Someone to watch over me

so,“ Jack said. “Could you let me know what you find out? I can still slip something about him into the Thursday issue.“
    “Did this Oggleton leave a family behind? Could they tell me when he left?“
    “I don’t know. You’ll have to run down some old-timers who were his patients. Maybe one of them will remember.“
    “Would there have been a mention of it in the local newspaper back then?“ Robert asked. “That is, if I can pin down an approximate time.“
    “The few old newspapers that still exist are kept in the basement of the town library,“ Jack said.
    “I didn’t know there was a basement. I’ll work on this,“ Robert said, rising from the window where he was perched. “Jack, again, you did a terrific job, and I can hardly wait for what comes next.”
    As Robert and Lily drove home, Robert said, “He only had three men who had died that he knew of. One, a guy named VanZillen, was in an accident out west, Butch O’Dwyer died at Mabel’s, and one simply disappeared. Got on a southbound train with his things and rode away. But he was the town doctor and once the mayor of Voorburg, so Jack says some residents are bound to remember him and maybe even know when he left. If it was after 1925, I’ll go see if there was anything in the newspaper archives at the library. This guy’s name was Major Oggleton, Jack says. That’s all he knows about him. Ever heard of him?”
    Lily said, “Afraid not. Find your old-timers first. Find a couple of them, if you can. Then I’ll help you hunt through the old issues of the papers. Are you sure your mummy was put in the icehouse in 1926?“
    “Not exactly. That’s what Mimi suggested. Sometime between February and Christmas. But of course, the icehouse was locked by late December. Mimi didn’t, and couldn’t, have seen a body in there. Someone might have had a key and put him in there later. The pathologist is very reluctant to name even a year of death.“
    “Why do you care so much about this?“ Lily asked. “Whatever family or friends he might have had must have put his disappearance well behind them and gotten on with their lives.”
    Robert was stymied himself by this question. “Because I found him, I suppose. I’m responsible for finding out who he was.“
    “But you’re not. It was just a coincidence that you were there and were the first to see him. If one of the Harbinger boys had gone in first, would you have expected them to investigate?“
    “No, but the Harbinger boys have jobs. And I don’t,“ he said, with genuine sadness.
    Lily hated seeing Robert truly unhappy with himself. “Neither do I,“ she admitted. “But living comfortably in a mansion, eating good food—are we entitled to take someone else’s job over?“
    “No, Lily. We have to create our own jobs.“ He thought for a moment and forced himself to sound chirpy for Lily’s sake—and his own. “We could call ourselves the Sleuthing Siblings.”
    Lily laughed. “I think not. And I understand your feelings a bit. They’re a lot like mine about the girl hoboes. Nobody asked me to help them. I just needed to do it for my own good.“
    “I still think we had a good idea with hosting celebrities and making people pay to meet them. It went badly awry the first time, through no fault of our own, but we shouldn’t forget it. Great- uncle Horatio’s will demands that we earn our living, not just coast along doing good works for free.“
    “Who’s going to pay us for being Sleuthing Siblings?“
    “Good question,“ Robert said grimly.
    They arrived home. Robert opened the door of the Duesie for Lily and took her package. “Would you like a stalk of asparagus up your nose?“ he said, wishing to cheer her up.
    “Not now, maybe later,“ she said.
    Which made him laugh like a loon.

Chapter 24

    As Robert was approaching the library the next day, he glanced toward the train station and, on a fortunate whim, altered his course. The stationmaster, Mr. Buchanan, was at his window, reading a book.
    “Mr. Buchanan, how long have you had this job?“ Robert asked.
    “Since Hector was a pup. Started as a baggage handler when I was seventeen. Worked my way up. Why do you ask?“
    “I’m trying to find out about a man who lived here named Oggleton.“
    “Whaddya need to know?“
    “When he left town for good.“
    “That’s an easy one,“ Buchanan said, putting the toothpick he’d been holding in the corner of his mouth into the book as a marker. “I