The only good sign was that he was on the verge of huge bursts of laughter, not of tears. There he’d been, pondering the murder of a blackmailing plagiarist with a statue of Benjamin Franklin while reciting bits of wit and wisdom from Benjamin Franklin, until recently the least appreciated of the Founding Fathers. Funny? Yes, very funny. There in front of him stood Johnny Rutledge, the man of BFU Press and the obsession with William’s mother. “I may call you sooner than I thought,” R said to him. “Maybe in the next day or so, if that’s all right?” Johnny Rutledge said anything R wanted was terrific with him. But he gave R a look of annoyed curiosity. What are you up to? was the message. R found Elbow Clymer in a circle of people, all of them rejoicing in the success of Wally Day. “You were right,” said R. “Wally deserved a public sendoff. It was perfect.” Clymer thanked R for his help and support. “Sorry about the size of the crowd, though,” added R. “You didn’t make the twenty thousand target—not by a long shot.”
