Marcus in 311. I went up and rang his doorbell, but he wasn't home.

I wonder why Gus was slow in paying off. Twenty-to-one! Why, that's ten thousand, isn't it? Do you think Wally's accident had anything to do with that bet?

If I hear more, I'll write.

Love from Mother.

P.S.

Now it's Friday. Didn't get a chance to mail this yesterday. This morning I was stroking Shadow and thinking about the accident, and I could recall the scene plain as day- everything black and white like an old movie. Black blood on the white snow-black warehouse-parked cars covered with white snow-black tire tracks where Wally's car went over the sidewalk-two black utility poles knocked over-even a black cat.

Then I remembered something about Wally's car. It was all black! Wouldn't it have some snow on the top or the hood if it had been parked in the open lot? Even the collision wouldn't knock it all off. It was freezing and snowing off and on all evening.

Tom, do you remember Uncle Roy's accident three years ago? Do you remember what caused it? Well, that gave me an idea, and I went to the gas station to talk to Gus. Jim rode to work with his partner this morning, so I took our car to the garage and told Gus the fan belt was making a funny noise. (Another fib.) Then I mentioned the accident. I said: "We all know Wally didn't drink. Maybe something went wrong with his car." Gus said: "Yeah, he told me the steering was on the blink. I told him to leave it in the lot and gimme the keys and I'd fix it Monday. But I guess he tried to drive it home-crazy fool! We could've given him a loaner."

Then I told him about finding the mysterious black cat right after the accident.

He said: "Wally's kids-they got a black cat. Wally brought it to the bar sometimes when the rats got bad."

"Was the cat in the bar New Year's Eve?"

"I dunno," he said. "I wasn't there."

And yet there was a big yellow ring around his eye! "Oh, dear!" I said. "You got a bad poke in the eye, looks like."

"Yeah," he said. "Been playin' ice hockey."

That's all so far, Tom. Write when you can. I read your letters over and over.

Mother.

January 9.

Dear Tom, A quick note to let you know my suspicions were correct! After dinner Friday night I said to Jim: "Do you believe in Providence, dear? When Wally Slaon was killed, Providence arranged to have a detective's wife looking out the window-an old busybody who reads mystery stories." I said: "I think Wally Sloan was murdered. I think the garage mechanic loosened a steering knuckle on his car so Wally would lose control when it hit the first b.u.mp. You know Gus at the gas station? The police ought to pick him up for questioning. The woman in 503 might know something, too. Also a male nurse in 311."

Tom, I wish you could have seen the flabbergasted look on Jim's face.

That was Friday. Today the Homicide men got the whole story. Gus lost Larry's five hundred in a c.r.a.p game-never placed the bet at all! Then Gus tried to wiggle out of the mess by blaming it on Wally. To cover up, he rigged Wally's car for the fatal accident.

There was no snow on that car, so I was sure it had been inside the garage, and on a crazy hunch I suspected Gus of tampering with it. Jim is very proud of me, and I hope you are, too, Tom dear.

Love from Mother.

P.S.

Forgot to tell you. Shadow disappeared mysteriously Friday night. He got out somehow, and we haven't seen him since. It's almost as if he wanted to tell me something, and after the truth came out, he just vanished! Too bad. He was a nice cat. I liked him.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fict.i.tiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

end.