Rut continued to peer at him. “Anything you want to get off your chest?”
“Such as?…”
“I had my eye on Josie last night. Something about the way she kept watching one of the other fellas at the party gave me the impression she wasn’t entirely content with Bryce. We’re both men here, so there’s no point in tiptoeing around-it was you who she was looking at. And it’s been you sharing that island with them these past months. Bryce was quite a bit older than Josie. Also plenty frayed around the edges. Everybody knows that you and Josie are friends. Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if you were a little something more than that. Can’t say I’d blame you-a healthy young cocksman such as yourself.”
“Rut, I’m the Jewish film critic from New York, remember? I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”
“It isn’t someone else who keeps Dorset’s resident trooper glowing. That there is one contented woman, let me tell you. Always a smile on her face. Any man who can satisfy a gorgeous handful like Miss Desiree Mitry, well, the fellows at the firehouse have nothing but admiration for you, Mitch. Fact is, you’re something of a hero to them.”
“This is an actual topic of conversation at the firehouse?”
“Heck yeah. What do you think they talk about-fire safety procedures? And that’s just the fellas. Imagine what the gals over at the Town and Country beauty salon are saying.”
“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind,” Mitch said unhappily. This was the downside to living in a small town. Everyone thought they owned a front-row seat to your private life. “Rut, there’s nothing going on between Josie and me. Des is the only woman in my life.”
“Glad to hear it. I felt the same way myself about my Enid, God rest her soul.”
“You told me last night that you lusted after Paulette Zander for years.”
“Still do, truth be told,” Rut conceded. “But thinking about it and
“I think you mean the Maginot Line.”
The old fellow frowned at him. “I do?”
“The Mendoza Line refers to Mario Mendoza, the famously light-hitting major league shortstop of the seventies. He was so deficient with a bat in his hands that cracking.200 came to be known as the Mendoza Line.”
“I think you’re wrong about that one, young fella.”
“I could be,” said Mitch, who’d learned never to argue with anyone who was over the age of eighty. There was no point. He reached for a ham sandwich and took a bite, chewing on it thoughtfully. “What do the guys at the firehouse say about Hank Merrill?”
“Hank’s an affable fella. Everybody likes Hank.”
“Everybody except for you, you mean.”
“Don’t think I follow you.”
“I got the distinct impression last night that you don’t care for him.”
“Naw, Hank’s okay,” the old postmaster said grudgingly. “You just need to understand the background of the situation. Paulette fell to pieces when that husband of hers, Clint, ran off. Just sat there in her house day and night drinking cheap white wine and chain-smoking cigarettes. Stopped showing up for work. Any other postmaster would have canned her. But I covered for her. And she got through it eventually. Sobered up, quit smoking. Only, it was like a part of her died inside. She was never the same person again. When I first met Paulette she was a lighthearted gal, quick to laugh, with a smile that’d make you melt. Want to know something? I can’t remember the last time I saw Paulette smile.” He shook his tufty white head. “When she took up with Hank it had been a lot of years since she’d had a man friend. And, well, Hank was still a married man at the time. Cheating on his wife Mary Ann, to put it plain and simple. He and Paulette used to sneak off to the Yankee Doodle for hot-sheet matinees. I didn’t approve. Figured he was using that beautiful, lonely woman strictly for the sex. Turned out I was wrong about that. Hank did leave Mary Ann for her.”
“But you still don’t approve.”
Rut shifted uneasily in the chair. “I don’t think he’s good enough for her. It’s nothing personal. I’d feel that way about any man who came into her life.”
“So that’s all there is to it?”
Rut studied him suspiciously. “What are you getting at?”
Mitch drank down the last of his stout. “Does Hank have money troubles?”
“You know anyone these days who doesn’t? But now that you mention it, he
“Sure thing.”
The old man bustled out to the kitchen with their empty glasses, refilled them and returned. “It didn’t take long for Mary Ann to find out that Hank was cheating on her with Paulette,” he recalled, settling back down in his chair. “She was mad as hell-especially when he asked her for a divorce. Paulette felt terrible about breaking up Hank’s marriage. But I’ve always figured you can’t bust up a marriage unless it’s already broken. Mary Ann’s lawyer saw to it that their assets were divided in a way that was highly favorable to her, on top of which he has to pay her monthly alimony.”
“Is she still living in Dorset?”
“She moved to Farmington. Works at a day care center up there for a whopping nine bucks an hour. Mary Ann is one bitter woman. Or so I hear. Anyhow, about a year after the divorce was finalized, Hank’s mother passed away in Rochester, New York. That’s where he’s from originally. She was by no means wealthy, but she did own her own home free and clear. Hank sold it and cleared enough to make a down payment on a fixer-upper cottage up by Uncas Lake. Hank’s good with his hands. He renovated the place himself, sold it for a tidy profit and bought himself another fixer-upper. Mary Ann eventually heard about this from one of her girlfriends in town and, well, it turns out that either Hank’s lawyer didn’t explain the terms of the divorce settlement to him or Hank didn’t listen. Because Mary Ann was entitled not only to her share of their assets at the time they split up but also to any assets he might come into
“Just curious,” said Mitch, who was much more than curious. He was keenly interested. Because a grinch was stealing from the mailboxes on Hank’s route. Because Hank owed his ex-wife a fortune. And because if there was one thing he’d learned from Des it was that the solution to a case is often the obvious one that’s staring you right smack-dab in the face.
Meaning that the grinch was none other than Hank himself.
CHAPTER 5
Des was just pulling into the shopping plaza directly across from the A amp;P when little Kylie Champlain came sprinting out the door of the Village Bootery with a pair of Ugg boots clutched under one arm and a look of total panic on her young face. Kylie jumped into a silver Honda Civic with the boots, started up the engine and took off. Or tried to-her wheels just kept spinning. The blizzard had dumped ten inches of the white stuff on the pavement by now and her daddy’s plowboys hadn’t hit the parking lot for a while. Then Des saw Joanie Tooker, who owned Village Bootery, come staggering out the door, clutching her elbow in pain. Des found out later that as soon
