The Last Goodbye Read Free Page B

myself for news like that; lately, I had been using it more often than I liked. Strip it down, Jack. Let it go. “Who is it?” I asked.
    â€œYou aren’t going to like it.”
    â€œYou mean there are some of my clients I wouldn’t mind finding out they’re dead?”
    â€œIf most of your clients were dead, the entire justice system would be grateful.”
    â€œI’m waiting.”
    â€œIt’s Doug Townsend. He fell off the wagon, big time, and ended up in overdose.”
    And so the irony that is my life cranks up a notch. Doug Townsend, the very reason I became a lawyer, is no more. “Overdose?” I asked. “Are you saying he tried to kill himself?”
    â€œWho knows? You know how it gets, Jack. The body readjusts after a while, and they can’t take the whack.”
    â€œI just spoke to his probation officer three days ago, Sammy. The guy was glowing.”
    â€œI’m sorry, Jack.”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œListen, Jack, the old man wants to know if you’ll stop in on Townsend’s place.”
    â€œTo do what?”
    â€œGo through his stuff. See if there’s anything to salvage for the estate.”
    â€œDoes he have any family coming? He’s got a cousin in Phoenix, I know that.”
    â€œJust got off the phone with her. She doesn’t want to know.”
    â€œCharming.”
    â€œWhat can I tell you? You get a black sheep, family gets scarce.”
    â€œAll right,” I said, “maybe there’s something of his I can salvage. I’ll make sure to send it to his loving cousin, who can’t be bothered to get on a plane and bury her relatives.”
    â€œThey probably weren’t that close, Jack. The guy’s a junkie.”
    â€œWas a junkie, Sammy. Was.”
    â€œStop by the courthouse on the way over and pick up a key. And listen, Jack, take it easy over there. It’s not exactly a great neighborhood.”
    That was putting it mildly; Townsend had traveled the well-worn path, spiraling downward to pay for his habit, eventually landing in a crap apartment building called the Jefferson Arms. “I know, Sammy. I’ll be in touch.”
    A pointless, futile death for Doug Townsend was laced with irony, because ten years earlier, I had watched him do the bravest thing I had ever seen. We met in college—I was a freshman, he was a senior—through the intracampus tutorial service. Doug tutored me through calculus, about which I had little aptitude and less interest. But it was a hoop to jump through, so I had to buckle down. We were both busy during those days—I, grinding through the freshman flunk-out courses; Doug, who was three years older, with his computer science classes—and we usually met late at night, around ten.
    Doug had confided to me that he had pledged every single fraternity on campus his freshman year, and been turned down by them all. He had the kind of overeager, wide-eyed social style that doomed him to loneliness. He was as well-rounded as a ruler and as awkward as a one-legged bird. But he could be brilliant in a narrow range of subjects. Chief among these was the application of computer technology. He loved computers, adored them, opened them up to expose their inner workings. They were, for him, friend, lover, and savior. It was just as well, because his human friends could be numbered on a single hand.
    Late one night, Doug having finally explained to me the difference between tangent and secant lines, we were walking back across campus toward the dorms. I was staring down at the concrete, trying to work out what he was saying, when Doug sprinted out ahead of me. What Doug saw, and I did not, was a girl involuntarily vanish into the bushes beside the walkway. While I was still trying to figure out what was happening, all 130 pounds of Doug Townsend leaped into those bushes with a high-pitched, bloodcurdling wail. He was all arms and legs with no particular