I said, "What about Eric's murder?"

"It broke our hearts," Torkildson said without hesitation. "Eric Osborne was one of the finest human beings it has ever been my honor to know."

"Why is he bringing that up?" Chester whined. "Do you see what I mean, Stu? Let's put this all in the hands of a good attorney before this guy runs roughshod."

"Don, why are you bringing Eric into this?" Torkildson said coolly. "In his case, there couldn't have been any connection to the Herald situation. Eric was murdered, according to the State Police, by a serial killer who went on to attack other outdoors people in Pennsylvania. Are you suggesting there's even the possibility that this Gordon Grubb character was an agent of one of the parties in the disagreement over the Herald's disposition?"

"No," I said, "that sounds farfetched. But the evidence against Grubb is sketchy and circumstantial. He was actually last spotted near the murder scene a full two days before Eric was killed. The police say that Grubb admits to nothing, and the case is still open. I met with the investigating officer, Bill Stankie, earlier this morning, and while he considers Grubb his prime suspect, that's all Grubb is. Stankie is open to following any actual evidence that turns up, wherever it might lead."

I watched Chester Osborne when I mentioned Stankie's name; his face tightened and his mouth formed a hard little button.

"Don, now that's exactly my point," Torkildson said. "Legally the case against Grubb is circumstantial, yes—as are most murder cases that result in convictions. But the police suspect Grubb because there is no evidence whatsoever, circumstantial or otherwise, linking anyone else to the crime. I wouldn't go so far as to term any linkage between Eric's death and the Herald's situation a paranoid fantasy—or, as Chester seems to regard it, a malicious and actionable accusation. But the idea does necessitate a quite severe stretch of the imagination, considering that not a shred of evidence exists to support such an egregious criminal linkage.

"In journalism, as you may have heard, Don, we take immense care to check our facts before we send them out into the world. At the Herald, we have a three-independent-sources rule on matters as important as—conspiracy to commit murder is what we're talking about here, and that's a capital crime in the state of New York. Now, you're going here and there spreading this idea of members of the Osborne

family involved in a conspiracy to murder without—correct me if I'm wrong—even a single source to support your speculation? That's thin, mighty thin, and it would not pass muster even at newspapers with ethical standards one heck of a lot lower than the Herald's. This I can tell you without fear of contradiction by the Pulitzer board. It's an awfully slender limb you've climbed out onto, ethically speaking, and I think the question you've got to be asking yourself, Don, is this: 'What dire result might accrue, to the Osbornes, to the Herald, or to myself?'

"You know, Don, an awful lot is at stake in the outcome of the disposition of the Herald. On that point, you're right on the money. And as you may know, I favor the paper's sale to Crewes-InfoCom. Harry Griscomb's is a fine organization, but with newspaper publishing costs escalating the way they are, Griscomb won't survive for long in this climate. So why shouldn't the Osbornes come out of this unhappy situation with a few dollars to the family name? I'd say, after more than a hundred years' dedicated effort and high-minded community stewardship, they've earned it. Both InfoCom and Griscomb, I should also point out, are sensitive about their public images—Griscomb maybe even more so than InfoCom—and either buyer could become suddenly skittish if word got back to them that a business deal they were attempting to complete involved—or suddenly was reported to have involved—a conspiracy to commit murder. Neither bid is binding, and I personally wouldn't want to wake up one day to discover that all bids had been withdrawn and that Griscomb and InfoCom had stopped taking my calls. The tragic upshot of that would be the Herald company's creditors would seize the paper in September and sell it to the highest bidder—probably InfoCom—and the paper would be gone and the family would end up with zip.

"Now, do you want that to happen, Don? Does Janet? Talk to her, is my best advice. Explain the situation, and see if Janet doesn't agree that the best course for both the Herald and all the Osbornes at this point is for you to drop your well-intentioned but potentially explosively disruptive investigation, and for you to pack your bags and head on back down to Albany. If Janet is afraid for her safety or her mother's or Dan's, a good private security firm can be brought on board to allay their fears until the Herald directors meet on September eighth. But as for this Oliver Stone-style conspiracy-to-murder scenario that's boiling away and threatening to blow up in everybody's face, I'd put a lid on

that real fast if I were you. This may not be what you want to hear from me, Don. I realize that. But it's my best advice, and I'd be an s.o.b. if I didn't give it to you straight. That's what I do. It's what I'm paid for. It's how I've made my way in Edensburg, and I think Janet will tell you, what I have to say is as worth listening to today as it was back when Tom Osborne was winning Pulitzers and the Herald was the envy of American journalism Do you hear what I'm saying, Don? Do you catch my drift? Do you comprehend the extraordinarily high risks here for so many good people, and for yourself?"

The swamp thing ceased burbling and sat watching me with an unctuous grin Chester sat there looking sly, as if finally I had been boxed up and sealed for delivery out of Edensburg I thought, Why had Tor-kildson rattled on and on about a conspiracy to commit murder? I hadn't mentioned anything about a plot involving more than one person. I'd thought it, but I hadn't mentioned it.

I did not speak my thoughts aloud. Instead, I said to Torkildson, "If your advice is so wise and farseemg, Stu, how come your advice in 1988 resulted in the Herald sliding into the ugly fix it's in now' You're the last man in the world I'd come to for advice about the Herald, or about anything else—except, maybe, where to shop for a bow tie. But thanks, anyway."

Chester sat twitching with rage. But Torkildson gazed at me thoughtfully as I bade them so long until we met again, which I knew beyond a reasonable doubt that we would.

13

Before I left the Herald Building, I stopped in Janet's office and gave her a rundown on my meeting with Chester and Stu Tor-kildson. She asked if Torkildson had either sold me a souvenir dinner plate from Spruce Haven or picked my pocket. I held out both hands and said, "No plate." My wallet was still in my pocket too.

"Did Chester say anything else about having Mom locked up?" Janet asked.

"It didn't come up. Chester was in with Torkildson when I arrived, so Torkildson might have told him to shut up about that. Or, Chester's threats last night could have been empty bluster. Or, Chester's threats could have been part of a calculated attempt to spook you and your mother into some precipitous action that could be used against you legally, and Torkildson knew all about it but didn't want to be associated with it and if I'd brought it up he'd have acted surprised. But they didn't bring it up, and I wanted to avoid discussion of it until I heard what your lawyer advised."

"I spoke with Slim Finn fifteen minutes ago," Janet said, looking anxious, "and he said that as long as Mom isn't a danger to herself or others, nobody can haul her off against her will or mine. However, they might conceivably get a judge to entertain the idea that she's incapable of carrying out her legal duties as a director of the Herald Corporation. A judge might issue an order blocking Mom's vote, or even forcing her removal from the board. The result, of course, could be Tidy coming onto the board and voting for InfoCom, and the paper would be sunk."