"He's been doing more preaching, that's all. He has a really fantastic memory, Lieutenant. He preaches about God on street corners. Is that illegal these days?"

"Only when he does it on private property without permission."

"I told you. I am a light sleeper. That dreadful old red truck of his is very noisy. As you maybe noticed, my driveway out there is full of lumps and holes. When he drives in or out it sounds like somebody banging on garbage cans. And there is no way he could leave during the night and come back at night without my hearing him. It would make me very nervous to have him leave at night because it means I'm alone here. It makes me nervous to have him in jail. Do you think I'm lying to you? I'm old, but I have a fantastic memory. Moses would not do anything so sinful. He is a hard worker. He does not drink or smoke or use bad language. Sheriff Dockerty checked his record, you know. And he has never done anything bad in all his life. My doctor says he probably had schizophrenia, and some people do get over it and can live out in society. They are dumping them out of the sanitariums all the time lately. Saving money, they say. But they won't remember to take their medication, even if they are able to afford it. We should all be glad that Moses can support himself provided, of course, you don't have to use him as a scapegoat for a murder you can't solve."

"Mrs. Holroyd, please. We do honestly want to find out who murdered Mrs. Owen."

"Then you should get right to it, and let Moses come home.

Some wretched children have vandalized his old school bus since the rain, and he should come back and fix it before more rain comes."

"May we look at it?"

"If you have Moses' permission."

"We do."

"Then go right ahead."

They found six smashed windows, and a sour pile of clothes and books on which had been dumped the contents of opened cans of peaches, beef stew, evaporated milk and a variety of canned soups. With gingerly care, Slovik extracted the books, wiped them just enough to find out what they were about.

"No porn, Jerry," he said at last.

"Travels in the Holy Land. History of the Crusades. Living in Christ's Name. Stuff like that."

"They look old."

"They're like, you know, from garage sales."

They searched with care but found no letters, no photographs, no medicines, no magazines or newspapers.

"The kids could have taken stuff," Slovik said.

"Somehow, I doubt it," Jerry Coombs said.

"I was thinking maybe we could hang on to him so if whoever did it is still in the area, they'd feel safe and maybe do something stupid. But it isn't fair. Let's let the son of a bitch go. He's got a lot of work to do here. Look, those little bastards even let the air out of his tires."

When they got back to the County Courthouse, Coombs called the State Attorney General's office, explained his recommendation to release the suspect and got permission to so advise the Sheriff. There were no charges to be filed.

After Moses, back in his own clothes, was released and had left with a deputy who would drive him on out to Mrs. Holroyd's place, Sheriff Dockerty called Rick Liddy at the Security Office at Meadows Center and said, "You wanted to know about Moses. Coombs got permission to let him go. No way he was involved. But he sure was a popular suspect.

People were right willing to believe he done it. Coombs says some kids trashed his school bus while he was my guest.

Expressing the opinion of their folks, I'd guess. If we had somebody else nailed for the Owen murder, I'd feel better about letting him go. People get that vigilante feeling about people who look and act different. And these days they think the law favors the criminals. Which is no news to any law person. I'm too short-handed to do much but I'm going to try to check on him now and then. It would be a real big help to me, and to Moses too, if you could hand me another suspect."

"I would if I could. You know that."

He beeped Eliot Erskine after the phone call and when he called back in, told him that they'd let Moses go. He could hear the relief in Erskine's voice.

In the late afternoon Finn flander met with Charley Winchester in the offices of the law firm in downtown Lakemore. When he heard the news, Charley stopped being the mild and jolly joker, and became agitated.

"I'll talk to John about this. It's just a little rift. It can be mended. We need you around here."

"It's not a rift. John and I understand each other. All I want to do is get away for a while. Haven't I earned that much?"

"But you're the one holds this thing together!"

"Nonsense. It was a mess when I got here, but I've had a few years to straighten it out, set up systems, work out the checks and balances. I've been kidding myself about how essential I am. I'm not, really. I've been going a little stale."

"How? What do you mean?"

"I'm a problem solver. Personnel relations was a big problem here. Equitable pay increments. Job descriptions. Reporting procedures. Security measures. Advance planning. Okay, so I've got good people now in all the key slots, and I've been letting Harold Sherman sit in on almost every meeting I set up.

He's pretty humorless but he knows how everything works.

And I haven't any choice, actually. John Tinker says Harold can fill the bill, and John Tinker is the head man. I've been creating problems so I can find the answers. Running in place.

I've been butting into lower-level things where I don't belong, like McGaw's little production operation, and checking the maintenance schedules on the aircraft. When I finally told John I thought I needed a break, I felt a genuine sense of relief."

Charley got up quickly and went over to the windows to look down into the State Street traffic, his hands locked behind him. Finn realized that from that angle Charley looked a lot older than he did head on.

"Your man in New York couldn't find anyone, eh?"

"Anyone good."

"Same with the University. We couldn't find anyone good for that job. So we finally hired Hallowell."

"He was here when I came aboard."

"Due to family contacts he got all the right tickets. He's fairly bright. But his problem is narcolepsy."

"I knew there was a word for it. I think the second or third time I saw him, I was in his office and he was asking me a question and he paused and all of a sudden he was snoring. So I went out and asked his secretary if he was all right. She went in and came out and said everything was just fine."

Charley came back and perched a heavy haunch on the corner of his desk.

"I just don't like the way things are going, Finn. I don't think Rolf is going to stay on here. He is completely broken. That young woman was much too important to him. Maybe she was his chance to stay young a little longer. Matthew is out of it now. For good. He had such a bad day Saturday Mary Margaret came to me to find out if there isn't some way we can get him institutionalized under some other name, in some good place."

"Can you do that?"

"I think so. Switzerland, maybe. But then her conscience is going to turn her sour. She's having trouble finding nurses. I told her to hang on for a while."

"Hang on until the big medical complex is next door," Finn said.

"It ought to be able to provide nursing care."

"Oh, John Tinker will go ahead with it," Charley agreed.

"The money is available. And he has a compulsion to buy all the respectability he can get. He knows that Matthew Meadows' orders to his flock to avoid doctors and hospitals made the whole ECB operation suspect to a lot of people. Now he can go the other way, and change public opinion a little bit.