O'Connor was at his house nearby a bridge. He was having a small celebration for himself. He caught the last orphan in Shady Brook. So, he is having a day off.

Out of the blue, he receives a call. "Hello? Uh-huh. Hmm... Okay." O'Connor hunged up the phone. He grabbed his hat and an umbrella. After that, he left the house.

Rain poured hard at each step he makes. It drips off the roofs of houses. He reached the corner of 33rd street. The police are in the center of town already. O'Connor caught up with them.

"What do we have here?"

An officer said, "We got this case, O'Connor. It is your day off."

"Moreau, we have a case. When there's a case, there's no day off."

"We found this body earlier this afternoon."

O'Connor and the police looked at the body of a 40-year-old woman. She has bruises on her left arm and down her shins. There also are cuts on her sides.

"What happened to her," O'Connor repulsively asked.

"Looks like a hit and run."

The woman has a soaking note in her pocket. O'Connor plucked it out with a glove. He reads the first sentence: If you're reading this, you can see that I'm dead. "Do any of you know James Clark?"

Another officer said, "He was the old postman."

"This is his wife, Donna Clark." The police circle around the body of the now dead widow of James Clark.

"How did she end up here?"

O'Connor conceals the damp note in his jacket pocket. "That's for you to figure it out." He begins walking away.

"Where are you going, " Moreau inquired.

"To the police station. I have a note to dry and read." With that, he left 33rd Street as police resumed the investigation of Donna Clark's death.