The Transcendental Murder

tied back with a black ribbon.

'Is that all?' said Homer. 'I thought he had a three-cornered hat.'

'That hasn't turned up,' said Jimmy. 'Although Arthur swears he saw it fall off.'

'Scouts' Honor,' said Arthur.

'What about the gun? No sign of it, yet?'

'Nope,' said Jimmy, 'although I don't see how in the Sam Hill we could miss it, if it's there. You say the thing is five feet long.'

'What about the river? You've had skindivers out there?'

'Yes, they've been and gone. Didn't find a thing.'

Charley emerged from Jimmy's office wearing the costume he had put on earlier in the day for his ceremonial ride. His shoulders slumped. The jaunty look was gone. His garments might have been a shroud. Arthur Furry stuck out his lower lip and looked doubtful.

'He only saw his back,' said Jimmy under his breath to Homer. 'It could have been almost anybody. Well, we might as well see Philip in that rig. Harold, would you take that suit up to Philip when Charley gets it off, and bring him down here? Luther, you keep Charley there in my office for a while.'

Philip was a little taller and slighter than his brother, and the dirt-stained coat hung loosely on him, his bare wrists showing. But Arthur, still uncertain, let his lower lip sag and put his finger in his mouth. (He's grubbing around in his little mind for the Real Honest Boy Scout Type Truth, decided Jimmy Flower, who had taken a dislike to Arthur Furry.)

'I think,' said Arthur, 'I would have to see them on the horse, you know, right there at the scene of the crime.'

'Oh, fer...' said Jimmy Flower. 'Well, all right. We'll try to do that, but not now. Harold, you can take Philip back upstairs. Now, look here, Arthur, Sergeant Ordway showed you the horse Mr. Charles Goss was riding, on your way over here this afternoon. And you said it was the same as the one you saw. Right?'

'I said,' said Arthur carefully, 'that it could have been. I mean it was about the same size and color and everything.'

'Was the horse you saw a mare or a stallion? I mean, was it a boy horse or a girl horse?' said Jimmy. 'I mean, you said it went right over you, so you could have seen...'

Arthur's round face went red, but he rolled up his eyes conscientiously and let his lower lip hang slack. In the interval Harold Vine happily recalled a funny if apocryphal story about the time the Concord Independent Battery, hard up for horses as usual, had located nine, one a stallion, and then they couldn't find any more until the last minute when three more had been rented from a local stable. These had turned out to be a trio of mares who (it was dramatically discovered) were all in heat.

Arthur finally decided he didn't know.

Homer Kelly showed him a small piece of flat brown rock. ''This is a flint which we presume fell from the priming mechanism of the murder weapon. It was found on the ground near the body. Now, Arthur, you say you saw no gun, no big long musket, that you remember? There was nothing hanging on his saddle, or fastened to the horse's bridle in any way? You didn't see him drop or throw anything, except for his hat? He didn't have a powder horn hanging on a strap over his shoulder? We are puzzled, you see, because if Mr. Goss was killed with a musket, where is it? It hasn't turned up in the area, it is not hidden in the Goss house, so far as we have been able to discover, and the skindivers have found nothing in the river for a hundred yards on either side of the bridge. It would seem that the murderer must have carried it off with him. Now, I don't want you.to remember something that you didn't actually see, but we wonder if you might not have noticed a gun that was lying across the saddle, or attached to the horse's gear in some way?'

Arthur said, no, he didn't think so. 'Unless it was attached to the other side of the horse, of course. I only saw one side of the horse. But if the gun was as big as me, I don't see how I could have missed it.'

'All right, Arthur, thank you. Tomorrow we'll go back to bridge and watch the horse jump the fence. You can go along now with your mother.'

'Detestable child,' said Chief Flower, watching Arthur waddle across the street with his large amiable mother. 'Pompous little pain in the neck. I suppose we've got to be nice to him.'

'We can be damn glad the boy was there,' said Homer. 'The horseman seems to have escaped observation by anybody else all. Silverson was the one who followed his trail along river? Can I see his report? Yes, here's where he went—right along the river and across lots until he got to the hard dirt road that runs down by the barns and sheds at the Hand place. And that's where they lost him, but they think he must have gone back to the Gosses' barn somewhere in there. I see they didn't turn up any gun, either. You think they were thorough?'

'They sure were. Got some state troopers to help 'em. Turned those barns and sheds upside down.' Jimmy pulled Homer's sleeve. 'Look, what are we going to do with Charley? He's confessed, but his confession is as full of holes as a sponge. Ordinarily with a confession you'd keep him in custody until the next court session on Monday. I'm darned if I know what to do.'

'Let him go,' said Homer. 'All we can have now is a medical examiner's inquest. I'm sure the D.A. would go along with that. It's just as you said—the boy only saw the man's back. About the only limits you can set are that it had to be somebody taller than a shrimp like you and shorter than me, and neither a fat man nor a walking skeleton, and probably somewhat less than ninety-five years old. There are at least two prime suspects without alibis, maybe more. How do we know there wasn't a third person present? He might have hidden under the bridge, then got away by water. Let them both go. They'll be around when we need them. And see to it that Charley gets himself a lawyer.'

Homer put on his coat and his fur hat. It had occurred to him that somebody ought to go talk to the Hands again. It was mighty queer that nobody in that big family had seen that horseman. Besides, it was a good excuse to see that heavenly girl again.

'No, I didn't see anybody, did you, Tom?' said Gwen.

'No, I didn't either,' said Tom. 'Did you, Mother?'

'No, I didn't. Did you, Mary?'

'No. Did you, Annie?'

'No, did you, John?'

'No, did you, Freddy?'

'Horsie!' said Freddy, who was too young to count. So that had gotten him nowhere.

*24*

Such is the daily news ... a parasitic growth ... .1 would not run around a corner to see the world blow up .... The morning and the evening were full of news to you. —Henry Thoreau

The newspapers called it 'The Minuteman Murder,' and they celebrated it swiftly. There were so many charming things about it. For one thing it had happened on Patriot's Day at the Birthplace of American Liberty, and for another it had apparently been committed by a reincarnation of Paul Revere (this universal error brought joy to the heart of the Governor of the Commonwealth). How much juicier could a story get? the A.P. man wanted to know.

'Well, the victim could have been a shapely blonde draped in the American flag,' said the reporter from the Globe.

For a week or so the story stayed on page one in the Boston papers. The inquest in the District Court helped it along.

INQUEST FINDS MURDER

Widow Insane With Grief

'Ernest Goss met his death at the hands of a person or persons unknown.' This was the finding of Judge Harlow Murphy this morning in Concord's District Court. His decision was based on the report of District Medical Examiner Walter Allen and on an autopsy performed by Dr. Warren Betty of Harvard's School of Legal Medicine.

The nature of the wound, Dr. Betty said, was such that it could only have been inflicted from a distance of