The tramp, chilled to the bone, had left the river area and walked further inland where he found the rail road yards. The tracks led in all directions. He walked along the tracks for hours that night, hoping he had evaded the police. He found a small wooden shed and curled up inside it for shelter from the wind.

He awoke the next morning, the chill and dampness permeating every part of his body, making his joints ache. He took off his shoes and inspected his feet. He had no socks on and his feet were so cold he could barely feel his toes. He rubbed them with his hands until they felt better.

The tramp knew he had to eat something and get out of the cold. He didn't want to risk stealing any food, for fear he would be caught for the larger crime. He checked his pockets and he still had money with him from cashing his last pay check. He decided to chance the diner.

Charlie ordered some food and ate quietly without garnering any attention. As he was paying for his meal, he glanced up behind the cashier. There were several "Wanted" posters up on the wall. One of them said, "Wanted for Murder." It sported a small drawing of himself, not a very good likeness, and a description. He was surprised that the poster had been distributed so fast. It must have gone out with the newspapers. He hoped none of the waitresses would recognize or remember him. He left without incident.

Seeing those wanted posters, Charlie knew he had to get far away, maybe even out of the state. He started walking and near evening he came upon another rail yard and decided to hop a freight. Jumping into a boxcar, he sat down in a dark corner and closed his eyes. He was out of the wind and it was a bit warmer.

Finally the train started to move and Charlie relaxed and fell asleep, exhausted from the stress. He was still sleeping soundly when the train stopped and the rail police, called "bulls" in hobo terminology, checked the empty cars.

Charlie heard a voice, "We got one here!" Charlie was pulled to his feet unceremoniously by his coat collar.

"All right, pal, your little ride is over; start walking!" Charlie thought, I guess this is it. Well, I tried.

The tramp was put in jail, but he found out the charges were for vagrancy and illegally riding the rails. No one said anything about murder and Charlie didn't either.

Charlie was let out after three months. He waited to pick up his "valuables": his pocket watch and knife, his hat, walking stick and his meagre bit of money. The man in charge of the "valuables" that the prisoners had to leave when they arrived went into the back to retrieve his items. The man put them on the desk, then said, "Wait a minute!" He was reading something. The man looked at Charlie, then back at the paper several times.

"Hey, you look an awful lot like this drawing…you fit the description, too!"

Charlie looked at his wanted poster as if he hadn't ever seen it before. "No, that ain't me…don't look a thing like me." He handed the poster back to the man.

"Says here this fella often wears a black derby hat and carries a cane…I just handed you them things…"

"So? Lotta people wear hats and carry walkin' sticks," said Charlie, trying to act innocent.

"Says that he's a small fella, pale skin with a moustache."

"I ain't that small…"

"Yeah, but you have a moustache…"

"Lotta men do…y' y'self wears one…and y'self is pretty small too, mister, why that could be talkin' 'bout y'."

"S'pose so… Wait, this yer name? It must be; yer things was under that name…"

"That's just me alias."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense now."

Charlie tipped his hat and smiled. "'Ope I won't be seein' y' soon, no disrespec' intended…" He exited the jail and knew he had to leave the environs quickly before the not-too-bright jail attendant thought too hard about the poster.

The weather had turned very cold in the time Charlie had spent in jail and he knew he couldn't sleep outside in this kind of cold. And he knew he had to get away from the area since his wanted poster had followed him here.

He walked to the mission where they provided meals for the needy and had a warm meal, staying out of the cold for at least an hour. He asked if they had any donated clothing. The woman smiled and found some things for him: a wool neck scarf, some warm socks, and best of all an old, but still usable overcoat. He thanked her profusely. Wearing the overcoat, he felt much better and by the time evening fell, he found a place where he could rent a bed for a night. He went to bed and thought about what his next move would be.


Sonya had been unable to sing since the night Edmund had been killed. She took to her bed for some time, but with her father's encouragement, some help from the doctor, and time, the eternal healer, she gradually got better. The doctor, not really knowing what name to put on her illness, called it melancholy.

Once Sonya began to recover, she also became determined that Edmund's killer must be caught. It was now three months since the terrible event and Sonya couldn't get the picture of Charlie with the bloody knife in his hand out of her mind.

The thought of doing something constructive to avenge Edmund's death gave Sonya new energy. She went to the police station one day to talk to the detective assigned to the case.

Detective Will Johnson was a large, kind, sympathetic man who reminded Sonya of her father. She told him everything she knew about Charlie. The detective told her he would renew his efforts to find the tramp, but that someone like Charlie, living on the edge of society, would be hard to find. However, if anyone could find him, Johnson would.


The following day, Charlie had started walking along the side of the highway in his attempt to get further away, as far from the scene of his crime as possible. It was cold but the sun was shining and the overcoat made a dramatic difference. He didn't want to hop a train for fear of being picked up again and this time perhaps recognized. So he thought he would hitch-hike.

He was picked up by a man driving a large truck, hauling cargo to the next state. The man was friendly and wanted to talk. Charlie felt it better that he didn't say much and he gave mostly one word answers. The man turned on the radio and they were regaled by some very nice popular music.

Then there was an announcement that stated: Three months after the event, the police have renewed their efforts to find the killer of Edmund Eddington. Miss Sonya McGuire, the operatic tenor's fiancé, has put out a plea to anyone seeing the man suspected of being responsible for this murder or with any information to immediately report it to Detective Will Johnson. The announcer then gave the address and phone. The voice went on: His description: small frame, 5 foot 6 inches, 135 pounds, pale skin, blue eyes, black curly hair and moustache. He has an odd gait and a foreign accent. Last seen wearing a black derby hat and carrying a bamboo cane. Remember, this man looks harmless, but he is a murder suspect. Do not take any chances…he is dangerous and may be armed.

Charlie closed his eyes and thought, A'roigh', I'm in fer it now…

The truck driver kept peering at Charlie while the announcement was on the radio. "Did you do it?" he asked.

"If I say no, would y' even b' lieve me?"

"Are you armed and dangerous?"

"Well, I'ave me pocket knoife…as fer dangerous, I never though o' meself as dangerous…"

The truck driver laughed. He didn't feel in any particular peril with Charlie in his truck. He was a lot bigger than Charlie and able to take care of himself. He didn't think that Charlie was armed even before he asked the question. The tramp didn't at all look like a murderer, but of course what does a murderer look like? He didn't ask any more questions. They drove all day, then he let Charlie out at the next town and wished him luck.

Charlie walked down the main street of the town, hoping he would find work. At this point he desperately needed to make some money and find a place to stay out of the cold. During the summer, he had the luxury of being able to sleep outside if he couldn't find work, but now the winter was fast approaching. Even as he thought about winter, the dusk was upon him and he saw a few snowflakes begin to fall.

Charlie pulled his coat about his face and turned the collar up against the wind. He saw some lights up ahead and as he came closer, he saw it was a diner. There was a sign in the window looking for a cook/waiter for the day shift. Charlie knew he could do that, so he went inside and asked about the job. He was hired on the spot and was asked if he could start tomorrow. He agreed. He bought some supper for himself then found a room in a dilapidated hotel in town with his last bit of money.

Early the next morning, Charlie arrived again at the diner. He met the waitress, Carol, the daughter of the man who owned the diner. She was a tall, loud, gum-chewing woman with red hair. She smoked and was a little rough around the edges, probably from dealing with the clientele, but she wasn't a bad sort. Loud, out-spoken Carol was an interesting contrast to shy, polite, soft-spoken Charlie. He liked her right away, for although she was tactless sometimes, she was sincere.

Charlie fit in well with the diner and its clientèle from the edges of society. Homeless, drunks, tramps, hoboes and ex-cons frequented the place, in addition to those with very little money and down on their luck and some that were doing all right like the truck drivers who passed through constantly. Charlie had experience dealing with uncooperative customers. Everything was going well for the tramp and he relaxed and started to enjoy life again, even though he was always looking over his shoulder.

He got along well with Carol. Often on their breaks, they would sit and talk and smoke together. Carol chided Charlie about smoking his little cigarette butts and asked him why he didn't buy a "new" pack. He said he always had enough smokes with the little stubs he found and they were free. She would elbow him and say, "Honey, you have to learn to splurge on yourself a little sometimes!" He would just smile and give her a friendly kiss.

One day, about six months after he started, Carol came in the kitchen snapping her gum as usual. "Hey, Charlie, there's a customer out front wants to ask you something." Charlie nodded, wiped his hands and pushed open the swinging kitchen door. Carol pointed to one of the booths.

Charlie went over to the customer, who was a woman wearing a large hat that occluded her face. "May I 'elp y'? he asked.

She turned her face up to him…it was Sonya. Charlie, startled, backed away. "Oh, no you don't!" she whispered, as she grabbed his apron and pulled him back. "Sit down," she hissed, indicating the seat across from her.

"You won't get away this time, Charlie!"

"Sonya! I…."

"Charlie, how could you!" she interrupted. Sonya had tears in her eyes. "Even if you were jealous, murdering him…" She looked over at him with vengeance in her eyes. "Well, you won't get away with it this time, you filthy little tramp!"

Charlie didn't say anything. He was surprised at Sonya's venom. She seemed a different person than the girl he had been in love with. She looked thin and wan. Her angry expression took away from the beauty of her face.

Charlie felt nothing at the moment. He supposed she would come back with the police, so he would have to be gone when that happened. He started to get up and walk away. She grabbed his gartered shirt sleeve and pulled him back, trying to get him to sit down again. She looked very angry.

Charlie shook her hand off his arm and pushed her away. Carol came over and stood with her hands on her hips. She looked at Charlie. "Woman troubles, honey? Need some help?"

Charlie shook his head. Carol backed off but she kept an eye on the two, leaning on her elbows behind the counter, smacking her gum. Charlie sat down again. "What d' y' want, Sonya?"

"I have Police Detective Johnson outside in the car. See?" She pointed to an unmarked auto mobile parked in front of the diner. "I want you in police custody. I want you to go to trial for murdering Edmund and I want you found guilty. I want you to pay for your crime!" She had raised her voice and was crying in rage and anger. Several customers were looking at the two in curiosity.

"I didn't know Edmund asked y' to marry him, not till I 'eard it on the radio…I'm so sorry…A'roigh', Sonya. Ye win. I'll give meself up. Now wha'?"

Sonya motioned through the plate glass window to Detective Johnson in the car outside. When Charlie saw the man begin to get out of the car and come toward the diner, he panicked. He ran from the booth, jumped over the counter and ran in back to the men's wash room. He pushed open the window and crawled out. He started running and was soon out of sight.

Detective Johnson came in the door and saw Sonya but no Charlie. "He got away again!" She pointed in the direction Charlie had gone. Johnson started to go around the counter and into the kitchen. Carol put a hand up barring the way. "Where are you going, Mister?"

He pulled out his badge. "Lady, this is police business. Get out of my way."

"You still can't go in the kitchen," said Carol. He went in anyway. Carol smiled. She thought probably Charlie had enough time to get away.

Johnson couldn't find Charlie and Sonya was angry and frustrated. She knew the little tramp was slippery and elusive. She had had her hands on him! They left the diner and Johnson continued his search in the area.

A few hours later, Charlie came back to the diner through the rear entrance. There was only one customer, so Charlie said, "Psssst!" to get Carol's attention. She looked around and he had his finger to his lips signalling silence. He beckoned to her. She came into the kitchen.

"Charlie, what was that all about before? You left me alone here to cook and wait on tables!"

"Sorry, Miss Carol, it couldn't be 'elped. Can we sit down fer a minute? I gotta explain."

"Sure, Charlie."

"Them people 're after me fer a crime I didn't commit."

"What crime?"

"They say I murdered a opera singer, Edmund Eddington. He was the girl's fiancé…I was friends wi' both o' them…I 'ad come to see 'er, Sonya, sing in the opera. Both o' them was singin' opera tha' noigh'. During intermission, one o' th' ushers 'ands me a note sayin' Edmund wants to talk to me in th' lounge. So I go down there. He ain't there.. Bu' foinally, when I do find 'im, I was stunned….he was layin' on th' floor dead, a bloody knoife at 'is soide. I was so shocked, I pick'd up the knoife fer some reason an' tha's 'ow Sonya found me, standin' over Edmund wi' th' bloody murder weapon in me 'and."

Charlie mentioned that he liked Edmund and he would never hurt him or anyone else, least of all commit murder. He related the rest of the story as to how he came to work at the diner.

Carol snapped her gum noisily. "Well, that is some story, Charlie. Yeah, I heard about that crime. Never thought you were involved."

"Do y' b'lieve me?"

She studied his face, thinking out loud. "Maybe. You got an honest face. You always been honest and trustworthy here in the diner. 'Course that don't mean you ain't committed no crime, but you never gave me no trouble…what're you going to do?"

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. "I came back to get me clothes." Charlie took off the apron he still had on from earlier, put on his hat and jacket and picked up his walking stick.

"Thanks fer ever'thing, Miss Carol." He gave her a kiss and then was on his way. He walked over to the police station and asked how he could get in touch with a certain Detective Will Johnson from the other jurisdiction.

The desk sergeant pointed Charlie to an office. Charlie knocked and opened the door. A police detective looked up from his desk. "Yes?"

"May I come in?" Charlie asked, politely. The detective waved him in and indicated a chair in front of his desk. Charlie removed his hat and sat down.

"What's on your mind?"

"I'm wantin' t' foind Detective Will Johnson. I came to give meself up."

The detective frowned. "And you are….?"

Charlie gave his name.

"The opera murder," said the detective. He handed Charlie a piece of paper to write on. "Give me your statement about what happened. We'll contact Johnson…I know him personally…I know he's assigned to the case…"

The detective read the statement and said, "Did you contact your lawyer yet?"

"Can't afford no lawyer, sir."

"I have to put you in cuffs and take you over to the jail, Charlie." Charlie nodded.