Love for Sale

with his head in the water, which was all red? Of course I knew he was dead and must have been for quite a while. The room wasn’t even steamy and it was quite cold in there.“
    “I noticed,“ Walker said with what might have been sarcasm. “The room is cold and so is he. He’s been in there most of the night, I’d guess. Did you hear anything from the next room overnight?”
    Before Price could reply, Dr. Polhemus came through from the hallway, drying his hands on a towel. “I suspect the damage to the spinal cord that high paralyzed him, but the immediate cause of death is probably drowning. I’ll send someone to fetch him and do an autopsy in any case.”
    Lily felt faint and knew she’d probably gone as pale as Edward Price.
    As Dr. Polhemus left, Walker asked briskly, “Miss Brewster, where were we?”
    She pulled herself together and read his last question to Price. “ ‘Did you hear anything from the next room?’ “
    Price, still working at regaining his composure, said, “Not a thing, but then I wouldn’t. I’m a heavy sleeper and I like to be in a cold room with a window open and covered with as many blankets as I can find.“
    “But you shaved,“ Walker observed.
    Price shrugged, embarrassed. “Somehow it seemed to me, bizarrely, I admit, the respectful thing to do, and I thought I could do it without looking at him. But I couldn’t finish.“ He put his hand up to his cheek and noticed that he was bleeding a bit and mopped the side of his face with his handkerchief.
    Walker asked him to turn his head and examined his cheek closely. “Well, at least it really is your own blood. When did you go to bed?“
    “Around ten, maybe quarter after,“ Price said, still dabbing at his face.
    “And you heard nothing?“ Walker asked again.
    “I heard him running the bath and that’s all. It’s a habit of his to take a really hot bath before he goes to bed. At the Institute, the man in the room below his goes nearly mad because when the tub drains it makes a banging, gurgling noise in his room. You can ask the others about this. Everyone knows Brother Goodheart’s habits.”
    He looked at Lily taking down what he said. “Really,“ Price added somewhat desperately.
    “What’s your connection with this man? Didn’t you say you were his secretary?“
    “A dogsbody really. I’m a former English professor but my college went bankrupt. All I do is correct the grammar in the speeches he writes and type them up.“
    “Did you like the man?”
    Price took a deep breath and said quietly, “I despised his vulgarity. I hated every word he said. Even his appearance, voice, and the smell of the cologne he used revolted me. But well-paid jobs aren’t thick on the ground these days. I didn’t kill him. I’ll tell you anything you need to know, but I swear I didn’t do it.”
    The questioning was delayed by a noisy scuffle in the hall. When Walker opened the door, it was to the sight of Robert, striped pajamas like little petticoats escaping from the bottom of his trousers. He was holding the ginger-haired man by one arm and pinning the other one behind the man’s back.
    “Another one decided to hippity-hop home,“ Robert said.

Chapter, 6

    While the interview with Edward Price was going on, Mr. Prinney was in his office at Grace and Favor with Mary Towerton. She’d used her mule and cart to drive over from her small farm outside Voorburg with her children. Mrs. Prinney had them in the kitchen and was giving Mary’s little boy bread and jam and hand-feeding the baby girl some pablum she kept for her grandchildren.
    “I’m so sorry to bother you at home, Mr. Prinney, and on a Sunday, but I’ve received an alarming telegram and I don’t know how to respond,“ Mary said, handing him the piece of paper.
    He read it with a frown. “I’m so sorry,“ he said.
    The telegram was to alert her that her husband had died of pneumonia. It said that he had been working in the tunnels that were going to divert the Colorado River so work could commence on the building of Hoover Dam. It went on to say he could be buried there, or his body could be shipped to her home for burial.
    “Which are you going to do? Bury him here or there?“ Mr. Prinney asked.
    “That’s not really the problem. I simply can’t afford to bury him here. I haven’t even found the money to move my grandfather from his grave in Maryland. You see, they have his name wrong. He’s Richard Towerton and this telegram calls