'Sergeant Clay - Thaddeus - I'm not sure that I want to be first-name friends. And 
besides, why should we be seeing each other anymore? The only time I want to see you is 
when you come in here and tell me that you've caught the lunatic who killed Jennifer.'
   'That's understood, Mr. Woods. But if Lenny has been visited by his dead mother since 
the attack on you, the likelihood is that history is going to repeat itself.'
   'What?'
   'You heard me, Mr. Woods. It's going to happen again.' 
   
   
   Five
   
   Jack Felling spent most of the evening on the telephone, talking to his chairman in 
Venezuela. When he came out of his study, Lenny was ready for bed, sitting by the 
fireplace in the grandiose Italianate sitting room, while Jack's wife, Nancy, read him an 
excerpt from Sea-Shore Fancies by Walt Whitman.
   Nancy was a handsome woman, with swept-back blond hair. Lenny always thought she 
looked like Krystle in Dynasty. Her voice was clear and inspiring, and he loved listening 
to her read, his back against the sofa, his legs tucked up inside the warm maroon robe 
that the Fellings had lent him.
   Jack stood in the doorway, a glass of Jack Daniels' in his hand, and listened, too.
   '"There is a dream, a picture, that for years at intervals has come noiselessly up 
before me. It is nothing more or less than a stretch of interminable white-brown sand, 
hard and smooth and broad, with the ocean perpetually, grandly, rolling in upon it, with 
slow-measured sweep, with rustle and hiss and foam, and many a thump as of low bass 
drums. Sometimes I wake at night and can hear and see it plainly.'"
   'Some dream,' Jack remarked. He walked into the sitting room and sat down on the 
glazed-cotton sofa. Nancy closed the book and smiled.
   'How's Todd?' she asked.
   'Unhappy. He hates Caracas. But he should be through by Wednesday.'
   Lenny said, 'Could I watch TV for a while?'
   Jack checked his watch. 'Okay, but just for a half hour. Have you done your homework?'
   'Yes, sir.'
   Nancy got up from her lotus position on the floor. She was wearing a pantsuit of pale 
blue silk, which showed off her narrow-hipped figure. Jennifer had always said that Nancy 
was very well groomed. She hadn't meant it particularly kindly; but then she and Nancy 
had never gotten along particularly well. Their husbands had played backgammon together, 
and that was about all they had ever had in common.
   'I'll take you up to bed,' she told Lenny. 'Jack, would you make me a champagne 
cocktail?'
   'Sure thing,' Jack said, then reached out and scruffed Lenny's hair. 'G'night, champ. 
Sweet dreams.'
   'Good night, sir,' Lenny replied, avoiding his eyes.
   When Nancy returned, Jack had taken off his Gucci loafers and was stretched out on the 
sofa with his arms comfortably tucked behind his head. She sat down beside him and put 
her arm around his waist.
   'You're marvelous with him,' Jack remarked.
   'I hope you're not forgetting that we had two boys of our own.'
   'No, but looking after Lenny, after all he's been through - this is different. This is 
hard.'
   Nancy picked up her champagne cocktail and said, 'Prost!' She took a sip. 'It isn't 
that much of a problem. He's very sweet, very helpful. Do you know what he said today? 
That he'd cook supper tomorrow night if I wanted him to. Isn't that sweet? I asked him 
what he could cook, and he said hamburgers and beans and toasted marshmallows.'
   'My favorite,' Jack said, laughing. 'If only my stomach could take it!'
   They sat together for more than an hour, talking and drinking and laughing. Ever since 
Jack had been appointed chairman of the executive committee at the Philadelphia News 
group, they had seen very little of each other. The days were taken up with meetings and 
the evenings were devoured by telephone calls. They had come to value each other's 
company more than ever.
   'You ought to retire,' said Nancy. 'We could live in a country cottage and walk around 
naked, just the way Walt Whitman used to.'
   'Walt Whitman was a homosexual.'
   'He wasn't a practicing homosexual.'
   Jack swallowed whiskey. 'I didn't know you had to practice to be a homosexual.'
   'Oh, you know what I mean,' said Nancy. 'But some of his descriptions of Philadelphia 
in the 1870s are absolutely marvelous. Do you know what he said about Chestnut Street in 
spring? "A myriad-moving human panorama." You ought to read it sometime.'
   'I have enough trouble finding the time to read the weekly sales profiles, let alone 
Walt Whitman.'
   They sat for a little while in contented silence. 'Do you want another drink.' Jack 
asked, but before she could answer they suddenly heard an odd, lopsided shuffle-bang 
upstairs, as if somebody had fallen over or were trying to move a heavy piece of 
furniture.
   'What do you think that was?' Nancy asked. 'It wasn't Lenny, I hope.'
   'Sounded like he fell out of bed,' Jack remarked. He put down his glass and stood up. 
'I'd better go see.'
   But Nancy suddenly snatched at his leg and said, 'Jack - be careful. Just remember 
what happened to John and Jennifer.'
   'You don't think that he's going to come back, do you? That would be crazy.' 
   'Just be careful, that's all.'
   Jack leaned forward and kissed her hair. 'I'll be careful, all right?'
   He went through to the hallway and stood at the bottom of the stairs, listening. 
'Lenny?' he called. He was darkly observed by an Italian painting of the Doge of Venice, 
hanging on a pale yellow wall. 'Lenny? Was that you? Are you okay?'
   Nancy came out into the hallway, too, carrying her glass. 'Is he all right?' she asked.
   'I'm not sure. I think I'd better go up and take a look.'
   'Jack -' Nancy began, but Jack raised his hand to hush her.
   'Whoever attacked John and Jennifer, honey, they wouldn't dare to come back. In any 
case, it's pretty clear that they were after John, not me. Didn't they follow him here 
from Third Street?'
   Nancy bit her lip. 'Supposing he thinks that John is still here?'
   'In that case, he's so crazy that he never reads a newspaper or looks at the 
television news.' 'Jack,' said Nancy, 'there are people like that.' Jack couldn't help 
smiling, and kissing her. 'There are also people who don't like cheese-steak, but you 
won't find them in Philly,'
   Confidently, he climbed the yellow-carpeted stairs. As he reached the half-landing he 
said, 'Don't look so worried. More than likely, Lenny went to the bathroom and tripped 
over the clothes basket.'
   He reached the upstairs corridor and flicked the light switch, but the hall remained 
dark. All the bulbs had gone. 'Drat,' he breathed, and made his way toward the small