Who's Sorry Now? (15 page)

Looking back later in the day, Walker realized that the books must have been set on fire at a little before two in the morning. Howard had awakened at the increasingly rare sound of rain at the open window of his bedroom at two. His phone had rung soon after Howard had closed the window, with a furious squawk from Mr. Kurtz the night of the second fire at his shop.

He called on Mrs. Smithson after he'd spoken to the libraries. "Mrs. Smithson, do you recall the man who came into your grandfather's shop the first day he was open for business?"

“
Vaguely," she said. "I was still exhausted from the long trip. Why do you ask?"

“You said his first customer was Mrs. White wanting her girls' dresses let down, didn't you?"

“
Yes. I do remember that."

“You also had a man come in?"

“Did I say that?"

“
Robert said you did. What do you remember about him?"

“
Nothing. He just came in while I was bringing a sandwich out front for my grandfather. He was so anxious to get everything in place that he hadn't even made himself breakfast."

“Do you recall what he looked like?"

“I had no reason to remember," Mrs. Smithson said. "All I saw was that he came in the door, and when Grandpa asked what he needed done, the man just shrugged. He didn't speak. He just stood there for a few minutes watching the pinking shears and scissors being hung on the wall and flat bundles of fabric being put on the shelves. When I came back to take away Grandpa's plate and glass of beer, nobody was in the shop."

“Was he tall or short? Fat or skinny? Bald or a redhead?"

“Chief Walker, I haven't any idea. I just thought he was rude and went back in the little kitchen to eat my own sandwich and make some coffee for Robert."

“I'm sorry to have bothered you with this. If you happen to think of anything else, let me know. I realize how awful these attacks on your grandfather are and am determined to find and lock up whoever is doing them.”

Her reply was softer and stronger. "I know you do care almost as much as I do. I'm sorry to have been short with you."

“You're entitled to be," Howard replied. "I promise I won't let this go on without finding who is doing this to your grandfather.”

Walker knew that he'd eventually find the man or woman, and now that he'd talked to the librarians, it seemed it clearly was a man. This man would go to jail for quite a while for two counts of attempted murder for trying to burn down the shop with the owner inside, and at least two counts of arson.

But he deeply regretted that he was still completely ignorant about the person who was responsible for the violent and vicious murder of Edwin McBride. Someone had to pay, perhaps with his own life, for that murder. Surely there would eventually be some clue to the perpetrator lurking in the back of his mind that would be blindingly obvious when his brain dislodged something trivial but important.

He dropped by the train station, hoping to get some answers from Harry or Jim. He was astonished at how well the Robert Brewster Letter and Package Center was coming along. All of the boxes were finished and Harry was working on the doors and the hardware for the combination locks.

“This is the hardest and most expensive part of the job," Harry said. "The rest is easy. Making a sorting table in back, and putting in a door with a lock, so nobody else can get in except for Mrs. Gasset."

“Where is Jim today?"

“He's on an emergency call. One of Mrs. Smithson's hot water systems has blown up. He's turned off the water and gone to Poughkeepsie to buy a new one. Excuse me, but could you move over a bit? I'm ready for the next bank of slots to get their doors.”

Walker took a seat as close as he could get without being in Harry's way. He didn't want to be overheard by anyone else. "Harry, did Edwin ever have company? Did any of his old friends from his neighborhood come to visit him?"

“One tall blond man visited him. But it was weeks ago. Edwin told us he was an old friend from his childhood.”

That confirmed what Deputy Parker had overheard. "Oh, there was one other visitor. That tart in the red dress who used to hang around in the middle of town.”

“Did she stay?”

Harry laughed. "No. Edwin was deeply embarrassed and told her to go away. He slammed the shed door in her face. I was working in the back of the house and saw and heard all of it. Then she came after me. I also told her to get lost. That I didn't need a disease. That really made her mad."

“
Nobody else? You're sure?"

“
No. How could I be sure? I'm seldom at home. Neither is Jim. We occasionally bring something home to work on, like Mrs. White's little chest, which she wanted painted red. But that's unusual." Harry went on, clearly annoyed by this conversation, which was interfering with his work. "If he'd had a friend visit, he probably wouldn't have even mentioned it. Besides, he spent most of his days at the train station. He'd sometimes buy a sandwich at Mabel's and take it home to eat between passenger trains."

“I'm sorry to have taken up your time," Walker said, a bit angry for no good reason. Except for pure frustration. He still had no idea who and why somebody would murder a nice, hardworking man.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Tuesday, May
16,
through Saturday, May 20

ROBERT WOKE UP ON TUESDAY
with
a
brilliant idea. He'd have to call Mr. Winchel immediately. The tickets for the mail sorting center were to go on sale the next day and the drawing would be the next Saturday.

“
Mr. Winchel, I want to rename the letter and package center. It should be the Edwin McBride Letter and Package Center."

“Why? You did all the work to get this set up. It should be named for you," Mr. Winchel said.

“But I started it first to keep the snoops from pawing through the mail, and then it became important to give poor Edwin a decent paying job so he'd be able to rent or buy a house or apartment. He deserves it more than I do."

“
Do you really feel that strongly about this?" Winchel asked.

“I do."

“
In that case it will be renamed. And I admire you for the idea.”

The next thing Robert did was to dip into the money that was his share of what he had discovered in the first book in the library to buy tickets for himself, Lily, Mr. Prinney, Mrs. Prinney, Mimi the maid, Phoebe Twinkle, Mrs. Tarkington, both Harbinger boys, Chief Walker, Ron Parker, Jack Summer, Miss Exley, Mr. Kurtz, Mrs. Smithson, Mrs. Gasset, and Mrs. Towerton. He'd donate tickets to the town council members—except Arnold Wood, a man he hoped he'd never have to deal with again. He'd also go around to all the people who signed the petition to offer to sell them a ticket so they wouldn't have to wait in line to buy one. It would take him all day, but he owed it to them to get the first numbers.

The sorting center wasn't quite done yet, but it would be ready on the next Saturday, Harry had promised. Robert would also have to find a container for the duplicate tickets, which Mrs. Gasset could draw from. He himself would be on hand to write down the winning numbers for her and help label the boxes inside and outside. He assumed that not all two hundred of the boxes would sell immediately. He'd already turned over the names of the people who'd bought or been given tickets, along with the money and the ticket numbers.

Mrs. Prinney had helped him make and put up a banner on the front of the train station giving the cost, the sale date of tickets, and the drawing date.

Robert was really excited that this enormous project would soon be done and the work he'd put into it. He was also pleased that it had been renamed.

It had taken him all day to give out or sell the tickets and make records of them, and he went home exhausted, but feeling smug. He slept like a rock and woke a little after nine in the morning on Thursday. A quick shave and shower, two slices of toast, and he was off to the train station.

He was glad to see a fairly long line of people waiting to buy their tickets. Maybe thirty-five of them. He had trouble finding a parking place for the Duesie. When he found a spot near Mr. Prinney's office, he went inside the train station and asked Mrs. Gasset if she needed help. She claimed she was on top of it so far in keeping records. But she'd hoped he'd be around when the drawing of the tickets took place at ten o'clock Saturday. That, she suspected, was going to be a two-person job to keep track of who had won, and which box they'd chosen to use.

Harry and his brother Jim were almost done. All that was left was putting the last of the numbers on the boxes and fitting the lock on the 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 import
an
t. 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
i
t."

“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 middle. This was a wonderful idea. Who thought it up?"

“Robert Brewster. It was going to be named for him for all his efforts," Howard told her, "but at the last minute he decided it should be named after the man who needed the job of sorter."

“How generous of Mr. Brewster. I've always thought well of him and now I think even more what a fine young man he is.”