that I am involved…of course, I could be wrong about the whole thing…uh. Never mind.”
Instead he spoke carefully into the mouthpiece, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I accidentally hit the wrong button on my memory dial.”
He replaced the receiver and sat down to think about it for the hundredth time. He was boxed in. This “pattern” might well evaporate beneath the trained and analytical eyes of the authorities. Their obvious question would be, “Why does this seem so unusual to you?” That could be a difficult question to answer if Isaac came off as the only one interested in the matter. This would be followed by meaningful glances between the interrogators, with discreet notes taken in the margins of their official reports... “check personal info and question neighbors on the activities of one Isaac Bloom…”
Now a thought came that didn’t even surprise him. It was if he had expected it on the heels of all the others. He had to go to Biloxi.
It was a long shot and would, probably, hopefully, involve a great deal of wasted time. But he would go, hole up in some comfortable hotel on the beach, and scan the obituaries every day until a likely prospect turned up. Morbid? Yes. But this would prove it or disprove it once and for all. And perhaps he could finally extract himself from this increasingly tangled web. Because the longer it dragged on, the more he felt himself a player and not a spectator.
He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, forcing the machinery of his mind into idle gear. He had been sitting very still, allowing his thoughts to flow unimpeded through his head, when the doorbell announced a visitor. He opened the front door to the weary frame of Evan Connor, standing there like a cardboard cutout. He invited him in.
“How are you, Evan?”
“Not bad, Isaac. I just thought I would stop by on my way back to the rectory. It is a lovely afternoon and I have been enjoying a walk. I haven’t seen you in church in a while and I just wanted to make sure that you were all right. I’ve called a couple of times and gotten your machine, so I wasn’t too concerned. I know that’s how you dodge your pesky editors. But I thought I’d stop and say hello just the same.”
The old priest had taken responsibility for Isaac’s safety from the time he first arrived on the boat, following Evan from London to America. The habit had evolved over the years. And with the technological breakthrough of things like answering machines, they had devised a system where the old friends could check up with one another from their own homes. If Isaac was out of the house or away from the phone, or simply screening his calls, then the machine would pick up. If the answering machine did engage, Evan would call back with a three-ring query, at which time Isaac would pick up. The phone would never ring unanswered unless something was wrong. If Isaac was home and all right, and not dodging editors, then he would answer himself.
“Well, I’m glad you stopped by, Evan. I have just recently completed my latest assignment. It may well be my last. I think that it may be time to retire for good. Things are getting strange in this world of ours. In fact, there are a few matters I would like to discuss with you.”
Evan looked carefully into Isaac’s face. He could see fatigue. But there was something else there as well.
“I can appreciate your sentiments, Isaac. I have been feeling the call to leisure myself. I intend to speak with the Bishop next week about plans for my own retirement.”
Isaac smiled. “That is news well-met. I have to say, I am surprised that you have waited this long. You have given so much to your flock. It’s time that you enjoyed some time of your own beside those still waters.”
The priest frowned and looked away. “Yes, I suppose that it is time to reflect some upon the winding road of my life. Maybe I’ll go down to the Carolinas for some fishing…”
There was a wistful catch in
Instead he spoke carefully into the mouthpiece, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I accidentally hit the wrong button on my memory dial.”
He replaced the receiver and sat down to think about it for the hundredth time. He was boxed in. This “pattern” might well evaporate beneath the trained and analytical eyes of the authorities. Their obvious question would be, “Why does this seem so unusual to you?” That could be a difficult question to answer if Isaac came off as the only one interested in the matter. This would be followed by meaningful glances between the interrogators, with discreet notes taken in the margins of their official reports... “check personal info and question neighbors on the activities of one Isaac Bloom…”
Now a thought came that didn’t even surprise him. It was if he had expected it on the heels of all the others. He had to go to Biloxi.
It was a long shot and would, probably, hopefully, involve a great deal of wasted time. But he would go, hole up in some comfortable hotel on the beach, and scan the obituaries every day until a likely prospect turned up. Morbid? Yes. But this would prove it or disprove it once and for all. And perhaps he could finally extract himself from this increasingly tangled web. Because the longer it dragged on, the more he felt himself a player and not a spectator.
He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, forcing the machinery of his mind into idle gear. He had been sitting very still, allowing his thoughts to flow unimpeded through his head, when the doorbell announced a visitor. He opened the front door to the weary frame of Evan Connor, standing there like a cardboard cutout. He invited him in.
“How are you, Evan?”
“Not bad, Isaac. I just thought I would stop by on my way back to the rectory. It is a lovely afternoon and I have been enjoying a walk. I haven’t seen you in church in a while and I just wanted to make sure that you were all right. I’ve called a couple of times and gotten your machine, so I wasn’t too concerned. I know that’s how you dodge your pesky editors. But I thought I’d stop and say hello just the same.”
The old priest had taken responsibility for Isaac’s safety from the time he first arrived on the boat, following Evan from London to America. The habit had evolved over the years. And with the technological breakthrough of things like answering machines, they had devised a system where the old friends could check up with one another from their own homes. If Isaac was out of the house or away from the phone, or simply screening his calls, then the machine would pick up. If the answering machine did engage, Evan would call back with a three-ring query, at which time Isaac would pick up. The phone would never ring unanswered unless something was wrong. If Isaac was home and all right, and not dodging editors, then he would answer himself.
“Well, I’m glad you stopped by, Evan. I have just recently completed my latest assignment. It may well be my last. I think that it may be time to retire for good. Things are getting strange in this world of ours. In fact, there are a few matters I would like to discuss with you.”
Evan looked carefully into Isaac’s face. He could see fatigue. But there was something else there as well.
“I can appreciate your sentiments, Isaac. I have been feeling the call to leisure myself. I intend to speak with the Bishop next week about plans for my own retirement.”
Isaac smiled. “That is news well-met. I have to say, I am surprised that you have waited this long. You have given so much to your flock. It’s time that you enjoyed some time of your own beside those still waters.”
The priest frowned and looked away. “Yes, I suppose that it is time to reflect some upon the winding road of my life. Maybe I’ll go down to the Carolinas for some fishing…”
There was a wistful catch in
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