Mr. Chung has asked for an opinion as to whether your request may be illegal in and of itself. Whatever the result of that inquiry, I must tell you that I find your curiosity about this woman's life in San Francisco to be both inappropriate and offensive.
I suggest, Sheriff Pangborn, that you lay this matter to rest before you incur legal difficulties.
Sincerely, John L. Perlmutter Deputy Director cc: Patricia Chalmers After her fourth reading of this terrible letter, Polly rose from the bench and walked into the kitchen. She walked slowly and gracefully, more like one who swims than one who walks. At first her eyes were dazed and confused, but by the time she had taken the handset from the wall-mounted phone and tapped out the number of the Sheriff's Office on the oversized pads, they had cleared.
The look which lit them was simple and unmistakable: an anger so strong it was nearly hate.
Her lover had been sniffing around in her past-she found the idea simultaneously unbelievable and strangely, hideously plausible.
She had done a lot of comparing herself to Alan Pangborn in the last four or five months, and that meant she had done a lot of coming off second best. His tears; her deceptive calm, which hid so much shame and hurt and secret defiant pride. His honesty; her little stack of lies. How saintlike he had seemed! How dauntingly perfect!
How hypocritical her own insistence that he put the past away!
And all the time he had been sniffing around, trying to find out the real story on Kelton Chalmers.
"You bastard," she whispered, and as the telephone began to ring, the knuckles of the hand holding the telephone turned white with strain.
14
Lester Pratt usually left Castle Rock High in the company of several friends; they would all go down to Hemphill's Market for sodas, then head off to someone's house or apartment for a couple of hours to sing hymns or play games or just shoot the bull. Today, however, Lester left school alone with his knapsack on his back (he disdained the traditional teacher's briefcase) and his head down. If Alan had been there to watch Lester walk slowly across the school lawn toward the faculty parking lot, he would have been struck by the man's resemblance to Brian Rusk.
Three times that day Lester had tried to get in touch with Sally, to find out what in the land of Goshen had made her so mad. The last time had been during his period five lunch-break. He knew she was at the Middle School, but the closest he got to her was a callback from Mona Lawless, who taught sixth- and seventh-grade math and chummed with Sally.
"She can't come to the phone," Mona told him, displaying all the warmth of a deep-freeze stuffed with Popsicles.
"Why not?" he had asked-almost whined. "Come on, Monagive!
"I don't know." Mona's tone had progressed from Popsicies in the deep-freeze to the verbal equivalent of liquid nitrogen. "All I know is that she's been staying with Irene Lutjens, she looks like she spent all last night crying, and she says she doesn't want to talk to you."
And this is all your fault, Mona's frozen tone said. I know that because you're a man and all men are dogshit-this is just another specific example illustrating the general case.
"Well I don't have the slightest idea what it's all about!"
Lester shouted. "Will you tell her that, at least? Tell her I don't know why she's mad at me! Tell her whatever it is, it must be a misunderstanding, because I don't get it!"
There was a long pause. When Mona spoke again, her voice had warmed up a little. Not much, but it was a lot better than liquid nitrogen. "All right, Lester. I'll tell her."
Now he raised his head, half-hoping Sally might be sitting in the passenger seat of the Mustang, ready to kiss and make up, but the car was empty. The only person close to it was soft-headed Slopey Dodd, goofing around on his skateboard.
Steve Edwards came up behind Lester and clapped him on the shoulder. "Les, boy! Want to come over to my place for a Coke?
A bunch of the guys said they'd drop by. We have to talk about this outrageous Catholic harassment. The big meeting's at the church tonight, don't forget, and it would be good if we Y.A.'s could present a united front when it comes to deciding what to do.
I mentioned the idea to Don Hemphill and he said yeah, great, go for it." He looked at Lester as if he expected a pat on the head.
"I can't this afternoon, Steve. Maybe another time."
"Hey, Les, don't you get it? There may not be another time!
The Pope's boys aren't fooling around anymore!"
"I can't come over," Les said. And if you're wise, his face said, you'll stop pushing it.
"Well, but... why not?"
Because I have to find out what the heck I did to make my girl so angry, Lester thought. And I am going to find out, even if I have to shake it out of her.
Out loud he said, "I've got stuff to do, Steve. Important stuff.
Take my word for it."
"If this is about Sally, Les-" Lester's eyes flashed dangerously.