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establishing that.” Paul glanced up from his notebook.
    â€œOf course you are, Paul,” the sheriff said. “And we’ll help you every way we can. Mike here will let you know if anything comes in through this office.”
    Paul looked toward Michael without making eye contact.That was all right with Michael. They might have to work together at times, but they didn’t have to like one another. Michael couldn’t help it that he was a head taller than Paul or that Paul didn’t get the jobs he wanted while Michael had been part of a big city police force. The fact that Michael gave up that job to come home to Hidden Springs and spend his time directing traffic and writing up fender-bender accident reports merely seemed to make Paul resent him more. And now Michael was the first officer on the scene of an actual serious crime here in Hidden Springs.
    Paul studied his notebook again, then droned on about things they all already knew.
    Judge Campbell stood up in the middle of Paul’s monologue. “Well, I guess if that’s all, I’ll head back over to my office. Folks will be calling in about their potholes just to find out what’s going on, but then they’ll still want their potholes filled in. Nobody likes a bumpy ride into town.”
    When everybody except Paul laughed a little, the judge, who like the sheriff was a politician from way back and knew when to pat a shoulder or tell a joke, looked at Paul. “I’m sure you’ll have our murderer behind bars in no time flat, son.”
    The phone rang for about the twentieth time, but this time Betty Jean didn’t take on her “reassure the public” tone. She pointed the receiver at Michael. “Your Aunt Lindy.”
    Nobody dared suggest he not take the call until their meeting was over, especially Michael.
    â€œTell Malinda we’ve got things under control,” the judge boomed as he went on out of the office.
    Michael turned his back on the others and spoke into the phone. “Aunt Lindy? Is everything okay?” Aunt Lindy had been teaching algebra out at the high school since beforeMichael was born. Never once had she called him during school hours.
    â€œYou tell me. Are things under control the way Wilson says?” Aunt Lindy was one of the few people in Hidden Springs to call the judge by his first name. Even the judge’s wife often did not.
    â€œIf the judge says it, it must be so. The sheriff and Paul have just been going over a few things to make sure we have everything covered.”
    Aunt Lindy’s voice was crisp along the phone line. “What you’re saying is that you are all sitting around Alvin’s office drinking coffee while a murderer is on the loose in Hidden Springs.”
    â€œI guess that about covers it.” Michael pressed the phone up closer to his ear so none of Aunt Lindy’s words could leak out into the room.
    â€œSo there was a body on the courthouse steps. This isn’t just a wild rumor circulating in the halls.”
    â€œNo, it’s true.”
    â€œYou let someone get killed on the courthouse steps?”
    â€œYou could say that. It happened.” Michael kept his voice level, conscious of the men behind him listening to his every word.
    Aunt Lindy was silent for a minute, then almost as if it were an afterthought, she asked, “You are all right, aren’t you?”
    â€œYes.” Michael almost smiled. That question was the sole reason she’d called.
    â€œGood.” Her voice recaptured its briskness as she went on. “I need to get back to my classroom. The tardy bell will ring in three minutes, and there could be one child here still ready to learn something in spite of the uproar in the halls.”
    Aunt Lindy loved teaching. She said it was her calling. An honorable calling and every bit as important as being a preacher. Michael just wished she thought being a police officer was the same kind of