Who's Sorry Now?

by Jill Churchill

  “You called them, I suppose?"

  “I did. I asked them if they'd had an order for a longer length of this kind of wire recently. They were surprised at the question and waffled a bit until I explained that I was the deputy to the chief of police of Voorburg-on-Hudson and was asking them in connection with a murder that involved using such a wire.

  “Suddenly the guy on the phone went silent. I thought he'd hung up at first, but then he said, 'Murder? With a wire from us?' "

  “Naturally he'd be wary. Companies don't like their products and murder in the same sentence. Go on—”

  “That's what I figured. I assured him that they wouldn’t be held responsible, but might have to come to identify whether or not a certain person made the purchase at some time in the last few weeks."

  “Could the person you were speaking to remember what he looked like?"

  “This is the part you'll either love or hate.”

  Parker paused to take a deep breath and spit it out as fast as he could. "A man in his late forties or early fifties. Thinning, dirty brown hair. Short stature. Small hands. Shabby clothing.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  HOWARD WALKER LEANED his elbows on the desk and stared at Deputy Parker for a long moment.

  He finally said, "I'm stunned. I was sure we had two different cases and two criminals to pursue. You did good! So it's certainly the same man who the librarians described as stealing the books, who also bought the long section of wire to strangle McBride."

  “You're relieved?" Ron asked.

  “Relieved? Yes. Instead of trying to find two men to put away for life, we need to find the one right man.”

  “And how do we find him?"

  “We just keep asking questions. I don't believe he's local. I know almost everyone who lives anywhere near Voorburg—at least by sight, if not by name. It's a shame I don't know one of those artists that newspapers use to make a face that can be identified by several people who have all seen the same person. Maybe Jack Summer could help us out."

  “Before you ask Jack, let me try it. I drew all my classmates, all thirteen of them when we finished eighth grade. I was pretty good at it. The teachers and the kids themselves said I got them just right."

  “Why didn't you tell me this before?"

  “You never asked," Deputy Parker said.

  “Then let's go buy you a bunch of paper, pencils, and erasers, and interview the librarians."

  “I have paper and pencils already. In fact, I've made drawings of you, Jack Summer, and Mrs. Smithson. I'll go get them to show you.”

  Parker must have run to his apartment and back. He returned in minutes, out of breath.

  Chief Walker thought they were excellent representations of all three. Though he himself looked a bit crankier than usual. That was because he'd been cranky most of the time Ron Parker had been his deputy.

  On the other hand, Ron had seen all these people several times. The librarians had only seen the man he and Ron were looking for once, and briefly. It certainly wouldn't hurt to give it a try, however.

  “I'll call the exchange and tell them we're out of town."

  “Want to ride in the sidecar of the cycle? Jack got his automobile and turned it over to me this morning."

  “Not on your life!" Howard said. "I wouldn't even fit into it. We'll take my car.”

  It took them all the rest of the day. The first two librarians who had seen the man who borrowed the German books disagreed with each other.

  “His nose was thinner, and he was older."

  “This picture the young man has drawn is about the right age," the second claimed. "But his face was more wrinkled. Lots of frown lines.”

  Parker erased and redid the picture. "Is that better?”

  “Sort of," the first said.

  “Only a little bit," the second replied.

  “We're going to several other libraries. We may be back to you with other pictures.”

  Both were flattered.

  At the next closest library, Deputy Parker found the only person who had seen the man. "I have a good memory for faces," she said. "This isn't quite right. His nose was pointy. His hair was thinner and looked greasy.”

  With more erasing, she almost agreed. "He scowled at us when we insisted that he sign up for a library card. His eyes were darker and the eyebrows skimpier.”

  On the third try, with Parker using a clean eraser, she said it was almost right. She studied it for a long time and asked, as if embarrassed, if the deputy could make him look a little meaner.

  He said, "Meaner?"

  “Eyes a little closer together.”

  When he moved the eyes a smidgen, she said, "That's him.”

  With thanks, they took off for one more library.

  This librarian was outraged that they still didn't have their books back yet. The chief of police had promised they'd be returned when they'd been fingerprinted.

  “Ma'am, you'll have them back tomorrow or the next day. I need to go fetch them. Only two have been fIngerprinted. The man who does it so well wants to make sure the same fingerprints are on each book. Does this picture look like the man who took your books?”

  She considered long and hard. "It's very close. I think his chin was a little longer.”

  Parker's eraser and pencil worked this out.

  “That's right," she said. "Now, make sure we get our books back!”

  When they were in the police car, Ron said, "I must draw her. She's so unattractive that I want to save her.”

  “Save her?"

  “Yes, commit her to eternal shame. She's quite remarkably hateful. Mrs. Smithson will love the picture. She once told me she'd had a teacher who was nice but thenastiest-looking woman in the world. I'll show her a nastier one who isn't nice.”

  They took the final picture back to the two librarians they'd first contacted.

  “That's him!" one exclaimed.

  “It's exactly right!" the other yelped.

  When they arrived back in Voorburg, they stopped in at the jail office and Walker checked with the girl at the exchange. Nothing had happened in his absence. She sounded disappointed.

  “Now we know what he looks like. What's next?" Deputy Parker asked.

  “We try to get Jack Summer to place a copy of the drawing in the next issue of the Voorburg Times, simply saying, DO YOU KNOW THIS MAN?"

  “Do you think anybody in Voorburg has seen him?" Parker asked. "He seems to always be here in the dead of night."

  “Probably not. And Jack might not want to be involved. It might be too expensive for his budget to reproduce it. I'll talk to him about it.”

  Jack was wary about the cost of doing a clear reproduction of Deputy Parker's drawing. He called on Lily and Robert, who both happened to be home at Grace and Favor. They owned the newspaper and almost never objected to what he printed in the Voorburg Times. This time it wasn't content, but expense.

  “That's what the town pays Chief Walker to do," Lily said. "Protect us from criminals.”

  Robert chimed in, "I couldn't agree more. It's well worth the cost and I'm sure Mr. Prinney would agree."

  “It will also take time. I can get it into the next issue of the paper on Friday the twenty-sixth. I'll also give Deputy Ron Parker credit for the drawing. This week's paper has a nice interview with him.”

  Walker hated to wait. It wasn't up to him to argue with the editor, especially when it was already too late to make a change.

  Ron knew by now what his boss was thinking. "It can hold. It's already been a long time. We want to arrest him. He's probably going to get a death sentence. And when Jack publishes the picture somebody's bound to know who he is. That's what we need to keep in mind."

  “You're talking to me as if you were my father," Walker said with a half laugh that didn't fool Ron.

  “It's not that I'm telling you facts you don't already know. I'm just mentioning that we will get him."

  “I hope we're both right about this. Let's go
to Mabel's for lunch. It's meat loaf today. And it's on me this time.”

  They took Chief Walker's favorite table at the very back. They'd hardly sat down when Jim Harbinger said, "Can I join you? It's meat loaf day.”

  Walker realized that the single person he hadn't talked to about Edwin was Jim. They placed their orders and while they waited Howard asked, "Did Edwin have any other visitors besides the gal in the red dress?"

  “Only two. An old friend he'd known when he was a kid. But that was a long time ago. The other man he saw wasn't really visiting Edwin. Edwin always got up just before dawn to hear and see the birds. He had binoculars. He told me he saw the guy putting back the can of red paint and yelled at him for being there."

  “Why didn't Harry mention this when I asked him?" Walker asked.

  “I don't think I mentioned it to him. Maybe Edwin didn't either."

  “Did he describe the man?"

  “Skinny, short, and thinning greasy hair."

  “That's our man," Walker said to Parker.

  “What man?" Jim asked.

  “The one who came back and strangled Edwin.”

  “You're kidding, right?"

  “I'm certain. After lunch go to Jack's office and take a look at the drawing Deputy Parker made of him. The drawing and your description match exactly.”

  The three orders of meat loaf, with mashed potatoes, gravy, and overcooked green beans arrived, and they all shoveled it down as if they hadn't eaten for days.

  Jim finished first and asked, "How are you going to find the man who killed Edwin?"

  “We're hoping when the picture appears in the next newspaper someone here will recognize him."

  “How did Deputy Parker know what he looked like?”

  Parker explained about the librarians who'd all seen him when he checked out the German books to set on fire at the tailor's.

  “You draw good?"

  “I hope I have," Parker replied.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Friday, May 26

  THE PICTURE IN THE FRIDAY PAPER was well printed and clear. Walker expected a rash of callers to ring up and identify the man in the picture. A few did call.

  “That looks a lot like a man I knew in Ohio.”

  “How long ago was that?"

  “About twenty years ago. He was a farmer.”

  Walker had to thank him even though this man wouldn't have looked like the picture twenty years later.

  Another caller said, "The picture looks like a man I saw when I was in California last week in a restaurant.”

  The man they were looking for had been in Voorburg last week burning trash and books. And he didn't look like he had the money to fly to and back from California.

  “Give me your number and I'll get in touch if you're right," Walker said.

  And that was the end of the calls that day. Walker tried to put a good interpretation on this. Not everybody read the paper as soon as it was delivered. Many saved it to read over the weekend.

  Maybe this wasn't going to work at all. Few people outside Voorburg and its surrounding farms even got a copy. Walker was fairly sure this wasn't somebody who lived anywhere near Voorburg.

  Again on Saturday and Sunday there were a few calls. All entirely unlikely. The callers said (as the first one had) they knew a man who looked like the picture in the Voorburg Times ten or fifteen years ago in Oregon. Or Kansas. Or Nevada.

  It wasn't until the next Monday morning that he heard from Mrs. White. "Chief Walker, Henry and I have been out of town and I only read the Friday edition of the Voorburg Times today. I know who he is."

  “Are you sure?" Howard thought this was another of those useless calls.

  “Absolutely. It's the tailor in Cold Spring who wrecked my new dress.”

  Walker leaned forward and asked a bit too loudly, "Do you know his name?"

  “Not exactly. The shop is halfway down the hill on the north side of town and called simply `Tailoring.' I paid in cash and never knew his name. But I assume you already know this."

  “No, I had a lot of calls but none of them were any good."

  “You're going to arrest him, I assume. The paper didn't say why he was being sought but that's the usual reason for a newspaper to print a picture just saying, DO YOU KNOW THIS MAN?"

  “That's right. He's responsible for one murder and two attempts at murder as well as two counts of arson. Thank you so much for letting me know."

  “Are you arresting him today?" she asked. "I hope so. Such a dangerous man. I'd never have guessed. I just knew he was nasty and incompetent. I told Mr. Kurtz I was going to take the dress back to the other tailor to show him how it should have been fixed. Thank goodness I didn't do that. He might have murdered me next." She laughed, but it was a feeble, half-scared noise.

  “I have to get his fingerprints before we arrest him. I want to be a hundred percent positive that I have the right man. Thanks again, Mrs. White.”

  He called Parker. "I think we've got our man. But we need fingerprints. And that takes a warrant. I don't have enough proof to get a warrant. Just the word of someone else."

  “Coffee cup," Parker said. "It worked before."

  “But what if he recognizes me?" Howard asked. "At one time or another I've been in most of the towns around here in uniform. In fact, I was in uniform when I took Bernadette to the bank in Cold Spring, and that was only a few days ago."

  “I've never been in Cold Spring at all," Parker said.

  “I think you're a bit too young to pull off the coffee cup thing. I think it needs to be done by someone older and obviously harmless. Preferably white-haired. We can't afford to botch this.”

  Parker asked, "Does Mrs. White have a husband? Is he old enough?"

  “Yes. He's her second husband. Her first one was killed." He didn't want to share any more information about her first husband's death.

  “I think I might talk to him. I owe it to Mrs. White," Howard said. "She's the one who knew him. I'll give her husband a call. I'll ask him to come into the office.”

  Henry White was well aware of his moral debt to Chief Walker and said he'd be glad to help. "I can do the dotty old guy as well as anybody else. Tell me what you want me to do."

  “We need his fingerprints."

  “How can I get them?" Henry asked.

  “The coffee cup ploy," Howard said with a smile. "I'll buy a very smooth coffee cup, wash it off thoroughly, and only touch the handle to put it in a paper bag. You take it along to Cold Spring. Park where the car you drive can't be seen.”

  Henry was grinning. "What next?"

  “You go into the tailor's shop. It's halfway down the steep main street on the left. By the way, you didn't go into the shop when your wife took her dress to be fixed, did you?"

  “No. She drove herself. But it's our only car. Maybe I should borrow someone else's."

  “Jack has a new car," Parker put in. "Not really new. Just new to him. If he doesn't want to lend his, I'm sure Mrs. Smithson would provide hers to Mr. White."

  “Smart deputy you've got," Henry White said.

  “I think Jack's would be better," Howard said. "Mrs. Smithson inherited a lot of rental property from her late husband. Some of the buildings might be in Cold Spring. If we promise Jack the whole story for his paper as soon as we arrest this man, he'll be glad to lend you his car.

  “You do this," Walker went on. "Park where the tailor in Cold Spring can't see the car, take the cup out of the bag by the handle. Don't touch the rest of it. Walk in, act frantic. Say your wife is in the car and you think she's ill. She needs a big cup of water to take her medicine. Shove the cup into his hands before he can grasp the handle. Thank him profusely and hurry outside, holding the cup by the handle again. Pour out the water when you get back to the car and put it back in the paper bag. Bring it to me and I'll take it to the fingerprint expert in Newburg. He already has all the fingerprints of the perp from a trash can. It won't take long to verify them."

  “I'll be delig
hted to help this way. And my wife will be proud of me for getting even with him for messing up that dress. She was really angry about that.”

  Henry set out to borrow Jack's car. He was happy to oblige when he knew the reason why Mr. White needed it. Henry went home, told his wife what he was doing, and put on his old patched dungarees and an old plaid shirt with one elbow out. These were his gardening clothes.

  He drove to Cold Spring with the cup in its paper bag and parked around the corner a block away from the tailor's shop. He went around the corner, holding the cup by its handle, and rushed into the shop. "My wife's horribly sick. She forgot to take her medicine this morning. Could you fill this cup with water for me?”

  He'd said this so hysterically and looked so badly dressed that the tailor grabbed the cup, filled it, and watched with relief as Henry called "Thanks!" over his shoulder and fled back up the street. He'd tipped out the water as soon as he was out of sight from the shop for fear the water would slop out and wash away the fingerprints. He didn't know much about such things. He drove hell for leather, grinning, back to the Voorburg jail and handed over the paper bag.

  “That was sort of fun," he admitted.

  Walker looked over the way he was dressed and laughed. "You sure put on a trashy set of clothes."

  “I'd have spoken as if I were from West Virginia if I had the accent down right. I've got to get Jack's car back to him and get home to tell Edith all about it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Monday, May 29

  “I DON'T WANT TO WAIT in case this man happens to see a copy of the Voorburg Times. It's unlikely. But I don't want to let him do a bolt," Howard Walker said to Deputy Parker. "We need backup though. He's likely to be violent. I'm going to call Chief Colling and see if he can give me two extra people. He has a much larger staff than I do. I'm glad I hand-delivered that cup and waited for the results.”

  The call was made, an explanation followed, and Colling agreed to send two of his biggest, strongest deputies. "I can have them there by noon with their own cars. I've been following this case in your local newspaper." The other two deputies from Chief Colling's office arrived promptly at noon. Walker gave them a brief account of why he thought he needed them. "He's a violent and hateful person. Though he's small, he's mean and overcame a man substantially taller and stronger than himself and strangled him with a piece of wire that has tiny teeth that's meant to saw rings off fingers. All because the victim saw him return a can of paint he'd stolen.”