He was still pale, obviously unsettled, but apparently willing to follow through. I dictated the number of the sheriff’s department and told him to ask for Deputy Berry. He laid the pen aside and said he would call.

“Very well,” I said. “Shall I leave these letters with you?” I pointed to his desk as I stood.

“Yes, for now. I shall have Melba make copies of them for you. One imagines that the college’s legal counsel will want to keep the originals.”

“Of course. Well, if that’s all, I’ll get back to work,” I said.

Peter nodded, and I turned for the door.

“Oh dear, I almost forgot.”

I turned back. “Yes, Peter?”

He made a moue of distaste. “I received a call from the president’s office, shortly before you came, informing me that there is to be a memorial service for Godfrey this Saturday afternoon at two in the college chapel. I suppose I shall have to attend, though one could easily think of far more pleasant things to do on a Saturday.” He sighed.

“It would be the proper thing to do,” I said. “I’ll have to attend, too.”

Peter didn’t reply. I don’t think he heard me, because he had turned to look out the window behind his desk.

I left his office, shutting the door gently behind me. He was an odd duck, no two ways about it.

Diesel still sat on Melba’s desk, watching her as she worked at her computer. The keys clicked at a rapid pace, and the cat appeared mesmerized by Melba’s flying fingers.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said. “Come on, Diesel, back upstairs.”

Melba ceased typing and turned to smile at me. “See you later, then, boys.” She gave the cat an affectionate scratch on his head. Diesel purred his thanks.

“Come on now,” I said, and Diesel leaped gracefully to the floor. He followed me to the stairs and dashed up them as soon as I placed my foot on the first step.

Back in the office, Diesel began to play with the loose packing material, batting it around and then leaping on top of it. I watched him for a moment. He was still very kittenish, despite his size.

As I sat down at my desk, I noticed the message light blinking on the phone. I listened to a message from circulation at Hawksworth Library next door informing me that a book I’d requested was available.

I checked my watch—it was nearly five o’clock now. Time to head home. I could delve more into Godfrey’s papers tomorrow. Before we left, though, I repacked the open box on my desk, taking away Diesel’s toy. “You can play with it again tomorrow.”