"In my opinion," Qwilleran said, "Mitch has the better personality for the position. Being on the desk at the hotel he's accustomed to meeting people, and I've observed how he gets along with the elderly. Boswell comes on too strong and too loud. He turns people off. Besides, the manager's apartment is hardly large enough for a family of three."
Larry glanced around the office before answering. "Actually, Verona isn't his wife. If we give him the job he'll ship her and the kid back to Pittsburgh."
"How'd he get his bad leg?"
"Polio. That happened way back before they had the vaccine. Considering he has pain, he does pretty well."
"Hmmm... Too bad," Qwilleran murmured. "But Mitch, at least, has clean fingernails."
Larry shrugged. "Well... you know... Vince is doing all that dirty work in the barn. Some of those presses are filthy with an accumulation of ink and grease."
Qwilleran filled out the donation card and then asked, "What happens out here when snow flies?"
"We keep Black Creek snowplowed, and the county takes care of Fugtree Road. No problem."
"Does anyone visit the museum in winter?"
"Definitely! We schedule busloads of students and seniors and women's clubs, and we stage special events for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and so forth. For Halloween we have a marshmallow roast for the kids, and Mitch Ogilvie tells ghost stories. As for the snow, it makes this place really beautiful."
"Incidentally," Qwilleran said, "you should consider putting the yardlights on a timer, to turn on automatically at dusk. Also one or two interior lights for security reasons."
"Good idea," said Larry, taking a small notebook from his pocket and making an entry.
"Another matter I want to draw to your attention is the land grant signed' Abraham Lincoln' in the document exhibit."
"That's the most valuable document we have," Larry said proudly.
"Except that it was not actually signed by Lincoln."
"You mean it's a forgery? How do you know?"
"I wouldn't suspect any felonious intent. I daresay there were thousands of certificates issued, and Secretary Seward was authorized to sign for the president. He did it with a flourish. Lincoln's signature was small and controlled, and he didn't spell out his first name."
"Glad you told me, Qwill. We'll put that information on the ID card." Out came Larry's notebook again. "The value of the document has just dropped a few thousand dollars, but thanks anyway, old pal."
At that moment Carol Lanspeak burst into the office. "Something's missing in the new exhibit, Larry," she said. "Come and see!"
She left immediately, with her husband close behind. Qwilleran followed but was intercepted every step of the way. Mildred Hanstable and Fran Brodie, chatting together like the best of friends, stopped him to comment on his paisley tie.
Mildred said to Fran, "How does he stay so svelte?"
Fran said to Mildred, "How does he stay so young?"
"I stay sober and single," Qwilleran advised them before moving on.
Susan Exbridge whispered in his ear, "Good news! Dennis Hough has made an offer on the Fitch property. He's going to open a construction business up here."
The bad news, Qwilleran thought, is that he's bringing his wife.
Next, Homer Tibbitt and Rhoda Finney approached him, and Homer said in his high-pitched voice, "Were you trying to reach me? We went down to Lockmaster to see the horse races and fix her hearing aid, and while we were there we got married so it wouldn't be a total loss."
"We've had the license for weeks, but he's a terrible stick-in-the-mud," the new Mrs. Tibbitt said, smiling fondly at the groom.
Qwilleran extended his felicitations and pressed on through the crowd, most of whom were trying to get into the crowded room featuring disasters.
Polly Duncan tugged at his sleeve and said in a half-whisper, "I have a great favor to ask, Qwill."
"I'll do anything," he said, "except cat-sit with a three-ounce kitten."
Reprovingly she said, "That's exactly what I was going to ask you to do. There's a seminar in Lockmaster, and I hoped I could leave Bootsie with you for one overnight."
"Hmmm," he mused, searching for good reasons to decline. "Wouldn't two big cats with loud voices frighten him?"
"I doubt it. He's a well-adjusted little fellow. Nothing bothers him."
"Yum Yum might think he's a mouse."
"She's smart enough to know better. He won't be any trouble, Qwill, and you'll love him as much as I do."
"Well... I'll give it a try... but if he expects me to kiss-kiss, he's grievously mistaken."
Qwilleran pushed his way through the growing crowd, noting the presence of attorney Hasselnch and his wife, Dr. Zoller and his latest blond, Arch Riker and the lovely Amanda, the Boswells with Baby, and several politicians whose names would be on the November ballot. Vince Boswell's voice could be heard above all the rest. "Are they going to have refreshments? Iris used to make the best damned cookies!"
Eventually Qwilleran reached the disaster exhibit. As Mildred had said, the dramatic impact was created with photo murals. They depicted the 1892 logjam that took seven lives, the 1898 fire that destroyed Sawdust City, the wreck of a three-masted schooner in the 1901 storm, and other calamities in Moose County history, but the dominating display was the "Truth or Myth?" vignette, which revived old questions about the mysterious end of Ephraim Goodwinter.
The story of the mine explosion and its aftermath was presented graphically without commentary. Photo blowups and newspaper clippings were grouped under four dates:
May 13, 1904 - Photo of rescue crew at Goodwinter Mine. Headlines from Down Below say: 32 KILLED IN MINE EXPLOSION.
May 18, 1904 - Photo of weeping widows and children. Excerpt from Pickax Picayune of that date: "Mr. and Mrs. Ephraim Goodwinter and family left today for several months abroad."
August 25, 1904 - Architect's rendering of proposed library building. Feature story in the Picayune: "The city soon will have a public library, thanks to the munificence of Mr. Ephraim Goodwinter, owner and publisher of this newspaper."
November 2, 1904 - Photo of Ephraim's funeral procession. Report in the Picayune: "Mourners accompanied the earthly remains of the late Ephraim Goodwinter to the grave in the longest funeral procession on record. Mr. Goodwinter died suddenly on Tuesday."
Interspersed with the enlarged photos and clippings were miners' hats, pickaxes, and sledgehammers - even a miner's lunchbucket with reference to the meat-and-potato "pasties" that they traditionally carried down the mine shaft. A portrait of the sour-faced philanthropist showed the knife slash it received while on display in the lobby of the public library. A fuzzy snapshot of the Hanging Tree with its grisly burden was identified as "unidentified." There was also a photocopy of the alleged suicide note in handwriting remarkably similar to that of A. Lincoln. A ballot box invited visitors to vote: Suicide or Murder?
Qwilleran's elbow was jostled by Hixie Rice, advertising manager for the Moose County Something. "I get one message from all this," she said. "What Ephraim needed was a good public relations counselor."
"What he needed," said Qwilleran, "was some common sense."
He retraced his course through the crowd and found the Lanspeaks in the office. "You said something was missing. What is it?"
"The sheet," said Carol.
"What sheet?"
"We displayed a white sheet that the Reverend Mr. Crawbanks found near the Hanging Tree after Ephraim's death."
"Do you mean to say that someone stole it?" Qwilleran asked.
Larry said somberly, "It's the only thing that has ever been removed from our exhibit space, and we've had some valuable stuff on display. Obviously we have a crackpot in our midst. And we know it's an inside job because it was missing when the doors first opened to the public at one o'clock. It's no great loss. The sheet had dubious value even as a historic artifact. But I don't like the idea that we have a petty thief on the staff."