afternoon.”
When Miss Twibell was gone, Betty said, “I’ve never known her to be this cranky.“
“It’s her feet hurting,“ Lily said. “Having to deal with Mrs. Connor, and dealing with the mess the dumbwaiter project is making, I imagine. We can’t blame her. I’d be cranky, too, if I were in her shoes—or carpet slippers.”
Chapter 13
Saturday, March 11
Early Saturday, Chief of Police Simpson called Howard back. “I hate to say this, seeing as how I know you’re working on the Connor case...“
“How do you know Connor’s death is a case?“
“I just assumed it was. I kept expecting for years that someone would bump him off someday. When you called yesterday asking about the Connor family problems, it seemed to me to confirm it. Am I wrong?“
“No, you’re not. But what do you need?“
“Help from you. I have an unidentified body here. It’s in pretty bad shape. But then so am I. Gout again in both big toes. And my deputy has only been on the job one week. So far he seems a darn timid type. I can’t trust him to question the neighbors who were close to the scene of the crime. He’s not up to asking rude questions yet, and I can hardly walk across the room, much less all over town.“
“I’m sorry. I have my own case to work on. I’m not getting anywhere with it. I’m going to have question a lot more people.“
“Just one day. Say tomorrow. You might get some information up here about your case while you’re helping with mine.”
Howard thought for a moment. All he could do about the death of Sean Connor was question everyone at the nursing home—probably over and over. Everybody who lived or worked at Miss Twibell’s nursing home. Everyone who had visited during those three months that Connor stayed. He didn’t have all his questions lined up yet. “Okay. Half a day only. Where should we meet?“
“Why don’t you come over to my house,“ Chief Simpson said, and gave him directions. “I’ll be in your debt anytime you need me.“
“You can count on me to take you up on that someday.”
Walker called the telephone exchange early on Sunday and told the girl on duty that if she needed him, to ring Chief Simpson in Beacon. Then he put gas in the police car and headed out.
Mrs. Simpson came to the door. “Come in, Chief Walker. Ed’s in the parlor. I have coffee and muffins set out. Just have Ed bellow if either of you needs more. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Howard had seen Simpson only twice before and that was two years earlier. Now he thought, no wonder the man suffered from gout—he hadput on at least thirty pounds since then. Was it a drinking problem, or had he been eating too much rich food for the whole two years?
They chatted for few minutes about the last time they’d had occasion to meet. Howard ate one muffin and drank a little of his coffee. Simpson had three muffins and finished his coffee. Mrs. Simpson had left the carafe on a side table, and Howard poured the man another cup.
“So fill me in so I can get started. Where was the body found? And when?“ Walker asked.
“Up in the hills above. There’s a small but deep lake. I’d guess some of the neighbors have lost cows in it over the years. It’s not fit for swimming. It’s scummy. But the young people around here sometimes crawl down the sides of the slope and ice-skate there. When the ice broke up last week, the body of a young man, quite bloated, came to the surface. Must have gone in there in the winter.
“The first odd thing my former deputy officer noticed,“ he went on, “was that the body had one ice skate on, and the other foot had been gnawed on, probably under water. We thought at first he might have been sitting on the steep bank putting on the first skate when some animal attacked him.”
Walker thought it was time to get to the point. “And later?“ he urged.
“Later we found that the upper front part of his skull was crushed, and then when he was turned over, that
When Miss Twibell was gone, Betty said, “I’ve never known her to be this cranky.“
“It’s her feet hurting,“ Lily said. “Having to deal with Mrs. Connor, and dealing with the mess the dumbwaiter project is making, I imagine. We can’t blame her. I’d be cranky, too, if I were in her shoes—or carpet slippers.”
Chapter 13
Saturday, March 11
Early Saturday, Chief of Police Simpson called Howard back. “I hate to say this, seeing as how I know you’re working on the Connor case...“
“How do you know Connor’s death is a case?“
“I just assumed it was. I kept expecting for years that someone would bump him off someday. When you called yesterday asking about the Connor family problems, it seemed to me to confirm it. Am I wrong?“
“No, you’re not. But what do you need?“
“Help from you. I have an unidentified body here. It’s in pretty bad shape. But then so am I. Gout again in both big toes. And my deputy has only been on the job one week. So far he seems a darn timid type. I can’t trust him to question the neighbors who were close to the scene of the crime. He’s not up to asking rude questions yet, and I can hardly walk across the room, much less all over town.“
“I’m sorry. I have my own case to work on. I’m not getting anywhere with it. I’m going to have question a lot more people.“
“Just one day. Say tomorrow. You might get some information up here about your case while you’re helping with mine.”
Howard thought for a moment. All he could do about the death of Sean Connor was question everyone at the nursing home—probably over and over. Everybody who lived or worked at Miss Twibell’s nursing home. Everyone who had visited during those three months that Connor stayed. He didn’t have all his questions lined up yet. “Okay. Half a day only. Where should we meet?“
“Why don’t you come over to my house,“ Chief Simpson said, and gave him directions. “I’ll be in your debt anytime you need me.“
“You can count on me to take you up on that someday.”
Walker called the telephone exchange early on Sunday and told the girl on duty that if she needed him, to ring Chief Simpson in Beacon. Then he put gas in the police car and headed out.
Mrs. Simpson came to the door. “Come in, Chief Walker. Ed’s in the parlor. I have coffee and muffins set out. Just have Ed bellow if either of you needs more. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Howard had seen Simpson only twice before and that was two years earlier. Now he thought, no wonder the man suffered from gout—he hadput on at least thirty pounds since then. Was it a drinking problem, or had he been eating too much rich food for the whole two years?
They chatted for few minutes about the last time they’d had occasion to meet. Howard ate one muffin and drank a little of his coffee. Simpson had three muffins and finished his coffee. Mrs. Simpson had left the carafe on a side table, and Howard poured the man another cup.
“So fill me in so I can get started. Where was the body found? And when?“ Walker asked.
“Up in the hills above. There’s a small but deep lake. I’d guess some of the neighbors have lost cows in it over the years. It’s not fit for swimming. It’s scummy. But the young people around here sometimes crawl down the sides of the slope and ice-skate there. When the ice broke up last week, the body of a young man, quite bloated, came to the surface. Must have gone in there in the winter.
“The first odd thing my former deputy officer noticed,“ he went on, “was that the body had one ice skate on, and the other foot had been gnawed on, probably under water. We thought at first he might have been sitting on the steep bank putting on the first skate when some animal attacked him.”
Walker thought it was time to get to the point. “And later?“ he urged.
“Later we found that the upper front part of his skull was crushed, and then when he was turned over, that
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