The Time Remaining

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136 23 Still carrying her letter and reading it again and again as he walks, he enters the bedroom to find the closet empty of her few dresses, skirts, and blouses, the drawers of the bureau similarly empty, her toiletries in the bathroom gone. He sits down on the edge of the bed and finishes reading her letter for the fourth time. Although he now knows her letter almost by heart from salutation to conclusion, he concentrates on every word as if it were a poem whose inner meaning would reveal itself only if it were given his quintessential attention. Then he folds it and reinserts it in its envelope. The telephone rings like a message from another world. Gilchrist strides back to his desk and picks up the receiver at the end of the fifth ring. “Raya,” he says, half expecting to hear her answer. “Mr. Gilchrist.” It is a man’s voice. “Yes. Who is this?” “This is Dodson at the print shop.” “Yes, Mr. Dodson. How are you?” “Well enough, I suppose.” “Good. What can I do for you?” “Well, Mr. Gilchrist, I don’t know exactly how to begin to tell you this. But let me say at the start that this story has a bad ending.” “Go ahead. Tell me.” “You remember that the anniversary issue of the journal was at the binder’s last week.” “Yes.” “It was returned to us for shipping yesterday, and we were all set to box the journals and send them out first thing tomorrow morning. In fact, I checked the entire order myself about two hours ago before I locked up.” Time in the Balance | 137 “Well, what’s the problem, Mr. Dodson?” “The problem is that I had to come back to the shop for a package I left here—a birthday present for my grandson—and I saw that someone had broken in. Nothing’s missing. I gave the place a good search before I called you. Nothing was touched except the anniversary issues of the journal . Whoever broke in spilled oil paint over the entire shipment. Ruined the whole run, every single copy, not one worth a damn.” He pauses. “The police are on their way. But as far as I can tell, the ones who broke in were here for just one purpose. Nothing but the journal was touched.” Gilchrist sags into the chair beside his desk. “You say the entire run is lost?” “I checked every stack myself. There’s this black paint over everything. It’s a damn mess.” Dodson pauses, and Gilchrist can hear him talking to someone. “Excuse me, Mr. Gilchrist. The police just came. Just hold on for a minute.” Dodson resumes talking to the police. “Sorry, Mr. Gilchrist. I had to explain a few things to Inspector Cobb here.” Gilchrist remembers the name. From where? He associates the name with the fire at Tabry’s house, the emergency room at Georgetown Hospital, the inquiry. “I want you to know that I’m really sorry about this. I know what the anniversary issue meant to Mr. Tabry and what it means to you. We took every precaution , believe me. It looks as if there was someone who was just waiting to ruin everything at the last minute, the whole job.” “Thanks, Mr. Dodson.” “I’m really sorry, Mr. Gilchrist. It’s as much a loss for me as it is for you.” “I’ll let you know in a few days if there is anything we can do . . .” “It’s really too bad. These people knew just what they were doing, Mr. Gilchrist. They were out to destroy the run, and they did.” ...