It had to be You

bought the typewriter, and spotted the final piece of evidence—the long black coat and the black fur hat the hiker had seen a man wearing.
    “It wasn’t a man, of course,“ Howard said. “It was a tall, strong woman. The hiker admitted he hadn’t seen the person’s face. But we all assumed it was a man, until Lily saw the hat and coat in one of the boxes of things Mrs. Connor meant to take with her when she moved out. Then everything started to fall into place.”
    He continued, “Deputy Parker from Beacon found the shotgun hidden under some hay in the barn. Mrs. Connor ‘s coat, the treads on the bottom of her boots, and the trunk of her automobile where she’d put the shotgun to take home and hide, were analyzed, and contained exactly the same nasty ooze that surrounds the foul lake. It’s a good thing she apparently hadn’t worn the boots again last winter. It would have seriously muddled the evidence.“
    “You couldn’t have found this out a hundred years ago,“ Jack Summer commented. “Probably back then nobody even knew about the science of fingerprinting.”
    Phoebe had a question. “What was the typewriter thing about?”
    Howard explained that a nurse had supposedly typed a letter about the older boy, Aidan, who had reportedly gone to New York City. “She typed a letter to Aidan’s parents saying he’d broken his right wrist, and assured them he’d write back as soon as it healed.
    “The police chief of Beacon,“ Howard explained, “found out that no such hospital had ever existed. But Mrs. Connor’s fingerprints were all over the typewriter Lily bought. And also all over the envelope, and the letter from the made-up hospital and mythical nurse. The only other fingerprints on it were Aidan’s father’s, who’d opened the envelope and read the letter to his wife. What’s more, the letter had a slight crooked letter ‘a’ and so did the typewriter.”
    Mrs. Prinney said, “I could imagine murdering a husband if I had one like Mrs. Connor had—if I were as nasty as she was. But I simply can’t believe she’d kill one grandson, and try to kill the only other one she had. Though it sounds as if the evidence proves it.“
    “I don’t think the charge of trying to blow up Kelly’s bus will hold, though,“ Howard said. “I know it was her, but there’s no physical evidence that would hold up in court. With that mob of relatives of hers scattered all over the valley, someone probably told her where he was. I’m glad I was saved from having to hunt them all down to question them.
    “I doubt that the charge against her for smothering her husband will hold up either. There’s no physical proof. Though I’m convinced that was her, too.”
    Nobody else had anything to say that could explain how Mrs. Connor could have had such hatred for her only grandchildren. But after a short silence, Robert asked, “How is Kelly taking the fact that he’s inherited a farm?“
    “He doesn’t want it,“ Howard said. “He says he enjoys the job he has. He likes meeting lots of new people and traveling around. He doesn’t want the hard work, the huge investment in machines and tools, and the headache of trying to find a good workforce. He’s going to sign over a quitclaim to his father and mother when he turns eighteen next month. He thinks they’ll sell it, sight unseen, and move to a better climate.”
    Howard went on, “I know I can trust all of you not to gossip about this. And Jack, I’m sure, will stick to the bare facts without personal embellishments, won’t you?”
    Jack nodded. “I’m not a yellow journalist. You know I’ll stick to the facts.“
    “One more toast,“ Miss Twibell said. “To Kelly Connor.”