CHAPTER EIGHT
"Mrs. Minor?"
"Yes," Connie replied into the telephone receiver.
"This is Alan. Listen, remember the thing we talked about doing?" Connie's knees went weak.
"Of course I remember, Alan. What time tonight?"
"Well, that's why I called. Most of the guys have other dates for tonight. But they can all come tomorrow night."
Shelby usually got home between ten and eleven.
"All right, Alan, but we'll have to be finished by eight-thirty or nine. My husband comes home."
"Swell," the boy replied. Then he gave Connie directions. . .
Audrey Potter went to the door of her mobile home and signalled to Alan, who was mowing her lawn.
"Why don't you come in for a Coke? It's as hot as seven blazes out here."
"Don't mind if I do," the boy said. He was wearing only cut-off jeans, and h
