"Nothing else yet. He claims he got theinformation for a friend."

"Helen Haggerty?"

"Foley isn't saying. He's holding back in thehope of making a deal."

"Go ahead and deal with him. He got hurt worsethan I did. I'm willing to drop charges."

"It may not be necessary, Lew."

"Deal with him. Assuming blackmail, which I do,the question is what makes Bradshaw blackmailable."

"Could be his divorce," Arniesaid smoothly. "You were interested in what Bradshaw was doing in Renobetween the middle of July and the end of August. The answer is on the courtrecord. He was establishing residence for a divorce from a woman named Letitia0. Macready."

"Letitia who?"

"Macready." He spelled it out."I haven't been able to get any further information on the woman. Accordingto the lawyer who handled the divorce, Bradshaw didn't know where she lived.Her last known address was in Boston. The official notice of the proceedingscame back from there with a 'Gone—No Order' stamp."

"Is Bradshaw still at Tahoe?"

"He and his new wife checked out thismorning. They were on their way back to Pacific Point. That makes him yourbaby."

"Baby isn't quite the word forBradshaw. I wonder if his mother knows about the first marriage."

"You could always ask her."

I decided to try and talk to Bradshawfirst. I got my car out of the courthouse lot and drove out to the college. Thestudents on the mall and in the corridors, particularly the girls, wore subduedexpressions. The threat of death and judgment had invaded the campus. I felt a littlelike its representative.

The blonde secretary in the Dean's outeroffice looked tense, as if only her will was holding her, and the wholeinstitution, together.

"Dean Bradshaw isn't in."

"Not back from the weekend yet?"

"Of course he's back." She added in adefensive tone: "Dean Bradshaw was here this morning for over anhour."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. I guess he went home."

"You sound kind of worried about him."

She answered me with a machine-gun burstfrom her typewriter. I retreated, across the hall to Laura Sutherland's office.Her secretary told me she hadn't come in today. She'd phoned in the middle ofthe morning that she was afraid she was coming down with something. I hoped itwasn't something serious, like death and judgment.

I drove back to Foothill and along it tothe Bradshaw house. Wind rustled in the trees. The fog had been completelydissipated, and the afternoon sky was a brilliant aching blue. The mountainsrising into it were distinct in every scarred and wrinkled detail.

I was more aware than usual of thesethings, but I felt cut off from them. I must have had some empathy for RoyBradshaw and his new wife and was afraid of being hurt in my empathy. I drovepast his gate without seeing it and had to turn in the next driveway and comeback to the Bradshaw house. I was somewhat relieved to be told by the Spanishwoman, Maria, that Bradshaw wasn't there and hadn't been all day.

Mrs. Bradshaw called from the stairs in acracked penetrating voice: "Is that you, Mr. Archer? I want to talk toyou."

She came down the steps in a quilteddressing robe and cloth slippers. The weekend had aged her. She looked very oldand haggard.

"My son hasn't been home for threedays," she complained, "and he hasn't telephoned once. What do yousuppose has happened to him?"

"I'd like to discuss that questionwith you, in private."

Maria, who had been listening with herentire body, went off in a hip-swinging dudgeon. Mrs. Bradshaw took me to aroom I hadn't been in before, a small sitting room opening on a patio at theside of the house. Its furnishings were informal and old-fashioned, and theyreminded me slightly of the room where I had interviewed Mrs. Deloney.

This room was dominated by an oil paintingover the fireplace. It was a full-length portrait, almost life-size, of ahandsome gentleman wearing sweeping white mustaches and a cutaway. His blackeyes followed me across the room to the armchair which Mrs. Bradshaw indicated.She sat in an upholstered platform rocker with her slippered feet on a smallpetit point hassock.

"I've been a selfish old woman,"she said unexpectedly. "I've been thinking it over, and I've decided topay your expenses after all. I don't like what they're doing to thatgirl."

"You probably know more about it than I do."

"Probably. I have some good friends in thiscity." She didn't elaborate.

"I appreciate the offer," I said, "butmy expenses are being taken care of. Dolly's husband came back."

"Really? I'm so glad." She tried to warmherself at the thought, and failed. "I'm deeply concerned about Roy."

"So am I, Mrs. Bradshaw." Idecided to tell her what I knew, or part of it. She was bound to find out soonabout his marriage, his marriages. "You don't have to worry about hisphysical safety. I saw him last night in Reno, and he was in good shape. Hechecked in at the college today."

"His secretary lied to me then. Idon't know what they're trying to do to me out there, or what my son is up to.

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009