Characters in N.

Dr. Bonsaint’s Manuscript (Fragmentary) July 5, 2007 I called his home phone number when I saw the obituary. Got C., the daughter who goes to school here in Maine. She was remarkably composed, saying that in her heart she was not surprised.

“Charlie Keen,” I said. “I haven’t seen him in a dog’s age. Except on TV. The poor man’s Sanjay Gupta.” She whacked my arm. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, dear.

… Chrissy— Please cancel all appointments for the next week. I know this is short notice, and I know how much flak you are going to catch, but it cannot be helped. There is a matter I have to tend to back home in Maine.

[He prints CTHUN in large capital letters. He shows it to me, and when I nod, he tears the sheet to shreds, counts the shreds—to make sure the number is even, I suppose—and then deposits them in the wastebasket near the couch.] The key, the one I got in the …

Her husband, Donald LeClaire, said she was “totally devastated.” No one, he went on, thought she was contemplating suicide. But she was. “Although there was no note,” County Coroner Richard Chapman said, “all the signs are there.

… joke, but not a joke.) My mentor-psychiatrist is Dr. J. in Augusta, now Chief of Staff at Serenity Hill. I called him and we had a general discussion—which I framed as research for a paper I might deliver this winter at the Chicago convention—a lie, of course, but sometimes, you …

… on the front was perfectly firm, perfectly clear: DR. JOHN BONSAINT. I took it out of the Baggie, then looked down the slope at the stones again. Still eight. Of course there were. But not a bird sang, not a cricket creaked. The day held its breath. Every shadow was …

Hayden can do the blood-sugar story. I know he thinks he can’t, but he can. And even if he can’t, I have to go. Johnny and Sheila were close to family. And besides: I don’t mean to be a Philistine about it, but there might be a story in this.

2. The Case Notes June 1, 2007 N. is 48 years old, a partner in a large Portland accounting firm, divorced, the father of two daughters. One is doing postgraduate work in California, the other is a junior at a college here in Maine.

“Although there was no note,” County Coroner Richard Chapman said, “all the signs are there. Her car was parked neatly and considerately off the road on the Harlow side of the bridge.

… for the table beside him, where sits what Sandy, my receptionist, calls The Eternal Box of Kleenex. He takes two, wipes his cheeks, then crumples the tissue. It disappears into the lace of his fingers. “There are three clusters,” he resumes, speaking in a voice that isn’t quite steady. “Counting …

When Don took Seth to the candlelight ritual at the church (I’m sure the good Methodists would be shocked if they knew the pagan roots of such rites), Sheila squeezed my hand and said, “You’re back. That’s good. I was worried.”

Fondly, From Johnny Bonsaint’s “little sis,” Sheila Bonsaint LeClaire 964 Lisbon Street Lewiston, Maine 04240 PS—Oy, such a crush I had on you! 2. The Case Notes June 1, 2007 N. is 48 years old, a partner in a large Portland accounting firm, divorced, the father of two daughters.