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affecting young Henry, too.
His father has been too preoccupied to take him hunting, which he always loved
to do. I am quite worried. I hope things get resolved for the better soon. I
look forward to your reply.
    “ Your loving
sister, Grace.”
    “Henry was Albert’s father, right?”
Jill asked.
    “Yes. Grandpa was about fifteen
years old then. Henry must have married at nineteen or twenty. Grandpa was born
in 1920.” She thumbed through the envelopes. “Look at these four-cent stamps with
Jefferson and Washington on them. Quite a difference from what we have to pay
today.”
    “The letters were written with an
old nib pen, too,” Jill said. “I’ll bet you never used one of those.”
    Kelli looked up. “My mother had a
fountain pen when I was little, but I cut my writing teeth on a ballpoint.” She
pulled out another envelope. “This is from one written a week after the
disappearance.”
    She opened the letter and read:
    “We still have no word from Sydney.
They’re saying awful things about him. His boss at Marathon claims he took a
lot of money and some papers from company files. They say he embezzled funds
and ran off, but that’s preposterous. The day before he disappeared, he told me
he had found something terribly disturbing. He wasn’t sure who to tell about
it, things were in such a mess.”
    Kelli looked up. “She must have
been referring to those papers that Pierce Bradley had.”
    I leaned an elbow on the table.
“That would be my guess.”
    “Have you read all the letters?”
Jill asked.
    “No. There are quite a number of
them. I’ll check out the rest as soon as I can.”
    I glanced at my watch, saw it was
around one. “We’d better get moving. We need to take another look around
Bradley’s place up in Trousdale County. Could you make copies of any letters
that discuss Sydney’s disappearance or the problems at Marathon Motors? They
should help us with some background.”
    “Sure. Warren will be back this
afternoon. I’d imagine we can find a Kinko’s somewhere nearby.”
    I took a final swig of my Sprite
and pushed back from the table. “Have you met any of the neighbors around here?
Maybe one of them saw somebody snooping about while you were gone. A car in the driveway maybe.”
    “I haven’t met any of the
neighbors, but I think they’re young couples who work.”
    “We’ll knock on a couple of doors,
then head for Walnut Grove and see what we can unearth about Mr. Bradley. We
should be able to get a better reading on his house in the daylight.”
    Kelli joined Jill and me as we
started toward the front of the house. I noticed the air conditioner had kicked
in full blast, dampening the pervasive smell of tobacco smoke, and lending a
touch of cold storage locker to the living room. Her mood turned gloomy as we
approached the front door.
    “Grandpa is having a difficult time
with this nursing home stay. I sure hope you can give him some good news soon
on this Marathon Motors business.”
    I hoped so, too, though at the
moment that task seemed on a par with attempting to start a ninety-year-old
touring car.

Chapter 7
     
    After getting no response to our knocks at the houses
flanking Arthur Liggett’s, we headed across town to Gallatin Road. With Jill
complaining of the tummy rumbles, I stopped at one of a dozen assorted
restaurants in the area around RiverGate Mall in
Madison. I had no objections, of course, since the pressure of a difficult case
always ratcheted up my appetite. Jill could be counted on to call my hand if I
tried to overdo it.
    We chose one of those places where
the patrons tossed peanut hulls on the floor. I hated crunching through all
that litter but knew the food would make up for it.
    Wrong.
    After we were seated, Jill glanced
at the menu, then tilted her head. “Why don’t we eat
light and I’ll fix us something good for supper.”
    I’d been thinking about a nice
chunk of prime rib, but with my private gourmet chef making such an offer,