“Alex Delaware.”
“Good to meet you, Alex. You’re a psychologist? Psychiatrist?”
“Psychologist.”
“From the School Board?”
Before I could answer, Linda said, “Dr. Delaware’s a private practitioner recommended by the police. He’s a specialist in childhood stress.”
Latch’s blue eyes focused behind his welfare specs. “Well, all power to you, and thanks for coming down on such short notice, Alex. It’s been a horror- unbelievable. Thank God it turned out the way it did.” He glanced back at his staffers, got nods from some of them. “What’s your game plan- vis-a-vis the kids?”
I gave him a brief rehash of what I’d told Linda.
He took a moment to digest it. “Sounds right on target,” he said. “I was involved in your field once upon a time- majored in psych up at Berkeley. Crisis counseling, community mental health, primary and secondary prevention. We had a place in Oakland. Trying to integrate mental patients back into the community. Back in the good old days when humanism wasn’t a dirty word.”
“So I’ve heard.” As had anyone who read the papers.
“Different times,” he said, sighing. “Gentler and kinder. What happened today just underscores how far we’ve drifted. Damn, what a tragedy!”
Linda said, “What can you tell us about the sniper, Councilman Latch?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. We don’t know much ourselves. The police have been awfully close-mouthed, as is their wont.”
She said, “Mr. Ahlward would know something. If he feels up to it, perhaps he could educate us.”
Latch looked over his shoulder again. “Bud? C’mere, please.”
The red-haired man raised pinkish eyebrows and stepped forward. He wore a brown suit, white shirt, solid brown knit tie, had the kind of overdeveloped upper body that makes custom tailoring a necessity. This suit was off the rack and hung on him like a tarp. His hands dangled loosely at his sides, big, pale, fuzzed with copper. His hair was tightly curled and he wore it close to his head. He had a fleshy, jutting jaw and lazy amber eyes that remained fixed on his boss.
“Councilman?” Up close he smelled of cigarette smoke.
“Bud, these good people want to know about the sniper. What can you tell them?”
“Nothing yet,” said Ahlward. He had a soft, boyish voice. “Sorry. Cops’ orders.” He zipped a finger across his mouth.
Latch said, “Nothing at all, Bud?”
“ATD was real clear on that, Councilman.”
Latch turned back to us. “Anti-Terrorist Division. You might recall them from a couple of years ago. The lovely fellows who were spending taxpayers’ money on surveilling innocent taxpayers? We’ve since gotten them to clean up their act, so I suppose we’ll have to let them do their thing, for the moment. And they were adamant about keeping things under wraps until they’re sure they’ve got the big picture. Bud’s on his way downtown right now to give a formal statement. If we’re all lucky, things’ll clear up soon after that.” To Ahlward: “Bud, soon as you get the green light vis-a-vis informational flow, make sure these good folks get anything they want. Immediately. Understood?”
“You bet,” said Ahlward.
Latch nodded. Ahlward returned to the group.
“Thank God for Bud,” said Latch, loud enough for the group to hear. Someone patted Ahlward on the back. The redheaded man appeared unmoved. Standing with the others but not one of them. A distant look had settled on his face- Zen placid, as if he’d projected himself to another place, another time. Not a hint that he’d spent his lunch hour shooting someone to death.
“Okay, my friends,” said Latch, taking a step backward. “It’s been a long day that shows no sign of ending. Dr. Overstreet, if you need anything, bypass the red tape and come straight to me. I mean it. Let’s get things on an even keel, once and for all. Dr. Delaware, sounds like the kids are in good hands, but you, too, feel free to get in touch if there’s anything I can do.”
He reached into his jacket, removed some business cards from a leather holder, and gave them to us. A two- handed grasp of Linda’s hand, then mine, and he was gone.
Linda crumpled the card. Her face had tightened.
I said, “What’s the matter?”
“Suddenly he’s Mr. Helpful,” she said, “but last spring, when the kids were being put through hell, I tried to get his help. Ocean Heights is part of his district, even though I’m sure he didn’t get too many votes here. I thought because of his reputation, all the civil rights stuff he used to be into, he’d come down, talk to the kids, show them someone with power was on their side. If for no other reason than to use it for public relations. I must have called his office half a dozen times. Not even a return call.”
“He came down today. To square off against Massengil.”
“Some kind of ulterior motive, no doubt. They’re all the same.” She blushed. “Listen to me. You must think I’m a foursquare ballbuster.”
“You might very well be,” I said, “but I’d have to study you under more optimal circumstances in order to be able to come to a conclusion vis-a-vis that issue.”
She opened her mouth, then broke into laughter. The cop down the hall pretended not to hear.
The classroom was large and bright and filled with an unaccustomed silence. Only the rain broke the quiet, sloshing against the windows in an insistent car-wash rhythm. Twenty pairs of eyes stared back at me.
I said, “I’m the kind of doctor who doesn’t give shots. I don’t look in kids’ eyes or ears, either.” Pause. “What I do is
A few blinks.
“What kinds of games do you like to play?”
Silence.
“How about ball? Any of you like to play ball?”
Nods.
“Handball?”
An Asian boy with a soup-bowl haircut said, “Base-ball.”
“Baseball,” I said. “What position do you play?”
“Pitch. Soccer and football and basketball too.”
“Jumpin’ rope” said a girl.
“Pizza Party,” said the Asian boy.
“That’s a board game,” explained the teacher. A stylish black woman in her forties, she’d relinquished her desk to me with eagerness, pulled a chair into a corner, and sat, hands folded, like a punished student. “We have that here in class. We have lots of board games, don’t we, class?”
“I like to be mushrooms,” said the Asian boy.
“Peppers,” said another boy, small-boned, with long, wavy hair. “Hot peppers.
Giggles.
I said, “Okay. What other board games do you like to play?”
“I already said that!”
“
“No way. I’m
