Chapter 14: What He Signed

Alexander found the ring on his desk at six-twenty, lying on the blotter where she had put it.

It was his mother's, gold with one square green stone.

He did not pick it up.

He stood and looked at it until the clock on the mantel struck seven.

Then he sat down and picked up the telephone.

In his first life he had made every mistake in the order a careful man makes them, one decision at a time.

The only way to undo one was to do the next thing correctly.

The next thing was the harbor police.

The detective who came to the house at nine was a heavy, tired man with a notebook and no illusions about the Tilghman name.

He sat in the visitor's chair and looked at the grey in Alexander's hair.

"You called me," the detective said. "In six years, you've never called me."

"I have a statement to make. I want it written down, and I want to sign it today."

"About what?"

"My collections arm." Alexander's voice was level. "For six years my foreman has sent men to call on the families of people who owed me money."

The detective's pen stopped.

"I knew what the calls were," Alexander said. "I let them go on, because a frightened harbor paid on time."

"Mr. Tilghman, I want to be sure you understand what you're saying."

"I understand it exactly. Three men on my payroll wear jackets that say COLLECTIONS. Their names are in the file my lawyer is bringing."

"And Loomis?"

"Chase Loomis has been paying my foreman since before the dinner. I have the bank records."

"How did you get them?"

"I looked," Alexander said. "I should have looked years ago."

The detective wrote for a long time.

When he was done, Alexander read it through once and signed at the bottom.

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