Free "S" is for Silence by Sue Grafton

picks, a knife, a ruler, a container of glycerin, and loops of cane held together with clothespins. On the chair he was currently caning, he’d used golf tees to hold the cane in place until he could tie them off underneath.
    â€œMy daughter got me into this,” he said idly. “After her mother died, she thought a hobby would keep me out of trouble. Weekends, we make the rounds of flea markets and yard sales, picking up old beat-up chairs like this. Turns out to be a money-making proposition.”
    â€œHow’d you learn?”
    â€œReading books and doing what they said. Took a while to get the hang of it. Glycerin helps the cane slide. Don’t soak it long enough and it’s hard to work with. Soak it too long and it’ll start to weaken and break. Hope you don’t mind if I keep on with this. I promised a fellow I’d have his rocker ready by the end of the week.”
    â€œBe my guest.”
    For a while, I was content to watch without saying a word. The mechanics of it reminded me of needlepoint or knitting, something close to a meditation. There was a certain hypnotic quality to the process, and I might have stood there observing for the better part of the day if time had permitted.
    When I’d called the day before, I’d mentioned Stacey Oliphant by name, thus according myself instant credibility since the two had worked together for a number of years. Schaefer and I had spent a few minutes on the phone discussing the man. When I told him I was looking for information about Violet Sullivan, I’d asked if he needed to clear anything with the department before we spoke. “Nobody cares about that anymore,” he’d said. “Only a few of us remember the case. She’s still classified as a missing person, but I don’t think you’ll have much success after all these years.”
    â€œIt’s worth a try,” I’d said.
    â€œDid you know her?” I asked now.
    â€œSure did. Everybody knew Violet. Feisty little thing with that fiery red hair. She was a beautiful girl with a defiant streak. If Foley blackened her eye, she made no attempt to hide it. She’d sport a bruise like a badge of honor. Damndest thing you ever saw. Black and blue, she was still prettier than any other woman in town. I wasn’t smart enough to keep my trap shut, and my wife was so jealous I thought she’d spit nails. Violet was the kind of woman men fantasize about. A lot of wives ended up with their noses out of joint.”
    â€œHow well did you know Foley?”
    â€œBetter than I knew her, given his numerous contacts with law enforcement. That’s how I ended up dealing with him in the first place, because of his smacking her around. I probably went to the house half a dozen times. None of us liked going out on domestic calls. Dangerous for one thing, and for another, it made you wonder what the hell was wrong with folks. Violet and Foley were skating close to the edge. Bad situation. Her little girl was of an age where she’d end up standing in the line of fire. Abuse spills over. It might start with the spouse, but the kids aren’t far behind.”
    â€œWhat about Violet? Did she have any criminal history?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œFoley never had her arrested for assault?”
    â€œNope. If she hit him, he must have been too embarrassed to call us.”
    â€œShoot. No mug shots and no fingerprints. That’s too bad,” I said.
    â€œShe was clean as they come. She didn’t have a Social Security number because she never held a job, so that’s one more dead end. The only outside dispute she had, she took Jake Ottweiler into small-claims court. His pit bull attacked her toy poodle and killed it outright. I think she collected a couple hundred bucks. Foley probably borrowed every cent of it to pay the bills.”
    â€œDaisy remembers the two brawling. She says neither one went after her, but it had an