been cut off!” His remark made Susan’s guffaw disappear. But, after a brief second or two, it was hastily replaced—with a tender, tolerant, smile. Plus a loud smack, on his bottom.

“I can’t believe the insurance,” said Jason—changing the subject. “The hospital… they even gave me a set of crutches, for goodness sake! I’m sure the insurance company… that it’s picking up the tab.”

“Picking up the tab?” Susan continued to be newly-surprised, by her former roomer’s vernacular.

“He’s just excited, y’know,” explained Valerie.

“More like overwhelmed,” corrected her husband. “I just can’t believe the benefits! The insurance benefits, I mean! I’d never even thought . . . when you’d offered me the job… about hospitalization. About, really, anything!”

“There’s also a thousand-dollar death benefit,” informed Eric. “There haven’t been that many benefits… for that long! Not hardly… ever . . . actually! But, you know… with the manpower shortage really taking hold… management, I guess, they figured they’d better do something! Something… to hold on, to whoever they’ve got. Whom-ever they’ve got.”

“I… I can’t believe that I’m this lucky! Life insurance, too!”

“I really should’ve mentioned it to you, before,” his former landlord responded. “The package only took place, on April fifteenth… and they haven’t been able to circulate the written notification yet. Labor shortage. In the front office, too. Just like anywhere else… y’know.”

“Well, I’m most grateful,” rasped Jason.

Eric nodded, quite moved—and replied, “Our pleasure. Me… and the company.” Then, his countenance took on—a more serious tenor. “Look, he said, “speaking of the company, we’ll be glad to have you back. But, not before you’re ready. In the meantime, if I were you, I’d give some serious thought . . . and as much effort as possible… to launching your fabulous new radio career.”

“He will,” assured Valerie. “He… most assuredly… will!”

At 10:35PM, on that very night, a green 1941 Lincoln Zephyr turned off, of east-bound West Chicago—southbound, onto a side street. Prairie Street was four blocks west, of Livernois (aka “Used Car Row”. Remember Hodges For Dodges?)

This was a neighborhood which was—for miles—composed, of wooden, frame, two-story, homes. Houses that had been built—in the late-19th century and/or early-20th century. Virtually all of them consisted of three bedrooms—as well as the lone bathroom—on the upper floor. Street floors—almost invariably—were made up of large living rooms and dining rooms. Kitchens were of moderate size, most usually. Hardly any of these, classic-for-the-times, homes had featured a driveway. Most did have garages—located across, rather-large, backyards. All of which had to be entered—from the ever-present, paved, alleyway.

The Lincoln pulled in, to the deserted alley—between Prairie and Burnett Streets—and approached the, dark-brown, frame house, halfway up the block. The driver got out of the car, and ambled his way—unsteadily—the alcoholic result, of an evening’s entertainment, at his favorite bar, located close by Ted’s Bar B-Q. He managed to stagger, to the garage doors. Virtually all such buildings, in that neighborhood, had sported double-doors—each of which swung open, to the side.

After struggling to open his set of heavy doors, the man stumbled his way back to his automobile! He eased the Zephyr, into the garage—scraping the right side of the car, slightly, against the unyielding opening! Uttering an unprintable oath, he managed to negotiate his unit—the rest of the short way, inside.

He managed to step out! At that point, the interior lights blazed alive! Temporarily blinded, by the sudden, unexpected, brilliant, illumination, he was, at long last, able to focus!

His vision cleared, at the same moment that the intruder—who’d flipped the light switch on, and had moved, swiftly, past the front end of the car—was standing directly, in front of him! Standing directly, in front of him—holding a .38 caliber Police Special revolver! The weapon was pointed directly at the Lincoln’s owner! Aimed—between his eyes, at first! Then, the barrel was, ever-so-slowly, lowered!

Before the inebriated garage owner could react, the gun fired! One bullet! Two bullets! Three bullets! All of them crashed—into his chest!

He faltered—backward—and, immediately, dropped to the dirt-scarred cement floor! It is unknown, whether he could still have been alive, when the assassin bent down, over him! Then, he launched the fourth bullet—directly, into the Lincoln owner’s forehead!

The interloper straightened up—and stepped over the corpse! He walked out—into the alley! Being careful, to close the garage doors—firmly—he hurried down, to the end of the block—exiting onto Dover Street!

He then got into his green, 1938 Buick four-door sedan—and, headlights off, drove away!

Valerie held true to her promise! To see to it—that Jason would devote all his energies, to “cracking into the radio game”. She’d meant “all”, of his energies! They’d spent the entire day, Sunday—except