CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. “Michelle said that your mom was a suspect because she ran away, visited some boyfriend of hers and then ran off into the night. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. She turned up dead after about eight weeks and it broke my heart.
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