“Did you stop at the police station, or did you come straight to the house?”
“To the house, of course. Where else with maybe Boothy lying dead?”
“How did you know he was dead?” Captain Tucker demanded.
“He wrote me, Boothy did.” One hand made a frantic reach for the inside pocket of his coat and drew forth a folded paper. “Boothy said it was on him. Here!”
Captain Tucker read the letter aloud:
Dear Otis: Like as not you’ll be surprised to get this letter seeing as we have not seen or heard of each other in twenty years. But when a man feels he is going to be took, it is natural he should turn to his only kin. I have wrote a will leaving everything to you, and you will be notified when necessary. If anything should happen to me sudden, look for Jud Cory. He has made talk of killing me, and I think he is the kind to do it.
Your brother, Boothy.
Captain Tucker folded the letter. “Well, Doctor?” he asked in poorly-concealed satisfaction.
The blind man’s face was inscrutable. “Does a man facing death, a man known to keep a tight fist on a dime, stop to draw five thousand dollars in cash from a bank?”
“Boothy was a-tryin’ t’ buy him off,” Mr. Wilkes shrilled.
“How do you know that, Mr. Wilkes?”