Who's sorry now?

fired?”
    ”Yep, I’ve heard that. Old Arnold Wood. He used to have a very profitable bakery up Route 9 a little way. When the drought hit the Midwest he couldn’t get enough flour at a good price to keep it up and had to shut it down. Had to give up his big house and move to a little one. He and his wife have a son living with them. A complete lout. A big fat boy who hates dogs. He goes around kicking them whenever he gets a chance. He’s killed a few of them. A few of the bigger, cannier ones have snuck up on him later and bit him in the back of the calf or thigh. The last time I heard, three of them had sent him to the hospital to get stitched back up and have rabies shots.”
    ”Why does that make Arnold Wood want you fired?”
    ”Because he wants to get the kid out of his house, and to take over my job.”
    ”Fat chance!”
    ”I know. But he will never give up on it. He’s desperate to get the obnoxious kid a job.”
    ”The treasurer of the council got so mad at him for being rude to me and criticizing you that he asked him to resign.”
    ”He was rude to you as well?”
    ”Because he called me ‘the boy’ who drives around in the Duesie, and he didn’t like it that you live at Grace and Favor. And what’s more, you haven’t found somebody to blame McBride’s death on yet.”
    Howard put his head in his hands. ”I’ll bet that fat son of his could have found someone to blame—without any reason—by now. He knows nothing about police work and is universally hated. Especially by people who had the little dogs he killed. There would be a full-fledged revolution in Voorburg if he got the job. Still, it’s damned annoying of Arnold to keep harping on me.”
    ”I guess you couldn’t get his fingerprints with the coffee cup technique?” Robert said with a laugh.
    ”I couldn’t. I’d need a warrant and you can’t get one just because someone is obnoxious and rude.”
    ”But, Howard, he and his son are the types of men who would be perfectly willing to have killed McBride just to put you in a bad spot.”
    ”Not really.Arnold’s all bluster. He wouldn’t do that. The son might. If he can kill dogs, what’s to stop him from killing a person he didn’t like. Frankly, I don’t think he’d have the courage. He usually picks on little dogs.”
    Robert looked at his watch, and said, ”I’ve got a date with Mrs. Gasset on her break.”
    ”A date?”
    ”More of an appointment. I want her to take over the mail sorting if it comes about, as I hope it does.”
    Mrs. Gasset was sitting on a bench across from the theater. She didn’t notice him at first, and Robert studied her for a moment. A pretty woman a year or two older than he. But sadly, she had three children and a rather terrifying sister, Bernadette, who raised rabbits and sold the fur and meat. Robert crossed the road, sat down next to her, and said, ”This is very nervy of me, but I have to ask. What do you make taking tickets and sorting out how many were sold?”
    ”A dollar and a half a day,” she admitted.
    ”I think I could get you a job that’s just as boring but that would earn you more money. And you could go home and spend the evenings with your family and children.”
    Her eyes went wide. ”What kind of job?”
    ”Sorting mail into boxes at the train station. But not just yet. However, I really think the town council is going to approve it. What’s more, you’d get a percentage of what the boxes cost. A big percentage, in fact.”
    ”Why don’t you do it yourself?” she asked. ”I’ve signed your petition. You ought to be the one making the money.”
    ”My sister and I make enough money to get by. We taught at the grade school for a while. We take in boarders who pay to live at Grace and Favor. Three of them so far. And room for more if everybody who currently lives there likes them. If even one disagrees, they don’t qualify.”
    He didn’t and wouldn’t ever mention the cash in the fake books to anyone but Lily and Mr. Prinney, who already knew.
    ”I’d be honored to take the job, if it works out. Meanwhile, I’ll go on taking tickets. The owner of the theater won’t want to lose me, but I would like to be at home in time for dinner and have the evening free every night. I always drag myself home around nine in the evening and the kids are already in bed.”
    She smiled and said, ”My sister would like it, too. She says it’s the hardest part of taking care of kids.”
    No wonder, Robert