Windows to the Soul

Briarsville remained a fairly calm, uneventful suburb. The worst that had ever happened was an unfortunate moonshine incident in which some people may or may not have ended up with permanent visual impairments. That is, until a nearly ninety-year-old named Mrs. Tanner is found in her stairwell. And then the local shop owner's wife, Mrs.Harper. Now things aren't quite adding up, which is why the assistance of psychoanalyst Doctor Lance Clairmont, not quite a mind reader but close enough, is imperative.

"Jane Harper," I simply stated. That name immediately drew his attention back to me. "Yes, what about her?" I could not help but bristle at his impossibly calm demeanor. The man had nearly toppled over yesterday when he had arrived at the bakery. Why was he so composed today? "If memory serves me correctly, and it has not failed me yet, just last night you ran to me requesting assistance with a case about Mrs Tanner," I noted the way Officer Dowry's shoulders dropped, and his eyes cast down like a sad puppy. "However, I heard Chief Fielding last night on the radio, and he mentioned a certain Jane Harper."