It had to be You

But when he looked down the shaft to see what the Harbingers were doing, he nearly fainted. Both of the younger men were bracing their feet against one side of the shaft and their backs against the other side and inching upward, using pencils to mark where the string hung. He was deeply sorry he’d looked down, especially when Harry yelled up, “Stop letting the string wobble!”
    When they’d finally finished and inched their way back down, Robert went to the basement. A friend of the Harbingers had come along to varnish the sticks in the kitchen. He had most of them done, in spite of the cook’s outrage at stinking the place up. “It’s going to make lunch smell awful!“ she claimed.
    But the helper had said, “Miss Twibell wants us to hurry. It’s raining outside, and too damp in the laundry room for them to dry.”
    The sticks were laid out on newspapers, and they did smell awful. But there were only four left to do.
    “Can you finish today?“ Robert asked in a pleading tone to Harry.
    “Maybe,“ was Harry’s answer.

Chapter 21
    Thursday, March 16

    Chief of Police Simpson called Howard Walker early the next morning. “I have a lead on my body from the lake. I’d like your advice,“ Simpson said, sounding weary.
    Howard wondered why Simpson, who had at least thirty more years of experience than he did, needed advice. Maybe the gout had kicked in again. Or maybe since he had made an attempt to help Simpson before, Simpson was thinking of Howard as a backup deputy.
    “What did you learn? Walker asked.
    “A young woman named Sue Ann Wayne wrote me a letter saying she’s seen the article, and the person I was looking for might be Aidan Connor. He could be identified by a large mole on the inside of his left forearm. They were engaged to be married, but he’d left his home in late December to take a construction job in New York to make enough money to marry her. She thinks he said he was going to work on the construction of the Empire State Building.“
    “That’s already completed, I believe,“ Howard said. “But he might have stayed on in some sort of maintenance capacity. Have you already contacted whoever did the autopsy to find if there was such a mole?“
    “Yep. I did that. He said the body was too putrefied to determine if there was a mole, unless it was huge one. And they still wouldn’t know if they exhumed it.“
    “Then I’d suggest that you talk to his father and mother about this mole, if you haven’t already done so. Not that it would prove who it was. But you might learn from them just where this Aidan really is.”
    There was a long silence before Simpson said, “Thanks, Howard.”
    Howard hung up speculating that Simpson’s apparent weakness wasn’t just the result of gout. The man wasn’t even thinking like a cop anymore. Maybe it was time for him to retire and turn things over to his deputy, young Parker.
    Howard had taken the call at the jail. Neither of the two cells was occupied, and it was quiet enough to catch up on paperwork. But he was interrupted again in a few minutes.
    A young man came through the door looking very upset. “Someone tried to set my truck on fire.“
    “Did they succeed?“
    “No.“
    “Then sit down and calmly tell me about it. Who are you?“
    “Kelly Connor. I have a truck—well, it’s really a small enclosed bus. I take samples of things around to various towns, showing them to people, and then deliver what they order if I haven’t got the full-sized one on the bus.“
    “I’ve heard of you. I’m Chief of Police Howard Walker, and I’m friends with the people who live at Grace and Favor. They told me about you.“ And so have other people, Howard thought to himself.
    Kelly nodded. “Nice people, they are. I’ve been in so many other towns roundabouts that I haven’t been able to get the full-size version of some of the things they ordered until yesterday. I drove up here last night but was too late to call on them.“
    “So, get back to telling me what happened.“
    “I parked my bus down by the riverside and went in search of food. The man at the greengrocer was taking in a late shipment of vegetables, and I managed to get something to eat and took it back to my truck in the rain. I could smell smoke. I looked all around and found the smell was coming from under my bus. Someone had piled some driftwood under the engine and set fire to it. It’s a good thing it was raining. The wood was damp. The fire was still