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part of what I’m a bit concerned about. I was over talking to Shaw this morning, and between you and me, I’m not really convinced he’ll do much of an investigation.”
    David shrugged, sensing some kind of conflict, and hoped Latham would drop the subject and just get down to a discussion of the Will. The last thing he wanted to do was get involved in small town politics.
    “‘Course, you must have heard about those disappearances last summer.”
    David nodded.
    Latham snorted. “Well, Shaw didn’t do a hell of a bang up job with those.”
    “Those were disappearances. This is a murder. Quite different things,” David said, jumping to Shaw’s defense. “With a murder, you have a lot more solid ground to work with. There’s a sergeant from the state police coming up this afternoon, and a couple of detectives from Portland. With help from the A.G.’s office, they should be able to find the murderer.”
    Latham shrugged, but his face showed that he still had his doubts. “Shaw’s been police chief in Holland for a long time. He’s never had anything like this before. ‘Til now, it’s been small-time things compared to this. Holland’s had its share of drownings, disappearances last summer, stolen cars, a couple of firebugs having a spree . . . never a murder. I just hope he gets moving a little faster than he was this morning.”
    David wanted to let it drop, but he still felt obligated to come to Shaw’s defense. “There’s a lot of paperwork involved. They’ve got photos and casts. Once the state police get here—”
    “Well,” Latham interrupted, “I don’t want to get you all involved. About this Will of yours.”
    “My grandmother’s Will, not mine.”
    “Right. Your grandmother’s. As I told you over the phone last week, we have most of the details ironed out.” He opened the folder, took out the legal document and slid it across the desk to David. “I’ve registered a certificate of death for your father with the county courthouse, so whether he’s alive or dead now, he’s considered legally dead.”
    “So if he shows up a few years from now—?”
    “The property’s still yours—legally. Actually, all we have to do now is take care of the back taxes and it’s yours.” Latham flicked the ash from his cigar into the ashtray to give his statement authority. “We can take care of everything in a day or two. The only real problem is getting time in my schedule to take care of it.”
    “But it’ll be by the end of the week for sure?”
    Latham nodded.
    “Good. My girl friend and I were hoping to drive further north, since I’m on vacation. Maybe even get up to Quebec.”
    “I don’t see why we won’t have it done by Wednesday at the latest.”
    “And then I can sell it right away, if I want to?”
    “Whatever you want,” Latham said as he sat back in his chair and leisurely puffed on his cigar. “Once the estate is closed, you can do whatever you want. However. . . .”
    David paused, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, David clapped, his hands together and rubbed them. Standing up, he said, “I want to get that house sold as soon as possible. It’s been enough of a burden as it is.”
    Latham stuck out his hand to shake. “It’s been good doing business with you,” he said as they shook hands firmly.
    “I was thinking of driving out to the house later, maybe tomorrow. You know, take a little look around. You have the key, right?”
    Latham opened the manila folder and withdrew a smaller manila envelope. “Right here.” He handed the key to David. “If you’d like, I could go out with you. We could walk the property line.”
    “You’re forgetting, Mr. Latham, I grew up there. I know how much land there is with the house.”
    “I had a surveyor go out there last fall and run a transit. I’d like to see if the stakes lasted the winter.”
    “If you don’t mind,” David said flatly, “I’d like to go out on my own.”
    “Sure . . . sure.”