The Mailman

Doug was putting away the last of the breakfast dishes, and he glanced at his watch asHobie headed toward the kitchen. 'It's only eight-thirty.'

'Yeah, well, the meeting starts at ten, and I figured we should get there ahead of time and discuss things, plan what we're going to say. I tried to call yesterday after I finished at the pool, but a voice kept saying your line had been disconnected.'

Doug shook his head. 'Someone forged a letter from me and sent it to the telephone company, telling them I was moving and wanted my phone service stopped.'

Hobielaughed. 'Really?'

'They sent a letter to the department of water and power, telling them to cut off my water and electricity too.'

Hobie'ssmile faded. 'That's a little more serious. One letter might be a joke, but two . . .' He shook his head. 'Who do you figure it was?'

The mailman, Doug wanted to say, but he shrugged instead.

'You think it was a student? Who did you flunk this year?'

'No one. Besides, I don't think I had any students who hated me this time.

The closest I can figure is Duke Johnson, but even he didn't dislike me that much.'

'And even if he did, he wouldn't be smart enough to think up something like this.'

'Exactly.'

'Did you call the cops?'

'I told them everything and gave them copies of the letter, but they said there wasn't a whole hell of a lot they could do.'

Hobiesnorted. 'What else is new?'

Doug wiped the counter and hung up the dishtowel. 'You want to head over there now?'

'Yeah. I called Mark Pettigrew, and he's going to meet us there. I tried calling the coach and Donovan, but neither of them was home. I think they're on vacation. I heard Donovan say something about going up to Durango.'

'All right, let's get it over with, then.' Doug stepped into the hall and knocked on the bathroom door. 'Hobie'shere. I'm going.'

'Okay,' Tritia said through the closed door. 'Good luck. I hope you get your books.'

'I'm not holding my breath.' He returned through the kitchen into the living room.Hobie opened the screen door and stepped outside. Doug turned to his son, still on the couch. 'I'll be back around lunch. Mind your mother.'

'I always do.'

Doug laughed. 'That'll be the day.' He followedHobie onto the porch and the two of them walked out to the auto teacher's truck.

'Speaking of water and electricity, I didn't get my utilities bill this month,'Hobie said.

'We haven't gotten any bills at all.'

'Come to think of it, I haven't either.Ain't that weird? I shouldn't say anything bad about this new guy -- I mean, he's just getting started, just learning the ropes and all -- but I think he's losing a lot of mail. I usually get a ton of mail every day. Lately, though, I've been getting two or three letters at the most, some days nothing at all.'

Doug climbed into the cab and slammed the door, digging his safety belt out of the crack of the seat. 'Bills and junk mail, right? You're missing bills and junk mail.'

'Yeah.'Hobie seemed surprised. 'You too, huh? Maybe I should go in and talk to Crowell and bitch about this, find out what's going on.' He started the truck and backed up the drive, swinging around on the road.

They took off, a spray of gravel shooting up behind them. Doug held on to the dashboard with one hand for support. Although he taught driver'sed ,Hobie himself was a scary driver and Doug needed as much reassurance as possible whenever he went someplace in his friend's truck.

As they drove through the trees toward town, he toldHobie of their picnic at the creek, of the dumped and scattered letters. He reported the facts objectively. He didn't come out and say that he thought the mailman had been stealing and dumping mail, that he thought the mailman had sent the fake letters to the telephone company and department of water and power, but the implication was unmistakable. The other teacher's face became more serious and more set as he spoke.

Hobiewas silent as they drove past the trailer park and turned left onto the highway. 'There's a lot of weird things going on,' he said finally. 'A lot of weird things.'

Doug asked him what he meant, if he had experienced anything unusual connected with the mail, but he frowned and shook his head and refused to answer, and they were both silent as they drove through town toward the school.

Willis High was separated from the town proper by an especially large stand of oaks and acacias and ponderosas, and was located next to the Edward G.

Willis Memorial Park. The football field had been constructed at one end of a natural meadow, and the pool, which was shared jointly by the school and the park, was located at the opposite end.

There was a crowd at the school when they arrived, a large group of people standing near the open door of the gym. In the faculty parking lot were two police cars and an ambulance, lights flashing, although neither Doug norHobie had heard a siren all morning. Doug glanced over at his friend, then out the window at the scene before them. A strange feeling had come over him. He was at once surprised and not surprised, tense and numb, as he looked at the crowd. He knew this was going to be bad.

'Something happened,' he said simply.

Hobiepulled the truck under a tree for shade, and they got out, hurrying across the dirt to the gym. Several other teachers were there, as well as nearby residents and one of theschoolboard members.

Doug walked up to Jim Maxwell, who taught ninth-grade social studies.

'What is it?'

'Bernie Rogers hung himself in the gym.'

Doug looked atHobie , shocked, feeling as if someone had just kicked him in the stomach. He did not know what he' had been expecting, but it had not been this. A senior who had graduated with honors, Bernie Rogers had been one of those rare students who was into both academics and athletics. The basketball team's star forward, he had scored in the top 10 percent nationally on his SATs and was the only senior this year to have passed the Advanced Placement tests for both history and English. He was also the only student Doug could remember who had taken both his American Literature class andHobie's Advanced Auto, and had excelled in each.

'Lemmesee,'Hobie said, pushing his way through the crowd toward the door. Doug followed, jostling past people until he was through the door and inside the gym.

Bernie was naked, his body bluish and bloated, blackened blood dripping in uneven rivulets from where the rope had cut into his neck. It looked as though he had been there for several days. Below him on the smooth wood of the gym floor was a puddle of hardened urine and feces, some of which had run down the inside of his thighs and now hung like stalactites from his feet. The boy's eyes were wide open and staring, focused on nothing, surprisingly white against his darkened skin.

Doug felt sick to his stomach, but he could not look away. A note was pinned onto Bernie's chest, the pins shoved deep into his skin, dried blood dripping down the page in a jagged wave, obscuring whatever words had been written. The boy had obviously put the noose around his neck and leapt from the top of the closed bleachers, and Doug found himself staring into the rafters high above, wondering how Bernie could have possibly tied the end of the rope up there without the aid of a ladder. Two policemen, a photographer, and a medical examiner stood off to the side of the gently swinging body in a tight group, talking among themselves. Two ambulance attendants stood next to the far wall, waiting. Another policeman kept the crowd from getting too close.

'Jesus,'Hobie breathed. The usual bravado, aggressiveness, was gone from his voice, and his face was bleached, pale. He stepped aside as two other policemen, one carrying long-handled shears, the other a retractable stepladder, pressed through the gym door behind him. 'I knew Bernie,' he said. 'He was a good kid.'

Doug nodded. He watched silently as the policemen set up the ladder and cut down the body. Apparently, the photographer had taken his pictures before they'd gotten there. Bernie's form was stiff, unmoving, legs and arms still frozen in the position in which they'd been hanging, but the men laid him down as carefully as they could on the