rest of it, impersonating an English professor isn't very difficult. I have a knack for being pretentious.'
'But you could have got a degree of your own,' said Marion.
'Yes, but by the time I could afford to, I was already employed as Erik Giles, and there seemed little likelihood of ever being caught. By then, I couldn't risk being exposed as a fraud. No university would have hired me after that, regardless of my credentials.'
'What about your families?' asked Jay.
'Mine died when I was in my teens, and Erik's mother passed away while we were living in Wall Hollow. It was easy to lose touch with old friends back in Richmond. And as time went on, there were fewer and fewer people who might have known.'
'Except Pat Malone,' said Jay.
'Yes. When he came back, I knew that he wouldn't keep the old secret. He would revel in exposing the deception. It wouldn't have mattered for my old friend, who died rich and famous. But I enjoy my job at the university, and I wanted my pension in a few years' time.'
Angela Arbroath clasped her arms against her body as if she were suddenly very cold. 'Oh, Stormy,' she whispered. 'Did you kill him just for that?'
He considered the question. 'I'm not sure,' he said at last. 'It seemed the most pressing reason at the time. But I think the real reason was that I was so damned disappointed that he wasn't dead I couldn't stand it! I went to his room to reason with him, but I took the medicine with me, so perhaps even then I knew…Anyhow, it's a better world without Pat Malone in it.' He looked at Jay Omega. 'I suppose the autopsy gave it away?'
'The MAO inhibitor,' said Jay. 'I knew that it's prescribed for hypertension. If you mix it with Malone's-er, Spivey's-Elavil, it lowers the blood pressure too much, and causes a coma, and then death.'
'Yes, I suppose I was lucky that he was taking his own medication, and that he was old. Otherwise he might have survived to enjoy my disgrace. He'd have liked that.'
Jim Conyers interrupted. 'You don't have to say anything else, Stormy! You need an attorney. I'll be happy to represent you. When the police get here-'
The once and future Erik Giles waved him away. 'It doesn't matter, Jim,' he said quietly. 'The other thing you must not do with an MAO inhibitor is take alcohol. And I've just about finished that whole bottle of wine by myself. I'll be dead by morning.' He swayed slightly as he stood up and tottered toward the door. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I will go gently into that good night.'
Chapter 14
– DON JOHNSON
Jay Omega watched the sun rise over the brown wasteland of Breedlove Lake. Beside him in equal silence sat Marion Farley.
Erik Giles (they still thought of him that way) had not gone particularly gently into that good night, as he had wished. The roomful of witnesses to his prospective suicide had been impelled to call the police, or, attorney Jim Conyers warned, they might be considered accessories, since suicide is still a crime. By the time a rescue squad arrived from New Wall Hollow, it was too late. The combination of alcohol and medication had done its work irreversibly, and if Erik Giles had not gone peacefully and with dignity, he had nonetheless gone, despite the application of respirators, injections, and the defibrillator.
When it was over, Jim Conyers talked to the officers in charge of the case and convinced them that there was no point in wasting county money on a murder case when the perpetrator was already dead. They agreed that for official purposes, their report would read that both Richard Spivey and Erik Giles had died of heart conditions in unrelated circumstances. The press would not be told otherwise. No mention of Pat Malone was contained in any summary of the weekend's events.
'I said I'd defend Stormy, and I did,' Conyers told the others. 'There will be no scandal attached to his death. It was the only defense he wanted.'
Marion leafed through the time-capsule manuscripts for the hundredth time. 'Did you know it was Erik all along?' she asked Jay.
'No. After we learned that an MAO inhibitor had been used, I knew that the killer would be on medication, but that didn't exclude any of them, really. I thought it might be Brendan Surn because he is a bit unbalanced.'
Marion gave him a faint smile. 'Pretending to be somebody else,' she mused. 'The mental illness of fandom. I did it myself once, you know.'
Jay looked startled. 'Did you?'
She nodded dreamily. 'Just for one night. It was back when I was in college. I got a blind date with some guy whose parents were stationed in the Philippines with Voice of America. All he could do was moan about how homesick he was. So to make him happy, I pretended to be Petrice Jones. She was my best friend in high school, and she had lived in the Philippines until her sophomore year. After three years of listening to Petrice, I knew all her classmates by name, her old teachers-everything! The guy had a wonderful evening talking about old times with 'Petrice.' And I took care never to see him again.'
'You meant well. I'm not sure Richard Spivey did.'
'No. But I think Pat Malone would have been pleased. I can imagine him in some smoke-filled hereafter enjoying the sensation of his unscheduled return. It almost makes me believe in demonic possession.'
'Are you going to tell the university about Erik's impersonation?'
Marion sighed. 'I've been going over it in my mind for hours. But I always come to the same conclusion: no. It seems to me that it doesn't matter what name Erik used during his adolescence. He was the professor everyone liked and respected, and he wouldn't want to lose that in death. Most of our colleagues have never heard of an S-F writer named Deddingfield, anyway. Why spoil his memory? He was a good teacher.'
'That's what I thought,' said Jay. 'Let him be remembered as the professor. He wanted out of fandom badly enough to kill for it. What's one more secret among the Lanthanides?'
The literary auction for the Lanthanides time capsule took place as scheduled at ten o'clock Sunday morning in the Holiday Inn in Johnson City. Sarah Ashley accepted the sealed bids and promised to reconvene the group at eleven to announce the winner to the press.
Enzio O'Malley was having brunch with Lily Warren on his company's American Express card. 'Well,' said Lily, toying with her eggs Benedict. 'Do you think you got the anthology?'
O'Malley shrugged. 'I doubt it,' he said, stifling a yawn. 'How about you?'
Lily shook her head. 'Fifty K was as high as I could go without making a phone call. After reading the manuscripts, I decided not to make it.'
'It'll go high. Those maniacs on Fifth Avenue would pay two grand for a cheeseburger. There's no telling what they'll bid to get this.'
'Too bad,' said Lily. 'Since your company has Surn's back list, I know how much you wanted to acquire this.'
'I got a budget,' said O'Malley. 'If I paid a million for this wad, and it bombed, I'd find myself editing role- playing games in Wisconsin.'
'I thought you said that if they publicized this well, it would sell automatically.'
'Theoretically, yes,' said O'Malley. 'But I wouldn't want to bet my career on it. I'm a schemer, not a gambler.'
'And are you planning any schemes right now?' asked Lily, smiling.
'It's already done.' He yawned again. 'That's why I'm so tired. I got up at six a.m. this morning to call London.
