Who's sorry now?

who had reason to murder McBride. Two cases on my plate. Both distasteful.”
    ”I haven’t any advice for you, but one of those old women who was raking through everybody’s mail that day I was there could have lifted a small car off its wheels. She had arms like ham hocks and pudgy fingers. Deputy Parker might be right—that a woman could have hoisted that trash can with one hand.”
    ”But painting the swastika on the window first?”
    ”She—if it’s really a woman—is as likely as a man to hate and fear Germans these days. She probably has no reason to believe he was born in America.”
    ”I’ll keep that in mind,” Howard said. He sounded halfhearted to Robert. But Howard had been asking for an opinion and Robert had given him one that was possible. Maybe not likely though.
    ”How’s the petition going?” Howard was obviously changing the subject.
    ”Pretty well. I have twenty people who signed it just today. I’m seeing more of the townspeople tomorrow and the next day, then going out in the countryside to convince the farmers.”
    Robert thought about Howard as he went around town collecting signatures on his petition. At least Robert had a plan. It wasn’t as exciting as murder and attempted murder, but he still believed it was important to have a place to sort the mail so the snoops couldn’t know what other citizens were receiving.
    He went to see Mrs. Smithson for his coffee lesson and took the petition with him. It turned out that making coffee wasn’t all that complicated after all. It was just measuring water and coffee in the right proportions.
    ”Would you like to sign the petition to set up a little post office sorting room at the train station? Read the introduction and then I’ll tell you why I think it’s important.”
    When she’d finished reading, Robert told her about the old ladies examining other people’s mail and deciding who should get certain letters and which they should destroy.
    ”I’ve seen them doing that,” she said. ”I think it’s disgraceful. How will it be set up?”
    Robert explained about the numbered boxes people could pay for and put their own lock on, if they wanted to. He also told her about the little room behind it with the box numbers and an open space.
    ”So who is going to do this?” she asked, sipping the coffee Robert had made himself.
    ”Well, right now I’ll be stuck with it. I was trying to get Edwin McBride a paying job. Of course that won’t happen now.”
    ”It’s so sad about his death. He was a nice man. Always polite and helpful. Does the chief of police have any suspects?”
    ”I have no idea,” Robert lied. He didn’t want anyone else to know how upset Howard was about having no good leads in either of the current crimes.
    Jack Summer approached Mrs. Smithson, asking, ”May I ask your grandfather for an interview yet? We have two new residents of Voorburg. Your father and a new deputy. People here need to know about both of them.”
    ”Of course. But I’d like to be at the interview with my grandfather.”
    They both went over to Mr. Kurtz’s shop. He was busy taking in some of his own granddaughter’s dresses. ”I’m paying for these,” Mrs. Smithson told Jack. ”I’ve lost a lot of weight recently. The trip to Germany took it off. Grandpa, this is Jack Summer, the editor of the local paper. He’d like to ask you about your new business and a bit about your background.”
    ”I’d be glad to converse with him. It will perhaps bring in more business.”
    ”I understand you left Germany to come to Voorburg. How did that come about?”
    ”I was afraid of living in Germany. I’d once had the misfortune to attend a Communist meeting where we had to sign in with our names and addresses. The Nazis hate the Communists as much as they hate the Jews.”
    ”Mr. Brewster told me you got out of Germany just in time.”
    ”Yes. My granddaughter and I didn’t realize it until we got here. The German police were about to refuse to let Americans leave the country.”
    ”Are you an American, too?” Jack asked.
    ”I was born and raised in St. Louis.” Mr. Kurtz went on to explain about his father being a brewer who took his family to Germany.
    ”Is anyone else in your family still there?” Jack asked.
    ”No, my parents died a long time ago. My only sister, much younger than I, came back to America ten years ago and lives in Arizona. I hope she’ll come to visit us soon.”
    ”Why did you take up tailoring