It had to be You

I hope you’ll be in Voorburg for a few more days. I do regret that I had to give you the bad news.”
    Kelly left, looking distinctly downcast.
    Howard leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. It was his best thinking position, and now he thought about Kelly Connor. The young man was attractive, with his red hair and freckles. He was also personable. It was no wonder he was a good salesman. But Howard had no idea whether Kelly was telling the truth. Salesmen didn’t always do so. In fact, some of them could lie charmingly. He was well-spoken, as well, but not too well-spoken. He wouldn’t intimidate people less well educated. And Howard would bet that any household with young girls would end up buying a lot of things from him.
    But Kelly had come into the jail building clearly upset about the fire under the engine of his bus. He wasn’t selling anything, he was complaining. And now Howard wondered, was the fire a genuine attempt to blow up the bus, or just vandalism?
    Some of the older schoolboys in and around Voorburg, having to work so much of the time for their family in these tough times, did go in for petty vandalism. They were probably boys who would have thought it was fun even in better times. However, it was usually painting something on a shop window or damaging something like a statue, which was offensive behavior, but not dangerous.
    Setting a fire under a vehicle was a whole different thing. It was meant to harm a person or personal property. It could have blown the windows out of several shops near the riverfront or injured anyone who happened to be out late at night.
    It could have blown up Kelly as well, if the wood hadn’t been so damp and Kelly hadn’t been out searching for something to eat.
    He looked through his file on the Connor case one more time. The only result was to neaten it up. It led him to no conclusions he hadn’t already considered. As he was putting it back in the desk, the phone rang again.
    It was Miss Twibell, speaking softly. “Kelly Connor is here at the nursing home,“ she said. “Why?“
    “To thank us for taking care of his grandfather. Do you need to speak to him while he’s in Voorburg?“ Miss Twibell asked. “I could keep him here on some pretense if you need me to.“
    “I’ve already had quite a long conversation with him,“ Howard said. “I don’t believe he’s going to bolt.”
    Howard set out to question the greengrocer to find out if he’d seen anyone else roaming around for no good reason last night.
    The greengrocer wasn’t helpful. “I was out back of the building helping to unload. I didn’t see anyone, except that red-headed kid.”
    Just to make sure he’d done the best he could, Howard went around to the other merchants and asked them if they’d been in their shops late and had they seen anyone roaming the streets. All of them replied that they had worked a good long day, and gone home in time for dinner.
    Howard went back to his office for one more perusal of the Connor file, and while he was doing so, the phone rang again.
    “Chief Simpson here,“ the voice said.
    Howard had to stifle a groan of irritation. “What have you learned?“ he asked as politely as he could.
    “Aidan Connor did have a small mole where the girl said it was. But he isn’t exactly missing. Three or four weeks ago, Stefan and his wife had a letter from a hospital in the city, typed by a nurse, informing them that their son had broken his right wrist and couldn’t write for himself. She assured them he was in no danger and was healing well, and he’d write to them again as soon as he could.“
    “Did they visit him at the hospital?“ Howard asked.
    “No, they said they were too busy to leave their business. It’s a gasoline station, and if nobody is there, they’d lose money. They said that if the report had suggested that their son was in any danger, they’d have immediately made the trip.”
    Howard had vowed not to give any more advice. He broke the vow. “Did they keep the letter?“
    “Yes. They showed it to me.“
    “Did you look in a New York phone book to see if there is such a hospital?”
    After a long silence, “I didn’t think there was any need to. Do you think there’s something suspicious about this letter?“
    “Probably not. But I’d have checked its origin. And I’d probably ask them to keep the letter until they hear again from their son. But it’s up to you. It’s your case, not mine.”
    When he’d