The fat man rang the bell. It was a while before an answer came.
It was a reedy woman in a housecoat, her hair in curlers, her eyes red and swollen.
"Now, now," Dawes said gently. "Don't you take on like that, Mrs. Brundage. You heard the charges. It hadda be this way."
"My poor Vincent," she sobbed.
"Better let us up," the Sheriff said kindly. "No use just lettin' him lay there, Mrs. Brundage."
"He didn't mean no harm," the woman snuffled. "He was just purely ornery, Vincent was. Just plain mean stubborn."
"The law's the law," the fat man sighed.
Sol couldn't hold himself in.
"What law? Who's dead? How did it happen?"
Dawes looked at him disgustedly. "Now is it any of your business? I mean, is it?"