Love for Sale

finally said cautiously, “You know I can’t reveal any information about clients. But you should know that Mrs. Towerton consulted with me at my home office on the day Brother Good-heart’s death was discovered. It had nothing to do with the preacher’s death. It was a personal matter involving the welfare of her husband. Even that is more than I should say.”
    Walker thought for a moment. “You think whoever wrote this note saw her coming to Grace and Favor with information about Goodheart’s death?“
    “Not necessarily. But it’s a possibility you might want to consider. She came back later that day. And I visited her here later. That’s all I can tell you.“
    “Thank you,“ Walker said, rubbing at his ear in consternation. “I need to go interview Joey.“
    “I’ll be any help I can,“ Mr. Prinney said. “Be careful getting out of that chair. It wants to tip over. Mrs. Prinney is holding up dinner for me. I’ll be on my way.”
    Walker remained in the rickety chair, considering. So far in the case of the death of the radio minister, he hadn’t dealt with anyone so badly educated to write such a note. Except maybe that slutty girl he and Lily interviewed, and he doubted she even had an automobile. He’d have to check on her anyway.
    Did Mr. Prinney’ s theory hold water? he wondered. It was obvious that Mrs. Towerton wasn’t consulting with a lawyer about Pottinger’s death. Wasn’t it? Surely Mr. Prinney wouldn’t have said anything about their meeting if that had been the case.
    So it would seem Mrs. Towerton’s visit was an unfortunate coincidence of timing. And somebody thought she was threatened by it.
    “She,“ he’d thought. Who could “she“ be? The girl Lily called Brunhilde? He’d spoken to her and she didn’t seem especially bright. But maybe the person who wrote the note spoke perfectly good English and simply didn’t know how to spell. He glanced again at the note. It wasn’t ungrammatical, just badly spelled.
    Maybe it wasn’t really a woman. There were a few effeminate young men who considered themselves artists or Communists and who wore their hair long. Was the boy old enough to know for sure it was a woman?
    He carefully rose from the chair, which did try to dump him out, and knocked at the door. “It’s me, Howard Walker, Mrs. Towerton.”
    She called to him to come in. The little family was sitting at the table eating dinner. The little boy had his napkin tucked into the collar of his shirt. Mrs. Towerton was feeding the baby a mashed-up vegetable of some sort from a pretty bowl with a little enameled spoon.
    “Would you like some stew, Chief Walker? I’ve made plenty.“
    “I would, thank you. It smells wonderful. Better than anything that’s cooked at the boardinghouse.”
    The little boy was still eating his dinner, stuffing a biscuit in his mouth with an eye out thathis mother didn’t see him do it. Walker wouldn’t question the boy until they’d all finished dinner.
    When Mary put the baby in her little crib and started clearing the table, Walker said to Joey, “What are your favorite toys? Would you show them to me?”
    Joey took Walker’s hand and led him to a little trunk near the stove. Walker sat down next to him on the floor and admired the toys. While Joey ran a little cart over the pristine floorboards, Walker asked, “What did the woman who took you in the car look like?”
    Joey shrugged. “Just a lady.“
    “What color hair did she have?”
    Another shrug. “I dunno.“
    “Where did she drive to?“
    “I dunno.“
    “What did you see when she drove?“ Walker asked.
    “Trees,“ Joey said, and added after screwing his face up to remember, “and a cow.”
    That was no help. Nearly everyone in the countryside hereabouts had at least one cow, even if they and the cow were starving. Next only to a radio, a cow was the last thing poor people let go.
    Maybe he should test out one silly theory. “Joey, how did you know it was a lady? Could it have been a man?”
    Joey laughed. “The lady had a dress.“
    “What color dress was she wearing?”
    Joey thought for a minute or two. “I dunno. You run the wagon now.”
    Walker obliged by taking the toy and turning it in a figure eight, while asking, “What did the lady say to you?“
    “I dunno. Nothing.“
    “Did she tell you to get in the car?“
    “She open’t the door and her hand do this,“ he said with a “come on in“ gesture.
    Thinking about the red and white