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Lunch
had
been
light
,
but
he
had
eaten
it
with
good
appetite
.
Nothing
much
wrong
with
the
way
he
felt
,
really
.
Not
now
.
There
had
been
no
recurrence
of
the
shakes
,
and
now
even
that
morning
's
horror
began
to
seem
more
like
a
nasty
,
pointless
surprise
,
dreamlike
itself
,
of
no
consequence
.
He
drummed
his
fingers
on
his
blotter
,
shrugged
,
and
picked
up
the
phone
again
.
He
dialed
the
EMMC
and
asked
for
the
morgue
.
After
he
was
connected
with
the
pathology
clerk
,
he
identified
himself
and
said
,
"
You
have
one
of
our
students
there
,
a
Victor
Pascow
--
"
"
Not
anymore
,
"
the
voice
at
the
other
end
said
.
"
He
's
gone
.
"
Louis
's
throat
closed
.
At
last
he
managed
,
"
What
?
"
"
His
body
was
flown
back
to
his
parents
late
last
night
.
Guy
from
Brookings-Smith
Mortuary
came
and
took
custody
.
They
put
him
on
Delta
,
uh
"
--
papers
riffling
--
"
Delta
flight
109
.
Where
did
you
think
he
went
?
Out
dancing
at
the
Show
Ring
?
"
"
No
,
"
Louis
said
.
"
No
,
of
course
not
.
It
's
just
...
"
It
was
just
what
?
What
the
Christ
was
he
doing
pursuing
this
,
anyway
?
There
was
no
sane
way
to
deal
with
it
.
It
had
to
be
let
go
,
marked
off
,
forgotten
.
Anything
else
was
asking
for
a
lot
of
pointless
trouble
.
"
It
's
just
that
it
seemed
very
quick
,
"
he
finished
lamely
.
"
Well
,
he
was
autopsied
yesterday
afternoon
"
--
that
faint
riffle
of
papers
again
--
"
at
around
three-twenty
by
Dr.
Rynzwyck
.
By
then
his
father
had
made
all
the
arrangements
.
I
imagine
the
body
got
to
Newark
by
two
in
the
morning
.
"
"
Oh
.
Well
,
in
that
case
--
"
