embarrassing. Anyway, she asked if I would loan her my belt because the buckle of hers was broken. I hesitated at first, because it’s my new spring suit, but she seemed to want it so badly that I finally told her which drawer it was in and she got it. She thanked me very much and left.’
Here Miss Koch paused and removed her glasses. ‘Now here’s the strange part. Later, when the police came and searched her room for a note, they found my belt on her desk ! I recognized it by the way the gold finish was rubbed off the tooth of the buckle. I had been very disappointed about that, because it was an expensive suit. The police kept the belt.
‘I was very puzzled by Dorothy’s actions. She had pretended to want my belt, but she hadn’t used it at all. She was wearing her green suit when – when it happened. The police checked and her belt buckle wasn’t the least bit broken. It all seemed very mysterious.
‘Then I realized that the belt must have been just a pretext to talk to me. Laying out the suit probably reminded her of me, and everyone knew I was incapacitated with a cold, so she came in and pretended she needed the belt. She must have been desperate for someone to talk with. If only I’d recognized the signs at the time. I can’t help feeling that if I had got her to talk out her troubles, whatever they might have been, maybe all this wouldn’t have happened.’
… As we left Annabelle Koch’s room, she added a final word. ‘Even when the police return the belt to me,’ she said, ‘I know I won’t be able to wear my green suit again.’
FIFTEEN
He found the last six weeks of the school year disappointingly flat. He had expected the excitement created by Dorothy’s death to linger in the air like the glow of a rocket; instead it had faded almost immediately. He had anticipated more campus conversations and newspaper articles, allowing him the luxuriant superiority of the omniscient; instead – nothing. Three days after Dorothy died campus gossip veered away to pounce on a dozen marijuana cigarettes that had been discovered in one of the smaller dormitories. As for the newspapers, a short paragraph announcing Leo Kingship’s arrival in Blue River marked the last time the Kingship name appeared in the Clarion-Ledger. No word of an autopsy nor of her pregnancy, although surely when an unmarried girl committed suicide without stating a reason, that must be the first thing they looked for. Keeping it out of the papers must have cost Kingship plenty.
He told himself he should be rejoicing. If there had been any kind of inquiry he certainly would have been sought for questioning. But there had been no questions, no suspicion – hence no investigation. Everything had fallen into place perfectly. Except that business of the belt. That puzzled him. Why on earth had Dorothy taken that Koch girl’s belt when she hadn’t wanted to wear it? Maybe she really did want to talk to someone – about the wedding – and then had thought better of it. Thank God for that. Or maybe the buckle of her belt had really been broken, but she had managed to fix it after she had already taken Koch’s. Either way, though, it was an unimportant incident. Koch’s interpretation of it only strengthened the picture of a suicide, added to the flawless success of his plans. He should be walking on air, smiling at strangers, toasting himself with secret champagne. Instead there was this dull, leaden, let-down feeling. He couldn’t understand it.
His depression became worse when he returned to Menasset early in June. Here he was, right where he’d been last summer after the daughter of the farm equipment concern had told him about the boy back home, and the summer before, after he had left the widow. Dorothy’s death had been a defensive measure; all his planning hadn’t advanced him in the slightest.
He became impatient with his mother. His correspondence from school had been limited to a weekly postcard, and now
Here Miss Koch paused and removed her glasses. ‘Now here’s the strange part. Later, when the police came and searched her room for a note, they found my belt on her desk ! I recognized it by the way the gold finish was rubbed off the tooth of the buckle. I had been very disappointed about that, because it was an expensive suit. The police kept the belt.
‘I was very puzzled by Dorothy’s actions. She had pretended to want my belt, but she hadn’t used it at all. She was wearing her green suit when – when it happened. The police checked and her belt buckle wasn’t the least bit broken. It all seemed very mysterious.
‘Then I realized that the belt must have been just a pretext to talk to me. Laying out the suit probably reminded her of me, and everyone knew I was incapacitated with a cold, so she came in and pretended she needed the belt. She must have been desperate for someone to talk with. If only I’d recognized the signs at the time. I can’t help feeling that if I had got her to talk out her troubles, whatever they might have been, maybe all this wouldn’t have happened.’
… As we left Annabelle Koch’s room, she added a final word. ‘Even when the police return the belt to me,’ she said, ‘I know I won’t be able to wear my green suit again.’
FIFTEEN
He found the last six weeks of the school year disappointingly flat. He had expected the excitement created by Dorothy’s death to linger in the air like the glow of a rocket; instead it had faded almost immediately. He had anticipated more campus conversations and newspaper articles, allowing him the luxuriant superiority of the omniscient; instead – nothing. Three days after Dorothy died campus gossip veered away to pounce on a dozen marijuana cigarettes that had been discovered in one of the smaller dormitories. As for the newspapers, a short paragraph announcing Leo Kingship’s arrival in Blue River marked the last time the Kingship name appeared in the Clarion-Ledger. No word of an autopsy nor of her pregnancy, although surely when an unmarried girl committed suicide without stating a reason, that must be the first thing they looked for. Keeping it out of the papers must have cost Kingship plenty.
He told himself he should be rejoicing. If there had been any kind of inquiry he certainly would have been sought for questioning. But there had been no questions, no suspicion – hence no investigation. Everything had fallen into place perfectly. Except that business of the belt. That puzzled him. Why on earth had Dorothy taken that Koch girl’s belt when she hadn’t wanted to wear it? Maybe she really did want to talk to someone – about the wedding – and then had thought better of it. Thank God for that. Or maybe the buckle of her belt had really been broken, but she had managed to fix it after she had already taken Koch’s. Either way, though, it was an unimportant incident. Koch’s interpretation of it only strengthened the picture of a suicide, added to the flawless success of his plans. He should be walking on air, smiling at strangers, toasting himself with secret champagne. Instead there was this dull, leaden, let-down feeling. He couldn’t understand it.
His depression became worse when he returned to Menasset early in June. Here he was, right where he’d been last summer after the daughter of the farm equipment concern had told him about the boy back home, and the summer before, after he had left the widow. Dorothy’s death had been a defensive measure; all his planning hadn’t advanced him in the slightest.
He became impatient with his mother. His correspondence from school had been limited to a weekly postcard, and now
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