"Forgive me, Mr. Picker, Mr. Picker. Would you be kind enough to tell me what this is about."

"Sure, we'll get to that in a minute. What was the deal?"

"No problem, no problem. Hari comes in, see. Gives me this cigar box. Tells me to go through it. He walks around the store and looks at the comic books over there. Comes back over here and puts three or four comics on the counter. Green Lantern. I remember because he's wearing that stupid shirt. Full grown man wearing super hero t-shirts. Who would think, think?"

"And…"

"Oh yeah, oh yeah. Sorry. I offered him twelve grand. He wants fifteen. I think about it. Okay, I give him the fifteen. Threw in the comics. Now, now, please tell me. What's this all about?"

"Hari's dead."

Leon Burger stood absolutely still for what must have amounted to a full minute. No shock, no surprise, no nothing. A blank face. Then he said, "How?"

"Murdered. Mr. Burger, I want to thank you for your time. You have been very helpful."

I turned; opened the front door; called my dog and headed for home.

Strike 2

"What's your interest in this matter, Mr. Picker?"

I was sitting in the law offices of 'Sharke, Lawless amp; Cozener, LLC'. Unfortunate surnames for those in the legal profession. Well appointed offices residing on the second floor of a stone building; off of Germantown Avenue in Chestnut Hill. Amy had provided me with the name of the estate lawyer.

"A very close friend was murdered two days ago. Bigfoot Henderson. Excuse me, Hari Henderson. This was shortly after cleaning out the property on Ardleigh; the one for which you are the executor."

Char Cozener appeared to be in his mid-sixties. Average height, perhaps five-ten, white hair combed back, plastered with Brill Creme, ears which stuck out, no lobes and steely grey eyes. Fifteen or twenty pounds overweight.