Chapter 26 Chapter Twenty Six

Puller watched him.The man ate his meal slowly and with a deliberate air.The same is true for drinking coffee, take a sip, put down the cup, and ten seconds later, take another sip and put down the cup again.Puller's breakfast arrived.He ate faster than originally planned.The carbs and protein gave him his energy back.Before the bill came, he put the cash on the table.Yesterday's dinner made him aware of the price of the meal. He stood up, holding the last cup of coffee of the morning, ignoring the attention of others, and walked across the other tables to the postman's side. The man looked up at him.

"Are you Howard Reed?" Puller asked. The thin, gray-faced postman nodded. "Can I interrupt you for a few minutes?" Reed said nothing. Puller flashed his badge, then his credentials, and sat down without waiting for an answer. "I'm from the Army CID and I'm investigating the homicide you came across on Monday," he began. Reed shuddered and pulled the brim of his hat down again. Puller looked him up and down.An unhealthy state of wasting indicates a serious disease in the body.Sun-exposed skin.She looks ten years older than her actual age.drooping shoulders.He showed his failure with his body.Failed life, failed everything.

"Can I ask you some questions, Mr. Reed?" The man took another cautious sip of coffee and put down the cup.Puller couldn't help but wonder if he was suffering from OCD. "Okay," Reed said.This is the first sentence he uttered.His voice is hoarse and weak, and he doesn't seem to use his vocal cords very much. "Can you tell me about that day step by step? From when you pulled over on the side of the road. What did you see? One day without seeing or hearing? Do you know what I mean?" Reed wiped his mouth with a tissue from a clean plate nearby.He really told it step by step.Puller secretly admired his memory and order.Maybe a person who delivers tons of mail in the same place, who observes the same things day in and day out, is more sensitive to signs that something else might be happening.

"Have you met any of the Reynolds's before?" Puller asked. "Who?" "The name of the family that was killed was Reynolds." "Oh." Reed thought about it, and didn't rush to answer, but picked up the cup and took a sip of coffee cautiously. Puller noticed his wedding ring on his knuckle finger.Have a family but come out for breakfast at 5:30 in the morning?Perhaps it was because of this that he had a look of hopelessness on his face. "I met their little girl once. She was out in the yard when I went to deliver the mail. I never met the husband. I probably passed the wife when I drove by his house and saw her Sit in the car."

"Do you know the Halvorsons?" "The owner of that house?" "yes." Reed shook his head again and again. "I've never seen it. I usually don't meet with customers, unless I need their signature for the things I send. That kind of registered mail requires a return receipt. Are they also killed?" "No, they weren't home at the time." Puller was silent for a moment, then asked again, "What about the email?" "Mail?" Reed stopped before he raised his coffee cup to his lips. "Yeah, it's the email that needs their signature."

Reed put down his coffee and ran a finger over his chapped lips. "I took it into the house," he shuddered, digging his fingers at the plastic tablecloth, "and then I saw..." "Yes, I know what you've seen. But listen to me. Take the mail, and you run out in terror. You hit the door and it shatters the glass." Puller said from Cole learned about this. Reid's expression became alert. "Do I have to pay for that door? But I didn't crash it on purpose. I've never seen anything like it in my life, and I hope God never sees it again." "Forget about that door. Concentrate on that mail. Is it addressed to the Halvorsons?"

Reed nodded. "Yes. I remember seeing the recipient's name." Puller said nothing.He wanted the other person to think about it, replaying the scene about the email in his mind.The human consciousness is very interesting. Give it time, and it will flash some fresh memories and ideas. Reed's eyes opened a little wider. "Now that I think about it, it was a forwarded mail." "Transfer?" "That's right, that's right." Reed replied excitedly, scribbling his fingers around the table and touching the empty plate.He appeared engaged, and the look of hopelessness and indifference was gone.Puller couldn't help thinking that perhaps this was a phenomenon he hadn't seen in years.

Puller went on to make an analysis. "So the mail wasn't sent to the Halvorsons, it was just sent to their home. Does it have someone else's name on it? Reynolds? Only the Reynolds live there." Reed didn't speak, just pondered, raised his head and stared at something above.Puller didn't want to distract him, so he didn't ask him, but took a sip of the already lukewarm coffee.He scanned his surroundings slowly, and more than half of the customers were secretly looking at their table. When he saw the kid with the tattooed sleeves, Puller didn't move.Dickie Strauss sat in the far corner of the restaurant, looking in his direction.There was a guy who was much bigger than him sitting with him.The man's clothing was long-sleeved, so Pooler couldn't tell if he wore the same decoration on his arms.They were watching Puller and trying to hide it.In fact they concealed it poorly.Dickie must have forgotten everything he learned in the Army, Puller thought.

Puller turned his attention back to Reed.Reed looked at him and said apologetically, "I don't remember, sorry. But it was an email asking them to forward it, and I remember it well." "It doesn't matter," Puller said. "What does the mail look like? Big, or small?" "The size of a sixteen-motif paper." "OK, can you remember who the sender was? Or where did it come from?" "I can't tell now. But maybe I can find out when I get back." Puller pushed his business card across the table. "I can be reached at any of the phone numbers or web addresses above. Now tell me, remember what happened to that email? You ran out of the house and slammed the door open."

Reed looked away from his plate.For a moment, Pooler worried that he would spit up the breakfast he had just eaten. "I...I must have thrown it away." "Inside the house, or out of the house, surely it's not in your car?" "No, it wasn't in the car." He paused. "Ah, it must have been thrown in the house, for sure. It fell there by mistake. I ran back without it. I Now that I think about it, I remember it very clearly.” "Well, I'm sure we'll find it. Is there anything else you can tell me?" "I can't say. I mean, it's never happened to me before. I don't know what's important and what's not."

"How about that house across the street? Notice anything special there?" "The Trivels?" "Yes. He lives there with Molly Pittner. Do you know them?" Cole had told him that Reed claimed he didn't know anyone on the block, but Puller was willing to confirm for himself. Reed shook his head. "No. I only know their names because I'm a postman. He subscribes to a lot of motorcycle magazines, and he has a Harley of his own that's parked in the yard in front of the house." Puller shifted in his chair.He didn't know if Reed knew that Trivel and Pitra had also been killed. "Anything else?" "It's the same as usual, nothing special. I just deliver the mail and check the address on it. That's all I care about." "That's good, Mr. Reed. Thank you for your cooperation." He touched his business card. "If you can find out the sender, please contact me." Puller stood up.Reed looked up at him. "There are a lot of bad people in this world with ulterior motives," Reid said. "Yes, sir, there are many bad ones." "I feel deeply about that." Puller stared at him, waiting for him to continue. "Yes, I am deeply touched." Reid stopped.For a few seconds, his lips moved, but no sound came out. "Because I married a bad man." Puller walked out of the restaurant, followed by Dickie Strauss and his bulky friend.Puller expected them to follow.