Love for Sale

call him Nobby Hazard. He and Goodheart go way back. His looks are because he grew up in an orphanage and had smallpox as a child, he says.“
    “What is his job?“
    “He arranges all the transportation, hires the people who set up the stages when Goodheart’s doing his tours. Books the hotels where they stay. He’s the only one who’s absolutely loyal to Goodheart. He’s abrasive and tough. Someone told me he used to be a fire-and-brimstone preacher himself, but his looks were against him, so he attached himself to Goodheart years ago because he believed in him.“
    “And did he know that Goodheart was keeping most of the money he raised?“ Walker asked.
    “I don’t know. I doubt it. He’s only concerned with bringing as many people into the fold as he can. He does all the promotional flyers as well. I go through them and correct the spelling and grammar even though the content makes me feel sick at heart.“
    “But if he did know, how would he react?“ Price’s eyebrows went up. “He’d kill the bastard for betraying him.“
    “That’s all I need from you now, Mr. Price. You can stay here and eat your breakfast. Don’t even think of leaving the house.“ Walker took Lily with him.
    “Miss Brewster,“ he said as they went downstairs, “I’m going to have to keep these people here for a while. We have only one jail cell, as you know, and there is a drunk driver in it right now. I know it’s an inconvenience. But maybe I can talk the city into at least paying for their food until I figure out where else to put them. I’d also suggest strongly that you get good locks on all the doors to Grace and Favor. Any one of those men could have killed Goodheart, or it could have been someone like this Rennie person walking in one of the doors.“
    “You’ll have to say that to Mr. Prinney yourself,“ Lily responded. “We’ve been nagging him for ages about locks. But he says there are too many doors and windows on the ground floor to afford to get all new locks. He nearly had a stroke when we redid the third floor and put locks on those doors.“
    “But there wasn’t one on the door to the master suite?“
    “There was, but Robert had to take the door off to get the big table in there and the key went missing. I think they told Goodheart he’d have to put a chair under the door to secure it.“
    “I wonder if he did.“
    “That would leave only Edward Price as a suspect.“
    “I know. But the way he’s spilling his guts, such as they are, I don’t think he did it. He’d have been too afraid of losing his job. I’ll have a word with Mr. Prinney. Maybe this murder will change his mind about locks and keys.”

    * * *

    But Mr. Prinney was busy with Mary Towerton and told Walker he’d have to wait a while. Mary had come back with the wedding picture showing her husband and herself. She was still reluctant to part with it, but Mr. Prinney said, “I remembered after you left that I know a man in Poughkeepsie who has a lot of photographic equipment. I handled his rental contract when he started the business. I’ve already phoned him at home and asked him to be waiting for me to bring the photograph tomorrow morning. I won’t come home until I have the copy and yours.“
    “It’s so good of you to do this for me. I know I’m taking you away from other work. At least let me give you some money,“ Mary said, pulling some well-worn bills out of her pocket.
    “No, I’ll just take care of it. Keep your money for your children. I can’t promise you a result. If I am successful, you can repay me with a fancy baby dress for my next grandchild.“
    “I’ll start a new one tomorrow.”
    Mr. Prinney smiled. “The next one isn’t due until February.”
    She put her money back in her pocket reluctantly and said, “I left the children in the front hall. I must get back to them. Thank you again, Mr. Prinney.”
    He hadn’t yet looked at the picture she’d brought when he heard the wagon leave. Now he stared at it. Her husband, in his best clothes, even without the broken nose and scar on his lip that he acquired after the marriage, was an ordinary looking chap. A little sullen, perhaps. Or maybe j ust scared of what he’d done. Mrs. Towerton was standing behind him, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding her bouquet, and she was smiling. She looked a little bit like his eldest daughter had at the same age, before she married and put on weight.
    There was a knock on the door and,