The Truth of the Matter Read Online Free Page A

you recognized me so easy.”
    “Probably.” Ingrahm sipped his drink, smiling around the rim of the glass.
    Ingrahm would be about forty-seven now, Roebuck thought, and Gipp about the same age. Both men a bit older than himself.
    They made the usual small talk for a while, recalled the mutual memories, and then the mutual memories seemed to run out. There was a pause.
    “We went by where you work,” Gipp said.
    “My wife told me.”
    “They didn’t know who we meant when we asked for you,” Ingrahm said. “They had you mixed up with some kind of war hero or something.”
    There was a cold feeling in the pit of Roebuck’s stomach, and he suddenly realized how much he’d always hated Ingrahm. He cleared his throat. “You fellas didn’t see any action, did you?”
    “The war was almost over,” Ingrahm said. “The story of my life. The Kid here got in on the Battle of the Bulge, though. Transferred out of the company and won himself a Silver Star, not to mention two Purple Hearts.”
    “That’s right,” Roebuck said. “You mentioned that in Little Rock.”
    Gipp was looking neither embarrassed nor proud as he lifted his glass to his lips.
    “What was your heroic act?” Roebuck asked.
    “Surviving,” Gipp answered flatly.
    “Ah, modesty,” Ingrahm said. “The Kid got mad over there and killed four Germans in a machine gun nest all by himself, then he took over the machine gun and he and a German tank had a run-in.”
    “You won, I take it,” Roebuck said, wishing immediately that the envy and admiration hadn’t sounded in his voice.
    “I delayed the tank long enough for a bazooka team to knock it out,” Gipp said.
    “Where’d you go after you got your medical discharge?” Ingrahm asked.
    “Back to school for a while,” Roebuck said. “Studied advertising. I held several interesting jobs.”
    “You must have a good job now.” Ingrahm searched his pockets for cigarettes, found them. Gipp lit one for him with a silver lighter. “We talked for a long time with that office manager…” He looked thoughtful. “What’s his name?”
    “George King?”
    “That’s it! He told us a lot about you when he found out we were old army buddies.”
    And I’ll bet you told him a pack of lies about me, Roebuck thought, taking a long swallow from his glass. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “I quit that job today. Had my mind made up for a long time.”
    Ingrahm looked surprised. “How come?”
    Roebuck shrugged. “Greener pastures. I’ve had a position offered me in the advertising department of General Motors.”
    “That’s great.”
    “What’s this business you guys have got going?” Roebuck asked, to change the subject.
    “Construction supply,” Gipp said. “We sell supplies to individual homeowners as well as subcontractors.”
    “Sounds profitable.”
    “It’s growing,” Ingrahm said. “Almost more than the Kid and I can keep up with.” Ingrahm and Gipp exchanged glances and Gipp flashed his antiseptic smile.
    Roebuck felt a strange current in the air, the old resentment, as if he were an intruder. He wondered why they had bothered to call him. There was something compulsive, something sadistic in Ingrahm’s personality. And as for himself, Roebuck, did he secretly enjoy Ingrahm’s verbal lashings? Why had he bothered to come here if he didn’t?
    “I wish we had time to meet the wife,” Ingrahm said. “She sounded nice on the phone.” There was a special emphasis on the word “nice.”
    Roebuck felt the hate for Ingrahm spreading in him as he sat calmly sipping his drink. “To tell you the truth,” he said casually, “we’re separated.”
    “A shame,” Ingrahm said, and Gipp nodded agreement.
    Roebuck made a futile gesture with his hands. “We weren’t getting along; I wasn’t home enough; she was jealous….”
    “Anything we can do to help?” Ingrahm asked. “Money or something?”
    “No,” Roebuck said quickly, “I’m doing all right.” He felt the