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in its official report by early evening of the day Nell's body was fished out of the river. Gage sat behind his desk at the Police Station and read the clear, broad writing of Dr. Williams.
    We, the coroner's jury, requested to give opinion in the matter of Ellen Carver do conclude that said woman died from a deliberate blow to the head and subsequent drowning in the Pasquotank River. Gage skimmed to the end where the inquest committee baldly recommended that James Wade and any other suspicious characters be held until the Tuscarora City magistrate determined their guilt or innocence.
    Jesus Christ! As soon as the report was made public, Jim Wade's life wouldn't be worth the paper the report was written on. Gage thought he'd better get Nell's latest boyfriend in for questioning right away.
    Minutes later Harold Carver burst into Gage's office without warning. He slammed his open palm down on the desk and caused Gage's cup of coffee to spill onto the report. Disgusted, Gage mopped up the coffee and moved the paper, at the same time eyeing the balled-up letter Carver had tossed on the desk.
    "I won't put up with this!" Harold Carver was a man accustomed to having people give weight to his words, but at the moment, Gage was more interested in the round ball of paper.
    Carver's eyes were black marbles in a broad face, mean and hard as befitting the saw mill owner who'd scrabbled for every success. "We want to lay her to rest and now this."
    Gage rose slowly and gestured toward the chair opposite his desk, waiting until the man seated himself. He reached for the paper Carver had thrown on his desk, unfolded it carefully, and pressed the creases flat. The 000000 was brief and he perused it before looking up at Carver.
    "Well, it's another hoax, isn't it?" Carver asked, clearly impatient to put the letter aside and move on to discuss the release of his daughter's body for the funeral.
    Gage studied Carver with his innate sense of suspicion. The man clearly had been fond of his daughter and overwrought at her death. When Gage investigated Nell's disappearance, he'd wondered if Carver's affection for her was over much.
    Gage couldn't fathom such a thing although he knew there were men who believed their wives and children were not only their personal property to do with as they wished, but their creations, rather like toys designed for their personal pleasures.
    He'd known such men out West.
    But for now he must believe that Carver was a genuinely bereaved father, less angry with the Marshal than helpless over his great loss. While Gage would take no umbrage with the man's officious tone,  there were questions he must ask.
    "I don't know if it's a hoax or not," he said in answer to Carver's question. "Tell me when and how the letter arrived."
    "In today's post."
    "And you've already searched the area indicated?" It was too much to hope Carver had waited to satisfy his curiosity.
    "Certainly."
    The missive explained that in exchange for one hundred dollars, certain clues would be provided regarding Nell's death. To show good faith, evidence could be found hidden beneath the pier at the foremost pile, some mile or so from Carver's house.
    Gage muffled a sigh. If there had been clues at the site, they were certainly obliterated by now. "Pruitt!" he barked to the patrolman who'd just entered the outer office.
    When Will appeared at the door, Gage sent him to investigate the location. "Take Johnson with you."
    Sitting down, he turned back to his visitor. "Now, Mr. Carver, you must tell me every detail you can remember about this letter. At what hour did it arrive? Did it come by regular post or special messenger? Who was at home when it arrived?"
    As Carver began to argue, Gage turned frosty eyes on him, staring him down until the man fell silent. "Begin," he continued calmly, taking a pencil from a circular container and pulling a writing pad close to him, "and leave nothing out."
    "A man must protect his family," Carver mumbled, all