Who's sorry now?

back room.
    Robert said, ”I’ve turned over a significant amount of money and tickets to Mrs. Gasset. Maybe you could do the lock before finishing the numbers. You still have two more full days to finish the box numbers.”
    ”There’s already money in there?”
    ”Yes, I paid for tickets for everybody at Grace and Favor and you two, and the town council,” Robert admitted.
    ”You’re crazy to do that,” Jim said.
    ”No, I’m not. I wanted to. And money is money no matter who pays it.”
    Chief Howard Walker also woke up with a brilliant idea. But it was in the middle of the night. He thought it meant something important. He knew he should write it down, but he told himself firmly to remember it until morning.
    By the next morning the idea had faded. He really should have at least made a note, a word or two on some scrap of paper. He thought it had to do with something that happened quite a long time ago. Something perhaps involving the swastika. Or not.
    This had happened to him before. A good idea in a dream, then lost. But it always came back from wherever it was hidden in his brain. Sometimes quite suddenly when he was brooding over something else entirely. Usually it was trivial. The name of someone he once knew that suddenly came out his mouth when he’d given up on ever knowing.
    But this vivid dream, now missing, was important. That he knew for sure.
    On Saturday the twentieth of May the train station had a line of people outside waiting for mailboxes. Howard realized that he should be on hand. A lot of money was going to be taken in and The Law should be there to watch over it.
    Somebody had lent Mrs. Gasset a long table to place in front of the boxes. She had two baskets ready. One for the cash. The other for information. She had a big pile of index cards. Each person whose number was drawn had to fill out his or her name, the number of the box chosen, and if they had a lock, put down the combination in case they forgot it.
    As Howard arrived, at ten in the morning, the drawing had just commenced. The first number drawn went to a man Howard didn’t recognize. He said, ”Miss, there’s no reason for you to know my combination. I won’t forget it.”
    ”Sir, it’s Mrs. Gasset, and if you do forget and I don’t know it, you will have to hire someone at your own expense to cut the lock off.”
    This convinced him to put down the combination.
    Robert kept worrying over things he’d forgotten. The table in front, for example. It was Mrs. Gasset’s duty to endorse every check with the whole name of the sorting center and drive somewhere to open a bank account.
    Only about half the people had acquired a lock. The other half had to drive to a town that had a hardware store to buy one. Walker placed himself next to the basket with the cash, and Robert kept an eagle eye on the one with the names and the numbers of the boxes they’d selected. He was going to label them from inside the sorting area.
    ”What if I get a big package that won’t fIt in the box?” one of the buyers asked.
    ”You’d get a pink notice in the box notifying you to knock on the door, and I’d bring the package out. I won’t be here in the evenings though.”
    ”Whoever thought this out was smart,” the woman said with a smile. ”I’m so glad this was done.”
    It took four hours with one twenty-minute break for people who needed to use the station’s bathroom or buy a candy bar or crackers from the vending machine. At intervals throughout, Robert announced loudly that the townspeople had Harry and Jim Harbinger to thank for building this fine sorting area. The drawing wasn’t completed until nearly four o’clock. Howard, Robert, and Susan Gasset were all exhausted from simply standing around. One hundred and thirty-two boxes had been purchased.
    When all the buyers were gone, the three of them allowed themselves a short break. Howard and Susan sat down while Robert ran over to Mabel’s to buy sandwiches and drinks. He ate quickly, then went behind the boxes to start writing the people’s names and box numbers and glueing them down under each box. He also took the basket with the money back where nobody else would know where it was.
    Mrs. White appeared shortly and folded up the table she’d lent them. Howard carried it out to her big car to tie it on top with her rope. She’d brought along a bedspread to put under the table so it wouldn’t hurt the paint on top of her car.
    ”I bought a box right in the