She directed her footsteps to the bus stop at the corner. “Tidewater Road,” she murmured to herself. “Not much to go on, but I’m not going to give up now.”
IX
The One-Eyed Giant
Paradise Avenue, with its imitation brick houses and neat garden plots, might have had some pretensions, but Tidewater Road had none. Here the houses were built of frame, most of them in need of a new coat of paint, many of them badly wanting repairs. Even the streets seemed uncared for. Scraps of old newspapers rustled in the gutters, and the pavement itself was cracked and worn. Looking at its bleak row of buildings, Peggy felt like catching the next train back to the city. Tom Agate couldn’t be living here.
She had to remind herself that she had made a promise as she crossed the street and approached the first house on the block. A child’s tricycle, one wheel twisted awkwardly out of shape, lay on its side across the steps. Peggy picked her way gingerly around it, crossed the porch, and put her finger on the bell. No sound came from the house so she tried knocking.
“Yeah?” came a thin, querulous voice, but inside the house nothing moved.
Peggy stepped back, wondering what to do next. “Excuse me,” she called at last. “I wonder if you could give me some information.”
“We don’t want none,” answered the same voice.
“I’m not selling anything,” Peggy replied. “I just want some help.”
There was a moment’s silence and then the shuffling of feet. A suspicious face appeared at the door and examined Peggy narrowly. It was an older woman, dressed in a worn housecoat with her hair up in pin curls.
“Yeah? Whatcha want?”