Distant Thunder

8

The next morning, Stone had a coffee at his desk and read the Times. On a back page, a death notice caught his eye. These were paid advertisements announcing the deaths of people who were not famous or notorious enough to warrant a full-blown obituary by the newspaper. Their purpose, apparently, was to tell people who might have known them that they were deceased. John Collins’s announcement appeared without a photograph, and after the recitation of his dates of birth and death, he was described as a graduate of the City College of New York and of NYU School of Law and a civil servant.

Joan buzzed him. “Bill Eggers on one.”

Stone picked up the receiver to speak to the managing partner of his law firm, Woodman & Weld. “Good morning, Bill.”

“Morning. Did you see the Times this morning?”

“My dog brings it to me in bed every morning.”

“I mean the thing about what’s-his-name.”

“It’s a big newspaper, Bill,” Stone replied. “Can you give me a hint? News, sports, business, crossword?”

“Dead people.”

“Ah, the obituaries.”

“No, at the bottom of the page.”

“Death announcements?”

“That’s it, in the little, tiny newsprint.”

“I check it most days to find out who I’ve outlived.”

“You knew him, of course.”

“I’m sorry, Bill, you haven’t zoomed in far enough.”

“Jack, ah, Cummings!”

“Bill, do you possess a magnifying glass?”

“Right here, on my desk.”

“Apply it to the announcement you’re talking about and read me the name.”

“Collins.”

“Ah, the infamous John Collins.”

“He was also at NYU Law. Everybody called him Jack.”

“Got him,” Stone said, “bottom of the page.”

“That’s the one. You had to know the guy, Stone. He made quite a name for himself.”

“I tend to ignore ones like that. They were always wanting to borrow your notes, or something.”

“He kept the whole law school in grass.”

“Well, he wasn’t afraid of risk, was he?”

“Didn’t you ever buy from him?”

“Bill, I don’t even smoke cigarettes. I choke if I try to inhale any foreign substance. Sometimes, I vomit.”

“Everybody knew this guy.”

“I didn’t meet him until late in life, very late in life.” Stone gave him the condensed version of that meeting.

“That’s crazy. Same school as this guy, then decades later, he turns up dead in your garage!”

“He turned up dead on the ferry. My garage was used to keep him cool and dry until they could airlift him to the morgue. You may recall the rain of last weekend.”

“Oh, yeah. Did you get a look at his face?”

“Yes, it was bland and uninteresting.”

“Did you see the scar?”

“I must have missed that.”

“Two guys tried to steal his stash, and he fought them off, except one of them had a knife. It made the Daily News.”

“I’ve always read the Times.”

“You were a snob even then?”

“You wound me, Bill. I never knew you thought I was a snob.”

“Of course you’re not. Weren’t. But some people thought so.”

“I was just reserved, I guess, and some people mistook that for being snobbish.”

“That sounds right.”

“Bill, is there anything I can do to ease your pain on the loss of your college pal and dealer?”

“He wasn’t my dealer. I didn’t have a dealer. He was just everybody’s dealer.”

“The CIA must have missed that when he applied.”

“He applied for the CIA?”

“And was accepted. He was an officer in the operations department at his death.”

“Does Lance know about this?”

“I assure you, he does.”

“So he just ignored this guy’s criminal record.”

“I’m not aware that he had a record.”

“Well, maybe not, but he should have had one.”

“Perhaps Lance knew but regarded it as a mark of Jack’s enterprise and found that attractive in a candidate.”

“If you say so.”

“I don’t say so. That was just a wild guess.”

“Well, I’d better get going. There’s a couple of more people who’d like to hear about this.”

“Bill, don’t mention Jack’s after-school job on the phone. You never know who’s listening. You don’t want to besmirch his name this late in the day.”

“Yeah, right.” Eggers hung up.