Mel10:30 AM, Wednesday, February 18th
The Hershberger’s little bent and dent store was closed. I followed behind as Samuel carrying a pick and two other men and the teenage boy I’d seen shoveling coal, each carrying spades crusted with winter hardened Ohio clay, approached the barn closest to the house. Stopping short, I waited and listened while Samuel thanked the two men for their help and then the three of us watched as they climbed into a buggy and left.
“Sheriff,” he said, acknowledging me.
“Mr. Hershberger,” I have some news, I began.
“I figured. Did you find out how she died?”
“Uh no, not yet. I expect the Coroner’s report sometime today. That’s not why I’m here. I’d like to talk to you and your wife.”
He said something to the young man I assumed was his son in German and then
