At the Saxon Inn, Ben Peterson was enjoying a good meal while working at the same time. Since this was a small town, he hoped someone would have remembered if there had been anyone strange in here around the time Sara Mathews disappeared. His waitress was anxious for him to finish so she could leave for the night, but just as she was taking his plate, she remembered something.
"Mr. Peterson, now that I've thought about it, I do remember a man who came in here last month. I remember because it was real slow, you know, the foliage had gone by, and it was still early for ski season, so anyway, I had nothing much to do, so we talked. He asked a lot of questions about the area. Said he was interested in buying some property, maybe a farm. In fact, we talked about the old Miller farm, of course it's not the Miller farm any more since that David Wilson bought it, which is what I told him, and he asked if Mr. Wilson lived alone, and well, I guess I did kind of go on, ... you know, sort of gossiping. Well, anyway, now that I think about it, he did seem mighty interested in Sara. Do you suppose that man had anything to do with her disappearing like that?"
"Well, Brenda, that's what I'm here to find out. Can you remember anything else about the man?" Ben asked.
"Let's see, ... he was kind of good looking, but nothing special, I really don't remember exactly what he looked like. But wait a minute, he had some kind of accent, yeah, a New York accent. I remember thinking he was real nice for a New Yorker," she lowered her voice, "sometimes they can be awfully rude, guess it must be the pace or something. Anyway, he gave me a pretty good tip, then he went to the bar. Maybe Ned remembers something more, he was bartending that night."
"Thank you, Brenda, you've been very helpful."
"No problem. Well if you're finished now, I'll just take these plates away."
"Oh yes, go right ahead, and thank you again." Ben got up after leaving the girl an extra five dollar bill, and went into the bar. This may turn into a wild goose chase, but at least it was something.
The bartender, Ned, did remember a man with a New York accent asking questions about the area. Their conversation had also managed to wind up about Sara Mathews.
"Yeah," said Ned, "I remember talking about Sara. We dated in High School, you know, then she went off to college, and we hardly ever saw her around here, until her divorce, of course, and then she got mixed up with that lawyer fellow. ... To think something happened to her right here in Saxon Mills." He shook his head in amazement. "So you think this New York fella's got anything to do with it? It must be pretty exciting being a private detective."