The old man looked at me with contempt.

"Rubbish! I understand you have to pretty up his image, but you'll get nothing but the truth from me. There wasn't an individual in the bunch from Brindamoor. Young man, solitude is the nectar of individuality. Our Willie Towle had no taste for it."

"Why do you say that?"

"I cannot recall ever seeing him alone. He palled around with two other dullards from the island. The three of them pranced around like little dictators. The Three Heads of State they were called behind their backs - pretentious, puffed - up boys. Willie, Stu and Eddy."

"Stu and Eddy?"

"Yes, yes, that's what I said. Stuart Hickle and Edwin Hayden."

At the mention of those names I gave an involuntary start. I struggled to neutralize my expression, hoping the old man hadn't noticed the reaction. Happily, he appeared oblivious, as he lectured in that parched voice:

"… and Hickle was a sickly, pimple - faced rotter with a spooky disposition, not a word out of him that wasn't censored by the other two. Hayden was a mean - spirited little sneak. I caught him cheating on an exam and he attempted to bribe me out of failing him by offering to procure for me an Indian prostitute of supposedly exotic talents - can you imagine such gall, as if I were unable to fend for myself in affairs of lust!

Of course I failed him and wrote a sharp letter to his parents. Got no reply - no doubt they never read it, off on some European jaunt. Do you know what became of him?" he ended rhetorically.

"No," I lied.

"He's now a judge - in Los Angeles. In fact I believe all three of them, the glorious Heads, moved to Los Angeles. Hickle's some kind of chemist - wanted to be a doctor, just like Willie, and I believe he actually did begin medical school. But he was too stupid to pull through.

"A judge," he repeated. "What does that say about our judicial system?"

The information was pouring in fast and, like a pauper suddenly discovering a sizeable inheritance, I wasn't sure how to deal with it. I wanted to shed my cover and wring every last bit of information out of the old man, but there was the case - and my promises to Margaret - to think about.

"I'm a nasty old bugger, am I not?" crackled Van der Graaf.

"You seem very perceptive, Professor."

"Oh, do I?" He smiled craftily. "Any other tidbits I can toss your way?"

"I know Dr. Towle lost his wife and child several years back. What can you tell me about that?"

He stared at me, then refilled his glass and sipped. "All part of your story?"

"All part of fleshing out the portrait," I said. It sounded feeble.

"Ah, yes, fleshing it out. Of course. Well, it was a tragedy, no two ways about it, and your doctor was rather young to be dealing with it. He was married during his sophomore year to a lovely girl from a good Portland family. Lovely, but outside his circle - the Two Hundred tended to marry each other. The engagement came as a bit of surprise. Six months later the girl gave birth to a son and that mystery was cleared up.

"For a while the trio seemed to be breaking up - Hickle and Hayden slinked off by themselves as Willie attended to the duties of a married man. Then the wife and child were killed and the Heads were reunited. I suppose it's natural that a man will seek the comfort of friends in the wake of such a loss."

"How did it happen?"

He peered into his glass and downed the last few drops.

"The girl - the mother - was taking the child to the hospital. He'd woken up with the croup or some such ailment. The nearest emergency facility was at the Children's Orthopedic Hospital, at the University. It was in the early morning hours, still dark. Her car went over the Evergreen Bridge and plunged into the lake. It was daybreak before it was found."

"Where was Dr. Towle?"

"Studying. Burning the midnight oil. Of course this caused him to be guilt - stricken, absolutely wretched. No doubt he blamed himself for not having been there and been drowned himself. You know the type of self - flagellation embraced by the bereaved."

"A tragic affair."

"Oh yes. She was a lovely girl."

"Dr. Towle keeps her picture in his office."

"A sentimentalist, is he?"

"I suppose." I drank some whiskey. "After the tragedy he began seeing more of his friends?"

"Yes. Though as I hear you use the term I realize something. In my concept of friendship there is implied a bond of affection, some degree of mutual admiration. Those three always looked so grim when they were together - they didn't seem to enjoy each other's company. I never knew what the link between them was, but it did exist. Willie went away to medical school and Stuart tagged along. Edwin Hayden attended law school at the same university. They settled in the same city. No doubt you'll be contacting the other two in order to obtain laudatory quotes for your article. If there is an article."

I struggled to remain calm.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I think you know what I mean, my boy. I'm not going to ask you to present identification confirming you're who you say you are - it wouldn't prove a thing anyway - because you seem like a pleasant, intelligent young man and how many visitors to whom I can blab do you think I receive? Enough said."

"I appreciate that, Professor."

"And well you should. I trust you have your reasons for wanting to ask me about Willie. Undoubtedly they're boring and I've no wish to know them. Have I been helpful?"

"You've been more than helpful." I filled our glasses and we shared another drink, no conversation passing between us.

"Would you be willing to be a bit more helpful?" I asked.

"That depends."

"Dr. Towle has a nephew. Timothy Kruger. I wonder if there's anything you could tell me about him."

Van der Graaf raised his drink to his lips with trembling hands. His face clouded.

"Kruger." He said the name as if it were an epithet.

"Yes."

"Cousin. Distant cousin, not nephew."

"Cousin, then."

"Kruger. An old family. Prussians, every one of them. Power brokers. A powerful family." His melliflu ousness was gone and he spat out the words with mechanical intonation. "Prussians."

He took a few steps. The arachnid stagger ceased abruptly and he let his hands drop to his sides.

"This must be a police matter," he said.

"Why do you say that?"

His face blackened with anger and he raised one fist in the air, a prophet of doom.

"Don't trifle with me, young man! If it has something to do with Timothy Kruger there's little else it could be!"

"It is part of a criminal investigation. I can't go into details."

"Oh, can't you? I've wagged my tongue at you without demanding to know your true intentions. A moment ago I judged them to be boring. Now I've changed my mind."

"What is it about the Kruger name that scares you so much, Professor?"

"Evil," he said. "Evil frightens me. You say your questions are part of a criminal investigation. How do I know what side you're on?"

"I'm working with the police. But I'm not a policeman."

"I won't tolerate riddles! Either be truthful or be gone!"

I considered the choice.

"Margaret Dopplemeier," I said. "I don't want her to lose her job because of anything I tell you."

"Maggie?" he snorted. "Don't worry about her, I've no intention of letting on the fact that she led you to me. She's a sad girl, needs intrigue to spice up her life. I've spoken enough to her to know that she clings longingly to the Conspiracy Theory of Life. Dangle one before her - she'll go for it like a trout for a lure. Kennedy assassinations, Unidentified Flying Objects, cancer tooth decay - all the result of a grand collusion of anonymous demons. No doubt you recognized that and exploited it."

He made it sound Machiavellian. I didn't dispute it.