Hammermeister stuffed his pockets with the codeine #4s, then on impulse flipped the thesis into the wastebasket, dumping the remainder of the box in after it—the pencils, coffee cup, neckties, spare sports jacket, everything. He was dizzy with rage. He had a crazy impulse to dash over to the office safe and grab the nine-millimeter they recently pulled off a drug peddler and fire off a few rounds. If Sean Duffy and Centrick Cline were not there, he’d just shoot…whomever. Get Rider and White first. Instead, he flung the cardboard box aside and placed Lulu’s empty cage on top of his wastebasket. He raised a pebble-leather, oxblood brogue over the cage and then stepped down several times, crunching the glass.

The police officers braced for action, but then Hammermeister sagged. The only picture that came to his mind now were those of the flattened tires of his Ford. Gone was the movie, the new and better wife, the Lincoln, polo, and country clubbing. His shoulders slumped and he turned to them defeated. “I’m ready,” Harold said with a melodramatic flourish, presenting his hands for cuffing. “Read me my Miranda and let’s clear out of this place.”

The police officers, one short, one tall, exchanged a significant look. The short one said, “No need for the handcuffs, sir. They just want you off the grounds. It’s a routine eighty-six, that’s all. They just want you to leave.”

Hammermeister seemed disappointed that he was not under arrest. He felt cheated but let the police officers lead him through the party of “concerned” but not entirely unsympathetic office secretaries. They led him out into the throng of students who had heard the sound of smashed glass and had gathered to witness what they intuitively knew was a very strange and very bad scene. Several of the students wondered out loud as to what was going on. One of these, a student who had once been mesmerized by Hammermeister’s power of positive thinking spiel, and who had a certain affection for the former junior vice-principal, asked, “Wha’chew got, man?”

Hammermeister looked over his shoulder and cried, “Murder one.”