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Gil scoffs。 〃Give me a break； Charlie。 Since when are you in this？〃
〃Not me； you prick。 Tom and Paul。 There's more to us than just you。〃
〃Don't get sanctimonious on me。 I'm sick of you butting into everyone else's problems。〃
Charlie leans forward； lifts the bottle from the table； and throws it in the trash。 〃You've had enough。〃
For a second I'm afraid the wine is going to make Gil say something we'll all regret。 But after glaring at Charlie； he rises from the couch。 〃Christ；〃 he says。 〃I'm going to bed。〃
I watch him retreat into the bedroom without another word。 A second later； the light beneath the door falls dark。
Minutes pass； and they feel like hours。 I try the Institute again； but with no luck； so Charlie and I sit in the mon room for the duration； neither one speaking。 My mind is moving too quickly to make sense of my own thoughts。 I stare out the window； and Stein's voice climbs back into my thoughts。
I get these phone calls。 Pick up 。 。 。 click。 Pick up 。 。 。 click。
Finally Charlie rises。 Finding a towel in the closet； he starts to put his bathroom caddy in order。 Without a word he heads out the door in his boxer shorts。 The men's bathroom is down the hall； and there are half a dozen upperclass women living between it and our quad； but Charlie marches out anyway； towel wrapped around his neck like an oxbow； caddy in hand。
Sitting back on the couch； I reach for today's Daily Princetonian。 To distract myself； I flip through the pages； searching for a photo credit of Katie's somewhere in the nether corners of the paper； where underclass contributions go to die。 I'm always curious about the pictures she takes； the new subjects she chooses； the ones she thinks are too unimportant to mention。 After dating someone long enough； you start to imagine she sees everything the same way you do。 Katie's photos are a corrective； a glimpse of the world through her eyes。
Before long a sound es at the door； Charlie returning from the shower。 But when a key strikes in the outside lock； I realize it's someone else。 The door swings open and it's Paul who enters the room。 His face is pale； and his lips are blue from the cold。
〃Are you okay？〃 I ask。
Charlie arrives back just in time。 〃Where have you been？〃 he demands。
It takes us fifteen minutes to get the details from Paul； given his state。 After leaving the lecture； he went to the Institute and searched for Bill Stein in the puter lab there。 An hour later； when Stein failed to appear； Paul decided to go back to the dorm。 He started the trip in his car； only to have it quit at a stoplight about a mile from campus； then he had to walk back in the snow。
The rest of the night； he says； is a blur。 He arrived at the north of campus to find police cars near Bill's office at Dickinson。 After asking enough questions； he was driven to the medical center； where someone asked him to identify the body。 Taft showed up at the hospital not long after； giving a second identification； but before he and Paul could speak； officers separated them for questioning。 The police wanted to know about his relationship with Stein and Taft； about the last time he saw Bill； about where he was at the time of the murder。 Paul cooperated in a daze。 When they finally released him； they asked him not to leave campus； and said they'd be in touch。 Eventually he made his way toward Dod； but stayed on the outside steps for a while； just wanting to be alone。
Finally； we discuss the conversation we had with Stein in the Rare Books Room； which Paul says the police took down in full。 As he talks about Bill； about how agitated Stein was at the library； about the friend he's lost； Paul gives little sign of emotion。 He still hasn't recovered from the shock。
〃Tom；〃 he says finally； when we're back in our bedroom； 〃I need a favor。〃
〃Of course；〃 I say。 〃Name it。〃
〃I need you to e with me。〃
I hesitate。 〃Where？〃
〃The art museum。〃
He's changing into a dry set of clothes。
〃Now？ Why？〃
Paul rubs at his forehead； working out an ache。 〃I'll explain on the way。〃
When we return to the mon room； Charlie looks at us like we've lost our minds。 〃At this hour？〃 he asks。 〃The museum's closed。〃
〃I know what I'm doing；〃 Paul says； already making for the hallway。
Charlie gives me a heavy look； but says nothing as I follow Paul out the door。
The art museum sits like an old Mediterranean palace across the courtyard from Dod。 From the front； where we entered a few hours earlier； it's just a stumpy modern building with a Picasso sculpture on the front lawn that looks like a glorified birdbath。 When you approach from the side； though； the newer elements give way to older ones； pretty windows in little Romanesque arches； and red roof…tiles that peek out beneath tonight's canopy of snow。 Under different circumstances； the view from here would be charming。 Under different circumstances； it might be a picture Katie would take。
〃What are we doing？〃 I ask。
Paul is trudging a path before me in his old workman's boots。
〃I found what Richard thought was in the diary；〃 he says。
It sounds like the middle of a thought whose beginning he's kept to himself。
〃The blueprint？〃
He shakes his head。 〃I'll show you when we get inside。〃
I'm walking in his footsteps now to keep the snow out of my pant legs。 My eyes keep returning to his boots。 Paul worked at the museum loading docks our freshman summer； moving ining and outgoing exhibits onto trucks。 The boots were a necessity then； but tonight they leave dirty tracks in the moon…white of the courtyard。 He looks like a boy in men's shoes。
We arrive at a door by the west face of the museum。 Beside it is a tiny keypad。 Paul dials in his docent's password and waits to see if it works。 He used to give tours at the art museum； but finally had to take a job in the slide library because the docents weren't paid。
To my surprise； the door opens with a beep and a whisper of a click。 I'm so used to the medieval…sounding bolts of the dorm doors； I almost don't hear it。 He leads me into a small antechamber； a security room supervised by a guard behind a plate…glass window； and suddenly I feel trapped。 After signing a visitation form on a clipboard； though； and pressing our university IDs against the glass； we're cleared to enter the docent's library beyond the next door。
〃That's it？〃 I say； expecting more of a shakedown at this hour。
Paul points to a video camera on the wall； but says nothing。
The docent's library is unimpressive…a few shelves of art history books donated by other guides to help prepare for tours…but Paul continues toward an elevator around the corner。 A large sign posted on the sliding metal doors says FACULTY； STAFF； AND SECURITY ONLY。 STUDENTS AND DOCENTS NOT PERMITTED WITHOUT ESCORT。 The words students and docents have both been underlined in red。
Paul is looking somewhere else。 He pulls a key ring from his pocket and plugs one of them into a slot in the wall。 When he turns it to the right； the metal doors slide open。
〃Where'd you get that？〃
He leads me into the elevator； then presses a button。 〃My job；〃 he says。
The slide library gives him access to archival rooms in the museum。 He is so careful a