He quickly crumpled up the photos and the envelope they’d come in and dropped the whole thing in the trash. He washed his hands off in the sink, scrubbing them with Lava the way he did when trying to get grease off his fingers. The kitchen seemed darker than it had before, although the sun would not set for another two hours, and he flipped on the lights, grabbing another beer after downing the first in three large successive swallows. He sat down at the table, forcing himself to read the other letters, but even the message from his mother could not cheer him up, and when he tried to recapture his earlier good mood, tried to think again of the bathing beauties at the pool, he saw them lying on the hard concrete, decapitated, their heads placed on their tan stomachs and staring at him with dead open eyes.

13

Hobie came over just after breakfast, knocking once, perfunctorily, on the doorjamb before pulling open the screen and walking into the living room. He cocked a finger at Billy, sprawled on the couch. “Hey, sport.”

Doug was putting away the last of the breakfast dishes, and he glanced at his watch as Hobie headed toward the kitchen. “It’s only eight-thirty.”

“Yeah, well, the meeting starts at ten, and I figured we should get there ahead of time and discuss things, plan what we’re going to say. I tried to call yesterday after I finished at the pool, but a voice kept saying your line had been disconnected.”

Doug shook his head. “Someone forged a letter from me and sent it to the telephone company, telling them I was moving and wanted my phone service stopped.”

Hobie laughed. “Really?”

“They sent a letter to the department of water and power, telling them to cut off my water and electricity too.”

Hobie’s smile faded. “That’s a little more serious. One letter might be a joke, but two…” He shook his head. “Who do you figure it was?”

The mailman, Doug wanted to say, but he shrugged instead.

“You think it was a student? Who did you flunk this year?”

“No one. Besides, I don’t think I had any students who hated me this time. The closest I can figure is Duke Johnson, but even he didn’t dislike me that much.”

“And even if he did, he wouldn’t be smart enough to think up something like this.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you call the cops?”

“I told them everything and gave them copies of the letter, but they said there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot they could do.”

Hobie snorted. “What else is new?”

Doug wiped the counter and hung up the dishtowel. “You want to head over there now?”