He nodded into his hands, which he'd brought up to cover his face.
"Across the street," he said. They helped him to his feet and supported
him as he tottered, weak and heaving, to his porch. Krishna was gone
once they got there.
The cops helped him shuck his drenched shoes and socks and put him down
on the overstuffed horsehide sofa. Alan recovered himself with an effort
of will and gave them his ID.
"I'm sorry, you must think I'm an absolute lunatic," he said, shivering
in his wet clothes.
"Sir," the cop who'd taken the shovel from him said, "we see absolute
lunatics every day. I think you're just a little upset. We all go a
little nuts from time to time."
"Yeah," Alan said. "Yeah. A little nuts. I had a long night last
night. Family problems."
The cops shifted their weight, showering the floor with raindrops that
beaded on the finish.
"Are you going to be all right on your own? We can call someone if you'd
like."
"No," Alan said, pasting on a weak smile. "No, that's all right. I'll be
fine. I'm going to change into some dry clothes and clean up and, oh, I
don't know, get some sleep. I think I could use some sleep."
"That sounds like an excellent idea," the cop who'd taken the shovel
said. He looked around at the bookcases. "You've read all of these?" he
asked.
"Naw," Alan said, falling into the rote response from his proprietorship
of the bookstore.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93