Someone to watch over me

into Phoebe Twinkle’s shop. Lily hoped Phoebe would sell her several of her most stylish hats.
    Lily finally got up, knees still shaking slightly, and went to find Robert. The spotless butter-yellow Duesie was parked in front of the small house Chief of Police Howard Walker currently occupied, with the front room serving as his office. She was surprised that he apparently was still living here. It was so close to the river and the train tracks that it must be hard to sleep between the deafening sounds of the trains. Not to mention that the house actually sat a little lower than the tracks and often flooded when there were heavy rains. It was a bad place to have to live and work.
    The two men had seen her approach, and Walker opened the door to her as she raised her hand to knock. “Come in, Miss Brewster. Robert and I are having a cold beer. Would you like one?“
    “Anything cold sounds good to me,“ she said, fanning herself with her small flat handbag. “It’s getting awfully hot, and the heat makes the river stink. How do you stand living here?“
    “I won’t have to for much longer,“ Walker said. “Jack Summer and his cousin Ralph Summer, my deputy, are moving to a house that’s been abandoned, and I’m getting their adjoining rooms in the boardinghouse next week. The place smells of old cabbage, but at least it’s farther up the hill and is shaded by trees.”
    He brought her a glass of beer and turned the creaking electric fan so she’d get more of the air. Lily sat down in a straight chair at the table and took a long, cold drink before saying, “So whose body did Robert find?”
    Both men shrugged. “Nobody knows,“ Robert said, “but Chief Walker’s been on the phone to Albany. There was a label in the mummy’s suit with the name of a tailor in New York City. We’re going to run down there tomorrow and see if they can match the measurements to anyone. What’s the name of the place again?”
    Walker said, “I’ve got it written down somewhere. Blackstone’s of Fifth Avenue, I think“
    “Why is this your first thing to check?“ Lily asked. “Can’t anybody around here recognize him?”
    The men exchanged a glance. Robert was the first to speak. “I guess you’re not a good eavesdropper after all, Lily. He’s pretty well preserved. The icehouse must have been almost airtight and he’s more or less a mummy—except for his face and hands.“ Robert paused for a moment but went on before she could ask. “There were apparently animals in there who did a bit of nibbling.”
    Lily gasped, hugged herself, and said, “I wish you hadn’t told me that.“
    “You asked,“ Robert said.
    Lily drew a deep breath and took another sip of her beer, which was already warming up. “Have you any idea how long he’d been there? Or if he was local? Did he have any identification, maybe a suitcase or wallet? Maybe he was just passing through and we’ll never know who he was.”
    Her voice was nearly drowned out by a fast freight train approaching and blowing its whistle deafeningly.
    “Nothing else,“ Howard Walker shouted over the noise. He put up a hand to signal that he’d finish when the train had passed. “Someone had bashed him in the back of the head, and if he had anything with him to say who he was, it’s probably washed down the river into the Atlantic long ago,“ he said, when the train was gone. “But they or he or she must have missed the label in his suit. It’s all we’ve got to go on.“
    “Did he have teeth?“ Lily asked.
    “Yes,“ Walker said. “Good dental work, the guy in Albany says. But until we have some idea of where he came from, and unless we get information on his clothing, there’s no way to know who did the work or where they live.“
    “We’ll take the suit to the city tomorrow,“ Robert said, “if we can borrow the suit today from the forensic guy in Albany.“
    “Tomorrow’s Saturday,“ Walker said. “Will the shop be open?“
    “I suppose so,“ Robert said. “Most men who can afford to buy a suit these days probably only have Saturday afternoons and Sundays off.“
    “I’m not sure this is worth the trouble,“ Walker said. “The guy in Albany doesn’t believe that he was even in the icehouse for very long. He said mummification takes a year-round hot, dry, windy climate. Like deserts. That certainly doesn’t describe the Hudson River Valley.”
    Robert said, “But if he was put in the icehouse during such a spell in the