I liked the feel of you in my arms. Your skin was so soft you seemed made of silk and flowers. Then you began to talk about Ted. Ted did this, Ted did that. You never meant to tease me, you had no idea how much I was suffering. Then you said, Oh Roger, are you one of those funny people? And I said yes. Yes, I’m one of the funnies, funny ha ha, funny peculiar, funny split your sides. I’m one of the funnies, so please laugh, Cleo, don’t lie there like a stone flower.
I have written a poem about us, Cleo.
Oblivious. I like that word. It sounds like a nice place to go.
Forgive me, Cleo, if I have harmed you in any way, if I have given you ideas beyond your grasp. You were so anxious to become what you called a real person. And I was so anxious to help you become one. We had high hopes and high failures. This is how the world ends.”
Some of the other sheets of paper contained only a few words.
“Cruel. All around me is cruel. I am afraid. Nightmare, daymare, morningmare, afternoonmare. What is it all about? It is too late. It is too late for anyone to tell me.”
“Tim, Tim my beloved, please forgive me. I had to choose between you and the church. What else could I do, what other decision could I make with the family on my back like that? Please, Tim. Please don’t judge me harshly.”
“To the Probate Court:
I, Roger Lennard, mens sana in corpore sano, would like my worldly possessions distributed as follows:
My books to Holbrook Hall
My classical records to the Public Library.
All other possessions to my dear friend, Timothy North.
Mom, Mom I can’t stand never seeing you again”
Slowly and carefully Aragon put the papers back in the envelope. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Yes.”
“Lieutenant Peterson will have to be informed of this right away. What are you going to tell him?”
“That it came in the mail.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“He won’t be satisfied,” Aragon said. “He’ll want to know, for instance, if this is the same envelope you were seen posting yesterday.”
“On the other hand,” she said, “he might be so happy at having Roger’s death proved a suicide that he’ll let the matter drop.”
“I don’t think the lieutenant will ever be that happy.”
“We’ll have to wait and see.”
She unlocked the drawer where she kept her personal belongings during office hours and placed the envelope in her purse. “I suppose I should deliver it to him myself.”
“Yes.”
“It would be kind of you to come along for moral support.”
“Better if I don’t,” Aragon said. “Lawyers aren’t very high on the lieutenant’s popularity poll.”
The red light on the intercom had started to blink and Mrs. Holbrook switched on the speaker. “Yes, Richie?”
“The captain is here to see you, Mrs. Holbrook.”
“But I didn’t— I wasn’t exp— Wait a minute.” She turned to Aragon. “Captain? Isn’t that a higher rank than lieutenant?”
“Yes.”
“Please wait. I’m not sure how to handle this. The entire school will be aroused if he arrived here in a police car.”
But he hadn’t come in a police car. The captain’s hat he wore could have been purchased in any maritime shop along the coast, and his well-tailored navy-blue blazer and white slacks weren’t the kind of clothing found in a policeman’s locker.
The man was about fifty, with a round red face and bushy sun-bleached eyebrows that seemed to have a life of their own, like blond caterpillars. He gave off an odor of cologne and bourbon and cigar smoke.
“Well, well, what’s going on here?” he said jovially. “A séance?”
“You might call it that,” Mrs. Holbrook replied.
“Include me in. I’ve never been to a séance. But first let’s get a little light in here.” He went over to the windows and began pulling open the drapes. “If I’m going to see ghosts I want the genuine article that’ll stand up to daylight.”
“Mr. Whitfield, this is Mr. Aragon.”
Whitfield’s handshake was firm and hearty. “I was in a town in Spain once called Aragon. Not much of a place but it had some pretty girls. You couldn’t get near them, though. There were a dozen old crones surrounding each one.”
Aragon couldn’t think of a suitable comment, so he kept quiet.
“I have nothing against Spain,” Whitfield added. “The fact is, I’m not at home on land. Any land, anywhere. The sea’s where I live. I’m heading for Ensenada tomorrow. One of my crewmen wants to check on his wife and I figure, why not? Some of the muchachas in these Mexican ports can be pretty lively.”
Failing for the second time to get a response from Aragon, he turned his attention to Mrs. Holbrook. “I came as soon as I got your message.”
Mrs. Holbrook looked surprised. She had been trying to contact him for two days but she had left no message and no name. “I don’t quite understand, Mr. Whitfield.”
“The girl in your office caught me as I was leaving my condo. In fact, the phone rang as I was going out the door. She told me to come to the school to discuss Donny’s curriculum. She didn’t sound too sure of the word curriculum. Maybe you’d better tell her what it means.”
“When a call is made from this office concerning a student I handle it personally or through my secretary. His name is Richard. I have no female employees authorized to perform such duties, and if I had she would certainly be familiar with words like curriculum.”
“What’s going on around here? I tell you, I had this phone call from some girl at the school and she said I was to come right over and discuss Donny’s curriculum. Hell, it was that word that brought me over here so fast. I thought maybe the kid was finally straightening out. Any other time I’ve heard from the school it’s been about one of Donny’s famous emergencies, like when he stole the laundry truck and rammed it into a tree.”
Aragon spoke for the first time since Whitfield’s arrival. “What else did the girl say, Mr. Whitfield?”
“Nothing much. She emphasized that I was to come here immediately. I failed to understand the reason for the big hurry but I went along with the request. So here I am — at considerable loss of time, if I may add — and no one’s even expecting me.”
“Did she give a name?”
“No.”
“Do you remember her exact words?”
“Well, she just said, ‘This is Mrs. Holbrook’s office at Holbrook Hall.’ No, wait a minute. She sort of slurred the name of the school. It almost sounded like Holy Hall.”
“The students often call it that,” Mrs. Holbrook said.
“So it was one of those damn little half-wits playing a joke on me. That’s the thanks I get for practically supporting this so-called school.”
“It is more than so-called, Mr. Whitfield. It’s a real school which takes students the other schools don’t want, can’t manage, can’t teach.”
“Hell, I don’t want Donny to learn Latin and a lot of crap like that. I just want him to learn to behave himself, keep his nose clean.”