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14 Deadline Tor next issue of "Mirror® - Jan. 2.1964 Tnbute cont'd from pg, 13 she was not going to answer the phone, then left his office and got into his car He glanced at his watch, eleven forty-five, he'd managed to get away sconer than he had thought, and reversing the car from its parking space, headed out of the hospital parking lot. They could have lunch on the way to Kingston; there was a pleasant little tea room that served an excellent quiche and bowl of soup. As he drove past St. Anne's, he noticed a construc- tion company truck off-loading a back hoe, and was relieved that Corporal Fairchild had acted on his request SO promiptiy. Had they noticed him driving by, the men in the cemetery would have flagged the doctor down, but their attention was wholely focused on the rubble that had once been the porch of the Steele's family mausoleum Or more specifically on the hand that protruded from the debris. It was a man's hand. Well cared for, nails trimmed, not the hand of a laborer, The machine to move the stone would be there any minute, but there was rio pulse in the wrist below the hand, thus the cther thing the gathering was sure of, was the man was dead. "Wasn't none of my doing," the sexton protested to no one in particular, but everyone generally. "| reported as them stones weren't safe, Rector says he'll get someone to help me fix them." The man's voice whined on, but almost unnoticed by the men standing near him. Only Frank Turley glanced his was , the look he gave the old man, one of utter distaste. Corporal Fairchild bent to try again to move some of the larger stone that hid the body from view. "No need for that, officer. There's nothing can be done for whoever's under it," the rector observed dispassionately. "Have vou any idea who it might be?* the policeman appealed to the three men with him. LE) I don't even want to guess," the rector replied sadly. As they spoke, the backhoe rumbled across the raveyard, barely aveiding tombstones in its progress, ne operator stopped and let his helper off, then maneuvered the machine into place. In minutes they had a chain on one of the large stones, its end attached to a hook on the bucket. Almost gracefully, the stone raised as the arm of the back-hoe raised, swung out, then settled onthe ground to one side. The helper released the chain and repeated the process with the next block of stone. Although the whole operation tock only minutes, the waichers felt that they had been standing there for nours, but at last, except for small bits of rubble, the crumpled corpse lay exposed. A second police officer hurried across the cemetery, S fe] = - i "Can't get ahold of Dr. Fegan," he panted to his superior. "The hospital says he just left and was on his way Kingston with Mrs. Hamstead." "If he just left, get out on the highway and find him. We need him," body til 1," Fairchild snapped brusquely. "Can't movet he sees it." The officer nodded then took off a his sauad car that he had left parked in the church ~ trot to ins int DretEae ti IRON "Doesn't Jeremy have a radio in his car? th asked quietly. "Yes, but he leaves it off most of the time. When he knows | might want to get in touch with him, he turns it on. Butthat isn'toften," Fairchild replied. "Does the body look any more recognizable to you now that its uncovered?' "Yes. | think you'll find that its William Thorn. See the birthmark there on the back of the neck... just above the collar of his cover-alls," the rector pointed to the brownish patch that ran up into the hairiine on the exposed head of the body. "That could be bleed," the officer pointed out. *Butthe hair's the right colour, the body size is right. hell... excuse me rector... was he doing here?" "Raiding my stash," Samuel interjected. "Alus was too heap to buy from me. And someone has been helpin' nemsetves to my supply lately." Both the rector and the police officer stared at the sexton, an idea dawning in their minds. The officer was the firstto speak. "So you set atrap to catch whoever was helping themseives...."he stated grimly. "l was going to fix it today. The rector said he'd have me a man to help. Never thought no one would trv in broad daylight, the man protested. "A man has the right to protect what's his own." "Don't talk to me about rights, you poor excuse for a rodent," Fairchild snarled, the pent up fury and frustration HIN H H n ofthe past few days filling his voice, Rector, do vou have "ious LRES vLLLS [OLR Waa IA FN What the 0 ~ to take him and charge him?" "Don't lock me up. | ain't done nothin'," the man protested, his voice rising in pitch, "How was | to know he'd come nosing around?" The office slipped the handcuffs from the back of his belt, and before Monday could pull away slipped one on the mans wrist, then attached the other to a control rod in the arm of the backhoe. "There, that'll keep vou from disappearing." He turned to Frank Turley. "Would you go to the rectory and phone the station? Ask them to send the van and reinforcements. They'll know what | want." Frank nodded assent and left the group. As he strode to the rectory, his mind was examining this new turn of events. Nothing was simple. What had started cut as the apparent heart attack death of his mother, was murder, Charlie had not drunk himself to death, but been poisoned. Was this latest death stupidity in the extreme, or was it murder? Could Samuel Monday have the ability to plan all these events or was scmecne else behind Agnes's and Charlie's killing and this was just an unfortunate coin- cidence. Who was next? His skin crawled at the thought. "What on earth is going on out there? Teddy wanted to ge cut and see the back-hee, but even from here ! could " L ell that something was terribly wrong," Joan grested her husband as he came in the door. '| have to make a phone call... then Ill explain," he Joan busied herself making pot of coffee. Little Teddy, sensing the concern in his father's voice, followed him to Tribute coni'dpg. 15