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hand for the telephone. She drew her hand back as she realized she had no idea what to say if she got an answer.
    She practiced silently. “Oh, hello. I found this telephone number on the back of a note from a woman. It had been torn out of an address book. And I was trying to locate this woman, and I hoped you could help me.”
    She trailed off. She wished Meat were with her. Meat had a wonderful telephone voice. He could sound like a radio announcer.
    Her mother appeared in the doorway. “I’m out of here,” she said. “Supper’s on the stove.” She paused, seeing the look on Herculeah’s face. She hesitated, then, almost reluctantly, asked, “Problems?”
    Herculeah shook her head and smiled. “No, not really. Nothing serious.”
    Her mother said, “Good. I’m in a hurry. I’ll be late, Herculeah. Don’t wait up.”
    â€œI never do.”
    On an impulse, Herculeah got up and followed her mother to the front door. “Can I ask you something?”
    â€œI’m on my way out.” Her mother turned. “You’ll have to be quick.”
    â€œSuppose you had a phone number, Mom,” Herculeah began in a rush, “and you wanted to find out who lived at that number, how would you do it?”
    â€œWell, I’ve got an old high-school buddy at the phone company. You met him, Frankie Bumgardner. I’ve done a couple of favors for him, he does some for me.”
    â€œI know that, but suppose you didn’t want to bother him—or couldn’t. What would you do? What if you had to have the information right this minute?”
    â€œLet’s see. I’d dial the number and I’d say, ‘Good afternoon, a new phone directory will be issued shortly,’—see, I never lie, Herculeah, they issue phone directories all the time, so one will always be issued shortly—‘and I would like to confirm your listing.’”
    â€œAnd they tell you?”
    â€œNine out of ten times they do. If not, I’d say, ‘Please give me your name and address as you wish it to appear in the directory. Last name first, please.’”
    â€œAnd they tell you.”
    â€œUnless they’ve got something to hide.”
    Herculeah hesitated. She had the feeling that the people with this phone number might really have something to hide. “Thanks, Mom.” Herculeah turned back to the living room and her mother’s desk.
    â€œWhose number are you after?”
    â€œOh, it’s nothing, just a number someone wrote on the back of a note.”
    Her mother hesitated as if she was sifting the information through her mind. Herculeah could see the moment that her mother made the wrong decision not to ask to see the note.
    â€œDon’t you stay up too late.”
    â€œI won’t.”
    Her mother went out the door and Herculeah picked up the phone. She dialed the first number. A mechanical voice answered, “The number you have reached is no longer in service.”
    â€œWell, so much for 882-0085. Now, I’ll try it with a six.”
    Herculeah dialed the second number. It was answered on the third ring.
    A voice said, “You have reached the Poison Control Center. How may I help you?”

10
    MURDER STREET
    â€œMeat, guess what?” Herculeah said as soon as the phone at Meat’s house was answered.
    There was a long, chilly pause that let Herculeah know it was not Meat on the other end of the line.
    â€œThis is Albert’s mother.” Meat’s mom spoke in that disapproving way that Herculeah didn’t care for. “And in my day,” she went on, “it was the boys who telephoned the girls and not the other way around.”
    â€œI’m so glad things aren’t still like that,” Herculeah said with real gratitude, “aren’t you? Is Meat there? I’ve got to talk to him.”
    â€œAlbert is—”
    In the background Herculeah heard