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up.“
    “Did you like the man?”
    Price took a deep breath and said quietly, “I despised his vulgarity. I hated every word he said. Even his appearance, voice, and the smell of the cologne he used revolted me. But well-paid jobs aren’t thick on the ground these days. I didn’t kill him. I’ll tell you anything you need to know, but I swear I didn’t do it.”
    The questioning was delayed by a noisy scuffle in the hall. When Walker opened the door, it was to the sight of Robert, striped pajamas like little petticoats escaping from the bottom of his trousers. He was holding the ginger-haired man by one arm and pinning the other one behind the man’s back.
    “Another one decided to hippity-hop home,“ Robert said.

Chapter, 6

    While the interview with Edward Price was going on, Mr. Prinney was in his office at Grace and Favor with Mary Towerton. She’d used her mule and cart to drive over from her small farm outside Voorburg with her children. Mrs. Prinney had them in the kitchen and was giving Mary’s little boy bread and jam and hand-feeding the baby girl some pablum she kept for her grandchildren.
    “I’m so sorry to bother you at home, Mr. Prinney, and on a Sunday, but I’ve received an alarming telegram and I don’t know how to respond,“ Mary said, handing him the piece of paper.
    He read it with a frown. “I’m so sorry,“ he said.
    The telegram was to alert her that her husband had died of pneumonia. It said that he had been working in the tunnels that were going to divert the Colorado River so work could commence on the building of Hoover Dam. It went on to say he could be buried there, or his body could be shipped to her home for burial.
    “Which are you going to do? Bury him here or there?“ Mr. Prinney asked.
    “That’s not really the problem. I simply can’t afford to bury him here. I haven’t even found the money to move my grandfather from his grave in Maryland. You see, they have his name wrong. He’s Richard Towerton and this telegram calls him Rick Taughton.“
    “Oh, I didn’t even notice that. It’s addressed to you by the name Taughton as well.“
    “You see, I don’t know if this is my own husband or not. They might have made a mistake. This may not even be my husband.“
    “When did you last hear from him?“ Mr. Prinney asked.
    “A year and a half ago when he was leaving on the train.“
    “He hasn’t written you?“
    “He can’t read or write,“ Mary admitted.
    Mr. Prinney steepled his fingers and thought for a while. “Is it possible that when he gave his name, whoever wrote it down misunderstood what he said and he wasn’t equipped to correct it?“
    “I’ve wondered if that was the case. I need your advice. It isn’t the burial that’s important right now. I suppose it’s already been taken care of. It’s whether I’m a widow or a wife. What can I do?“
    “Leave it to me,“ Mr. Prinney said. “As your attorney, I’ll send a telegram back pointing out the error in spelling and saying I’m sending a picture of him to see if it matches the man who died. You do have a photograph of him, don’t you?“
    “Only our wedding picture. Would I get it back?“
    “I regret to say I couldn’t promise that. Could you describe him?”
    Mary thought for a moment. “He’s about six inches taller than I. Dark brown hair, brown eyes. He has a crooked nose and a bad scar on his mouth from an accident on his old tractor.”
    Mr. Prinney wrote this down, but didn’t say what he was thinking. If Mrs. Towerton’s husband had been killed in an explosion, instead of dying of pneumonia as the telegram said, his face might not even be recognizable. And if he was so uneducated and had a large enough scar on his lip, he might not have been able to speak clearly enough to be understood well.
    “I’ll send the telegram tomorrow with the description. Bring me the wedding photograph and let me see if someone in Poughkeepsie can make a good copy.“
    “I hate to put