Who's sorry now?

swastika on Mr. Kurtz’s shop window.
    ”Whoever it was had stolen a can of red paint and a brush from Harry Harbinger’s backyard,” he told Parker. And then stupidly returned the can of paint but not the brush. I managed to find an expert to lift the fingerprint he made with his left thumb. It was very distinct because of an old cut in his thumb.”
    ”He or she? Sounds more like what a discontented old woman would do,” Parker speculated. A woman who’s been abandoned by a husband or cut off from her children and turns nasty to everyone.”
    Howard was quiet for a moment. ”That could be true. I just assumed it was a man.” Ralph would never have thought about that. And frankly, neither had Howard himself.
    ”Why would anyone paint a swastika on a newcomer’s place of business? He didn’t sound German to me when we were in his shop,” Parker asked.
    ”He speaks English well because he was born in St. Louis to a brewer and his wife. They spoke German in their bar, since most of their patrons spoke German. But spoke English at home. In fact, Robert Brewster says that Kurtz’s granddaughter got him out of Germany in the nick of time. A day or two before the German police started forbidding foreigners from leaving Germany.”
    ”Who is Robert Brewster?” Parker asked.
    ”Darn it, Ron. I’m explaining this too fast. Of course you don’t know him. Or rather, remember him. It was his sister Lily who got that typewriter a month or two ago. You were along and rushed it to Newburg.”
    ”Oh, yes. At least I remember Miss Brewster. A really pretty woman. I’m not sure I’d recognize her brother.”
    ”I’m now a boarder at their mansion,” Walker told Parker. ”It’s called Grace and Favor Cottage. Soon I’ll invite you to a dinner there so you can get to know the people who live there. I’ll also introduce you to other people in town. As far as I’m concerned, you’ll be here for a good long time and need to know about the people who live here.”
    Ron Parker almost blushed with pleasure at this complimentary comment.
    Howard went on. ”Speaking of boarders, I’ve arranged for you to live for the time being where I used to live. There’s a phone line I had activated. You won’t like it anymore than I did. The whole place reeks of cabbage. But when you get to know the town better, you can probably find something nicer. Mrs. Smithson, Mr. Kurtz’s granddaughter, owns lots of property in town. Most of it vacant. But you’d have to cook for yourself. Do you know how to cook?”
    ”I sort of know how to make a sandwich. I never lived in a place that had a stove after I left home.”
    ”You’ll have to learn to cook,” Walker said. ”Or spend your whole income on eating at Mabel’s. My housing and yours come out of the police budget, paid weekly by me. I’ll take you and your suitcase to the boardinghouse now. There are three girls who handle the telephone exchange. You’ll soon recognize their voices. Two don’t listen in. One does. You can wait for the sound of a click of the operator hanging up when you’re connected. If you don’t hear it, tell the operator it’s police business and to hang up.”
    Parker almost reeled as they entered the boardinghouse. ”What’s that awful smell?”
    ”Old cabbage. It permeates the entire house, all the furniture, all the bedding. You’ll have to put up with it until we find you somewhere else to live.”
    Howard led him upstairs and opened the door to the room that Walker once used as his bedroom. He’d also had a second room as his office, which was now vacant. ”I’m afraid there aren’t locks on the doors. If you have anything valuable, I can put it in the safe at my office in town.”
    ”Only my billfold and a few family pictures. I keep my billfold in my pocket and can put the pictures on the nightstand.”
    ”Nobody will steal them.”
    Howard was close to gagging. He’d never realized, until he escaped the boardinghouse, how the old cabbage smell seemed to collect upstairs. It was bad enough in the front hall. Upstairs it was worse.
    He suddenly felt terribly guilty about doing this to Deputy Parker.
    ”Let me call Mrs. Smithson. It’s only mid-afternoon. You haven’t had to eat here yet. Mrs. Smithson owns a lot of property that she inherited. She might have somewhere you could live instead of here.”
    Parker grinned with relief.
    Mrs. Smithson was at home and free for the rest of the afternoon. ”Why don’t you pick