chiming and tweeting and cooing had driven everybody at home a little nuts.
Black Forest. He thought of that story, "The Man-Wolf," and of the character of Sperver. And the Nideck connection. Black Forest. He had to go look at that picture in the library, but there were so many pictures upstairs to check as well.
One thing at a time.
The windows here covered most of the eastern wall.
He,d never liked sitting before naked windows at night, especially when one could see nothing in the dark world beyond, but he did it consciously and deliberately now. To anyone out there in the forest he must be strikingly visible here, as if he were on a lighted stage.
So if you are out there, degenerate cousin of the great Nidecks, well, for the love of heaven, make yourself known.
There was no doubt in his mind that he would change later, of course, as he had the night before and the night before, even if he did not know why or when. But he was going to try to bring it on sooner. And he wondered if that creature, that creature who just might be out there watching, would wait for that transformation before he or it appeared.
He ate the beef, the carrots, the potatoes, whatever he could spear with the fork. It was pretty good, actually. So much for being disgusted by food. He lifted the plate and drank the broth. Nice of Galton,s wife to arrange this.
Suddenly he set the fork down and he rested his forehead in his hands, elbows on the table. "Marchent, forgive me," he whispered. "Forgive me for forgetting for one moment you died here."
He was still sitting there quietly when Celeste called him.
"You,re not afraid up there?"
"Afraid of what?" he asked. "The people who attacked me are dead. They,ve been dead since it happened."
"I don,t know. I don,t like to think of you up there. You know what,s happened. They found this little girl."
"I heard on the way up here."
"There,re reporters camped outside the sheriff,s office."
"I,m sure of it. I,m not going there just now."
"Reuben, you,re missing the biggest story of your career."
"My career,s six months old, Celeste, I have a long way to go."
"Reuben, you have never had your priorities straight," she said gently, emboldened obviously by the miles between them. "You know, nobody who knows you expected you to write such interesting articles for the Observer and you should be writing right now. I mean when you took that job, I thought, Yeah, sure, and How long will this last? and now you,re the one who,s given the Man Wolf his name. Everybody,s referencing your description - ."
"The witness,s description, Celeste - ." But why was he bothering to argue, or to talk at all?
"Look, I,m here with Mort. Mort wants to say hello."
Now that was cozy, wasn,t it?
"How,re you doing, old buddy?"
"Fine, just fine," said Reuben.
Mort went on for a little while about Reuben,s article on the Man Wolf. "Good stuff," he said. "Are you writing something on the house up there?"
"I don,t want to draw any more attention to this house," he said. "I don,t want to remind anybody about it anymore."
"That figures. Besides, this is one of those stories that will be over before it ever grows legs."
You think so?
Mort mentioned he might take Celeste to a movie in Berkeley, and he wished Reuben was there to come with them.
Hmmmm.
Reuben said fine, he,d catch up with them both in a few days. End of phone call.
So that was it. She was with Mort and she was having too good a time and she felt guilty and so she rang me. And what is she doing going to a movie with Mort when the whole city,s looking for the kidnappers or the Man Wolf?
Since when did Celeste want to be in a Berkeley art house with those kinds of things going on? Well, maybe she was falling for Mort. He couldn,t blame her. The fact was, he did not care.
After he,d put the plate and fork in one of the three dishwashers he discovered under the counter, he started his real tour of things.
He went all through the ground floor, peering into the closets and pantries that were everywhere, finding all as it had been, except that old abandoned conservatory had been thoroughly cleaned, and all the dead plants taken away, and the black granite floor tidily swept. Even the old Grecian fountain had been scoured apparently, and someone had fixed a neat note,