She nodded resignedly. “I recognize him. It’s Mr. Brown.” “And you worked for him, didn’t you?” “So what? Working for a person is no crime.” “Murder is the crime we’re talking about. Who killed him, Marian? Was it Culligan?” “Who says anybody killed him? He pulled up stakes and went away. The whole family did.” “Brown didn’t go very far, just a foot or two underground. They dug him up last spring, all but his head. His head was missing. Who cut it off, Marian?” The ugliness rose like smoke in the room, spreading to its far corners, fouling the light at the window. The ugliness entered the
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