Chapter 10 The Tobacco Smokehouse Mystery
"People started growing tobacco on the banks of the Connecticut River a long time ago," said Dr. Sam Hawthorne, pouring wine to his guests, "but not until Jasper Jennings came to North Hills at the height of the Great Depression. , Tobacco cultivation started to develop locally. And his arrival also unveiled a prelude to a mystery, which is one of the most confusing mysteries I have ever encountered..."
It happened in September of 1934, and the Jennings Tobacco Company had its first crop of tobacco grown a few miles north of town.At the time, the newspapers were full of news of the Castle Morro's spontaneous combustion off the New Jersey coast, so little attention was paid to Jennings's huge success.I've seen Jennings since he first came to town.After that, I was sort of his semi-official company doctor, taking care of his poorly paid employees from time to time for heatstroke, dehydration, and so on.In July and August of that year, he also took me on a tour of the plantation to see the tobacco growing under the cheesecloth cover.He is thin, slightly hunchbacked, with a face as sharp as an eagle, and walks very fast.I almost couldn't keep up with him, and he said, "Doctor, you need to exercise more. You are twenty years younger than me, and you can't breathe after walking so little?"
"I haven't been in good health recently," I echoed, "What are these sheds for?"
"Cheese sheds are used to cover the tobacco plants so that the leaves grow large and thin, perfect for making cigarettes. The local soil is also suitable for this farming method. When the tobacco matures, the middle leaves are almost mature That's it, we will harvest the whole plant at that time. After drying, transfer it to the drying room, and after the moisture is completely removed, it can be smoked."
"I know a little about smoking," I joked.
Jennings ignored me at all. "It takes six weeks to smoke. If it's too humid, we can light a fire. This is the smokehouse." He led me to a long building with walls at intervals A whole strip was missing just a few feet away, as if there weren't enough planks for the build. "These gaps are for ventilation when smoking," Jennings explained.
"The worker I treated last time, the one who cut his hand—"
"Roy Hanson."
"That's right, Hansen. When he cut tobacco with an ax, he accidentally cut his hand. But it's too early to harvest now."
"He's not harvesting," said Jennings. "It's tobacco season and we have to cut off the tops so they can concentrate the leaves. That's how Hansen cut his hand."
I came to the plantation this time to follow up with Hansen.After chatting with Jasper Jennings for a while, I went into the smokehouse to see how Hansen was doing.His right hand is still wrapped in a thick bandage, but he can help tidy up the tobacco shelf, so that it can be sent to dry later.
"How does the wound feel?" I asked as I unwrapped the bandage.
Hansen was a guy in his twenties with short hair and an athletic build.The last time he was bandaged, he told me that he had boxed amateurs before and was worried that this injury would end his boxing career. "Not bad. It still hurts a little at night, though."
"Healing well." I peeled off the last layer of bandage, "Wait for me to put on a new bandage."
"Can I keep punching, Doc?"
"I think it's okay. But you're lucky. If you're unlucky, half your palm will be gone."
At this time, Jesper's wife, Sarah Jennings, came in with a bucket and a ladle: "Anyone want some water? Sam, do you want some?"
"Thanks, Sarah. I don't need it right now," I said.
She was a wise woman, laughing and joking with the workers in the smokehouse, making harmless jokes, and defiantly pushing back when someone tried to advance.If Jasper found out that someone was toying with his wife, I have no doubts that he would kill that person.For now, however, there appears to be no such danger.
I walked back to the farmhouse with her, to where my new car was parked. "What's that?" she asked. "Oldsmobile? I remember you used to like sports cars."
"You were young then," I told her, "you have to settle down after thirty-five."
"I thought settling down meant starting a family."
"Maybe I'll consider starting a family too, if I meet the right woman."
It was a few weeks ago that I last visited the tobacco plantation in Jennings.After that, Roy Hansen went to the clinic to change his medicine once, and I told him that he could change it himself later.Before long, his wound will heal completely, leaving only a scar.
"A nice young man," Nurse Aibo said after he left.
"He wants to be a professional boxer. Can you imagine that?"
"It's not so easy for young people to find an ordinary job these days."
"He's not much younger than us. He's twenty-seven by his own account."
"He didn't make much money on the tobacco farm in Jennings." Aibo watched him walk to the hospital parking lot through the window. "There's a girl waiting for him in the car."
"Oh?" I walked over and stood beside her. "Looks like Sarah Jennings."
"real?"
"It's so far away, I'm not sure. Maybe she just came to the town to make a big purchase once a week and brought him to help."
Aibo returned to her desk.I watched the two drive away. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you," she said, "Sergeant Lens is calling to invite you to dinner."
"I'll call him back later," I said.The clinic is not too busy this summer, and Sheriff Lansi and his wife often invite me to have dinner together.
I was again invited to Jennings' farm, at the beginning of September.It was a warm afternoon when, out of the blue, I got a phone call from Sarah Jennings.Also, she wasn't asking me to make a doctor's visit.When I arrived, she was already waiting on the front porch of the farmhouse.The first thing I noticed was that the usual smile had disappeared from her eyes.She opened a piece of paper, handed it to me and said, "Please look at this, Sam."
I flicked through the note, handwritten in childish print, apparently to conceal the real handwriting: "I know what you and Hansen did in the smokehouse. God will punish you for your sins." The note was unsigned.
"It came with the mail yesterday," she said. "I got a similar letter last week and I burned it in the furnace. Sam, you've helped the police before, haven't you? I hope Can you help me find out who sent these letters."
"However, Sarah, I'm afraid this is a bit beyond my ability." I hesitated, and asked again, "Is what the letter said true?"
She flushed immediately. "Of course not. Roy is a nice lad. I'm as nice to him as I am to anyone else, that's all. The letter is utter nonsense."
"You must have a suspect in mind."
"No, not at all. I can't imagine anyone hating me so much."
"Have you reported it to Sheriff Lansi?"
"Report what—two anonymous threatening letters? I don't even know if sending such letters is a crime."
"Does Jasper know about this?"
She turned her face away: "I didn't tell him. Right now, he has enough to worry about, the first batch of tobacco is about to be harvested. I hope you can find out who sent the letter, and then we can settle this matter properly. "
"How does it end? Suppose I can really find out who sent the letter, what are you going to do?"
"I—I guess I'm going to confront him or her and demand an apology. If some farmhand did it, I'm going to fire him."
"How many helpers do you employ?"
"It's Brinda who helps out at home. She cooks and cleans for me. Jasper employs fifteen full-time helpers like Roy. The rest are temporary immigrant workers who have just been hired to help with the harvest."
I stood up. "Sarah, I can't promise you anything, but I'll check around. Who has the chance to see you and Hansen alone in the smokehouse?"
"Nobody! We've never been alone."
"When I came to the farm earlier this summer, you sent water to the smokehouse - do you do that often when it's hot?"
"Occasionally," she said, "not very often."
"Since the day I came, Hansen has been working alone inside because of his hand injury."
"Well, indeed. Usually, though, there are others."
"I think you're overreacting to the anonymous letter. The sender certainly has bad intentions, but in my opinion he's a coward who dares not take direct action. After all, what else can he do but send you another letter?"
She was prepared for this question: "He can send a letter to my husband."
Brinda Sanchoz is a big woman, half Mexican.She had been hired to cook and clean for the Jennings family for nearly a year.I found her in the kitchen of the house, along with Matthew, the Jenningses' only son.The kid is shy but smart.He has not yet decided whether to inherit his father's business.
"Hi, Matthew. How is it going back to school?"
He looked at me gloomyly: "Dad still doesn't allow me to go back, let me stay for another week to help harvest."
"I thought the harvest was almost done."
"It's been slow," Brinda interjected, completely dismissive of herself. "It's too cool in June, and the ripening of the tobacco is delayed."
"I want to see Roy Hansen and see what happened to his hand. Did you see him?"
"His hand is healed," Brinda said. "Out there with the others harvesting tobacco."
I went out the back door and walked through the smokehouse to the tobacco plantations.Now that the cheesecloth sheds had been removed, the rows of broadleaf tobacco were exposed.Men clad only in their underwear and smocks swung axes and busily harvested.Jesper Jennings was among the workers, teaching a new odd job how to straighten the tobacco leaves with one hand and cut them down from the base of the plant.
Hansen is stacking the freshly harvested leaves on drying racks.Harvested a few days ago, the dried tobacco leaves are about to be transported to the smokehouse. "How's the hand doing?" I asked him.
"Healed as before, doctor." He raised his right hand and flexed his fingers to signal.
"If you have a few minutes to spare, I'd like to chat with you."
"certainly."
"You know, the town is small and gossip spreads easily." I looked around to make sure no one could overhear our conversation. "I've heard some rumors about you and Mrs. Jennings."
"What? What kind of rumors?" His surprise seemed genuine.
"Have you ever been alone in the smokehouse with her?"
"My God, no—there's always someone else. Mr. Jennings is always there. Who's talking to you?"
"That's not important. Roy, you have to be careful anyway. Some people just like to pick things up."
"Thanks for letting me know," he said.
He went back to work, and I walked deep into the field, observing the workers who were busy harvesting.I know some workers who are almost illiterate.It is unlikely that the anonymous letter was written by them.Neighbors or someone who visits regularly is more likely.However, I would like to check another possibility first.
Sarah was watering the flowers on the front porch when I got home.
"Did you find anything?" she asked.
"It's nothing. I chatted with Hansen a few times, and it seems that he didn't know about it. I didn't mention the anonymous letter, just said there were rumors."
"Of course he doesn't know—we're nothing! That's sheer nonsense."
"Sarah, could you arrange for me to stay for dinner? I'd like to observe the people on the farm in a more relaxed setting."
"No problem. Brinda can feed a small army every time she cooks."
The immigrant temporary workers and some of the permanent employees eat together in the outer shed, where they also sleep.The head of farming that Jennings hired—Frank Prescott and Hansen—both lived in town, so they dined with the Jennings family at the house.It was almost seven o'clock when we finished work and started dinner that day.At the table sat Sarah, Jasper, Matthew, Hanson, Prescott, and of course me.
At the dinner table, Jennings and Prescott had been discussing the day's work, as they apparently usually did.Prescott was in his mid-forties, thin and well built.He didn't say a word except to answer Jennings.
"Frank, how is your day going? Is the odd job still enough? Is everything going according to plan?"
"There is still a shortage of manpower," Frank replied.
Jennings turned to Hansen and said, "Roy, can you find some idle refugees for two days?"
"There are a lot of refugees by the railway. However, I don't know if they will harvest tobacco..."
"Nor does the odd job we just hired," Jennings said. "Today I have to teach a guy how to use an axe."
Hansen promised to find a few people before work the next morning, and then the topic shifted to the scale of the harvest. "The crop wasn't as good as expected," said Frank Prescott, "but it's the first year. It's going to get better and better."
To finish dinner, Brinda served a delicious apple pie.Afterwards, Jennings took Prescott and Hanson to inspect the drying racks.The radio said it might rain, and Jennings wanted to see if the fresh cut tobacco was well covered.I went upstairs with Matthew to his room.It was a typical boys' room, hung with school banners and piled with dirty laundry.There was also a half-finished Monopoly game spread out on the floor.Several blue balloons, recently acquired from a carnival fair, were floating in the air.On the messy chest of drawers, there were several 4-H medals, showing that the occupant of the room was not unmotivated.
"I want to speak to you alone, Matthew," I said.
"About what?" he said sullenly. "I'm not sick."
"I wanted to ask you about Frank Prescott and Roy Hansen. You must have seen them a lot, after all, they dined with you every day. Do you like them?"
He turned his head to the side: "Yes, they're not bad."
"Do you often chat?" I pointed to the Monopoly game board, "Will they play games with you?"
"Roy comes to my room occasionally. He likes to play Monopoly. I rarely see Prescott except at the dinner table or in the fields. He's much older than me."
"He seems very quiet," I said, "not talking much."
"Oh, Dad talks a lot when he's away."
"Does your mother like them—I mean Roy and Prescott?"
"I guess it's okay."
I sat on the edge of the bed while talking to him.At this moment, I stood up and said, "Maybe we can play Monopoly someday. What do you think?"
He shrugged: "OK."
"Very good. Matthew, if you have a worry, I'd love to hear from you and give you advice. It doesn't have to be about your health. I'm a good listener, after all, I've been through your age— I know there are things you don't want to tell your family."
He didn't answer.I left the room and went downstairs.Jasper Jennings returned to the kitchen. "The lights in the smokehouse don't come on," he said. "I guess the fuse is blown." He rummaged around, found a box of fuses, and left in a hurry.It was getting dark, but I could see Prescott near the farmhouse, moving a load of wood over to the woodpile.
“They were going to have a bonfire,” Blinda told me. “There was rain in the forecast, so they had to prepare ahead of time to make sure the tobacco harvest was dry.” She opened the ice box and began shaving ice.
"It's not an easy job for you," I said, "not just cooking for the Jenningses, but cooking for everybody else."
"I don't care." She continued shaving ice.
"Do you like Roy Hanson?"
"Of course. Everyone likes Roy."
"Is Mrs. Jennings at home?"
"I think she's gone out."
I went out the back door and across the yard.The lights in the smokehouse were still off, but through a crack in the wall I could see a figure moving. "Hello!" I yelled.
"We're inside, Doc," answered a voice that sounded like Prescott.
I entered the smokehouse, trying to navigate the maze of racks.The room was dimly lit, with some light from the lights of the farmhouse and the shed on the other side.As I went into the depths of the shelf, this light also disappeared. "Hello!" I yelled again.
"Over here," cried Jasper Jennings.
I groped in the direction of his voice.
Suddenly, there was a near-death cry in the darkness, which made people's hair stand on end. "What happened?" I asked, picking up my pace.In a panic, I accidentally knocked over the smoking rack, and the tobacco leaves scattered on the ground.
Suddenly, the overhead lights came on.I saw Prescott and Hansen standing twenty feet in front of me, by the fuse box.Jasper Jennings lay on the dirty floor in front of them, his throat cut.
He died, his eyes wide open, showing a pleading look, as if he was begging for my rescue.However, I am late.
I tried to save him for a few minutes, but it was useless. "What's going on?" I asked the two helpless men in front of me. "Who killed him?" There was no murder weapon in sight.
Frank Prescott shook his head in a panic: "Doctor, I know it's a ghost. I heard him—he screamed and fell down. We stood so close that we could touch each other." .”
"Okay," I said, "take everything out of your pockets. I've got to make sure you've got your knives with you."
I checked the pockets of the two of them, and imitated Sergeant Lansi's handling of the case, and searched them quickly.However, the murder weapon was not found.
"What's the matter?" Sarah Jennings walked towards us along the indoor passage, "Is that Jasper lying down?"
"Go back to your room and call the sheriff," I told her. "Something went wrong."
"Jesper—"
I walked over to her, hugged her reassuringly, and said, "I'm so sorry, Sarah. He's dead."
She screamed and almost fainted.
I helped her back to the room and told Brinda to call Sergeant Lens.Matthew went downstairs and stood in the kitchen, his face ashen. "Now you must be brave, boy," I said to him. "You must be brave and help your mother deal with this situation."
We didn't touch the body until the sheriff showed up.He checked it quickly, then turned to me and said, "At least it's not a secret room murder. You must know that you are usually involved in that kind of strange case. There are as many entrances and exits in this house as there are rusty sieve holes. What's going on?" — When you repair the house, you don’t have enough wood?”
"This is a smokehouse," I explained. "Dried tobacco leaves must be ventilated when smoked. Of course, there is another way to smoke. But American tobacco leaves are generally smoked naturally."
"Doctor, it sounds like you are an expert in this field."
"This summer, when Jennings took me on a tour of the farm, he introduced it to me in detail."
"Who killed him—Hanson or Prescott?"
"It may sound unbelievable, but sheriff, both of them can swear that neither of them killed him. When they followed Jennings in, their hands were empty. Hansen was wearing a baggy coat, but The coats had no pockets. Also, I searched them seconds after the incident, and neither had the murder weapon with them. Also, there was no murder weapon on the smokehouse floor, right in the middle of these tobacco racks. .”
"Doctor, that doesn't explain the problem. You don't have to use a knife to cut your throat. I know cases where a thin wire will do the trick."
"I've heard of it too. But this case is impossible. If a wire is used to tighten the neck, it will definitely leave a circle of strangle marks. Moreover, he was standing still at that time, and he did not hit the tightened wire by himself. .”
"Could it be a line tied to a hook and thrown over—"
"In the dark, Sheriff? Let alone two men next to him at the time? Besides, look at the wound - it's too smooth to be from a hook. It must have been a sharp right-to-left blow from the blade." draw out."
"what does this mean?"
"This means that the murderer is likely to stand behind the victim, with his hand passing over the victim's shoulder. If he is in front of the victim, the victim will recoil reflexively as soon as the blade touches the skin. Moreover, the murderer stands Behind the victim, it can also prevent blood on the body."
"What conclusion do you wish to draw, doctor?"
"The murderer stood behind the victim, passed his hand over the victim's shoulder, and cut the throat of the deceased quickly from right to left with a sharp knife. These can all be deduced from the wound. This means that the murderer is left-handed."
Sergeant Lan Si looked serious: "Come on, doctor. We have to check everyone on the farm."
For the next hour, the sheriff and I hustle and bustle, getting nowhere.Both Sarah and Matthew Jennings are right-handed, as is Brinda.Roy Hansen and Frank Prescott are also right-handed.There are only two left-handers on the whole farm, both of whom are immigrant odd-workers who live in the shed.However, when the murder occurred, the immigrant odd workers and the employees of the boarding farm were having dinner.They could swear that no one had left the dinner table for even a minute when the incident happened.
Inspector Lens said angrily, "Listen, Doctor, Hansen and Prescott swear they didn't have a murder weapon on them, and they're sure they didn't hear anyone approaching. Sarah, her son, and Cook didn't." Together, there is no alibi. However, the above five people are all right-handed. Moreover, everyone in the work shed has an alibi."
I went outside and talked to Hansen and Prescott again.Sergeant Lan Si sent a deputy sheriff to search the ground of the smokehouse to see if he could find the murder knife that was thrown away after the incident.Still, I'm sure he's going to get nothing.
"Roy," I said, "you're going to hire some bums tomorrow morning, aren't you? Tell me, how far is the bum camp from the railway?"
"I guess a mile or so," he wondered.
"Could it be that some bum wandered into the farm looking for work. He just came in while you were in the smokehouse?"
It was Prescott who answered, shaking his head, "Impossible, doctor. The smokehouse fuse was removed on purpose by the murderer to lure Jasper out. There's no way a random vagrant who came here by chance would have known about him." Will fix it himself. Besides, the refugees have no motive to kill him. Besides, if anyone comes near, we will know for sure."
"Then how do you think he was killed?"
"You stump me," Prescott said honestly. "I really don't know."
I turned to Hansen: "Roy, what about you?"
"He definitely didn't kill himself, that's all I know."
Sergeant Lan Si was recently learning how the police in big cities handle cases. He sent a deputy sheriff to take pictures of the corpse.I went back to the kitchen and Brinda was comforting Sarah.
"Did they find anything?" Sarah asked me.
"Not yet. The deputies are searching the smokehouse."
"It's because of me, isn't it? Because of those anonymous letters?"
"I don't think so."
She wiped away tears and tried to calm down.Brinda pretends to tidy up the kitchen. "You've worked so hard for this family," she was talking to herself rather than to me, "to take care of the family. You watched your son grow up and start dating girls—"
"What did you say, Sarah? Did you mean Jasper or Matthew?"
"I don't know. Both." She started crying again, and Blinda came over to comfort her.
I climbed up to the second floor and knocked lightly on Matthew's door. "Go away!" he said.
I opened the door and walked in. "Can I talk to you?" I said, "About your father."
"He's dead, I killed him."
I sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and hugged his shoulders.He turned to look at me.
"I wrote some letters to Mum about her and Roy Hansen. That's how Dad got killed."
"You wrote—" Of course, I didn't doubt him.The writer's grammar is beautiful, and it is unlikely that Blinda or any hired hand on the farm did it.Still, I was taken aback by his direct admission.
"Why did you do this, Matthew? Why did you torture your mother like this?"
"She cares more about Roy than me. I can only stay in the room at night, but Roy stays with her in the living room."
"I thought you and Roy were friends. You said he played Monopoly with you."
"It was just passing the time while his hands were still in shape. He doesn't like me at all."
"Did you ever see him alone in the smokehouse with your mother?"
He looks away. "No," he whispered, "I made it up. I just wanted to hurt her. I thought that would make her stay away from him and care more about me."
"We have to confess to her, Matthew. What you did was terrible. It has nothing to do with your father's death, though. Don't blame yourself for it."
I stayed with him for a while longer.He talked about his parents and his wish to move to the city.Finally, I left his room and went downstairs.Sergeant Lan Si stood in the yard with a dejected look on his face.
"We searched every inch of the smokehouse, doctor. We found nothing. No knife, or anything else to cut a throat."
I suddenly had an idea.
"Have you searched the dead man's pockets?"
"Huh? I didn't expect that."
"If it had been Prescott or Roy Hansen, they would have hidden the murder weapon in the dead man's pocket and evaded search."
It was a good idea, but Jennings had nothing in his pocket but a handkerchief and some chewing tobacco.Sergeant Lan Si stood up and shook his head, and ordered the body to be transported to the hospital for autopsy. "Doctor, we seem to be in trouble."
"Give me some time," I said.
Some workers stood in the shadows watching all this.Maybe they were worried that if Jennings died, their work would be ruined.Sarah must have thought of that too, and she sent Prescott to talk to the workers.
"Mrs. Jennings said you needn't worry about the work. Tomorrow it will be as usual. She'll keep the farm going."
Although the atmosphere was not conducive to cheering, his words visibly cheered the workers.When they returned to the work shed, they were still murmuring words of support.
Sergeant Lens stood watching Prescott. "Do you think the two of them would conspire to murder, doctor?"
"No, I don't think they're close enough for that."
"what should I do now?"
"Find out Lefty."
He looked at me: "There is no left-handed person among the suspects."
"That means it's impossible to commit a crime, and it really is impossible to commit a crime in this case." I laughed.
"What are you laughing at? Know what, Doctor?"
"Just an idea. I'll check it out," I said.But all of a sudden, I knew it must be true.
I found Sarah in the living room and sat across from her: "I know who wrote the anonymous letter."
"That seems like a long time ago."
"It was Matthew. He admitted it to me."
"Why? He didn't say why he did such a bad thing?"
"He thinks you care more about Roy than him. Roy is only eleven years older than your son, you know."
"I know." Her face was low and pale, "But to torture me with this kind of lies—"
I took a deep breath.
"As far as Matthew was concerned, he was lying. But the letter wasn't all lies, was it? Your son was trying to make up a lie to hurt you, but it happened to be the truth. You and Roy Han Sen was indeed in love. He panicked when you showed him the letter. He was afraid that Jasper had written it himself, or that Jasper would find out the truth."
"Stop it!" she yelled at me, standing up. "Stop it. You're trying to accuse Roy of killing my husband, but that's not true! I know, that's not true!"
"Very sorry, Sarah. It was Roy Hanson who killed Jasper, and I think you know it too."
Sarah Jennings does know the truth.Inspector Lens got confirmation from her.
"If he cut Jennings' neck, where did the murderous knife go? Don't tell me he used an ice knife and it turned into water. The wound is very clean, it can't be cut by an ice knife, it must be something sharper than an ice knife Caused."
"Indeed, Sheriff. I think the murder weapon was a razor blade."
"Where did the razor blade go?"
"Lend me the flashlight and I'll show you."
I took the flashlight and led the sheriff back to the murder scene in the smokehouse.I held the flashlight up to the highest part of the roof, the spot above the dome light: "It's there. See it?"
"Saw something. It looked—damn, it looked like a blue balloon!"
"Exactly—a razor blade is tied to the balloon. Hansen got the balloon from Matthew's room. He went to play Monopoly with Matthew a few days ago, and he took advantage of it. He tied a strip to the balloon He knew Jennings was going to change the fuse himself, so he called Prescott to go with him. In the dark, he put his hand through Jasper's shoulder and cut him throat, and withdrew his hand before the blood spurted out. Then he let go of the blade, and the balloon flew to the ceiling naturally. It is quite secretive there at night, even if we raise our heads, it is unlikely that we will notice a balloon floating on the ceiling. He probably Going to sneak the balloon away before tomorrow. If it's out of reach with a ladder, he can pop it with a slingshot or a toy gun."
"Then it might as well have been Prescott," argued the sheriff.
I shake my head.
"Hansen has a motive, I'll tell you later. And Hansen has a chance to get a balloon from Matthew's room. On top of that, Roy Hansen is left-handed."
"My God, Doc, we've checked! He's right-handed—he's proven it."
"There are a small number of people who are ambidextrous. Hansen is one of them. I have first-hand evidence. I saw him with a hand injury earlier this summer. He accidentally cut it with an ax to top the tobacco. The hand that held the plant. It was the right hand that he cut, Sheriff. That is, he held the ax with the left—the same hand that cut Jennings' throat."
"Hansen is an unfortunate young man." Dr. Sam took a sip of sherry and concluded, "When Sergeant Lansi was about to arrest him that night, he escaped. His body was found on the railway the next day. He tried to escape by jumping on a train in the dark, but fell under the wheels. It took Sarah a long time to recover from the double whammy of that night. Next time you come to our house, I plan to tell you about my winter The experience of vacationing in Maine - especially the strange footprints in the snow."
Notes:
Notes: