To Play The Fool Part 5

aHowas he do that?a The audience had begun to respond to this new act (all except for those with children, who had already faded away) and a murmur of chuckles greeted the drunk boyas confusion. He spun around belligerently to face them, and the onlookers glanced around for Erasmus to intervene, but he had moved, and they saw him now standing before the girl, her sungla.s.ses in his hand.

Her left eye looked like something from a special-effects laboratory, swollen and black, the eyeball itself so bloodshot, it resembled an open wound. Silence fell immediately. With the others, Kate watched Erasmus bend slightly to look into the girlas good eye.

aA wounded spirit who can bear?a he said quietly, and reaching up with his right hand, he cupped it gently over her eye. The girl gazed up at him, as hypnotized as a rabbit, and did not even wince. After a moment, he stepped away and held out her sungla.s.ses. She took them and her face once more disappeared behind them. No one watched her, though. Their eyes were on Erasmus, who turned back to the youth.

aA woman, a dog, and a walnut tree, the more you beat them the better they be.a The boy was confused by the old manas friendly smile and voice, and he nodded stupidly.

aSpeak roughly to your little girl,a Erasmus continued, aand beat her when she sneezes. She only does it to annoy because she knows it teases.a aHey, wait a minute,a objected the boy. aI nevera"a aHit hard, hit fast, hit often.a Erasmus was still smiling, but he did not look friendly now. He looked large, his eyes easily half a foot above those of the boy.

aI didnat hit hera"a aJealousy is as cruel as the grave.a aWhat are youa"a aCruelty has a human heart, and jealousy a human face,-terror, the human form divine, and secrecy, the human dress.a aJesus Christ. Camon, Angela, this guyas nuts.a The boy tried to move around Erasmus, but the older man moved to block his way to the girl.

The staff spoke up again. aIt is human nature to hate those whom you have injured,a it whined.

aOld man, youare asking for it.a Kate began to move through the back of the thinning crowd, cursing under her breath and looking for someplace to deposit the remnants of her cone. She knew what those young muscles would do to the old man, to say nothing of the boots. Erasmus bent to look into the young manas eyes, and for the first time he seemed to be trying to communicate, not just mock.

aI must be cruel,a he said with a small shrug of apology, aonly to be kind.a The boy hesitated, held not so much by the words as by the manas unexpected att.i.tude, though even as Kate watched, it began to harden.

aWhat mean you,a he said coldly, athat you beat my people to pieces and grind the faces of the poor?a Silence held,- then, said as a sneer: aThe life of man: solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, anda short.a It was the deliberate stress given the last word that broke the boy, and his powerful right arm, with the paper-wrapped bottle now at the end of it, shot automatically out toward the old manas head. Kate threw herself against the arm before it made contact, but the impact swept all three of them into the girl Angela, against the wall behind her, and then tumbled them to the pavement in a heap. The raging boy flung his girlfriend off and was first to his feet, and if three men from the audience had not managed to drag him off, Kate would have had considerably more damage than three oval bruises on her shoulders and shins where his boots had hit home. She scrambled upright and shoved her police ID into his face, holding it there until it and her repeated shouts of aPolice officer! Iam a police officer!a finally got through and she saw his muscles relax. The boy shook off the restraining hands but made no move to continue the a.s.sault.

The raucous gathering had finally attracted official attention, and several short coughs of a siren signaled the arrival of the local uniforms. The two men climbed out of the patrol car and moved their authoritative bulk into the center of activity, but Kate did not take her eyes from the young man until the uniformed officers had acknowledged her ident.i.ty and were actually standing next to her. Only then did she turn and help Erasmus to his feet. He brushed himself off as if checking that he was in one piece, then, while Kate was making explanations that downplayed the entire episode, he went over to his staff, freed it from the newspaper box, and tucked it into his right shoulder. The effect was bizarre, like looking at a two-headed being, and Kate had to tear her eyes away.

The two uniformed officers were telling the crowd, what remained of it, to move on, and while the younger one dealt with the young man, the older one took Kate to one side.

aInspector Martinelli, can you tell me what your interest is in the Brother there?a aAt this point, I donat know what my interest is,a she admitted. aHeas somehow involved in the cremation homicide in Golden Gate Park, but whether as a witness or something more, I just donat know.a aThe reason I ask, heas a nice old guy, but heas like a magnet for trouble. Not always, or wead move him on, but this is the third time, and once last fall we didnat get here fast enough. He got beat up pretty bad. I just thought if he was a friend or a relative, wella You know?a aWould that have been in November?a aAround then, yeah.a aI heard about that. Iall talk with him, see what I can do, but he has his own agenda, if you know what I mean, and self-preservation doesnat seem to be very high on it.a The crowd having dispersed, the two patrol officers turned their attentions to the young man and delivered a warning that even he seemed to find impressive (though, truth to tell, even before they began, he looked ill and without interest in beating up old men). When they had finished, he gathered Angela up and would have walked away, but Erasmus put out a gentle hand to stop him.

aRejoice, O young man, in thy youth,a he said quietly. The boy nodded and would not look at him, but Angela did, and to her, Erasmus said in a heartfelt exclamation, aQueen and huntress, chaste and fair,a and then, with the emphasis of a judgment, told her, aNone but the bravea (and here he pointedly ran his eyes over the boy) adeserve the fair.a The boy tugged at her and they moved off, but after half a dozen steps, Angela shrugged off the confining arm and the two of them continued side by side.

The two patrolmen suggested firmly that it was time Erasmus moved on. Kate rea.s.sured them that she would deal with it, and when another call came for them, they climbed back into the car and drove off. Kate waved her thanks. As soon as they had left, she turned on Erasmus.

aYou could have been hurt, you stupid old man,a she declared furiously. He did not seem to be listening as he watched the two young people go off down the street. He shook his head in sorrow.

aSuch as sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.a aTalk about the shadow of death!a Kate stepped in front of him, though she practically had to jump up and down to interrupt his gaze. aThat kid could have put you in the hospital. And you would have deserved it, for being such a d.a.m.neda idiot.a He finally looked down at her, and his eyes crinkled up in a smile. aHow forcible are right words.a ad.a.m.ned straight theyare right. Donat do that again, you hear me? I donat care what you thinka"it doesnat do anyone any good.a He looked again at the retreating backs and sighed. aWe have scotched the snake, not killed it,a he said, which Kate took as agreement.

aJust stick to juggling,a she suggested. aI canat guarantee to stumble on you every time you get into trouble.a She knew in an instant that he did not believe she had just happened to show up here. He leaned on his staff, two identical heads sharing a good joke, and laughed at her. Even the wooden head seemed to be laughing at her, and she felt her face go red. There was absolutely nothing she could do, so she turned her back on him and walked away.

FOURTEEN.

With all his gentleness, there was originally something of impatience in his impetuosity.

Kate stalked off down the busy sidewalk, her face flushed, her mind troubled, her shin and left shoulder sore, and her jaw aching. She stopped at the first trash bin she came to and spat out the gum. How could people chew the stuff all day? They must have jaws of iron. She pulled off the stupid pink hat, rolled it up and stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans, and ruffled her short hair back into place with her fingers.

Could the man be schizophrenic? There was certainly some kind of a split personality going on here, but whether it was uncontrollable or an act, cynic that she was, she honestly could not say. The performance had not been put on merely for her benefit, of that she was reasonably sure. He could not have seen her until she had stepped back from the crowd, and the direction of the act had been already fully established.

What was that snippet in Professor Whitlawas file? Something about Foolishness being a dangerous business. Kate could well believe that, if this was the pattern: One might as well tease a bull as the particular target he had chosen. Come to think of it, the bull would probably be safer.

And what was the point? Did Erasmus actually expect to change the way the boy treated his girlfriend? Or had he just been hoping to distract the young man, to take his attention away from the girl anda"what? Allow her a chance to escape?

Oh, this was ridiculous. Erasmus wasnat all there, and looking for rational reasons for his behavior was pointless.

Still, he was clever, give him that. The more she thought about the scene she had just witnessed, the more impressed she was. Teasing a bull, indeeda"and walking away intact, while the bulla what was the image she had in mind? Not a bull, some other powerful and savage animal. A wolverine or a cougar or something, seen long ago on a television nature program, being tormented and ultimately brought down by a pack of small, scruffy, cowardly coyotes or jackals.

At this point, Kate came to herself, finding that she was standing outside the elevator in the parking garage, feeling as bedeviled and set upon by her fanciful thoughts and images as the wolverine was by the coyotes (a lioness, perhaps it had been, and jackals). She was seized by the desire to lower her head and shake it in ma.s.sive rage and befuddlement, but a family of honking New Yorkers came out of the garage and she controlled the urge. Donat frighten the children, Kate, she told herself, and grinned at them instead. The mother instantly herded her charges to one side and the father bristled in suspicion. Kate stood aside and allowed them to sidle past her, then went on into the garage. New Yorkers, she thought with a mental shake of the head. They probably would have been less frightened if I had bellowed at them.

Out on the street again, she pulled her car over into a loading zone and reached for her notebook and the car phone. The phone was answered after four rings by an English voice that by way of greeting merely stated the number shead just punched out.

aProfessor Whitlaw? This is Inspector Kate Martinelli.a aYes, Inspector, what can I do for you?a aI wondered if you might be free for an hour or so this afternoon?a aInspector, Iam terribly sorry, I have an informal tutorial that seems to be turning into a seminar, and I canat see that Iall be free much before tea.a aEr, right.a aI have six people here,a the professor clarified, aand they look to be ensconced until hunger drives them out. Did you wish to review the material I set for you? Would tomorrow do as well?a aNo, itas not that exactly. I mean, yes, Iad like to go over it with you, but I found Brother Erasmus, and I wondereda"a aYou found your Fool! Oh, grand. Where are you?a aIn my car, up near the Fishermenas Wharf area.a aWhere can I meet you? Iall have one of the young people drive me. Surely; one of them must have come in an automobile.a aWell, if you can get free, Iall come and pick you up.a aEven better. Iall dig out my Sherlock Holmes gla.s.s and my entomologistas bottle and meet you on the doorstep. Although come to think of it, etymology might be a more useful discipline for this exercise.a aOh, certainly.a Whatever.

aInspector, I cannot tell you how grateful I am.a aFor what? Messing up your day and dragging you across town to push your way through San Franciscoas answer to the Tower of London?a aI am ecstatic at the prospect, I a.s.sure you, Inspector.a aIam glad to hear that. Iall be about ten minutes.a aI shall be ready.a When Kate turned the corner on the street where Professor Whitlaw was staying, she saw a group of young people on the steps of the house, forming a circle around an invisible center, which they all seemed to be addressing at once. When the car pulled up in front of them, Kate could see an extra pair of legs in the knot, and after a moment Professor Whitlaw peered out, her gray hair at shoulder level to the shortest of them. They gave way but followed her across the sidewalk to the street, still talking.

aYes, dear,a the professor soothed. aItall keep until tomorrow. Just continue with your word studies.a She climbed in beside Kate, pulled the door shut, and, as Kate pulled away from the protesting students, patted her hair. aMy goodness,a she said weakly, aAmericans seem so very large, especially the young ones. What do their parents feed them?a She didnat seem to expect an answer, but sorted out the seat belt, lowered her black leather handbag onto the floor, put the black nylon tube of a fold-up umbrella on her lap and draped a tan raincoat over it, and folded her hands together. Sixty-eight degrees and not a cloud, not even a haze in the sky, but the well-dressed Englishwoman was ready for sleet.

aWhere did you find him, this Erasmus?a she asked. aWhat is he doing?a aHeas in the very center of the tourist area, juggling, conjuring quarters out of the ears of children, and goading bulls.a aI beg your pardon?a Kate laughed. aSorry, not literally. Itas an image that came to mind.a She explained about the confrontation she had witnessed. Professor Whitlaw reached down for her handbag, snapped open the clasp and took out a small notebook, and wrote for a moment.

aHow very interesting,a she murmured.

aWhy would he be doing this?a Kate asked. aI mean, I can see how a fool would want to help the homeless and I could sort of see the appeal that the seminary might have for him, but what is he doing here, dressed like a suburban refugee, risking arrest or worsea"surely he must occasionally misjudge just how far he can push people before they explode? Dean Gardner said Erasmus had been hurt last November, and I a.s.sumed that head been beaten up in the street, but now I wouldnat be surprised if it had happened here.a aYou are quite right. Fools have never been content unless they were putting themselves at riska"from violence, from cold and starvation, whatever edge they were near, they would go closer. A medieval court fool would insult the king; the early Christians embraced martyrdom-. Itas all a means of courting madness.a aIt is a kind of mental illness, then?a aOh no. Well, I couldnat say in this case, not having studied your friend Erasmus, but for a true Fool, a Holy Fool, the madness is always simulated. It is a tool, not a permanent state. I should perhaps qualify that by saying that there were some Holy Fools who had, in an earlier period of their lives, undergone a period of true insanity, but they came out of it, through conversion or enlightenment, and then later, if they returned to it, would only do so deliberately. You might say that they would choose to lose rational control.a aI donat understand why. A tool for what?a Other than a means of establishing an insanity plea for murder, she did not say aloud.

aFor teaching. A fool who has relinquished control, who has submitted to chaos, is in a sense no longer a person, not an individual with a will and a mind of his own. You saw how Erasmus deferred to the staff he carries. Typically, even an inanimate object has more will than a fool. And because he is not his own person, he can be all people,- he can be a reflection of whatever individual he is facing. That is why a fool is so troubling,- heas a mirror, and mirrors can be frightening.a Kate waited until she had negotiated Geary Street before she spoke. aIam sorry, itas a pretty theory, but I canat see what it has to do with the man Erasmus.a aI am putting it in theoretical terms, perhaps. I should apologize for my airy-fairy academic language, which makes the process sound theoretical, but I a.s.sure you itas quite real. Why do you think your fool so angered that young man? Not just because he was irritating him. Erasmus was reflecting the boyas own ugly face back to him, showing him that he, a strong, a powerful young man, what you would call amacho,a would stoop so low as to hit, not only a frail young woman but even an old, feeble man. Judging by the behavior I have witnessed in the past by experienced fools, I would speculate that Erasmus, left alone, would probably have defused the ladas anger by carrying it to exaggeration, by actually lying on the ground and inviting the young man to savage him. And then, having shocked the fellow into immobility, he would have brought the lesson to a close by identifying himself, Erasmus, the near victim, with the girl, the manas perpetual victim. Now, that is teaching, and I suspect that even in its interrupted form the lesson will not cease to niggle at the man for some time. Every time he looks at the young woman, for a while.a aIf youare right, itad be a clever thing to teach in our domestic violence programa"lie down and let the husband boot you before arresting him.a aOf course, it isnat quite that simple, is it? Itas not a technique at all; itas a response from the foolas inner being. And, seeing the effect this fool has had on one far-from-gullible police officer, I must say I am quite looking forward to meeting him.a At first it looked as if the professor would not get her wish, because when Kate drove past the place where Erasmus had been performing, he had obeyed the patrolmanas order and was no longer there. Nor did they spot him anywhere along the strip of shops and shows, all the way up to the Maritime Museum. Along the drive, however, there had been various tantalizing smells, french fries and onions and grilling hamburgers, topped off by a waft of chilis and onions that lay over Ghirardelli Square.

aI havenat had any lunch,a Kate declared. aDo you mind if I stop off and get something, then we can do another drive-by?a aThatas quite all right with me.a Kate drove around into Fort Mason and stopped as close to Greens Restaurant as she could get, ran in and bought a juicy sandwich of eggplant and red peppers and cheese, a bag of fruity cookies for the professor, who had said that shead already eaten lunch, and ran back out. She pulled the car back out into the Marina and parked, and they ate while watching the joggers and Frisbee players and people lying with their faces turned to the winter sun. Professor Whitlaw ate one cookie and then opened the door and got out to stand and gaze over the gra.s.s to the waters of the Bay and the tracery of the Golden Gate Bridge. Kate gathered up sandwich and car keys and went to stand with her.

aYou have a very lovely city here,a said the professor. aA jewel in a golden setting. Do you know, London is built on one of the most active rivers in the world, and yet in most of the city youad never know the river was there. Iave often thought that would be the definition of a modern city: One has absolutely no idea of the natural setting.a aIt would be hard to ignore the Bay and the hills here.a aYes, I fear San Francisco is doomed never to achieve modernity. What a blessing. Do you suppose that is a kite that young man is wrestling with, or a tent?a aG.o.d only knows. Weall have to wait and see if he gets it in the air.a The results were inconclusive. The winged dome with the dragon st.i.tched on one side was briefly airborne but hardly aerodynamic. Kate crumpled her sandwich wrapper and tossed it into a nearby can.

aReady?a she asked.

aYes,a Professor Whitlaw said, and turned back to the car. aI really must do this more often. Itas ridiculous, to come to a magnificent place like this and see only the insides of walls. I believe Iave seen more of the city in the last hour than I have the entire three weeks Iave been here.a She turned to Kate and humorously half-inclined her head. aThank you for the tour.a aAny time.a In the car, they rolled down the windows. Kate turned back toward Fishermenas Wharf.

aAre you from London, then?a she asked.

aOh no, dear. Rural Yorkshire originally, then Cambridge, followed by several years teaching in London. I hated it there. So insular and gray. Chicago seemed wide open, bracing after London. That is where I first came in this country, to a teaching job. Although I admit California seems like a different country entirely. I first got to really know the Fools movement in Chicago and on the East Coast, Boston and New York.a aEven though they started in England.a aYes, ironic, wasnat it? I knew of them in England, of course, but they were of peripheral interest to me thena"a friend who later became a colleague had a pa.s.sion for them. Eventually the pa.s.sion proved contagious. My actual field is the history of cults, but thereas so much that is depressing in cult behavior, I found Fools a refreshing change. They are one of the few groups who understand that religion can be not only joyous but fun. He doesnat seem to be here, does he?a She sounded disappointed as Kate drove slowly past the place where Erasmus had been two hours earlier.

aNo, but weall try farther up. One of the vendors said heas usually there in the afternoons.a There was one crowd, at the beginning of Aquatic Park, but that was only the line waiting for the cable car to be rotated. They rounded the park, dodging a flock of j.a.panese tourists and a laden station wagon from Michigan, and then, on the path sloping down from the road to the waterfront, there was another crowd: From its center rose the back of a familiar graying head.

Kate pulled into a no-parking area, propped her police identification on the dashboard, and trotted around the car to help Professor Whitlaw out.

aHeas down there. See where that child with the ball just ran?a The professor set off determinedly in her sensible shoes, with Kate at her side. Halfway down the slope, the din from the street musicians across the road faded, and the wind stilled. Kate could hear him now, not what he was saying but the rhythm of his voice as he chanted some other manas words. A few more steps, and Professor Whitlaw faltered. Kateas hand shot out to grasp the womanas elbow, but she had not stumbled, and now she picked up her pace as if anxious to reach her goal.

The voice of Brother Erasmus rose and faded as his head turned toward them and then away. They were still in back of him.

aa a rich man to go through the eye of a needle thanaa he said before his words faded again. The brief phrase had an extraordinary effect on the professor, however. She gave a brief sound, like a cough, and raised her hand as if to pull away the shoulders that were blocking her view of the speaker, but then, realizing the futility of it, she began to work her way around to the right, craning her neck and going up on her toes, to no avail. This close, even Kate couldnat see him.

They were directly in front of him now, separated by four or five layers of people, and although his words were clear, Kate did not hear them. All her attention was on Eve Whitlaw, that dignified English professor who was now practically whimperinga"she was whimpering, with the frustration of being unable to move the bodies ahead of her, those shoulders clad in knit cotton, shining heads of hair a foot above her own. Finally she just put her head down and began to push her way in, Kate close on her heels.

He saw Kate first. His eyes rested on her calmly, sardonically, as if to say, Are you here again, my child? And then they dropped to look at the tiny woman emerging from the circle of onlookers before him. Kate saw the shock run through him, saw him rear up, his two-toned face draining of color, his head turning away even though his eyes were riveted on Eve Whitlaw. His mouth, his entire body were twisting away from her, and the expression on his face could only be one of sudden and complete terror.

aDavid?a the professor cried. aDavid, my G.o.d, I thought you were dead!a And with her words, he turned and bolted through the crowd.

FIFTEEN.

The man who went into the cave was not the man who came out again.

Kate would never have thought that a seventy-year-old man burdened by a wooden staff and overly large shoes could have evaded her, but this one did. His early advantage through the thinnest edge of the crowd while Kate was wading out from the very center got him to the road first. He shot across, to a screeching of tires and the blare of angry horns, and by the time Kate had threaded her way between the camper van and a taxi, he had vanished. He had to have entered Ghirardelli Square somehow, but the shopkeepers all looked at her dumbly and none of the other closed doors would open. Red-faced and cursing her lack of condition, she went to her car to radio for help but then stopped to think.

What difference did his running make? That had not been the flight of a guilty man upon seeing a police officer,- indeed, he hadnat been the least bit disturbed at seeing her. She could hardly have him arrested for fleeing an old acquaintancea"because thatas what he had been doing. He knew Eve Whitlaw, and she knewa"David? Kate put down the handset and got out of the car. She could always put out a call for him later, if she needed to.

Professor Whitlaw was sitting on a bench, looking pale, hugging her large black handbag to her chest. Kate sat down beside her.

aAre you all right?a aOh yes, dear. Upset. It was a shock. For him, too, obviously. Oh my, how very stupid I was, bursting in on him like that.a aYou know him,a Kate said, not as a question. aI mean personally.a aOh my yes, I know him. Knew him. We worked together for ten years, what seems like a long, long time ago.a aDavida Sawyer?a aYou know of him, then?a aThere was a note in your file, a personal communication from David Sawyer, dated October 1983.a aLord, yes. I had forgotten that. Just three months before he disappeared. We all thought he was dead.a aWhy? What happened?a She closed her eyes and put a shaky hand across her mouth. Kate looked up and noticed the last of the crowd, lingering to have the excitement explained. She shook her head at them and they began to drift away.

aI donat think I can go into it just here and now,a said the professor. aI feel very unsettled. I should like to pull my thoughts together first, if you donat mind.a Truth to tell, she was looking old and badly shaken.

aThatas fine. Let me take you back to your house,- we can have a cup of tea. Isnat that what Iam supposed to offer you?a The professor smiled at her gratefully.

aThe English panacea, yes. Tea for upsets, tea when youave been working, tea for hot and cold, thirst and hunger, tea to ease an awkward conversation. Yes, we shall drink tea.a While the kettle was heating in the cheerful pine kitchen, Kate borrowed the telephone in the study, closing the door behind her. She reached Al Hawkin on the third try, neither in his car nor in his office, but at home. She could hear the television in the background.

aAl, this is Kate. Iam glad I reached you, I thought you might be in Palo Alto.a aJanias got a conference this weekend, so Iam catching up on paperwork and watching the moss grow on my carpet. Whatas up?a aProfessor Whitlaw knows who Erasmus is. I took her to see him, down on the lawn of Aquatic Park, and when he spotted her, he rana"literally. He was frightened of her, Al.a aYou were there? And he got away from you?a aI know,a she said, embarra.s.sed. aOnly as far as the shops, but one of them was either hiding him or had let him out through a back door. I didnat think I should make a big thing of it, though. I mean, heas hardly your average Joe, if we want to pick him up again.a aWhere are you now?a aAt Professor Whitlawas house down in Noe Valley. Sheas going to tell me what she knows about Erasmus, or I should say David Sawyer. Do you want to hear it?a aGive me the address,a he said, and when she had described how to find the place, he growled, aFifteen minutes. I need to shave first.a aOh, give her a thrill, Al. Sheall think youare doing undercover work.a He grunted and dropped the phone, and Kate replaced her own receiver, then stood looking at the walls of books that rose up on all sides. Two sides, she saw, were filled with an unlikely combination of medical texts (with an emphasis on childhood diseases and allergies) and best-seller hardbacks with brightly colored dust jackets (novels and the sort of non-fiction books everyone talks about but no one reads). One wall and the narrow shelves beside the door had been cleared for use by the temporary resident,- these books were mostly old and lacking dust jackets, with library stickers on their spines. Ignoring the whistle of the teakettle and the sounds of cups and spoons, Kate ran her eye slowly over the a.s.sembled volumes until she found what she had thought would be there: The Fool. Order Through Chaos, Clarity from Confusion by David M. Sawyer, M. Div., Ph.D. She pulled it out, then saw another with the name Sawyer on the spine, a slim volume called The Reformation of the Catholic Church. She carried them both with her out to the kitchen and laid them on the oak table, which was looking slightly less polished than it had two days before.

aYouave found Davidas books,a noted Professor Whitlaw. She put down the plate she was carrying and reached out for the book on top, the Church t.i.tle. She held it in her right hand and, pinching the hollow of the binding between her left thumb and forefinger, she ran her fingers up and down the spine a couple of times before putting the book down again with an affectionate pat.

aThese are the only ones he wrote?a aThere are two more, which Iave loaned out, and he was halfway through a fifth one when he disappeared.a aIf you donat mind Iad like my partner to hear about Sawyeras disappearance, too. His name is Al Hawkin,- heall be here in about ten minutes.a aOf course not, I donat mind waiting.a Kate looked again at the two books, which gave her a topic of peripheral conversation. aIsnat that a broad sort of reach, from Catholicism to Fools? I thought scholarly types tended to specialize more than that.a aThe Reformation book was his Ph.D. thesis, an investigation into how early Protestantism changed the Roman Catholic Church. And yes, youad think the two topics unrelated, but David was interested in the ways an existing organization, when confronted by rebellion, moves not away from but toward its opposition. After Luther, the Roman Catholic authoritiesa"a She was off, in full-fledged scholarly flight, and Kate did not even try to follow her. She just nodded at the pauses and waited for the doorbell to ring.

When Hawkin arrived (shaven and dressed in tan shirt, tie, and tweedy sport jacket), the pot of tea had to be emptied and made anew, the plate of what the professor called adigestive biscuitsa refilled, and tea begun again. Eventually they were settled, refreshed, and ready. Kate took out her notebook.

aYou want to know about David Sawyer,a Professor Eve Whitlaw began. aI first met David in London in 1971. It was July, the beginning of the long vac, and I was in the reading room of the British Library when he came up to my table and demanded to know why for the third time he had requested a book, only to be told that I had it. He was over from America, looking into the Fools movement, which was barely two years old and had caught his fancy. Our interests overlapped, so for the rest of his stay, which was, I think, a couple of weeks, we joined forces. Academically,a she added sternly, although the vision of even the most platonic relationship was inevitably amusing, given nearly two feet in height difference. Seeing neither suspicion nor humor in either bland detective face, she went on. aHe was married and had a son. The family stayed in Chicago that summer, although the next year they came over with him. His wife was younger than he was, and the child was eight or nine.a aWhere are they now?a Kate asked.

aI think youad best let me tell the story as it comes, if you donat mind. As I said, we joined forces. I drove him around southern England to the various Fool centers, and he helped me with my work. He had a remarkable understanding of cult psychology, and he knew everyone in the field, it seemed. After head left, we corresponded. That first spring we wrote a joint article for a journal. The next summer when he came over with his family, they hired a house near Oxford, and for two months I practically lived with them. His wife was the loveliest person, had just finished her Ph.D. in early-childhood education, and their son was sweet, too. He had a mild speech defect and was at that sort of unformed age, but he had occasional sparkles of joy and intelligence. Ay, what a grand summer that was.

aAt the end of it, I went back to gray old London and they flew back to Chicago, and two months later I had a telephone call from David asking if Iad be interested in applying for a job. Teaching undergraduates, to start with, with some research time. I jumped at it, and I got it, and we worked together for the next ten years. They were the best ten years of my life,a she said, pursing her lips as if to keep from having to speak further.

aNow comes the hard part. Perhaps I should point out that David was considerably higher up the ladder than I was. He worked almost exclusively with graduate students and on his own research. In a way, that was a pity, because he was one of the most stimulating lecturers Iave ever heard. I used to pull him into my cla.s.ses regularly, just for the pleasure of seeing their faces light up, and to see him respond to them. When he talked about church history, his voice would make poetry out of the councils and the heresies. Brilliant.

aBut for the most part, he had graduate students. Some of them were very good,- a few were mediocrea"he found it difficult to refuse anyone outright,- he thought it better to let them discover their own limitations. There were a few disappointments, a couple of kids who were angry when they finally realized they werenat world-movers, but mostly it went smoothly. Until Kyle.

aI never liked Kyle Roberts, and I donat think itas only hindsight talking. I didnat trust him, and I told David so, but he said it would be fine, that it was only Kyleas rough edges. Kyle came from a very poor family, made it through on some minority scholarship, although he looked straight Caucasian to me, and basically he a.s.sumed the world owed him a living. What he wanted was to be a full professor at Yale, no less. David thoughta Oh G.o.d. David thought it was funny. He thought that when Kyle really knew what he was getting into, he would settle for teaching in some lesser university, or a college. He should have taken his masteras degree and gone away, because he had a wife and two children to support, but his work was just good enough to keep him in the program. David and a couple of the others used to give him part-time jobs, research a.s.sistant and teaching aide, but I wouldnat have anything to do with it. I thought, frankly, that it was cruel to encourage a man who had working-cla.s.s manners, a family to feed, and no brilliance to think of himself as top academic material.

aWell. By the autumn of 1983, he had been in the program for five years. The first of the men and women he had entered with began to finish their programs, but he hadnat even had the topic for his dissertation approved, much less written it. Now, thatas not all that unusuala"a Ph.D. varies tremendously in how long it takesa"but for him it was becoming a real problem, because in his own eyes he was brilliant.

aThen in early December, one of the a.s.sistant professors announced that he was leaving, and Kyle went to David and said that he wanted the job. It was utterly impossible, of course. He might just have qualified as a candidate if head had the thesis in its final stages, but when he had not even begun to write it? There were at least forty others who would be completely qualified, so why lower the standards in order to get Kyle Roberts?

aIt all happened so quickly. Looking back, thatas the most baffling thing, that there was no time for clouds to form on the horizon, no warning. Kyle confronted David, and David finally told him the truth about his academic future. Politely at first and then, when Kyle just refused to understand, David became harder, until he finally lost his temper and said that Kyle was deluding himself if he thought head ever reach higher than a.s.sistant professor, and that he, David, would be hard put to write a letter of recommendation even for that.

aKyle had never had anyone he respected tell him that, and it simply shattered him. I saw him when he left Davidas officea"the whole building heard the argumenta"and he was just white. Stunned. I will never forget how he looked. And I know, I knew then, that any one of us could have rescued him, just by putting a hand outa But we didnat. Head become too much of a leech to risk making contact. I let him walk past me.

aHe went home. But on his way, he stopped at a sporting goods store and bought a shotgun, and when he walked through his back door, he loaded it and shot his wife, his eight-year-old son, and his three-year-old daughter. The police later decided that he must have sat there for nearly an hour, and during that time he must have found his anger again, because instead of killing himself, he went to find David. It was dark. He went to Davidas home. David was not back yet, but his wife and son were there, and so Kyle shot them both and then finally turned the gun on himself. Jonny died. He was nineteen. Charlotte, Davidas wife, had a collapsed lung, but they saved her. She got out of the hospital just in time for Christmas.

aDavid was utterly devastated, emptya"an automaton. He wouldnat go out, except to buy food for Charlotte and pick up her prescriptions. He wouldnat talk to me,- when I went to his house, he would not even look at me. The administration arranged for a leave of absence, of course, but he didnat even sign the papers they sent him until the chair of the department went and stood over him.

aFinally at the end of January, Charlotte was well enough to travel, and she went home to her parentsa house on Long Island. He drove her to New York and then went back to their house, just long enough to type out his letter of resignation, arrange a power of attorney for his lawyer so that all his personal a.s.sets could be transferred immediately to Charlotte, and make three phone calls to friends. I was one of them. All he saidaa She swallowed, blinking furiously. aThis is very difficult. All he said was that his vanity hada had killed five people and that hea" Oh G.o.d,a she whispered as the tears broke free. aHe said he loved me and wished me all good things, and would very probably not see me again. And he asked me to take care of Charlottea Thank you.a She seized the box of tissues Hawkin had put in front of her and buried her face in a handful of pink paper. aTen years ago last month,a she said, and blew her nose a final time, aand it seems like yesterday.a She got up and walked into the kitchen, where she stood on the stool to splash water onto her face, then dried it with a kitchen towel and came back to the table.

aWe all a.s.sumed that he had gone somewhere and killed himself. He was very nearly dead already. And then today I see David Sawyer looking like an old derelict and acting the Fool for tourists, and he runs at the sight of my face. And,a she added a minute later, ahe is somehow involved in a murder. Yet another murder. Oh, poor, poor David.a Holding her threadbare dignity around her, she stumbled down from the tall chair and walked away down the hallway. A door opened and closed. Kate blew a stream of air through her pursed lips and looked at Hawkin.

aI could understand if someone had bashed hima"Erasmus, or Sawyer. Iave seen two good solid motives for killing him in the last few hours. But as for him killing someone else, I havenat seen anything.a aJohn was a blackmailer,a said Hawkin quietly.

aAnd he found out about Kyle and threatened to tell the other street people, so Erasmus bashed him to keep him quiet? I canat see it, Al. Sorry.a aHe ran.a aFrom her, not from me.a aShe knows who he is. Shead give you the motive and ID him. Maybe if you hadnat been there he would have lured her off to a quiet corner and whacked her one, too.a She leaned over the table to study his face, but it told her nothing.

aAre you serious, Al? Or are you just playing with this?a Iam mostly trying it out for size, but I will say that Iam not too happy he made a run for it. I donat like the idea of him skipping town.a aOkay, youare the boss. Do you want to put a call out for him tonight or wait and see if he shows up in the park tomorrow?a aWe can wait. Meanwhile, see what you can find out about this Kyle Roberts thing. Whereas Sawyeras wife now,- was it really an open-and-shut murder/suicide,- did Roberts have family that might want to even things up a bit?a aSuch as a five-foot-eleven white male with a Texas accent who called himself John?a aSuch as. You know anyone in Chicago?a a aAnyonea meaning anyone on the police department? No.a aI donat, either. Well, I met someone at a conference once, but he and I had differing views on such things as search-and-seizure and putting down riots. He wouldnat give you the time of day. What about Kenning down in Vice? He had a brother, didnat he?a How, wondered Kate, could I have forgotten either Haw-kinas phenomenal memory or his personal-touch method of getting information? When they had worked together before, she had tended to turn to the computer,- Al depended on someoneas cousin Marty who had been mentioned at the last departmental ball game.

aIall ask,a she said. Computers didnat have it all.

aWell,a he said, aI donat know that we can do anything else here. You want to start the background search on him? Iad do it, but Iam testifying in that Brancusi case Monday and I need to go over it carefully. Itas going to be a b.i.t.c.h.a aNo problem, Iall get it going. Excepta"how about you call Kenning and ask for his brotheras name? Heas probably home watching the game, and youare more likely to know when itas over than I am.a She grinned at him and he, unembarra.s.sed, grinned back.

aPaperwork, you know?a he said. aI only turn on the tube for the noise.a aSure, Al. Have a beer for me, okay?a aTalk to you later. Thank the professor for the tea.a He let himself out, and a minute later Kate heard a car door slam and an engine start up. She picked up Sawyeras book on fools and began to leaf through it, waiting for Professor Whitlaw to emerge, but she had barely started the introduction before the door opened and the professor came down the hall.

aI apologize,a she said. aAs I said, it was a shock. Now, please tell me what I may do to help my old friend.a aEr, I donat really know.a aI must see him again.a aIall let you know when we find him.a They owed her at least that much, Kate figured, but something in her voice alerted the professor.

aYou sound as if you have some doubts about it.a aHe may go to ground for a few days,a she said evasively.

aYou donat think itall be more than that, do you? He wonat run away completely, surely.a Kate always hated this sort of thing. With a suspect, you knew where you stood: Never answer questions,- donat even act as if you heard them. With a witness, just evade politely. But with an important, intelligent, and potentially very helpful witness, evasion created a barrier, and she couldnat afford that.

aProfessor Whitlaw, we donat know what to expect, and I doubt you could help us any in figuring it out. Iad say offhand that the David Sawyer you knew is gone. Heas Brother Erasmus now, and Brother Erasmus could do anything.a aNot murder, in case you are thinking of him as a suspect. Not as David Sawyer, and not as a fool.a aI hope youare right. Heas an appealing character.a aThat hasnat changed, at any rate. Perhaps thereas more of David there than you think.a aWe shall see. Thank you very much for your help with his ident.i.ty. And I take it that you would be available for a.s.sisting in an interview with him?a aThatas right,- you said he was difficult to communicate with. I had forgotten, in all the uproar. Yes, certainly, I shall be glad to help. Perhaps Iad best brush up on my Shakespeare.a aThat reminds mea"the name of his son. You said it was Jonny, I think?a aShort for Jonathan, yes. Why?a aThe first time I met him, he seemed to be trying to explain himself to me and Dean Gardner, and he said something about vanity, and Absalom, and he also said that David loved Jonathan.a aOdd. Isnat it Jonathan who loved David?a Thatas what the dean said. He seemed to think it was very unusual for Erasmus to change a text.a Although, come to think of it, he had done so again that day. Surely the Lewis Carroll poem told us, Speak roughly to your little boy?

aIam sorry, but I find it difficult to imagine a fool who is so structured in his utterances.a aImagine it. But if as you say his son was named Jonathan, then perhaps he was trying to tell us that he believes his avanitya led to the death of his son. Thatas very close to what youave just told me, which proves that he can communicate,- he can even change his quotations if he wants to badly enough.a aOh dear. Iam afraid Iam getting too old for this kind of mental gymnastics. I shall have to think about what youave told me.

aThatas fine,- thereas nothing more you can do now, anyway. You have my number, if you think of anything. Thanks again for your help. Iall let myself out.a

SIXTEEN.

He suffered fools gladly.

It was dark outside but still clear. Kate got into her car and drove to the Hall of Justice. By the time she arrived, her bladder was nearly bursting from the cups of tea shead drunk, and she sprinted for the nearest toilet before making her way more slowly to her office, the coffeepot, and the telephone. It was Sat.u.r.day night, although early yet; business would pick up soon. Her first phone call was to her own number.