The Dust of Death

Chapter 28

Phalen parked the Stutz in front of the Benjamin house. It was a small frame house with flowers decorating the side facing the street. He caught the slightest flutter of the lace curtain on the window of the front door. He waited in his car for a moment. It would not have surprised him to see the sheriff drive up, arrest him, and lock him in the town jail for trespassing on Miss Carrie's property, but the door opened. Miss Carrie stood on her front porch, eyeing the stranger in the yellow car.

"Just who are you?" she asked. "I've never seen a traveling salesman drive such a conspicuous automobile. Unless you're selling stocks, I am at a loss at why you are so insistent on seeing me."

"My name is Phalen Archer. I'm not a reporter. I'm not a salesman. I am a private investigator, and I'd like to ask you about your nephew, Tom."

"You're investigating Tom? I knew you'd come back. Just a feeling."

"I'm sorry," said Phalen. "I don't understand."

"Mr. Archer, there's not much I can tell you. I have had no contact with Tom in many years."

"I understand that ma'am," Phalen said. "Your nephew may be in trouble. He is a suspect in a murder case. Perhaps, you saw the article in the paper?"

"I read the article. The reporter mentioned the police were rounding up several suspects. Nothing panned out. Tom's name wasn't mentioned, as I recall," Carrie said.

"No, it wasn't. But the article said they were questioning a priest seen entering the woods where the girl was found."

"There must be scores of priests in the city, Mr. Archer."

"But not scores with a pronounced limp."

*****

Carrie and Phalen were sitting in the living room.

"Thank you for talking to me, Miss Benjamin. You have a lovely home. And look," said Phalen, "that is the same photo Tom has on his mantle."

"There are two copies. Emily had the copy made as a gift to Tom. Emily was so proud of Tom that day," Carrie said, pouring coffee for Phalen.

"Tom says you were less than ecstatic about his entering the priesthood. That you wanted him to marry and have a family."

"Oh look, what I have done," Carrie said. "I am so clumsy! I don't often have company. You must forgive me, Mr. Archer. My skills as a hostess are abysmal."

"Forget it. There's nothing to apologize for. A little spilled coffee is nothing."

'Oh, don't worry about the cloth, Mr. Archer," Carrie said to Phalen who was dabbing at the stain. "I have another to replace it."

"Here," Carrie said, "let's start over and see if I can do this without embarrassing myself."

Carrie filled another cup.

"Perfect," said Phalen, taking a sip. "And excellently brewed."

"Thank you," said Carrie. "I am afraid good coffee is one of my weaknesses."

"Mine, too," said Phalen.

"I was lucky," Carrie said. "When my mother and father died, my oldest sister, Emily, took me in. She could have pawned me off to some of my other brothers, but Bertram drank, and Daniel and his wife were having money problems. So, my loving sister asked her husband if I could come live with them here, in this house, and he agreed. I was very fortunate. If my brother-in-law had not permitted me to come here, I would have probably ended up in an orphanage.