按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
were never apart。 She was the first of his girlfriends who couldn't recognize which one of us was picking up the phone； the first who sometimes forgot Paul's name； and she never stopped by the room if she knew Gil wasn't there。
〃You know who looks a little like Audrey Hepburn？〃 Gil asks suddenly； catching me off guard。
〃Who？〃 I say； dialing Taft's office again。
He surprises me。 〃Katie。〃
〃What made you think of that？〃
〃I don't know。 I was watching you two tonight。 You're great together。〃
He says it as if he's trying to remind himself of something dependable。 I want to tell him that Katie and I have had our ups and downs too； that he's not the only one who struggles in a relationship； but it would be the wrong thing to say。
〃She's your type； Tom；〃 he goes on。 〃She's smart。 I don't even understand what she's saying half the time。〃
I hang up the phone when there's still no answer。 〃Where is he？〃
〃He'll call。〃 Gil takes a long breath； trying to ignore the possibilities。 〃How long's it been with Katie？〃
〃Next Wednesday makes four months for us。〃
Gil shakes his head。 He's broken up three times since Katie and I met。
〃Do you ever wonder if she's the one？〃
It's the first time anyone has asked that question。
〃Sometimes。 I wish we had more time。 I worry about next year。〃
〃You should hear how she talks about you。 It's like you've known each other since you were kids。〃
〃What do you mean？〃
〃I found her at Ivy once； taping a basketball game for you on the TV upstairs。 She said it was because you and your dad used to go to the Michigan…Ohio State game together。〃
I hadn't even asked her to do it。 Until we met； she'd never followed basketball。
〃You're lucky；〃 he says。
I nod my agreement。
We talk a little more about Katie； then Gil slowly returns to Audrey。 His expression lightens； but eventually I can see the old thoughts return。 Paul。 Anna。 The ball。 Before long he reaches for the bottle。 I'm just about to suggest that he's had enough to drink； when a dragging sound es from the hallway。 The outside door opens； and Charlie stands in the sallow light of the hall。 He looks bad。 There are blood…colored stains on the cuffs of his clothes。
〃You okay？〃 Gil asks； standing up。
〃We've got to talk；〃 Charlie says； with an edge to his voice。
Gil mutes the television。
Charlie goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water。 He drinks half of it； then pours some over his hands to wet his face。 His focus is unsteady。 Finally he sits down and says； 〃The man who fell from Dickinson was Bill Stein。〃
〃Jesus；〃 Gil whispers。
I feel myself go cold。 〃I don't understand。〃
Charlie confirms it by the look on his face。 〃He was in his office in the history department。 Someone came in and shot him。〃
〃Who？〃
〃They don't know。〃
〃What do you mean； they don't know？〃
A beat of silence passes。 Charlie focuses on me。 〃What was that pager message about？ What did Bill Stein want from Paul？〃
〃I told you。 He wanted to give Paul a book he found。 I can't believe this； Charlie。〃
〃He didn't say anything else？ Where he was going？ Who he was going to see？〃
I shake my head。 Then； slowly； it returns to me； what I'd mistaken for paranoia： the phone calls Bill had gotten； the books someone else was checking out。 A wave of fear descends on me as I tell them。
〃Shit；〃 Charlie grumbles。 He reaches for the phone。
〃What are you doing？〃 Gil asks。
〃The police are going to want to talk to you；〃 Charlie tells me。 〃Where's Paul？〃
〃Jesus。 I don't know； but we've got to find him。 I keep trying Taft's office at the Institute。 There's no answer。〃
Charlie looks at us impatiently。
〃He'll be fine；〃 Gil says； and I can hear the wine talking。 〃Calm down。〃
〃I wasn't talking to you；〃 Charlie snaps。
〃Maybe he's at Taft's house；〃 I suggest。 〃Or Taft's office on campus。〃
〃The cops will find him when they need to；〃 Gil says； face hardening。 〃We should stay out of this。〃
Charlie turns。 〃Two of us are already in this。〃
Gil scoffs。 〃Give me a break； Charlie。 Since when are you in this？〃
〃Not me； you prick。 Tom and Paul。 There's more to us than just you。〃
〃Don't get sanctimonious on me。 I'm sick of you butting into everyone else's problems。〃
Charlie leans forward； lifts the bottle from the table； and throws it in the trash。 〃You've had enough。〃
For a second I'm afraid the wine is going to make Gil say something we'll all regret。 But after glaring at Charlie； he rises from the couch。 〃Christ；〃 he says。 〃I'm going to bed。〃
I watch him retreat into the bedroom without another word。 A second later； the light beneath the door falls dark。
Minutes pass； and they feel like hours。 I try the Institute again； but with no luck； so Charlie and I sit in the mon room for the duration； neither one speaking。 My mind is moving too quickly to make sense of my own thoughts。 I stare out the window； and Stein's voice climbs back into my thoughts。
I get these phone calls。 Pick up 。 。 。 click。 Pick up 。 。 。 click。
Finally Charlie rises。 Finding a towel in the closet； he starts to put his bathroom caddy in order。 Without a word he heads out the door in his boxer shorts。 The men's bathroom is down the hall； and there are half a dozen upperclass women living between it and our quad； but Charlie marches out anyway； towel wrapped around his neck like an oxbow； caddy in hand。
Sitting back on the couch； I reach for today's Daily Princetonian。 To distract myself； I flip through the pages； searching for a photo credit of Katie's somewhere in the nether corners of the paper； where underclass contributions go to die。 I'm always curious about the pictures she takes； the new subjects she chooses； the ones she thinks are too unimportant to mention。 After dating someone long enough； you start to imagine she sees everything the same way you do。 Katie's photos are a corrective； a glimpse of the world through her eyes。
Before long a sound es at the door； Charlie returning from the shower。 But when a key strikes in the outside lock； I realize it's someone else。 The door swings open and it's Paul who enters the room。 His face is pale； and his lips are blue from the cold。
〃Are you okay？〃 I ask。
Charlie arrives back just in time。 〃Where have you been？〃 he demands。
It takes us fifteen minutes to get the details from Paul； given his state。 After leaving the lecture； he went to the Institute and searched for Bill Stein in the puter lab there。 An hour later； when Stein failed to appear； Paul decided to go back to the dorm。 He started the trip in his car； only to have it quit at a stoplight about a mile from campus； then he had to walk back in the snow。
The rest of the night； he says； is a blur。 He arrived at the north of campus to find police cars near Bill's office at Dickinson。 After asking enough questions； he was driven to the medical center； where someone asked him to identify the body。 Taft showed up at the hospital not long after； giving a second identification； but before he and Paul could speak； officers separated them for questioning。 The police wanted to know about his relationship with Stein and Taft； about the last time he saw Bill； about where he was at the time of the murder。 Paul cooperated in a daze。 When they finally released him； they asked him not to leave campus； and said they'd be in touch。 Eventually he made his way toward Dod； but stayed on the outside steps for a while； just wanting to be alone。
Finally； we discuss the conversation we had with Stein in the Rare Books Room； which Paul says the police took down in full。 As he talks about Bill； about how agitated Stein was at the library； about the friend he's lost； Paul gives little sign of emotion。 He still hasn't recovered from the shock。
〃Tom；〃 he says finally； when we're back in our bedroom； 〃I need a favor。〃
〃Of course；〃 I say。 〃Name it。〃
〃I need you to e with me。〃
I hesitate。 〃Where？〃
〃The art museum。〃
He's changing into a dry set of clothes。
〃Now？ Why？〃
Paul rubs at his forehead； working out an ache。 〃I'll explain on the way。〃
When we return to the mon room； Charlie looks at us like we've lost our minds。 〃At this hour？〃 he asks。 〃The museum's closed。〃
〃I know what I'm doing；〃 Paul says； already making for the hallway。
Charlie gives me a heavy look； but says nothing as I follow Paul out the door。
The art museum sits like an old Mediterranean palace across the courtyard from Dod。 From the front； where we entered a few hours earlier； it's just a stumpy modern building with a Picasso sculpture on the front lawn that looks like a glorified birdbath。 When you approach from the side； though； the newer elements give way to older ones； pretty windows in little Romanesque arches； and red roof…tiles that peek out beneath tonight's canopy of snow。 Under different circumstances； the view from here would be charming。 Under different circumstances； it might be a picture Katie would take。
〃What are we doing？〃 I ask。
Paul is trudging a path before me in his old workman's boots。
〃I found what Richard thought was in the diary；〃 he says。
It sounds like the middle of a thought whose beginning he's kept to himself。
〃The blueprint？〃
He shakes his head。 〃I'll show you when we get inside。〃
I'm walking in his footsteps now to keep the snow out of my pant legs。 My eyes keep returning to his boots。 Paul worked at the museum loading docks our freshman summer； moving ining and outgoing exhibits onto trucks。 The boots were a necessity then； but tonight they leave dirty tracks in the moon…white of the courtyard。 He looks like a boy in men's shoes。
We arrive at a door by the west face of the museum。 Beside it is a tiny keypad。 Paul dials in his docent's password and waits to see if it works。 He used to give tours at the art museum； but finally had to take a job in the slide library because the docents weren't paid。
To my surprise； the door opens with a beep and a whisper of a click。 I'm so used to the medieval…sounding bolts of the dorm doors； I almost don't hear it。 He leads me into a small antechamber； a security room supervised by a guard behind a plate…glass window； and suddenly I feel trapped。 After signing a visitation form on a clipboard； though； and pressing our university IDs against the glass； we're cleared to enter the docent's library beyond the next door。
〃That's it？〃 I say； expecting more of a shakedown at this hour。
Paul points to a video camera on the wall； but says nothing。
The docent's library is unimpressive…a few shelves of art history books donated by other guides to help prepare for tours…but Paul continues toward an elevator around the corner。 A large sign posted on the sliding metal doors says FACULTY； STAFF； AND SECURITY ONLY。 STUDENTS AND DOCENTS NOT PERMITTED WITHOUT ESCORT。 The words students and docents have both been underlined in red。
Paul is looking somewhere else。 He pulls a key ring from his pocket and plugs one of them into a slot in the wall。 When he turns it to the right； the metal doors slide open。
〃Where'd you get that？〃
He leads me into the elevator； then presses a button。 〃My job；〃 he says。
The slide library gives him access to archival rooms in the museum。 He is so careful about his work that he has earned almost everyone's trust。
〃Where are we going？〃 I say。
〃Up to the image room。 Where Vincent keeps some of his slide carousels。〃
The elevator discharges us on the main floor of the museum。 Paul guides me across it； ignoring the paintings he's pointed out to me a dozen times before…the vast Rubens with its dark…browed Jupiter； the unfinished Death of Socrates with the old philosopher reaching for his cup of hemlock。 Only when we pass the paintings Curry brought for the trustees' exhibit do Paul's eyes wander。
We reach the door to the slide library； and he produces the keys again。 One of them shifts quietly into place； and we enter the darkness。
〃Over here；〃 he says； pointing toward an aisle of shelves lined with dusty boxes。 Each box contains a slide carousel。 Behind another locked door； in a large room I've seen only once； rests much of the university's collection of art slides。
Paul finds the set of boxes he's been searching for； then lifts one from the stack and places it on the shelf before him。 A note taped to