Dana asked about the postmark.
“February thirteen,” Joe said, examining the envelope.
The thirteenth was the day the body had been found.
“Where was it mailed?”
“Minneapolis.”
The three of them looked at each other.
14
Wednesday Feb. 12, 1964
Something dreadful has happened! I must collect my thoughts before bursting in upon my Violet and confronting her with them. The students’ essays on Kierkegaard were returned in the Existentialism class this morning. After class, Laurence went about showing everyone his paper with an A in red pencil at the top. He positively demanded that I read the thing. Standing in the hallway, I perused it quickly—it was but five pages long—and my heart stopped as I read some of the statements in it. She has spoken to him about me. She has told him about m
