Death on a Deadline

‘Trampled.’ ”
    “Is there an answer?” Carly asked.
    I nodded. “ ‘Dear Trampled, respect can’t be asked for; it has to be demanded. You’re only trampled if you let yourself be. So stand up and be counted.’ ”
    “Hmm. Blunt, but I guess that makes sense. This is going to be kind of hard, isn’t it?” Carly held up a current letter. “ ‘Dear Prudence, I’m fourteen and my parents won’t give me any privacy. I’m a good kid, but they think because I’m a teenager I’m automatically bad. What should I do?’ Signed, ‘Need Some Space.’ ”
    “Oh, that’s a good one. Put it over to the side for me to answer later.” I was hoping to start on some fairly easy ones. And garner some wisdom from the previous Dear Prudences.
    Carly jerked. “What’s that noise?” The popping sound followed by creaking noises echoed in the quiet, empty building.
    “I think it’s the heater coming on. Let’s don’t get all jumpy again.” I was nervous, too, but I wouldn’t mention that to Carly. “We have a right to be here, remember?” And if anyone saw us here, well, I was an employee.
    “ You have a right to be here, not me.” Technically, Carly was right, but even though I was acting bravely, I was really glad she was here with me.
    “Don’t be silly. You’re my assistant.”
    “Without pay, right?”
    “Yes, but with a lot of honor. So, honored assistant, how many unopened letters are there?”
    She shuffled through them. “About ten.”
    “Marge said there would be between five and fifteen every week. They’re all local, so at least it’s not like a deluge of letters.” I’d envisioned huge mailbags before Marge had told me that little tidbit. Apparently the citizens of Lake View didn’t need advice all that much. Or if they did, they didn’t realize it.
    “That doesn’t give you much to choose from if you answer three each week.” She ripped another one open. “ ‘Dear Prudence, my husband thinks if we exchange all our light bulbs for long-lasting ones, we’ll save loads of money. I think it’s wasteful to throw away a bulb that hasn’t burned out yet. What do you think?’ Signed, ‘In the Dark.’ ”
    I rolled my eyes. “Trash,” we said together and Carly tossed it in the round metal can by the desk.
    For the next several minutes, we pored over the letters and replies, reading bits aloud. After I’d gathered the current ones to take home and try to answer and a few of the archives for reference, I lowered my voice. “We’d better start looking if we’re going to find any clues to Hank’s murder.”
    I flipped on the computer.
    “What are you doing?” Carly walked over to stand behind me.
    “I just want to check his history. I’m sure the police already did, but maybe we’ll see something they missed.”
    “Won’t you need a password?”
    I pointed at the screen. “Thankfully Hank saved it.” I logged on and pulled up his history for the last twenty days. There were the usual Web sites—weather, sports, news. No pornography or online gambling sites had been visited within the last twenty days.
    “Look at this flyer I found stuck in the Dear Pru archives.” Carly held up a bright yellow brochure. “ ‘Makeover for Couples! Two-for-one special at the Luxury Spa in Memphis, Thursday, Sept 5 thru Sunday, Sept 8. Surprise your Special Someone with a spa weekend featuring Botox and collagen injections in the privacy of your Luxury suite with your own personal attendant. Tanning beds, permanent makeup, and elimination of spider veins and unsightly age spots included. No need to grow old together gracefully when you can stay young for each other forever.’ ”
    I looked up from the computer. “Weird. Marge said Hank was handling Dear Pru when he died. I guess he stuck that in there. Maybe he was going to surprise Marge.”
    She shuddered. “Eww. Can you see Hank and Marge getting makeovers?”
    Before I could answer, my cursor moved to the more recent sites in the computer’s history and I gasped. “Look at this. Oh my goodness. Why would he have all these? There are at least a hundred sites about prescription drugs.”
    “Must be for a story.”
    “I’m sure. But about what?”
    “Drugs?” Carly chuckled. “Just a guess, Nancy Drew.”
    The rest of the history showed nothing important, so I shut down the computer.
    “I’ll look through the file cabinet and you check his desk.”
    I slid open the first metal drawer and stared at the file