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the list of things I was concerned about at the time.
    In any event, I moved the remaining policies to another agent, and George was apologetic and certainly understood. So we weren’t close friends, but nor were we enemies, and he was a resident in my town, so I felt I should go out to the scene and look around.
    When I got out there, the situation was already well under control. Hank Mickelson had beaten me to the scene, had been updated by Terry, and the coroners were already loading George’s body into their van. Hank took me through the accident as he and Terry figured it, showing where the car went off the road. It was still down in the ditch, but the tow operators were about to do their work.
    “DUI?” I asked.
    He shrugged. “Could be. Especially if he was coming from Marston.”
    “Why is that?”
    “He had a woman there. Met her in Marston almost every Wednesday night.”
    “How do you know that?” I asked.
    “Everybody knows that; you’re the only one who doesn’t.”
    Gossip is not really my thing, and everybody also knows that, so no one tells me anything. It leaves me probably the most clueless person in Wilton. Hank considers monitoring gossip a vital part of police work.
    “What about George’s wife?” I asked. “Does she know about the affair?”
    “Carla? Of course she knows. Just like George knew that she meets a guy in Carson every Thursday night.”
    Hank said that he knew Carla Myerson pretty well and volunteered to go to her house to break the bad news about George’s death.
    I went back to the house but couldn’t sleep, so it was easy for me to be at Russell Connor’s office at seven, and Danny and Hank were already there. Russell’s office was right off the main examining room, and for that reason it was always cold.
    I think Russell always wanted to meet at his office because he knew that most of his guests would be uncomfortable with the fact that so many dead bodies were just feet away. My guess is he felt that it gave him sort of a home field advantage.
    I’ve known Russell for eight years, and except for complaining about how busy he is, the next time he “chit-chats” will be the first. He treats “hello” as frivolous conversation, choosing instead to get right to work. It’s not a bad trait, though he has some. For instance, not offering his guests coffee at seven in the morning is one.
    “This is preliminary,” Russell began in his discussion of the body found on the capsule, “but there’s little doubt that his skull was fractured. Most likely blunt force trauma.”
    “His?’ I asked, since I hadn’t been sure of that.
    He nodded. “Male adult, age to be determined, but I would guess older than fifty. There is some evidence of arthritis, but not excessive.”
    “Could he have fractured his skull by falling into the hole once it was dug?” Hank asked.
    I pointed out that it would have been a neat trick to have cracked his skull open in a fall, and then summoned the energy and desire to cover himself by filling in the hole with dirt. “Do we know when he died?” I asked.
    Instead of answering directly, Russell turned to Danny, who said, “Best guess is around the time the capsule was buried, but very likely not before.”
    “Why?” I asked.
    “Well, for one thing, the body was resting on the capsule. No one saw the body at the ceremony, so unless it was moved there afterwards, the body followed the capsule. We also found a watch that we presume belonged to the victim. It had a date on it, but only the month and day.”
    “Can we find out when the watch was purchased?” I asked.
    “Maybe, but certainly we can learn when it was made, or at least when the model was manufactured. It also had a battery that we can probably date.”
    I turned to Russell. “What about from your end?”
    “Based on the feel and smell, I think Danny has it about right. I’ll send a sample to the state lab for carbon dating, which might narrow it down further.”
    I