The headlines of the local newspaper proudly announced, "Under Sheriff Solves Fifty-Year-Old Murder," which Lydia neither confirmed nor denied, nor did the Deans offer public comment. Brandon Westlake was portrayed as a delusional old man bent on killing any and all witnesses to his half-century-old deed.
Fred O'Connor seemed a tad put out that he'd been absent from the final confrontation in the Lucky Pup Mine until Dean reminded him that without his Internet connection and library research, Martha's bones would still be without identity. While he grumbled for a few days, he was far too busy as Dean's election chairman.
The Dawkinses were history and no one seemed to miss the feuding quartet. Dean did feel a pang of regret at not having confronted Joseph Dawkins on one important matter.
"I think Dawkins found the back entrance to the mine and thought we were kids poking around in there, so he switched our markings," he told his wife. She agreed.
Smiling Maria continued to be a joy at Bird Song and was learning English far quicker than the Deans would ever learn her native tongue. Pumpkin Green was seen about town, always in the company of ever-expanding Melissa, whom he seemed to adore. If love alone was a measurement of success, the future of the three had a small measure hope.
Martha bore no scars from her hectic July adventure and when news came that mother Patsy was back in the clink, she accepted it without reservation. She was most pleased to know her bones had been identified and the effort the Deans put forth to accomplish this was a further, if now unneeded, sign of their love. Word from Denver reached the Deans: they had been recommended to be given full custody of Martha. All four were thrilled at the prospect. When they questioned Jake Weller about the source of the high-level endorsement, he hinted Lydia Larkin knew someone in the system who'd pulled strings.
While the bulk of Martha's bones remained in an unknown West Coast landfill, the tiny digit was found in Brandon Westlake's pocket. Jake Weller presented it to Dean one sunny afternoon while the two were sharing a diet-breaking ice cream on the stoop of a Seventh Avenue candy store.
"If I make this bone public there'll be a bushel of paper work," Jake said in his usual keep-it-simple fashion. "I officially reported that Westlake had disposed of all the bones. Keep the finger as a souvenir."
Martha suggested an appropriate burial for the tiny remains she dubbed "Pinkie" and services were conducted in the back garden, next to Mrs. Lincoln's last winter mouse-victim. Dean explained that the miniature remains belonged to a very bad man. Martha didn't ask for details, nor did the Deans offer any beyond dire cautionary warnings of childhood dangers.