Janet was settling into a booth at the rear of the diner, her coat piled on the seat next to her and her long fingers skilfully arranging her hair. She hooked it behind her ears, leaving an errant wisp resting on her cheek. Immediately, as he walked the length of the room, he realized how tantalizingly sexy that simple feature was affecting him. He slipped off his jacket and slid into the booth.

"Hi. Great day, eh?"

"Fantastic. Wish it would last like this 'til Christmas." Her smile was wide and sparkly.

"Let's get Halloween and Thanksgiving over with first."

"Fred ambush you with another of his gripes?"

"Yeah, you know Fred. Said the Ingersol cops upset him with their questions. Did they speak to you?"

"They spoke to everyone. I got the young one; he was a jerk. Asked me if I had much to do with Gough, like I had anything to do with him. I said yeah, I give him a perm every Friday."

Brian's cheek muscles tensed. "That was Reese."

"Yeah, well he told me they might be back for more questions." She opened and closed the menu a few times, stuffing it back behind the napkin container. "I think I'll have a Spanish omelette."

Brian turned in his seat and called their order in to Gilly behind the counter. "The older cop knew her from Ingersol," he said as he settled back. "Some place called the Blue Nights?"

"Really?" Janet sounded surprised.

"Yeah you know it?"

"It's a- a soft porn strip club... an after hours place."

It was Brian's turn to be surprised. "How interesting that you know about it."

"I wasn't always a small town girl," she said, flashing her smile again.

"Sounds like I'm going to have to take you someplace for interrogation."

"Oooh, I like the sound of someplace." She giggled aloud when he flushed, leaving him to face Gilly as she arrived to set the table.

"Good thing I put you two in a back booth," she smiled, setting down the cutlery. "If the sheriff gets too frisky, Jan, I'll round up a posse."

"Alright! All right. You've had your fun you two, now you buzz off."

><><><><

Brian turned and ambled back up the street to his office. Lunch was pleasant, with more of the same banter and a few pieces of gossip from Janet about some women of the town. The wife of Judge Otis Howerchuck for example, aired a complaint about the state of Gough's farm, which bordered their property, and how now it might go to someone who would maintain it properly.

They had had nothing but trouble from the dead recluse. Ethel Howerchuck made no bones about being pleased with the recent circumstances. Brian thought he might drum up some excuse to talk to the judge. Fred Garrison watched for Brian to return, and hurried out to catch the sheriff as he was going into the courthouse.

Brian bluffed his excuses, promised something a little later, and skipped up the stairs to his office.

><><><><

Doc Butler nibbled at the digestive cookie, ignoring the tiny shower of crumbs spilling down the front of his shirt. Taking his time, he carefully read his copy of the Ingersol police report. The tepid coffee in his old mug sat unnoticed, like the cookie crumbs, as he turned the page and slowly set the file down. He opened his cigarette package and shook one out, lighting it and inhaling deeply.

Morris Butler, MD, sixty-two years old, denied to all who protested that his smoking was self-destructive and highly improper as he was the medical authority in town. He wouldn't admit, even to himself, except on those dark, painful occasions when he knew the cumulative effects of drinking and smoking were ravaging his insides.

The careless, indifferent attitude he showed the world masked a fear of both his impending mortality and his diminishing professional skills. While the police pathologist had essentially agreed with his findings, Doc Butler was embarrassed to admit how little more he had provided, in light of the report in front of him.

It was determined that Gough might not have been killed in the house but in the barn. That yes, the blows to his head were the final cause of death, but they had been administered before and after he was stabbed.

He took another long pull on the cigarette and stubbed it out angrily. He planned to visit Brian again; maybe the two of them could commiserate.

><><><><

With Halloween less than a week away, Brian was expected to live up to a hastily given promise to Polly to help decorate the retreat for the town's party. It was a tradition born of necessity since the homes were too far apart and the highway too dangerous to let the children loose for trick or treating. Practically everyone attended and took part, all good-naturedly in costume along with the children.

It was a message from Marge that reminded him. How that woman always knew when he was back in the office was another mystery Brian vowed to undertake one day, but that was another day. Today he had to call Polly and make arrangements.

The night approached faster than expected and Brian had to shuffle his schedule around to meet the promise he'd given Polly. Jenny Asaki was bent over a large carton, busily sorting through decorations when Brian entered the retreat. Before he could say hello, Polly sailed across the large room bearing an armful of pumpkin lanterns that she indicated he should take.

"These all go on the special hooks around the ceiling—"

"Same as last year, I know, Polly. And hello to you too." He took the lanterns and set them down while he removed his jacket. "Hi Jen, she got you regimented as well?"

"You know Polly." She shrugged pleasantly.

He hauled a ladder over to the wall and climbed up. "We the only ones coming today?"

Jenny shrugged her uncertainty and began taping black and yellow crêpe in spirals around the wainscotting. Polly bustled back and forth with boxes and bags, issuing edicts to both helpers as to what went where. She paused in front of a small CD player and fiddled for a moment, yelping as it came on at ear-splitting volume. Brian nearly fell off the ladder and Jenny squealed in fright.

The recording was a series of spooky sounds—ghosts and owls and rattling chains.

"Jesus Polly, turn it down."

"I'm sorry, I was just testing it out." She shut the machine off and darted away to tend to something else.

"If she does that on Halloween we'll have a bunch of little kids shi- scared right out of their wits." He climbed down and moved the ladder along the wall.

"They've already had one scare this week." Jenny commented.

"What?"

"Those policemen came to the school and questioned me and then spoke to the class."

"They did! To the kids?"

"Yes. And one of them wasn't very nice. He told them that the police always knew if someone lied, so they'd better tell the truth." She began taping crêpe to another section of wall.

Brian climbed down and looked at her. "The truth about what?"

"About anything they might know about the death of Mr. Gough."

"Oh man, they asked the kids about that? What a croc." He dragged the ladder noisily to the next corner. "That young cop, Reese, he's upset more than one person in this town. Did they learn anything... from you or the kids?"

"Not me, but a couple of the kids were scared, and they told about knocking on his door and running away a few times." She laughed at the memory. "The one you call Reese got all flustered and the other one sent him outside to cool off. He wasn't so bad, the older one."

"Wegman. Yeah, he came and apologized to me before he left. Guess it's happened before."

"There was one thing though..." She stopped taping and stared out the windows overlooking the river. "The Tzajke girl, Wendy. She told me afterwards that she and her mother saw a car turning around in Mr. Gough's drive last week and that a man got out and stared at the house for some time."

"Last week. You mean before the uh..."

"Yes, the day before."

"Didn't you say anything to the police?"

"I told you, she told me afterwards." She resumed her decorating, duty done. End of story.