“This way,” she whispered. She led them to a room to the right of the narrow center hall. The room was as Leland had imagined, small and dark. In the center was a polished round table with a doily, and on the doily, a cream-colored fruit bowl, and in the bowl, a paper clip. Mr. Howard, a fat dark man with his black hair grown long on one side and slicked across his bald crown, rose from the high-backed love seat. He blinked at the four men. He was fat enough for Leland to wonder if he ever denied himself anything, and the part in his hair, barely an inch above his ear, made Leland think that he was too vain to take himself any way but seriously. Miss Starrett slipped onto the seat beside him. When the Chief introduced Leland and Howard looked at him to see if it was proper to shake hands, Leland produced his badge, let Howard just get his eyes on it, and then he put it away.

“This is Miss Starrett,” Howard said, sitting again. “She lives across the road there.” He waved vaguely at the curtains. “Sit down, sit down, all of you.” He looked at Leland. “Want a beer?”

“Not while we’re working, thanks.”

“How about some coffee?”

“We came a long way. We’d appreciate it.”

Miss Starrett got up and Howard expanded into the extra room on the seat. He was wearing blue pinstripe pants and an off-yellow sports shirt with a blue knitted tie. “My woman took to bed yesterday when she got the news. She couldn’t have children and that kid was like her own. Her sister’s child. Married again and went to California and that was it, never heard from her again. What are you going to do with a kid? Put him on the poor farm?”

“Can’t do that,” Leland said agreeably. He was sitting on Howard’s left, on a small Gay Nineties chair as soft and comfortable as a medicine ball.

“That’s what I say. Well, he made up for what my wife missed.” He folded his hands across his belly and eyed Leland. “Something the matter with him, wasn’t there?”

“Well, he was murdered,” Leland said.

“No, I mean down in his drawers. He was a faggot.”

“I’m not free to discuss that,” Leland said.

Howard nodded. “Well, he was. I caught him jerkin’ off in the garage one time and I beat his ass. He never did it again, that’s for sure. He did other things, though. I don’t see how I can help you, mister. He left here five years ago and all we ever learned was what he wrote in his letters.”

“We’d like to read them,” Leland said.

“All of them?”

“Every one.”

“Jesus, if you say so. My old lady saved every damned one—” he grinned “—just for you. How do you like that?”