Mr. 8

Chapter 27: A Loss of Symmetry

Milton's directory had listed an address for Stephen Kaling on Keats Street, only two blocks from where Maggie Biscamp had lived. When Denton had first read that, he couldn't help feeling that there was something suggestive about it, as though the proximity of their apartments hinted at the closeness of their relationship. But really, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Most students lived within the same five blocks of town.

The address led to a distinctive red brick Georgian colonial. Being on Keats Street, it must have been a family home at one time, but it looked more like a school or a factory. It definitely had an industrial quality to it and there were odd details that threw off its otherwise symmetrical design. Two separate doors faced the street. One was just slightly off-center and the other was at the very end on the right. The sloped roof had two large chimneys and two diminutive dormers. Their placement made it feel like there should be a third dormer to the left of the first chimney. Without it, there was a strange blank space, and Denton found it impossible to keep his eyes from being drawn to it. The roof was becoming blanketed in white. The gentle snow that had greeted the evening was falling fast as the storm rushed in.

Each time the windshield became covered, the wipers would make a slow, squeaking pass, bringing the building back into view.

Six windows ran along each of the first three stories. Most had decorative shutters, some didn't. There appeared to be some logic behind it, but the rationale eluded Denton no matter how long he examined them.

People moved behind nearly every window. Like a fluid mass, they churned behind the glass. Silhouettes flickered revealing motion and activity. There were too many people and too much commotion to be normal. On a hunch, Denton shut the radio off. Faint music could be heard—garbled pop music. There was a party going on.

Denton rested his forehead against the driver's side window. The cold slowly penetrated the bandage and brought soothing numbness to both the cut and his throbbing skull. He was losing track of the pain in is his body. The medication didn't actually relieve it. Instead, it seemed to hide it—moved it to the shadows of his thoughts—so it was always just somewhere off in the periphery. Instead of the pain, his mind was flooded by a parade of Christmas parties from years gone by. The one at the dorm his freshman year, the one at that place by Washington Square right after he got engaged, last year's New Year's Eve in Bernadette Cadham's stately home. They all began to jumble in his brain. He was standing on the landing outside his room clutching the wooden banister that had been worn down by the hands of a thousand students. Sheryl Crow was singing Blue Christmas on a tinny speaker. Richard Blakeley said, it's just a beer, Dent. Live a little. Bernadette said, my, what a lovely sweater. Linda joked to her friend Mary-Beth, I hope getting him to the wedding won't be as hard as it was getting him here. She jerked her thumb back at him, as he shifted uncomfortably in the crowded room—too much furniture and too many people. His nose filled with the rich aroma of coffee and spiced rum cake. Old Paul Cadham carried the tray with shaking hands. He's going to drop it, he thought. Denton took a step backward in the narrow kitchen and bumped against a table. A precariously placed glass fell and shattered on the living room floor. Richard laughed.

He pushed the door open and dragged himself out into the cold. Walking up the path, he filled his lungs with deep breaths of fresh air and snowflakes. He struggled to shake of the sudden feeling of claustrophobia that had overcome him in the car as he walked up the path to Kaling's apartment.

Inside, the security door was propped open with a text book wedged between it and the floor. Three boys were standing around the lobby, which was little more than a space at the bottom of the stairs. They were drinking beer from cans and talking loudly.