Chapter 17

After Lang exited The Press he stopped and stared at the bank building, wondering if he should return to it and talk to the manager again, maybe even offer him a few bucks for additional information about Winston Conlee’s account. When another idea popped into his head, he rejected the bribery attempt, at least for the time being.

Recalling how good the apple pie tasted the last time he was in the hotel restaurant, he strolled into it and ordered a slice and a coffee, then spread The Press out on the table and perused it until he found the woman’s page. While slowly forking the delicious tasting pie into his mouth, and between sips of the hot coffee, he carefully read Abby’s column several times before turning to Conlee’s latest story.

By the time the pie was eaten and the waitress had refilled his coffee cup, Lang was satisfied he’d found what he was looking for. As he sat back to light up his cigar, a smile of triumphant crossed his face. He’d found Winston Conlee’s true identity and it hadn’t been all that difficult. All he done was follow his instincts and compare style to style. After all, Conlee’s unique writing traits couldn’t be hid behind the trivial words of a gossip page. It stood out in plain sight for all those who wished to find it.

The big question was what to do next. The most obvious move would be to confront Miss Abigail Hill and threaten to expose her little secret to the world unless she started writing for the Journal. After giving the idea its due consideration, he tossed it aside, believing such direct action would do little to convince the gifted writer to write for him. Instead, it would most likely do the opposite and make Abigail so angry that writing for his paper would be the last thing she wanted to do.

By the time his second cup of coffee was finished, Lang had come up a better idea. He crushed out his cigar stub, left a healthy tip for the waitress, and took a stroll around the town. With plenty of time to kill before school was let out for the day he ambled up and down Main Street. He passed the local bank several times but didn’t bother going inside of it to chat with the manager.

Lang patiently whiled away the hours until school was let out for the day. He made sure he was early enough to catch Abigail Hill before she could slip away on him. He lit a fresh cigar and puffed contently on it as he watched all the students exit it in a noisy rush. Shortly after the students had disappeared, Lang spotted Abby leaving the front door with several other teachers. He waited until she parted company with them and she was swiftly walking down the street all by herself.

“Afternoon Miss Hill,” Lang politely doffed his hat as he fell in step with the woman he believed was Winston Conlee.