Who's sorry now?

has the most elegant small hands I’ve ever seen. How did I wander so far from the subject?” Howard asked with a laugh.
    ”What about the guy you fooled with the coffee cup? Were his fingerprints on file in Yonkers?”
    ”Sure were. He’s a small-time thief, who got in trouble for running into a parking meter in a stolen car.”
    ”How could that happen? Didn’t he see it?”
    ”He was dressed for a crash. Protective glasses, heavy headgear, and leather gloves. Apparently the glasses deceived him.”
    ”What do you mean?” Robert asked.
    ”He was aiming for the window of an Italian restaurant where a bunch of Mafia guys were eating at a front table.”
    Robert roared with laughter. ”Not good planning! Did he go to jail for it?”
    ”No, but he had to pay for the damage to the car before it was returned to the real owner.”
    ”So you don’t think he had anything to do with Edwin McBride’s death?”
    ”Fingerprints don’t match the one on the window or the set on the trash can.”
    ”That’s a pity. You could have solved at least two crimes against Mr. Kurtz.”
    ”But not Edwin McBride, which was really a nasty murder.”
    Walker changed the topic. There was no point in talking about Edwin’s murderer until he had some idea who it was.
    ”How’s the mail thing coming along?” he asked Robert.
    ”Just fine. All that remains is to have Peter Winchel draw up a few contracts. First, with the Harbinger boys, and second with Mrs. Gasset. Then everything will start.”
    ”How long will it take?”
    ”Harry thinks they can complete most of the important things in two to three weeks or a little longer. A few things, like painting, might not be completed, but the mail won’t be pawed through.”
    ”Robert, you’ve done a good thing. And you doggedly pursued it. Everybody except the nasty old women will be grateful to you. Maybe they should name the place the Robert Brewster Letter and Package Center.”
    ”Golly, Howard! That would really be great.”
    ”I’ll suggest it to Peter.”
    Walker had meant every word of what he’d said. Robert had noticed a problem, asked around about how to solve it, found out from various people how his project might work, and was finally going to get it done properly. He did deserve the credit.
    Whereas Howard himself was still at sea on two different crimes committed about the same time. He didn’t even know if he was looking for a woman or a man. Although, he doubted that there was a woman responsible for choking Edwin McBride to death with a wire that almost nobody but a jeweler would own. The only jeweler Walker had ever heard of was Ralph Summer’s new father-in-law. And there was certainly no reason for someone from Albany to come all this way for the purpose of killing someone he was unlikely to have known.
    On the other hand, Ralph’s father-in-law might know something about other legitimate reasons for needing the same sort of tool. A wire with very fine, sharp teeth to cut through things. A woodworker, possibly. Or somebody who crafted glass works. He might contract Ralph and ask the father-in-law for other suggestions. He leaned back in his chair, propped his feet on the desk, and said to himself, no.
    He didn’t want either Ralph or Ralph’s in-laws to know how desperate he’d become. It was simply a matter of his pride, but so be it.
    Now that his reflections had thrown up some admittedly feeble suggestions, he was a little bit encouraged. Where and how would a normal person find a jeweler’s fine cutting wire? A hardware store? A jewelry store? Maybe some sort of machine used such a thing to cut through something like cheese or bread.
    Bread.
    Arnold Wood.Arnold Wood’s nasty son.
    Arnold used his mouth as a weapon. And the only two times Howard had seen Serafina at Mr. Bradley’s she’d worn short-sleeved dresses. She had smooth arms with no sign of bruises. But the son was truly violent. So far as Howard knew, his violence was only toward dogs. But could he have murdered a person?
    How in the world could he possibly prove this?
    And how would the kid have even known who Edwin was? Edwin was at the train station or in the Harbingers’ shed all the time. According to what Howard had heard about Arnold’s fat kid, he hardly left his sofa, where he listened to the radio. He didn’t even drive his mother to deliver her rolls to the greengrocer. Even Arnold wouldn’t drive her.
    Thinking about driving, he veered off. Deputy Parker