'So far,' I said. 'He looks guilty as sin.'
'Like Wendell,' Grant said.
'You know anything that would suggest he didn't do it?' I said.
'Except what I read in the papers,' Grant said, 'I don't know anything about the whole goddamned sorry mess.'
'Sadly,' I said, 'me either.'
Chapter 18
SUSAN HAD BEEN SO compelling in Durham that one of the Duke professors had asked if she would stay into September and participate with him in his graduate seminar called Post-Freudian Therapy: the Practitioner's View. I missed her. I wasn't pleased. But I knew the recognition meant something to her, so I masked my displeasure.
'Oh, balls,' I said on the phone.
'I knew you'd understand,' Susan said. 'And when I get home, we'll have a very nice time.'
'Snivel,' I said.
'That's my brave boy,' she said.
We talked awhile about her meetings and my case. Her meetings appeared to be going better. At the end of her call, we talked dirty for a little while, which made me feel less fruitless. When we hung up, I went to the kitchen and made myself a drink and thought about supper. Pearl, in her wily canine way, divined my thoughts at once, and came and sat at my feet and looked at me closely. I gave her a dog biscuit.
'I got some cranberry beans,' I said to Pearl. 'And some local tomatoes and corn from Verrill Farm.'
Pearl ate the dog biscuit.
'I'll start cooking that and see what develops,' I said.
Pearl had finished her biscuit. Her gaze was again steady. I shelled the beans from their long, red-and-cream pods and dropped them in boiling water and turned down the heat and let them simmer. I drank some scotch. I gave Pearl another cookie. Then I shucked the corn and put it into a pan with some cold water and brought it to a boil and shut off the heat and put the cover on the pot. Pearl had taken her cookie to the couch and eaten it. I took a small steak from the refrigerator and diced it into little pieces and cooked them rare in the frying pan. Then I turned them out onto a paper towel and let them sit. Pearl returned.
'I can't keep giving you cookies,' I said.
She looked at me steadily. I felt the steak dice. It was cool. I gave Pearl a piece. It must have struck her as exotic. She took it into the bedroom. My drink was gone. I took the corn from the pot with tongs and let it cool on the counter. Then I made a drink and took it to the couch and sat. Pearl came back from the bedroom and sat with me. I sipped my scotch.
'I'm missing something,' I said to Pearl.
Pearl was a good listener, even if she didn't have much in the way of advice to offer. We sat quietly. I thought. I drank some scotch. Housman was right.
'First of all,' I said to Pearl, 'somebody said once that you probably can't figure out the truth, if you think you know ahead of time what the truth is supposed to be.'
Pearl made a little sigh and settled.
'So I can't go at this trying to clear anybody. I just have to find out what happened and why.'
Pearl's eyes were closed now. I got up and checked the corn and found it cool enough and cut the kernels off in long rows with a knife. I drained the beans into a colander, dumped them into a bowl with the corn, cut up some fresh tomatoes, added the steak, and tossed the whole deal with some olive oil, some cider vinegar, and salt and pepper. Then I let that sit for a while, freshened my drink, and came back to the couch. Pearl appeared to be asleep, but I pressed on.
'So what am I missing?' I said.
Pearl's breathing was even and soft.
'I'm asking the wrong people,' I said. 'Goddamn it, I'm talking to the adults.'
I took a long, self-congratulatory pull on my drink.
Pearl made a soft sound. I bent toward her and listened more closely. She was snoring. I got up and put my supper on a plate.
'I should be talking to the kids,' I said.
I drank my drink and ate my supper with some French bread.
Chapter 19
IT WAS AFTER Labor Day and instruction was under way when I walked into the Dowling School. Sue Biegler brought me into the president's office, introduced me, and departed.
The president was a middle-sized man with thinning hair, so that close up, he was balder than you first realized. He wasn't fat, but he was soft-looking. His soft face had one of those perpetual blue shadows that no amount of shaving would eliminate. Nature is not fair. Too little hair, too much whisker. His name was Dr. Royce Garner.
'First,' he said, 'let me say that every one of us here at the Dowling School are heavy at heart of last spring's tragedy. And we stand ready to help you in any way we can.'
'That's swell,' I said.
