“Morning, Colonel,” Matt said. “I was hoping to see Dad.”
“Having just solved all the world’s problems, he’s available for yours,” Mawson said, and turned to Brewster Payne. “Mart’s waiting for you.”
“I’ll be damned,” Payne said, and got up from the couch. “I wonder what’s on his mind?”
He had, in fact, been expecting to see Matt, or at least to have him telephone. He had heard from Matt’s mother how awkward it had been at the Moffitt home, and later at the funeral home, making the senseless death of Matt’s uncle even more difficult for him. He had half expected Matt to come out to Wallingford last night, and, disappointed that he hadn’t, had considered calling him. In the end he had decided that it would be best if Matt came to him, as he felt sure he would, in his own good time.
He went in the outer office and resisted the temptation to put his arms around Matt.
“Well, good morning,” he said.
“If I’m throwing your schedule in disarray, Dad—” Matt said.
“There’s nothing on my schedule, is there, Irene?”
“Nothing that won’t wait,” she said. “Go on in, Matt,” Payne said, gesturing toward his office. “I’ve got to step down the corridor a moment, and then I’ll be with you.”
He waited until Matt was inside and then told Irene Craig that she was to hold all calls. “It’s important. You heard about Captain Moffitt?”
“I didn’t know what to say to him,” she said. “So I said nothing.”
“I think a word of condolence would be in order when he comes out,” Payne said, and then went in his office and closed the door.
Matt was sitting on the edge of an antique cherrywood chair, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I’m very sorry about your uncle Dick, Matt,” Brewster Payne said. “He was a fine man, and I know how close you were. Aside from that, I have no comforting words. It was senseless, brutal, unspeakable.”
Matt looked at him, started to say something, changed his mind, and said something else: “I just joined the police department.”
My God! He’s not joking!
“That was rather sudden, wasn’t it?” Brewster Payne said. “What about the Marine Corps? I thought you were under a four-year obligation to them?”
“I busted the physical,” Matt said. “The marines don’t want me.”
“When did that happen?”
“A week or so ago,” Matt said. “My fault. When I went to the naval hospital, the doctor asked me why didn’t I take the flight physical, I never knew when I might want to try for flight school. So I took it, and the eye examination was more thorough than it would have been for a grunt commission, and they found it.”
“Found what?”
“It had some Latin name, of course,” Matt said. “And it will probably never bother me, but the United States Marine Corps can’t take any chances. I’m out.”
“You didn’t say anything,” Brewster Payne said.
“I’m not exactly proud of being a 4-F,” Matt said. “I just . . . didn’t want to.”
“Perhaps the army or the air force wouldn’t be so particular,” Brewster Payne said.
“It doesn’t work that way, Dad,” Matt said. “I already have a brand-new 4-F draft card.”
“Think that through, Matt,” Brewster Payne said. “You should be embarrassed, or ashamed, only of things over which you have control. There is no reason at all that you should feel in any way diminished by this.”
“I’ll get over it,” Matt said.
“It is not really a good reason to act impulsively,” Brewster Payne said.
“Nor, he hesitates to add, but is thinking, is the fact that Uncle Dick got himself shot a really good reason to act impulsively; for example, joining the police force.”