'Any police record?'

'Two DWIs back in the seventies, otherwise the guy's clean.'

'Does it make sense to you?'

'Maybe he watched too many Newhart reruns, dreamt of being an innkeeper.'

The next to ring was my friend at Oak Ridge. Laslo Sparkes asked if I'd be available in the morning. We made a date for nine o'clock. Good. Maybe he had some more results from the soil samples.

The final cal came from my department chair. He opened by apologizing for his abruptness Tuesday night.

'My three-year-old put our kitten in the Kenmore to dry it after a fal into the toilet. My wife had just rescued the poor thing, and everyone was hysterical. Kids crying. Wife crying, trying to get the cat to breathe.'

'How awful. Is it al right?'

'The little guy puled through, but I don't think he's seeing too wel.'

'He'l come around.'

There was a pause. I could hear his breath against the receiver.

'Wel, Tempe, there's no easy way, so I'm just going to say it. The chancelor asked me to meet with him today. He's received a complaint about your behavior during the crash investigation and has decided to suspend you pending a ful inquiry.'

I remained silent. Nothing I was doing in Bryson City was under the auspices of the university, though I was on its payrol.

'With pay, of course. He says he doesn't believe a word of it but has no choice in the matter.'

'Why not?' I already knew the answer.

'He's afraid of the negative publicity, feels he has to protect the university. And apparently the lieutenant governor is on his case directly and being a real hard-ass about this.'

'And, as everyone knows, the university is funded by the legislature.' My hand was clenched on the phone.

'I tried every argument I could think of. He wouldn't budge.'

'Thanks, Mike.'

'You're welcome back in the department anytime. You could file a grievance.'

'No. I'm going to sort this out first.'

I went through my bedtime ritual with toothpaste, soap, Oil of Olay, hand cream. Cleansed and lubricated, I turned off the lights, crawled under the blankets, and screamed as loud as I could. Then I hugged knees to chest and for the second time in two days began to cry.

It was time to give up. I'm not a quitter, but I had to face reality. I was getting nowhere. I'd uncovered nothing persuasive enough to obtain a warrant, discovered little at the courthouse, struck out with the newspapers. I'd stolen from a library and had almost committed breaking and entering.

It wasn't worth it. I could apologize to the lieutenant governor, resign from DMORT, and return to my normal life.

My normal life.

What was my normal life? Autopsies. Exhumations. Mass fatalities.