“Do you think it was all his imagination?” Peter was asking.
Peggy shook her head. “I’m sure he didn’t make it up,” she said.
“I don’t mean the boy,” Peter said. “I mean Tom.”
“Why would he do that?”
“To cheer up the little boy. To keep him from being sad about his leaving.”
Peggy toyed with her cup of tea. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “Maybe it all means something. Maybe Johnny Dwyer could help us.”
“Yes, but not until tomorrow morning,” Peter pointed out. “And we don’t have that much time left.” He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. “We’ve got to figure it out tonight.” He pushed his coffee cup to one side. “Let’s start at the beginning and try to put ourselves in Tom Agate’s position. First of all, how much do we know?”
“Well,” Peggy said thoughtfully, “we know that three months ago he ran out of money and left the house on Tidewater Road. It seems to me that there are four possibilities.”
“All right. Let’s have them.”
“He found a job.”