"Doctor! How are you."

"I'm fine. How's Anne Marie?"

"Very well. She's finishing up her second year at Wheaton - in Boston. She's got As and a few Bs, but the Bs didn't panic her. She's still too rough on herself, but she seems to be adjusting well to the peaks and troughs of life, as you called them. Her weight is stable at a hundred and two."

"Excellent. Give my regards when you speak to her."

"I certainly will. It's nice of you to call."

"Well actually there's more to this than professional followup."

"Oh?" A foxy edge, the conditioned vigilance of one who pried open locked boxes for a living, came into his voice.

"I need a favor."

"Name it."

"I'm flying up north to Seattle tonight. I need to get into some transcripts at a small college near there. Jedson."

"Hey, that's not what I expected. I thought you wanted a blurb about a book in the Sunday edition or something. This sounds serious."

"It is."

"Jedson. I know it. Anne Marie was going to apply there - we figured a small place would be less pressure for her - but it was fifty percent more expensive than Wheaton, Reed, and Oberlin - and they're no giveaways themselves. What do you want with their transcripts?"

"I can't say."

"Doctor." He laughed. "Pardon the expression, but you're prick - teasing. I'm a professional snoop. Dangle something weird in front of me I get a hard - on."

"What makes you think anything's weird?"

"Doctors running around trying to get into files is weird. Usually it's the shrinks who get broken into, if my memory serves me correctly."

"I can't go into it now, Ned."

"I'm good with a secret, Doc."

"No. Not Yet. Trust me. You did before."

"Below the belt, Doc."

"I know. And I wouldn't gut - punch you if it wasn't important. I need your help. I may be onto something, maybe not. If I am you'll be the first to hear about it."

"Something big?"

I thought about it for a moment.

"Could be."

"Okay," he sighed, "what do you want me to do?"

"I'm giving your name as a reference. If anyone calls you, back up my story."

"What's the story?"

He listened.

"It seems harmless enough. Of course," he added cheerfully, "if you get found out I'll probably be out of a job."

"I'll be careful."

"Yeah. What the hell, I'm getting ready for the gold watch, anyway." There was a pause, as if he were fantasizing life after retirement. Apparently he didn't like what he saw, because when he came back on the line, there was verve in his voice and he offered a reporter's priapic lament.

"I'm gonna go nuts wondering about this. You sure you don't want to give me a hint about what you're up to?"

"I can't, Ned."

"Okay, okay. Go spin your yarn and keep me in mind if you knit a sweater."

"I will. Thanks."

"Oh, hell, don't thank me, I still feel crummy about taking all that time to pay you. I look at my baby now and I see a pink - checked, smiling young lady, a beauty. She's still a little too thin for my taste, but she's not a walking corpse like before. She's normal, at least as far as I can tell. She can smile now. I owe you, Doctor."

"Stay well, Ned." "You too."

I hung up. Biondi's words of gratitude made me entertain a moment's doubt about my own retirement. Then I thought of bloody bodies and doubt got up and took a seat in the rear of the hearse.

It took several false starts and stops to reach the right person at Jedson College.

"Public relations, Ms. Dopplemeier." "Ms. Dopplemeier, this is Alex Delaware. I'm a writer with the Los Angeles Times."

"What can I do for you, Mr. Delaware?" "I'm doing a feature on the small colleges of the West, concentrating on institutions that are not well known but academically excellent nonetheless. Claremont, Occidental, Reed, etcetera. We'd like to include Jedson in the piece."

"Oh, really?" She sounded surprised, as if it was the first time anyone had labeled Jedson academically excellent. "That would be very nice, Mr. Delaware. I'd be happy to talk to you right now and answer any questions you might have."

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I'm aiming for a more personal approach. My editor is less interested in statistics than in color. The tenor of the story is that small colleges offer a degree of personal contact and - intimacy - that is missing from the larger universities."

"How true."

"I'm actually visiting the campuses, chatting with staff and students - it's an impression piece."

"I understand exactly what you mean. You want to come across with a voice that's human."

"Exactly. That's a marvelous way of putting it."

"I did two years at a trade paper in New Jersey before coming to Jedson." Within the soul of every flack there lurks a journalistic homunculus, chafing to be released to proclaim "Scoop!" to the ears of the world.

"Ah, a kindred soul."

"Well, I've left it, but I do think of going back from time to time."

"It's not way to get rich, but it does keep me hopping, Ms. Dopplemeier."

"Margaret."

"Margaret. I'm planning to fly up tonight and wondered if I might come by tomorrow and pay you a visit."

"Let me check." I heard paper rustling. "How about at eleven?"

"Fine."

"Is there anything you'd like me to do by way of preparation?"

"One thing we're looking at is what happens to graduates of small colleges. I'd be interested in hearing about some of your notable alumni. Doctors, lawyers, that sort of thing."

"I haven't had a chance to thoroughly acquaint myself with the alumni roster - I've only been here for a few months. But I'll ask around and find out who can help you."

"I'd appreciate that."

"Where can I reach you if I need to?"

"I'll be in transit most of the time. You can leave any message with my colleague at the Times, Edward Biondi." I gave her Ned's number.

"Very good. It's all set for tomorrow at eleven. The college is in Bellevue, just outside of Seattle. Do you know where that is?"

"On the east shore of Lake Washington?" Years back I'd been a guest lecturer at the University of Washington and had visited my host's home in Bellevue. I remembered it as an upper - middle - class bedroom community of aggressively contemporary homes, straight - edge lawns and low - rise shopping centers occupied by gourmet shops, antique galleries and high - priced haberdasheries.

"That's correct. If you're coming from downtown take 1 - 5 to 520 which turns into the Evergreen Point Floating Bridge. Drive all the way across the bridge to the east shore, turn south at Fairweather and continue along the coastline. Jedson is on Meydenbauer Bay, right next to the yacht club. I'm on the first floor of Crespi Hall. Will you be staying for lunch?"

"I can't say for sure. It depends upon how my time is running." And what I find.

"I'll have something prepared for you, just in case."

"That's very kind of you, Margaret."

"Anything for a fellow journalist, Alex."

My next call was to Robin. It took her nine rings to answer.

"Hi." She was out of breath. "I had the big saw going, didn't hear you. What's up?"

"I'm going out of town for a couple of days."

"Tahiti, without me?"

"Nothing quite so romantic. Seattle."

"Oh. Detective work?"

"Call it biographical research." I told her about Towle's having attended Jedson.

"You're really going after this guy."

"He's going after me. When I was at W.P. this morning Henry Bork grabbed me in the hall, trundled me off to his office and delivered a not - so - subtle version of the old arm twist. Seems Towle's been questioning my ethics in public. He keeps cropping up, like toadstools after a flood. He and Kruger share an alma mater and it makes me want to know more about the ivy - covered halls of Jedson."