Don Greenway, president of Valley Forest Estates, expressed shock and horror at Spender’s death.

“While we did have our tangles and disagreements, I think we both believed in the same thing, and that’s the preservation of the environment. I knew that could be done, and still allow for homes where people could raise their families, as they do here in Valley Forest Estates. Mr. Spender felt otherwise, but there’s no denying his commitment to making this a better planet. This is a terrible tragedy, and the police have our complete support in bringing his killer to justice.”

Greenway’s words were echoed by Ward 7 Councilman Roger Carpington, who told The Suburban: “Sam Spender was an inspiration to all of us who care about this community. His input on Willow Creek’s preservation was invaluable in helping the council formulate its land use policies.”

Spender, who was predeceased by his wife Linda in 1993, leaves two sons: Mark, 28, of Seattle, and Matthew, 25, of Calgary. Funeral arrangements were not available at press time.

And that was it, except for a picture of Spender, a file photo taken by a Suburban photographer that had run with a feature on the man when he was still alive, and a headshot of Councilman Roger Carpington, a balding, round-cheeked individual with thick glasses. Spender was shown standing at the edge of the creek where I’d found him.

Clearly, the police hadn’t disclosed to the local reporter the name of the person who’d found Samuel Spender’s body. Surely I would have gotten a phone call if they had. I found it interesting that Don Greenway had been sought out for a comment. You’d never know, from the way he’d been quoted, that he and Spender were on such bad terms.

Did Greenway have something to do with it? And what about this other guy quoted in the story, Roger Carpington? He’d been one of two people Greenway had wanted to talk to after his fight with Spender. What was that about? Was Carpington supposed to do something about Spender? Did my local councilman moonlight as a hired killer? And what about—

“Okay,” I said, sitting at my desk. “Enough. Write your fucking science fiction book.”

When I wasn’t thinking about Spender, I was thinking about Earl. I didn’t want Paul getting any more gardening advice from across the street. The day the drug cops did finally swoop down on him, I didn’t want Paul in his company. Not that Paul couldn’t learn a lot from Earl. Judging by the fact that those basement plants of his were thriving, he did have the magic touch. And the thing was, it was hard to believe Earl was all bad. He had, after all, helped focus Paul’s interest in gardening and landscaping.