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said.
    “Is that why Lippit’s not here?”
    I didn’t like Folsom. I thought he was more like a strike breaker than a union man. He did mostly what Lippit told him to do, which amounted to keeping the wages steady and keeping free-lance labor away from Lippit’s territorial interest, but I got the feeling that Folsom might like more. Such as not being a salary man. Such as getting cuts out of union dues or a slice out of juke machine operators. In a way Folsom might well be what Lippit had been, let’s say ten, fifteen years ago, though there was a point where Lippit had stopped. I did not think Folsom would stop.
    He said, “I don’t know about you, Mister St. Louis, but Mister Lippit thought that what I have to say was important. Important enough for him to show up and take action. I knew, of course, that he was having this little party of his, some private party, as I understood, however I felt….”
    “All right, all right,” I said, since he had made his point; that he was on the ball twenty-four hours, no matter how much anyone else might be goofing—including the boss. And that he knew he had not been invited, though this did not impair his high feelings of duty and loyalty. Correct, nice, and spiteful, that Folsom.
    “What is your bad news, Folsom, that you should get such a charge out of it?” I asked him.
    “Well, Mister St. Louis, I don’t know how you look upon it, but my boys, they don’t like it one bit. Not one bit, Mister St. Louis. And Mister Lippit agreed with me. He doesn’t like it one bit.”
    “What?”
    “Look at Kramer, please.”
    I looked at the one he called Kramer and the man had a black eye. He was big and hefty but he had a black eye.
    “And Balowski here, they broke the windows in his truck. And Epsen, they threw his tools all over the street and kicked him right there. Show him, Epsen.” But Epsen didn’t want to get up.
    I said, “When did all this happen?”
    “Today. And my boys and me, we don’t like it.”
    I didn’t like it either. I looked at the lawyer and he nodded. “Benotti started this all at once, looks like. First I heard of it, anyway.”
    I had thought that Benotti had just been scaring the jukebox operators, an easy mark like Morry perhaps, and a little guy like Louie.
    “In other words,” said the lawyer, “there’s more organization behind this than we thought till now.”
    “Or maybe Benotti is stupid,” I said.
    “No. More like, he’s bigger than we thought.”
    “And Mister Lippit,” said Folsom, “is of that same opinion, once I talked to him.”
    I just nodded. The picture was getting worrisome.
    “And I just hope,” said Folsom, “Mister Lippit is doing the right thing. I know he’s going to take care of this thing but I hope he’s doing it right.”
    “What he means,” said the lawyer, “we had this argument here. Folsom….”
    “Fight fire with fire,” said Folsom, as if he had a big audience.
    “Yeah,” said the lawyer. “Anyway, Lippit wants to first try it nice. Talk things over.”
    “Where is he?”
    “I just gave you the address. You should join him.”
    I looked at the slip and saw that Lippit had gone to Benotti’s. To try it nice and talk things over.
    “Christawmighty,” I said, and then I left right away.
    There weren’t so many children out on Benotti’s street any more and the lawn sprinkling was over, but there were people sitting on most of the porches. They sat and smoked or they talked in the dark. There was nobody on Benotti’s porch.
    I didn’t see Lippit’s car and had the quick, useless thought that maybe he hadn’t come after all. Then I parked a little ways down, walked back, and went up Benotti’s drive. Maybe they would all be sitting in the kitchen again.
    The kitchen was lit but empty. Then I heard the heavy thunks in the back of the house, which had to be Lippit walking. He had a very hard footfall when in a certain mood. He came down the hall, then into the kitchen, and when