Anything Goes

this information. “You’re quite right, of course.“
    “And it had to be someone on the boat who brought it along,“ Robert said. “Some common object that could be concealed in a pocket. A billiard ball or something.”
    Lily arched an eyebrow. “Could you carry around a billiard ball in your suit jacket and not have the bulge noticed?”
    Robert laughed. “I couldn’t. I’m too trim. But somebody like Claude, who bulges anyway, could. The problem is, was it brought on board as a weapon? Nobody could have predicted a terrible storm and the opportunity to knock off someone without it being noticed.”
    Lily changed the subject. “How commonly known is this information?“
    “The police know. The coroner. Mr. Kessler. And me. But anybody might have told someone.”
    “And nothing’s being done?“ Lily asked.
    “What is to be done?“ Mr. Prinney countered. “Unless the object is found and can be laid clearly to someone’s ownership, there is no proof of guilt. And even if that were the case, the person who owned it could say he or she had lost it in the turmoil of the shipwreck and someone else used it.“
    “But someone killed our uncle. They can’t go free!“ Lily exclaimed.
    “I share your regret,“ Mr. Prinney said. “But without clear proof...“ His voice trailed off.
    “You were on board,“ Robert said. “And you saw nothing that could have been the weapon?“
    “I wasn’t looking for weapons. I was studying the scenery at first, and when the wind blew up and the boat came into danger, I was looking only at getting myself and others to shore.”
    Lily stood. “Thank you for telling us this, Mr. Prinney. I have only one more question. What was the purpose of the trip? Or was it merely social?”
    Mr. Prinney became wary. “I don’t know that I should say.“
    “I think you must,“ Lily said firmly.
    “Your uncle merely told me that he had something to say to someone and wanted witnesses.“
    “Witnesses?“ Robert said. They had headed back for the automobile and discovered that it had sunk into mud.
    “It sounds to me as if whoever it was might have gotten some advance warning of Uncle’s intent,“ Lily said. “Or perhaps had a very guilty conscience.“ She looked around. “How could it be muddy here?“ she asked. “It hasn’t rained recently.”
    She got her answer when Jack Summer bicycled by. He stopped and said, “I was on my way up the hill to see you. Let me help you push. This old barn is the town icehouse. You don’t want to park near it at the end of the summer.“
    “Icehouse?“ Robert said blankly.
    “Ice farther upriver in the clear lakes is cut into blocks in the winter and brought down here,“ Jack said, then went into the barn and brought out a tarp to put under the back wheels for traction. “It’s stored in this barn and by high summer, it melts so fast that the ground around it gets muddy. There. Try backing again.”
    When they had the automobile free and Robert was wringing his hands over how dirty it had gotten, Lily asked Jack, “Why were you heading for Grace and Favor?“
    “I wanted to tell you I’ve found out the boat your uncle died in is still at a salvage yard a little ways out of town.“
    “Have you seen it?“ Robert asked.
    “Not yet,“ Jack replied.
    “Could we go look it over?“ Robert asked.
    “I don’t see why not, but I’m not sure it’ll tell us anything.”
    They all piled into the Duesie and Jack directed them to a spot about five miles along a dirt road that ran north beside the railroad tracks next to the river. Just before they reached the salvage yard, they passed the city dump. There were people there, not disposing of trash, but picking through it. A man, a woman and two small children were walking about, bent over and carrying small bags into which they could put anything salvageable. A beat-up truck sat to the far side of the dump. It had a patchwork quilt suspended over the bed and was apparently their home.
    Robert had slowed down for the potholes and Lily couldn’t tear her eyes from the dreadful sight of the family living at the garbage dump. She’d had the vague idea that the worst of the Depression was inthe cities. But here, in the country, where life should have been easier, it was just as awful. She watched the little girl, in her tattered dress, bend and pick up what looked like a couple of filthy bread rolls. Lily’s stomach turned. If she’d had food along, she’d have flung