Michael Malone - Weebly

Rage had sent it. There's a certain similarity of tone."
"Who could it be?"
No one knew. But somebody in Dingley Falls was
writing hate letters, accusing people of harboring
uncommitted crimes in their hearts, vividly detailed
crimes that they would never have the "balls" to carry
out. Limus Barnum of Barnum's Antiques, Hobbies, and
Appliances had written to the paper to call for action
against what the editor, Mr. Hayes, facetiously called
"this mailiac out somewhere at night, defiling our boxes
and slits with his misspelled smut." The letters were not
stamped, were not entrusted to Mrs. Haig or Alf Marco
at the post office, but were hand-delivered; were on
two occasions, in fact, left next to the poems inside
Mrs. Canopy's gift pots.
Not even Polly Hedgerow knew who the
anonymous author was, and neither did Father
Highwick, unless he was holding out on her.
Oh, boy, thought Polly as she coasted down
Cromwell Hill, after trading the rector word of Mrs.
Haig's heart for news of an assault by an unemployed
construction worker named Maynard Henry on one