CHAPTER 19

SEATED in his study in a bathrobe and slippers, Vice Principal Kenneth Gallbreth set down his Audobon Society bird watcher’s field guide and answered the ringing phone.

“Gallbreth residence.”

“Kenneth? It’s Wendle.”

“Principal Hodges? To what do I owe the honor of speaking with you on a Saturday morning?”

“Cut the shit, Gallbreth. I know you heard about what happened last night.”

“Yes, such a dreadful and avoidable shame. I understand foul play is suspected. I suppose now you wish that you had heeded my advice.”

“I didn’t call to get into a dick-swinging match with you, Kenneth. Our football team is at the bottom of the river and the whole school just went to shit. Now, for the moment can we just speak as colleagues?”

“Hmm.”

“I think we should hold some kind of meeting.”

“What sort of meeting?”

“I don’t know yet. But I think it should be for the whole town. Lots of red and black everywhere. We’ll get the Delveccio kid to suit up in the mascot outfit; maybe bring the marching band in to play “Amazing Grace” or some shit. It’ll be like a pep rally … only, you know, without the pep. I could make a speech about healing, rebuilding. Christ, I just think we ought to do something.”

“Do you need my permission?”

“No, your help. Call the paper. Place a full-page announcement. Say that classes are canceled Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday for mourning. Let’s make the meeting for Sunday, midday, after church. All are welcome. Call the radio station, too, get the message out. Goddamn, this is terrible, just terrible. So you got all that, Kenneth?”

“I suppose. And what may I ask are you going to do in preparation for this meeting, Mr. Hodges?”

“I’ll let you know when I sober up.”

“Who’s this?”

“Booker, it’s me, Tommy.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“We’re all gonna fry! Fuckin’ fry! The cops just called here. They were talking to my old man, asking him about his truck.”

“What about it?”

“You know, where it was last night and shit.”

“Did you get it washed like I told you?”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“Did your old man ask you about it?”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him we were at Dougie’s playing Nintendo.”

“Xbox.”

“I thought it was Ninten—”

“Whatever the fuck. Relax, man. Nobody’s gonna … hold on … let me call you back later. I think Nina’s trying to click in. You know, she touched my balls last night.”

“This is Clark. It better be important.”

“Sheriff, it’s Savannah Hickham.”

“Savannah, forgive me. I didn’t expect it to be you. Is something wrong? I figured you’d be getting some sleep. How’s your dad?”

“Sheriff, I have something I think you should see. Are you going to be at the station for the next half hour?”

“Hello.”