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to talk to the authorities whenever they needed him. And if there are any other phone numbers you need, phone numbers or addresses, we’ll be happy to provide them—unless they’re unlisted, of course. Those would be off limits. We’d have to get permission from each individual employee before we give those out.”
    He punched a button on his phone, and Doris Walker’s disembodied voice came floating through the intercom. “Yes, Dr. Savage?”
    “Write a memo to Personnel,” he ordered. “Tell them that they are to cooperate fully with these detectives.” Savage turned to us with a frown. “What were your names again?”
    “Detectives Beaumont and Kramer,” I told him.
    He repeated the names into the intercom. “Whatever information they require is to be given the highest possible priority. Be sure to make that clear. As soon as you have the memo typed up, bring it in for my signature, and then I want you to deliver it personally. No. Absolutely not. Don’t send it through interoffice mail. You make sure it gets to Kendra Meadows herself. Today. This morning if at all possible.”
    He switched off the intercom and turned back to us, obviously pleased with himself and the way he personally was handling this crisis. “Is there anything else I can do to be of service, gentlemen?”
    I glanced at Kramer, who shook his head and glanced pointedly at his watch. “We really ought to be going,” he said, rising to his feet.
    “There is one more thing you could clear up for us, Dr. Savage. To my knowledge, most security guards in this area don’t usually wear weapons, but Mr. Chambers was wearing a holster, and a gun was found at the scene. That troubles me. Why would a weapon be necessary in a situation like this, where he was functioning primarily as a night watchman?”
    Savage’s easy affability retreated somewhat. He looked at me warily for several long moments before he answered.
    “This district is currently faced with any number of difficult crises, Detective Beaumont, one of which involves closing several schools. That’s always a very emotional issue. We’ve also had our share of union difficulties.”
    From his obvious discomfort, I sensed that his initial answer wasn’t the whole answer. “I know about the strike last fall,” I said. “But having a security guard on overnight and on weekends would indicate some kind of ongoing problem.”
    He shrugged as if to downplay the importance of what was being said, but the seriousness of his concern was plainly written across his face. Kenneth Savage wouldn’t have been any better at playing poker than I am.
    “We’ve had some threats now and again,” he said quietly. “Nothing serious of late,” he added lightly with a quick smile.
    “Threats? What kind of threats?” I pressed.
    He shrugged. “Oh, you know. The usual kind of crazies.”
    “There’s no such thing as a ”usual‘ crazy,“ I returned. ”They’re all one of a kind. Exactly what sort of threats?“
    “Bomb threats,” he answered with pained reluctance.
    “And they haven’t been reported?”
    For an answer he made a waffling motion with his hand.
    “Have they or haven’t they?”
    “To the authorities, yes, but we’ve tried to keep it out of the media, and so far we’ve been successful.”
    “Why keep it quiet?”
    “As I said before, gentlemen, we’re a troubled district.” He sat up straighter in his chair, delivering his words with guarded intensity. “As such, we can’t afford any adverse publicity. We’ve been handling this situation the best we know how, monitoring the situation, keeping things under control.”
    “I hate to be the bearer of more bad news,” I told him. “With those two murders downstairs, ”adverse publicity,“ as you call it, is here to stay. You’d better brace yourself for it.”
    Dr. Savage seemed to have shrunk into himself. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.
    “When Doris finishes that memo,” I said, “you have her