Bencher. Stephen Wasylyk

There wasn’t much a one-armed, middle-aged man could do in that nice, clean, small town, after the army sent him home. Money was no problem. Finding a job was. So he spent his days on a bench in front of the courthouse, watching people, enjoying the sun, and knowing more than he really wanted to about the goings-on around him. Of course, when the sheriff found the bodies, Bencher was the one to ask about them…