1 result for (book:tps7 AND heading:"the fred conyer stori sunday octob 17 1982" AND stemmed:was)
16/28 (57%)
Fred
police
Denver
coat
Pittsburgh
Displaying only most relevant fragments—original results reproduced too much of the copyrighted work.
[...] The latter was an expensive anthology. [...] Fred also handed me a thick, neatly tied package of brown paper and yellow string—The Christ Book, he said, which was for Jane and me, and for Prentice-Hall. I didn’t open it, and still haven’t. When I asked him where he was really from, he said Denver, and that his address was inside the package. [...] Nor was I quick-witted enough to ask if he had a family, if anyone knew where he was, or what he did for a living—if he worked, or could—or how he found our house in the first place. I wondered if he was schizophrenic. [...]
[...] It was just that no matter what one said to him, he replied in the same reasonable, well-spoken, well-mannered tone of voice, which was quite pleasant. It was only after listening to him for a bit that one came to realize that something was amiss here, that Fred lived in his own world, which was a mixture of fact and fantasy. [...]
[...] The afternoon was cold. [...] I didn’t realize that when Fred’s Seth told me Fred was getting cold, he really meant it. I couldn’t believe what was happening, and was already wondering what to do to get out of the situation. [...]
[...] When I looked out on the back porch Fred was gone. The door was half open. [...] I still wanted to know what he was going to do when he’d left here. [...]
[...] I woke up hearing her voice as she called out to someone who was evidently at the back screen door, which I’d locked as usual. [...] As soon as I opened the kitchen door I saw I was wrong. [...]
[...] The whole script was written in just the way Fred talks. [...] He nodded sympathetically when I told him Jane was quite ill and couldn’t see anybody. [...]
“But—” The situation he presented was so extreme that I was at a loss for words. [...]
By now I was shivering also. I think the temperature was around 45 degrees. [...]
I was just going back in after the hot drink when the dark-colored police car pulled up Holley Road and turned into the driveway. [...] He was a youngish man with a mustache. [...]
“We’ll take him to the Salvation Army,” the young officer said, after joking with Fred about what a long walk it was from the airport. [...] But their reaction was quick enough once I explained the situation to them. [...]