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I say “fearful aesthetic bliss” because I knew that what happened would happen. One day Debra packed up her things, gave us some extra candy, and left, never to return again. It was then that I knew I had to escape.

I put the manuscript down and went back through it making some small edits and suggestions. I took it into the living room where Alphus and Ridley were watching the game. I began to tell him how moving and well done I found his memoir.

He waved me aside and pointed to the screen. The Sox were trailing the Yankees five to four in the ninth inning with two out and a man on third.

I returned to the kitchen in a far better frame of mind. I had not only been moved by this fragment of his memoir, I was hopeful that, with help, he would be able to find a publisher, make some money, and afford a home and keeper of his own.

17

Time can wound as well as heal. In the days following the Sixpack concert, which played to such effect on the stage and backstage of my imagination, I burned in the fire of time so well set by Delmore Schwartz. Time does, finally, consume us, but slowly, so slowly, especially when we are suffering. And suffering I was, racked by jealousy, loss, and despair.

To forestall madness, I kept busy. I drafted a letter to Elgin Warwick graciously declining his generous offer. But didn’t send it. I brooded endlessly. I grew gaunt, at least in spirit, walking the streets of Seaboard like a living ghost haunting its own time. I worked in the small garden we have behind the house. I researched other places Alphus could comfortably stay. I investigated the murder of Heinrich von Grümh.

To this end, I phoned Professor Colin Saunders late one afternoon and invited him over to my office for an update on the investigation. He responded with suspicion. “What do I need to come there for? Can’t you just tell me over the phone?”

“It’s confidential information,” I said. “I’d rather do it face-to-face.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m very busy. Have your girl type it up and send it to me by registered mail.”

When I related this to Lieutenant Tracy, he told me not to worry. They would bring him in for questioning. Alphus and I could be on the other side of the one-way mirror.

“But he’ll have a lawyer with him. He won’t say anything.”

“Leave that to me.”

So, at an appointed time, I drove, with Alphus on a proper leash, to police headquarters on the bypass. Per usual, we raised a few eyebrows as we went through the metal detector and took the elevator to the second floor. There the lieutenant gave us two chairs in front of the window looking into the interrogation room.

Presently, an indignant-looking Saunders and Gavin Miffkin, a red-faced, middle-aged lawyer in an expensive suit, were ushered in by Lieutenant Tracy and Sergeant Lemure.

The professor did not hide the kind of disdain a lot of upper-middle-class people feel is their prerogative when it comes to the police. He scarcely acknowledged the lieutenant when the latter reintroduced himself and the sergeant.

“We want to go over your statement about your movements on the evening Heinrich von Grümh was murdered.”

“We’ve been through this at least twice,” Saunders said. “I really do have other things to do.”

“We won’t take long.” Lieutenant Tracy spoke equably. “Some routine questions.”

No one said anything for a moment. Then Sergeant Lemure started. “It is true, as you stated to Mr. Ratour and to us subsequently, that you did see H. von Grümh on the night he was murdered?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” the lawyer said and glanced at his watch.

Lieutenant Tracy opened a folder in front of him. “Well … Let’s see. We have some information indirectly related to the case that you might find of interest.”

The lawyer said, “Can I see that please.”

The lieutenant shook his head. “It’s just part of a preliminary investigation. Privileged, I think is the word.” He paused. “In going over the murder victim’s computers, we found that Mr. von Grümh hired a forensic IT expert to hack into Professor