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Then, just when things were looking very serious for Frank,
the report on the Riddles' bodies came back and changed everything.
The police had never read an odder report. A team of doctors
had examined the bodies and had concluded that none of the Riddles
had been poisoned, stabbed, shot, strangles, suffocated, or (as far
as they could tell) harmed at all. In fact (the report continued,
in a tone of unmistakable bewilderment), the Riddles all appeared
to be in perfet health -- apart from the fact that they were all
dead. The doctors did note (as though determined to find something
wrong with the bodies) that each of the Riddles had a look of
terror upon his or her face -- but as the frustrated police said,
whoever heard of three people being frightened to death?
As there was no proof that the Riddles had been murdered at all,
the police were forced to let Frank go. The Riddles were buried in
the Little Hangleton churchyard, and their graves remained objects
of curiosity for a while. To everyone's surprise, and amid a cloud
of suspicion, Frank Bryce returned to his cottage on the grounds
of the Riddle House.
"'S far as I'm concerned, he killed them, and I don't care what
the police say,"
said Dot in the Hanged Man. "And if he had any decency, he'd
leave here, knowing as how we knows he did it."
But Frank did not leave. He stayed to tend the garden for the
next family who lived in the Riddle House, and then the next -- for
neither family stayed long. Perhaps it was partly because of Frank
that the new owners said there was a nasty feeling about the place,
which, in the absence of inhabitants, started to fall into disrepair.
The wealthy man who owned the Riddle House these days neither
lived there nor put it to any use; they said in the village that
he kept it for "tax reasons," though nobody was very clear what
these might be. The wealthy owner continued to pay Frank to do the
gardening, however. Frank was nearing his seventy-seventh birthday
now, very deaf, his bad leg stiffer than ever, but could be seen
pottering around the flower beds in fine weather, even though
the weeds were starting to creep up on him, try as he might to
suppress them.
Weeds were not the only things Frank had to contend with
either. Boys from the village made a habit of throwing stones through