Murder, She Said

An ache rides up my tailbone with my thighs yearning to be rid of this horse. Not that Sally isn’t a good mare, but riding for hours on end is like a corset for the whole body.

“Ahh, see there, Miss Jones?” Austin points to the town filled with horses, cowboys, and the same dust that had powdered my black gloves on our journey.

“I see, Mr. Wilder. I do hope you’re ready for another rude welcome,” I say with a mischievous grin.

He tilts his hat at me. “Yes, ma’am.”

We reach the posts as I gratefully hop down from my horse and pat the dust from my crimson skirt. Austin ties down our horses before grabbing the satchel and giving me another nod.

A small crowd nearly piles out of the tavern while shouting over one another. “It’s true! He’s dead!”

Excitement thrills my bones as we hurriedly join in on the commotion. I knew it was only a matter of time before another mystery would unfold, but I didn’t expect it to happen immediately upon my arrival.

A few men glance down at me before snickering and mumbling to the next. Their arms graze against mine as I twist and maneuver like a wild cat on the prowl.

A bar sits to the right with a hefty bartender leaning against it and a towel over his shoulder. Tables fill the main floor with chairs stacked on top while an older man with grey hair mops between the space. A stairway leads to the second floor where a few rooms present themselves. The hallway extends past the wall, cutting off one of the doors from view.

“Howdy, can I get you two a drink while you wait?” The bartender asks flatly.

Austin grins and says, “No, thank you, sir.”

“Knock it off! We’re going to clean the room first and then everyone can return to their affairs.” A larger man with a ‘Sheriff’ star on his vest extends his arms from the second floor while glaring at the rest of us.

I motion to Austin to follow as we make our way up to the crime scene. A few gentlemen step behind the sheriff and enter the room. I lift my finger and lean into the doorway for a better view of the half-naked male sprawled out across the flattened bed.

“Excuse me, Sheriff, but might I ask that no one touches anything just yet?”

His eyelids lower before looking at Austin.

“Sir, get your lady elsewhere and don’t return. She looks like she belongs at a tea party, not a saloon.”

Austin suppresses a laugh, “Sorry, Sheriff, but she’s not my lady. This here is Miss Scarlett Jones and I’m her assistant, Austin Wilder. She solves crimes professionally and I keep her safe.”

The sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose while shaking his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This ain't no mystery, son. Mr. Clay Tucker had too much to drink last night and choked to death on his own vomit. Now boot it.”

“Before we go, I just have to ask, did he come here often?” Austin asks while passing me the mini magnifying glass from my satchel.

“Yeah, he’s here most nights. He gambles, gets drunk, requests his usual gal, Rose, and then comes to whichever room is available with his nightcap. As I said, this here happens more often than you think.”

“I see,” I say while inching closer to the half-naked corpse that stares blankly at the ceiling.

My heels click against the floorboards as I make my way around the room, studying the bedsheets still tucked below the mattress, the crooked chair holding his disheveled clothes, the dust particles settling against the bare side table, the wrinkled pillow lying beside his, the locked windows, and finally flipping the loose lock on his door.

“Ya done?” The sheriff taunts.

“I am.” I exhale slowly while relaxing my shoulders. “Because, Sheriff, this wasn’t an accident. This was murder.”

His grey caterpillar eyebrows drop as he narrows his eyes. “Pardon, little lady?”

I grant a single tug on the hem of my gloves while plastering my smug grin. “What did Mr. Tucker have last night for his nightcap?”

He shrugs, “Probably whiskey since it’s his favorite.”

“And where is his drink?” 

He leans into the room and blinks at the bare bedside table.

“In fact, Mr. Tucker wasn’t able to get his nightcap because he was already dead. This left me with another question – why would the pillow next to him be used but the space below it left untouched? It seems to me that we have three suspects: Miss Rose who was riding him, the bartender who gave him his last drink, and you.”

“Me?” He snaps.

“You seem to have a lot of knowledge on the subject of Mr. Tucker’s routine. So yes, you. Now, if you’d like to rule yourself out, I’d be more than happy to listen to your alibi. Austin, will you please gather the other two and bring them here?”

He tips his hat to me and heads through the crowd, asking where he might find Rose.

The sheriff scoffs and shakes his head. “You have no say here in these parts! You’re nothing but a woman, and I’m the sheriff. Why, I have half a mind to throw your poofy lil ass in jail for threatenin’ an officer!”

“It’s not a threat, Sheriff. These are the facts of the case and seeing that more than half of your town has heard what I have to say, regardless of me being a woman, I think it’s best to comply and not arouse more suspicion. Only guilty people try to run.”

He whips around to the people suddenly murmuring on the staircase all the way down to the main floor. His eyes cut at me as his teeth grind.

“Would you like me to find the culprit, or should this ‘little lady’ go prep for a tea party?” I mock.

“Fine. I ain't got nothin’ to hide. I was here drinkin’ at the bar for most of the night. Butch is the bartender and he, along with the whole room of witnesses here, will back me up on that. I saw Mr. Tucker go upstairs with Rose when I was leaving. Now, if you wanna go ruffle up some feathers, you go right ahead, missy. But I warn you, you’re dippin’ your toes in some dangerous waters.”

I abruptly nod. “Noted.”

Austin returns with a scrawny woman and the gentleman who was standing behind the bar previously.

“Rose and Butch, I presume?”

They glance at each other and back before nodding. Rose’s hair curls with a few strands falling flat and frazzled from the affections of men touching it. Her makeup smears slightly while her loose garments hang off her bare, smooth limbs as if they’re a size too big.

Butch, on the other hand, looks a bit more confident. His hat tilts back while he folds his meaty arms across the barrel of his gut. His white goatee had been combed neatly this morning with a damp lip suggesting he had a drink before arriving.

“What were each of you doing last night from the moment of Mr. Tucker’s arrival until leaving for your homes?” I ask.

Rose’s large eyes widen before scanning the ground and shaking her head. “I was with a few of my regulars until Mr. Tucker was ready. He didn’t last very long, but he was a little drunk and mumbling about a girl named Jane. After he was done, I got up, got dressed, and headed downstairs. There were a few stragglers still gamblin’ and drinkin.’ But I waved to Butch and walked home.”

I arch my eyebrow to Butch.

He huffs. “I was servin’ drinks from sunrise to midnight. Yeah, I saw Rose go into the room with Mr. Tucker and she was back out within a minute or two. I cleaned up my bar while Billy finished mopping the floor and Etta stacked the chairs.”

“Did you see anyone go upstairs after Rose left?” I ask.

He shrugs, “I wasn’t really payin’ attention. People go up and down them stairs all day and my focus was on my saloon getting clean, not managing rooms. Besides, people sleep overnight up there all the time. I got up this mornin,’ unlocked my saloon, and shortly after Mr. Tucker was found.”

I nod and grin. “I know who killed Mr. Tucker.”

“Well, so do I!” The sheriff says matter-of-factly while snatching Rose. “It’s obvious that the whore had done it. She was the last one in there and probably jealous that he wanted another woman.”

Gasps fill the saloon as I roll my eyes and raise my hand. “No, Rose didn’t do it. If she had attempted to smother Mr. Tucker while bedding him, he would’ve been awake, and fought back. She doesn’t have a single bruise on her. As Butch confirmed, Rose wasn’t in the room for very long which wouldn’t have given her enough time to kill Mr. Tucker without anyone knowing.”

“Oh golly, Butch! Don’t tell me you poisoned the poor bastard,” the sheriff bellows while releasing Rose.

I blankly stare at the sheriff while shaking my head. “Butch didn’t do it either. If he did, he could’ve disposed of the body before anyone found it.”

The sheriff rolls his jaw, “Now, you listen here. You better not be sayin’ that you think—”

“No,” I interrupt. “You didn’t kill him either. Everyone in here saw you leave, and you would’ve needed Butch’s key to get back in. You’re innocent as well.”

“What the hell?!” The sheriff shouts and stomps his foot. “Then who did it?”

I turn and point down at the culprit in the crowd. “It was none other than your sweet swamper, Billy.”

Everyone scatters from the lengthy man sporting grey hair, a thick mustache, and widened eyes staring up at me. His knuckles turn white against the mop handle with a prominent indent on his ring finger.

“Billy was mopping that very floor when we arrived. But according to Butch, he was here late last night doing that very same thing. I ask you then, why would he be mopping this morning if it was already done last night?”

The room goes eerily silent as everyone’s focus lands on Billy. His frown deepens as I continue.

“Mr. Tucker revealed something to Rose last night, someone named Jane that he wanted. If I had to guess, Jane is Billy’s wife. Notice the indent on his finger? It’s rather deep and pale, meaning he was wearing a ring for a very long time. What would make him want to remove his wedding ring? Perhaps, Jane wanted Mr. Tucker too?”

Billy throws down his broom and shakes his finger at me, “You shut your mouth!”

I grin wider. “You found out prior to cleaning last night, didn’t you? You clean everything, which means you know the regulars and their routines. You waited until Rose left and then you snuck into his room, smothered him, and continued cleaning the rest of the floors. Then to avoid suspicion and to enjoy your victory, you came back this morning to watch them drag Mr. Tucker’s body into a hole. I also suggest someone go check on Jane to be sure that she’s okay.”

“He deserved what he got! They both did!!” Billy screams while reaching for his gun that hangs on his thigh.

The sheriff dashes past me, leaps over the rail, and crashes onto Billy. The crowd swarms in with rage and shouts, “It should’ve ended in a duel!”

“Well done again, Miss Jones,” Austin says.

“Thank you, Mr. Wilder,” I say before looking at Butch. “I think I’ll have that drink now.”