Overload

"You think that explains epidemics like we’ve seen today?"

"It’s some pieces in the puzzle."

"And the rest?"

"Some of its crooked tradesmen-the ones I really want to catch. They put the word around that they’ll do the meter fixing-at a price. It all sounds easy, and people go along."

Nim said doubtfully, "That still doesn’t explain that last place. The wealthy doctor-an orthopedic surgeon, one of the highest paid specialties. And you saw his wife, the house. Why?"

"I’ll tell you something I learned as a cop," London said. "Don’t let appearances fool you. Plenty of people with big incomes and flashy houses are deep in debt, struggling to stay afloat, to save a buck wherever they can, and not too fussy about bow. I’ll bet the same thing’s true of this whole place, Brookside. And look at it this way: Not so long ago utility bills didn’t amount to much; but now bills are big and getting bigger, so some who wouldn’t cheat before, because it wasn’t worth it, have changed their minds. The stakes are higher; they’ll take the risk."

Nim nodded agreement, adding, "And most public utilities are so huge and impersonal, people don’t equate theft of power with other kinds of stealing. They’re not as critical-the way they would be about burglary or purse snatching."

"I’ve done a lot of thinking about that part of it. I believe the whole thing’s bigger." London stopped the car while waiting for a traffic light to change. When they were moving again he continued, “The way I see it, most people have decided the system stinks because our politicians are corrupt, in one way or another, so why should ordinary Joes punish themselves by always being honest? Okay, they say, one bunch got flushed out with Watergate, but the new people, who were so damned righteous before they got elected, are doing the same crooked things political payoffs and worse-now that they’re in power."

"That’s a pretty depressing viewpoint."

"Sure it is," London said. "But it explains a lot that’s happening, and not just what we’ve seen today. I mean the crime explosion, all the way from big crime down to petty larceny. And I’ll tell you something else: there are days-this is one-when I wish I was back in the Marines where everything seemed simpler and cleaner."

"It wouldn’t now."

London sighed. "Maybe."

"You and your people did a good job today," Nim said.

"We’re in a war." Harry London pushed aside his seriousness and grinned.

"Tell your boss-the commander-in-chief-we won a skirmish, and we’ll win him some more."

9

"At the risk of inflating your ego," Ruth Goldman said across the breakfast table, "I’ll tell you you were pretty good on TV last night. More coffee?"

"Yes, please." Nim passed his cup. "And thanks."

Ruth lifted the percolator and poured; as always, her movements were easy’

graceful and efficient. She had on an emerald green housecoat in vivid contrast to her neatly combed black hair, and her small, firm breasts were attractively visible as she leaned forward; when Nim and Ruth were courting he had referred to them fondly as "half-pint specials." At this moment her face had the merest trace of makeup, exactly the right amount, complementing a milk-and-roses complexion. No matter how early it was, Ruth always looked naturally impeccable. Nim, who had seen many other women in their morning-after shambles supposed he should be grateful.

It was Wednesday. Almost a week had passed since D-day at Brookside. Because he had been unusually tired-a result of long work hours and pressure over several weeks, culminating in last evening’s session in a hot TV studio under lights-Nim had slept late this morning-late. Leah and Benjy had left for an all-day recreation program before he came down, and now he was having a leisurely breakfast with Ruth, something which happened rarely. Nim had already telephoned his office to say he would not be at work until midmorning.

"Leah staved up to watch the Good Evening Show," Ruth said. "Benjy wanted to, but fell asleep. Children aren’t apt to say so, but they’re both quite proud of you, you know. In fact they idolize you. Whatever you say, it’s as if it came from God."

"I like this coffee," Nim said. "Is it a new brand?"

Ruth shook her bead. "It’s because you’re not drinking it on the run. Did you hear what I said about Leah and Benjy?"

"Yes, and I was thinking about it. I’m proud of the kids too." He chuckled.

"Is this my day for compliments?"

"If you’re wondering if I want something from you, I don’t. Except I’d like us to have breakfast this way more often."

He said, "I’ll work on it." He wondered if Ruth was being especially agreeable because, like himself, she sensed the gap which had been growing between them of late-the gap created by his own indifference and, more recently, by Ruth’s mysterious pursuit of some private interest, whatever that might be. Nim tried to remember, but couldn’t, when they had last made love. Why was it, he speculated, that a mail could lose sexual interest in his own attractive wife, yet desire other women? He supposed the answer was familiarity, along with an urge for fresh territory, new conquests. Just the same, be thought guiltily, he should do something about sex with Ruth. Perhaps tonight.

“There were a couple of times on that TV show when you looked angry, ready to blow," she said.

"But I didn’t. I remembered the stupid rules." It wasn’t necessary to explain the management committee’s "moderate line" decision. He had told Ruth about it the same day it happened and she was sympathetic.

"Birdsong was baiting you, wasn’t be?"

“The son-of-a-bitch tried." Nim scowled, remembering. "It didn’t work."

Davey Birdsong, who headed an activist consumer group called 11power & light for people," had been on the TV talk show too. Birdsong had made caustic comments about Golden State Power & Light, ascribing the basest motives to everything the company did. He had implied that Nim’s personal objectives were no better. He also attacked GSP & L’s latest application for an increase in rates, on which a decision was due soon. Despite all these provocations, Nim had kept his cool, reluctantly staying within the guidelines he had been given.

"This morning’s Chronicle says Birdsong’s group, as well as the Sequoia Club, will oppose the plan to develop Tunipah."

"Let me see."

She passed the paper. "It’s on page seven."

That was something else about Ruth. Somehow she managed to stay a jump ahead of most others in keeping herself informed. It was characteristic that, as well as preparing breakfast, she had already been through the Chronicle-West. Nim riffled pages and found the item. It was brief and told him no more than Ruth had done already. But it gave him the idea for a course of action which made him impatient to be at his desk. He gulped the rest of his coffee and stood up.

"Will you be home for dinner tonight?"

"I’ll try to be." As Ruth smiled gently, he remembered how many times he had said the same thing, then for some reason failed to show. Irrationally, as he had in his car the evening be had gone to Ardythe’s, he wished that once in a while Ruth would be less patient. He asked her, "Why don’t you blow up occasionally? Get mad?"

"Would it make any difference?"

He shrugged, not knowing what to make of her response, nor how to answer.

"Oh, there is one thing. Mother phoned yesterday. She and Dad would like us to go over for dinner a week from Friday and take Leah and Benjy."

Inwardly Nim groaned. Going to the home of the Neubergers, Ruth’s parents, was like entering a synagogue; they proclaimed their Jewishness in myriad ways. The food was always announced pointedly as kosher; there were reminders that the Neubergers kept two separate sets of utensils and crockery, one each for flesh and dairy food. There would be a prayer over bread and wine before dinner as well as a ceremony over washing hands. After dinner would be solemn prayers which the Neubergers, in Eastern European tradition, referred to as "benching." If there were meat at table, Leah and Benjy would not be permitted to drink milk, as they liked to do at home. Then there would be the not-so-subtle pressures, the wondering aloud why Nim and Ruth failed to observe the Sabbath and holy days; glowing descriptions of bar mitzvahs the Neubergers had attended, along with the implication that, of course, Benjy would attend a Hebrew school so his bar mitzvah would take place when he reached thirteen. And later at home, because the children were the ages they were, and curious, there would be questions for Nim to answer, questions he wasn’t ready for because of the ambivalence within himself.