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Show page 66 father's supper to his shop, telling her mother a brisk walk would help her rapidly healing fracture. She reached the shop at dusk. Ralph Hardcastle, from the door of the poolroom, spoke to her in broken French. She replied in kind, laughingly, and entered her father's shop. She lingered awhile, talking and primping, until customers thinned and Henson got a chance to eat. She stuck out her tongue and giggled before the mirror. John Henson smiled at her antics. Seconds later she hugged her father and left for home. Somewhere along the way a pair of hands reached out of the darkness and fastened around her throat. Her body was found around midnight, in a vacant lot tx*?o blocks from her father's shop. Neither John nor Viola Henson ever recovered fully from this tragedy. Reverend Ray CUlverhouse, our Methodist minister, officiating at funeral services, made Elizabeth's manner of death almost a curse on our town. "Please," he said, "do not say 'Poor child, what a pity!'" He had known Elizabeth, and had admired her. There were no leads to the crime. Elizabeth had had no enemies, to anyone's knowledge. Police Chief Lattimore spent the better part of a day at the Hensons, trying to glean some information to work on. Lattimore was a big man, patient, xdLth shrewd eyes. The parents were no help. He next tried the Hardcastles and got nowhere with them either. They had attended their usual Saturday night movie together after Bessie closed the tearoom. They had come directly |