Kiss It Goodbye: A Novel by John Wessel

Kiss It Goodbye: A Novel by John Wessel

Author:John Wessel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2002-07-15T00:00:00+00:00


professor Henry Dahlgren is sitting with a folded New York Times and an unfolded taco salad in Hutchinson Commons, a long,beautiful room now used as a fast-food cafeteria. Behind Dahlgren is a large formal oil painting of Edward Levi, who was president when I was in school. I had lunch with Levi once, part of the college’s attempt at letting us meet and connect with the more distinguished faculty. Years later, Gerald Ford appointed Levi attorney general and I was in prison, and I often saw his name on various legal forms. I saw his picture on the warden’s desk once. I felt we were connected.

“Crystal Royce?” Dahlgren says, spearing a tomato wedge with his fork. “I can’t quite place the name.”

“That happens, Professor.”

“But you say I know the woman?”

“Apparently so.” Dahlgren is dressed in a very nice gray pinstripe suit today. There’s a trace of mousse in his hair. He’s one of those guys who always looks like he just got a haircut.

“May I ask how you know about this?”

“You can ask all you want. It’s the Socratic method.”

“But you won’t tell me?”

“I don’t think it matters much.” There’s always a slight echo in here from the wood paneling and high vaulted ceiling. The light comes from far above, filtered down through dust and years of student yawns.

Dahlgren pushes his tray away. I guess I’ve spoiled his appetite.

“I thought we were friends,” he says.

“We shared some coffee, Professor. That doesn’t make us blood brothers.” Maybe if he’d brought out the cheesecake I’d feel different. He rises slowly from the table, rearranging the items on his tray. “But I helped you out by flying to Denver. I brought Charles back from Galena. So why don’t you help me out with this?”

We walk out to the hallway of the Reynolds Club. Dahlgren picks up one of the free papers stacked by the front door.

“Beth called me this morning,” he says. “I think she’s worried that Charles is drinking again. Full-time, not just last weekend.”

“She said that?”

“Not directly. She wouldn’t . she’s protecting him. Beth is sometimes too maternal. She has a generous heart.” He pauses. “I do want to thank you for what you’ve done. Bringing him back. I haven’t spoken to you since Sunday night, the day after he disappeared. Do you mind talking about this?”

“We can talk about Charles if you want.”

“He was in very bad shape when you brought him back, yes?”

I shrug.

“I told the trustees I felt that his ‘lost weekend’ was an isolated instance, one of those rare dark nights of the soul we all experience at some point in our lives. Something that happens out of loneliness or fear. Do you understand me, Harding?”

“I’m trying to keep up.” The doors to WHPK must be open. The all-seventies marathon continues.



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