The King of Pain: A novel with stories by Kaufman Seth

Author:Kaufman, Seth [Kaufman, Seth]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780985626501
Publisher: Sukuma Books
Published: 2014-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

Baxter Blood looked up. Alice Chen hovered outside his door.

“Interesting,” he said. “Hard to get a sense of his skill, but he certainly has the requisite mathematical nerdiness.”

“Oh, but he's sweet. He doesn't care about the mockery.”

“Oh, I'm guessing he cares. He's just being a good sport. Would you like me to visit him?”

“Would you? It would be great to get a real opinion.”

“Yes,” said Baxter Blood. “How's Thursday afternoon?”

Diana Katz drove a beat-up, boxy Volvo. Baxter Blood approved of the vehicle. It was solid, humble in its age. The drive was pleasant. Baxter Blood kept it very professional, asking about her work and education. She always answered in the first person singular—never a “then we moved there” or “then my husband got a job here.” She was not a political animal, that much was clear. She was committed to teaching, not scholarship. And she was a little crunchy. “I could never live in the flat Midwest. I need beaches, oceans, hills. I love cities, too. College towns are a little staid, but at least ours has a center. You can walk here.”

“Tell me,” he said, as they pulled into the parking lot. “Why was Mr. Allen sent up the river?”

“White-collar crime. I think he stole some money.”

“Really? From whom? How much?”

“I don't know. I try to work with the inmates in the here and now. If they volunteer things, I'll listen. But I want to feel safe in class. It wouldn't help me to know someone is a wife-beater or a murderer.”

They passed through security. Baxter Blood had never been inside a prison before. He felt an invisible force at work, as if the guards, the barbed wire, the watchtowers, the open fields surrounding the prison—as if everything pushed down on him. He wondered if this feeling was caused by his anxiety, or if everyone walking into a prison experienced it. He thought about asking Diana, but then decided his silence might be mistaken for cool.

Diana had arranged to meet Donald Allen in a semi-private room where cameras would watch them.

Donald Allen was a big man. About 35, dark hair and thick features, including a little bit of lantern jaw. He looked strong.

Diana made the introductions then steered Donald, hand-on-shoulder, to a seat at the table. “Dr. Blood wants to ask you some questions.”

“Hi, Donald. Let's get started. Ever study mathematics?”

“Basic accounting. I'm not a CPA. But I worked on the books.”

“Anyone in the family study mathematics?”

“No.”

“Any head injuries?”

“I had a fight in the yard about two years ago. A guy clocked me with a broomstick. We were playing stickball.”

“Were you knocked unconscious?”

“I saw stars, I'll tell you that.”

“Have you read any math books since high school?”

“No.”

“Not even since you started doing license plates?”

“No.”

“Okay, let's do some math.”

Baxter Blood pulled a stack of index cards from his ­jacket pocket and started to sift through them.

“Do you know what a prime number is?”

“Any number that can only be divided by itself or 1.”

“Do you know what a perfect number is?”

“10?”

Baxter Blood let it pass.

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