The Letter Killeth by Ralph McInerny

Author:Ralph McInerny
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

8

“What are you talking about?” Crenshaw demanded, when Jimmy Stewart asked if campus security had found anything interesting when they checked out Izquierdo’s office.

“The inspection of the car turned up nothing. The professor himself was of no help. But you found nothing?”

“That is all in Phil Knight’s hands.”

Jimmy thought about it, then let it go. If Crenshaw wasn’t interested, then he and Phil could find out who Oscar Wack had found examining Izquierdo’s office. That it wasn’t imaginary seemed proved by the presence of the pogo stick in the wrong office. Why had he thought of that young guy in the space-cadet helmet when Wack had described the supposed investigation going on in Izquierdo’s office?

More snow was falling. What a winter this was. Phil had asked him out to watch a game, but the weather made that less attractive. Of course he would go. The thought of watching the game alone suddenly brought home to him what a lonely life he led. Not that he was given to self-pity. It hadn’t been a shot in the arm to his self-esteem when Hazel told him she was going. He found himself unable to think of any good reason for her to stay. Her complaint was that he was too wrapped up in his work, but of course it was because they had no kids that her life was boring. He had suggested adoption, but she just made a face and wouldn’t talk about it.

When he put down the phone after talking to Crenshaw, he wondered if that was his destiny. Get his pension and then apply for a job at Notre Dame security. Any real problems were foisted off on South Bend anyway, or lately on Phil Knight. He looked around his office and thought of Oscar Wack. Is that the way he looked to other people, a quirky bachelor? Geez. He got up, put on a storm coat, and headed for the elevator. He would waste the time before going to Phil’s in a bar on Grape Road.

Downstairs he ran into Piazza, stamping snow from his shoes and looking around as if trying to keep time to the Muzak. He was in uniform; he preferred being in uniform, saying it saved on clothes. Piazza was always being kidded about using the prowler he took home as the family car. But he couldn’t have got half his family in the thing, there being seven little Piazzas. They kept him on patrol duty because it was safer and because that was what his wife wanted. Sitting at a desk would have kept him out of harm’s way, but Piazza would have none of it.

“Look, I was a clerk in the army. I had my fill of that.”

He looked as if he had had his fill of lots of things, a real roly-poly. But then his wife was a terrific cook.

“Come watch the game tonight, Phil.”

“I wish I could, Lou.” And he did. It was hectic at the Piazzas’, with all those kids, but the place was what a home should be.

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