A growing familiarity with the woods made the trip back slightly faster than it had been. As they came back to the town proper, Flint saw Deputy Henry waving him down. They rode over to the deputy, who made a face as he saw the Doctor riding closely behind.
“What's the news, Henry?”
“Marie was upset, but I told her what happened, and she set him up real nice.” Flint nodded and sighed in relief. “What's happenin' now, Sheriff?”
“I'm headin' to the chapel to get the body taken care of. The Doctor here lent his expertise for a quick examination, but I think we've gotten everythin' we can from looking at her.”
“He didn't do nothin' to her, did he?”
The Doctor put his hand to his chest, feigning offense, “Dear Deputy, do you think so lowly of me?”
“I don't think highly of you.”
“Enough,” Flint interrupted their spat. “Deputy, you head back to the jailhouse. We need someone there while I'm investigating the murder.”
“And what's he doin'?”
“Doc thinks he can help figure out who did this. I tried convincing him that we had it handled, but he insisted.” Flint shrugged, “It ain't worth the time to convince him otherwise.”
Henry eyed the Doctor suspiciously, “Ain't you the town doctor? Don't you have other things to do?”
Dr. Daver smiled smugly, “I am capable of fulfilling my role as well as yours, Deputy.”
“I already told both o' y'all: Enough.” Flint shook his head and swore under his breath. “Deputy, jailhouse. I'll send for you when we've figured out who did it. Doc, stop antagonizing my Deputy. We ain't got time for squabblin'; there's a murderer on the loose.” Both the Deputy and the Doctor nodded their heads. Flint and the Doctor both headed to the chapel, which was on the opposite side of town from where the Doctor lived. As they approached the small white building, they saw another rider pass by them and go back into town.
How curious, Flint thought, Who'd be leaving the chapel at this hour of the mornin'? Flint looked and saw the first hints of sunlight peeking over the horizon. As they got to the chapel, they dismounted and Flint looked at the Doctor, “You gonna be okay?”
“The Spaniards should have used a better priest to consecrate this place.”
“I was talking about during the day,” Flint nodded to the sunrise in the east.
The Doctor just scoffed, “A little sunlight never hurt anybody. Besides, I didn't grab my coat for nothin'.”
“Whatever you say.” They both dismounted and walked into the chapel, taking off their hats as they walked inside. They saw a short, balding man in a black cassock praying at an altar in the back of the chapel. “Father John!” The man perked up and turned around smiling.
“Ah! Sheriff Waters! What brings you—” his entire demeanor shifted as soon as he saw the devilish grin of the Doctor. “You!” he sneered furiously, “You are not welcome here! Begone demon!”
“Am I not? Nothing stopped me from coming in.”
“Not now, Doc.” Flint raised his hand to stop things from escalating.
“This is the house of the lord! You will begone from this place!” The priest pulled a small crucifix out of his pocket and tried shoving it in the Doctor's face.
“Did you bless that yourself?”
“I am a man of the lord! You will kneel at my feet!”
“The lord of gold, perhaps.”
“That's enough!” Flint slapped the priest's arm. “Father, we've been over this before.”
“I'll say that I'm quite amused by our little tiffs here.” Dr. Daver added.
“And you! Stop antagonizin' folks.”
“He started it. I didn't do anything.”
“I don't wanna hear it. Father, there's been a murder in the town. A young lady from out of town—”
The priest snapped at the doctor, “What did you do?!”
“He didn't do anything!” Flint shook his head and gave the priest a small glare, “I'm figuring out who did it. I've already looked at the body and seen everything I can, she just needs to be laid to rest.”
“Has she accepted the lord into her heart?”
Flint shrugged, “I don't know for certain. Her brother is currently staying at Marie's inn, if you and your boys wanna go and get him so he can lead you to where the body is.”
“Of course, Sheriff. We'll go and handle this right away.”
“Good to hear.” Flint adjusted his belt. “Before we head out, I do have one question. We passed by someone on the way here. Who was that?”
“It was Mr. Hess. He apparently had something weighing on his mind and needed the guidance and grace of the lord.”
“I'm sure the lord relieved his coin purse at the very least.” Dr. Daver muttered under his breath.
“Interestin'. Did Gregor happen to mention where he was headin'? I need to have a quick chat with him.”
“At this hour? I'm sure he's on his way to the lumber mill.”
“Guess I'm not surprised. One more thing.” Flint took out the knife and showed it to the priest, “Have you ever seen this knife before?” Father John just shook his head after looking at it briefly. “Didn't think so, but I thought I'd ask. Thank you, Father.” Flint put away the knife and the pair walked out of the chapel and back to their horses.
“Gregor Hess is having a crisis of faith. How suspicious.” Dr. Daver mentioned as he got back on his horse.
Flint nodded, “A man like that comin' to the Church at a time like this? I'll say it's certainly one mighty big coincidence. Let's go see if we can find out what that crisis was about.” They took off again, riding through the town once again to go towards the lumber mill. The town was rising with the sun, slowly coming to life. Fortunately, the sleepy town had not yet fully awakened, and the Sheriff and the Doctor found no delay making their way to the lumber mill to the north of town. They arrived at the clearing around the lumber mill and saw a group of lumberjacks preparing to start their days.
“Mornin' boys.” Flint tipped his hat, “Any chance Mr. Hess is around here?”
“Mr. Hess says he don't wanna be bothered right now.” One of them replied, “He just told us to go on and get to work. Says we know what needs doin'.”
“Well, that's unfortunate for him, ‘cause I ain't worried about what he wants. Is he in the mill?” One of the lumberjacks couldn't help himself and nodded. “Thank you, son.” He started to ride towards the mill, but then stopped his horse and turned around, “Any of you boys gamble last night?” All of them sheepishly avoided Flint's gaze. “C'mon, boys. I'll tell you like I told yer friend James: I ain't gonna arrest you for gamblin'.”
“Damn it all!” One of them yelled, “I told you Joe doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut!”
“Glad you feel like sharing. So, you did gamble with James last night?” Flint nodded as he received a dejected “yeah” in return. “Much obliged.” Flint tipped his hat again and made his way to the mill. Dr. Daver remained behind as one of the lumberjacks asked him to look at something. Flint stopped his horse and dismounted as he got closer to the building.
“Gregor!” He called out, not hearing anything, “Greg, I got some questions for you!” Still nothing. Flint sighed and started walking inside. “C'mon, Gregor, I just wanna talk!”
“I have nothing to say to you, Sheriff!” Flint heard Gregor's thick Prussian accent shouting from some indistinct place. “I know you think I did it!”
“What, pray tell, do I think you did?”
“You can't trick me that easily! I won't confess to crimes I didn't commit!”
“Now why do you think I think you committed a crime?”
“I knew you were coming! Why else would you be here first thing in the morning?”
“Well, t'be fair, I am here rather early. Why don't you come on out and we can talk about this?”
“Absolutely not!”
Flint sighed again, “Alright, listen. I've got my gun here.” He saw a table nearby. “I'm going to put it on this here table.” He put the gun down and took a small key out of his pockets. “I've also got two pairs of handcuffs here!” Flint removed the cuffs from his belt loop and set them on the table. “They're with my gun on the table! I ain't here to arrest you; I just want to talk!”
Flint heard some shuffling and saw a tall Prussian man walking out, holding an axe at the ready. Flint raised his hands and stepped away from the table. The Prussian slowly lowered the axe as Flint stepped away from the table again, and then put it down. “Fine. We'll talk.” Gregor Hess was a barrel-chested beast of a man, who towered over most people in the town. He had short, but wild, dark brown hair and a longer but equally unkempt beard. His black eyes stared daggers into Flint.
“That's all I'm here for. Ain't no reason to get up in arms.” Flint crossed his arms as they went down. “Now, Gregor, what exactly is it that I think you did?”
“I already said you won't trick me that easily, Sheriff.”
“Fine, fine.” Flint shrugged, “The actual reason I'm here is because there's been a murder in town.”
“A murder?” Confusion slapped itself across Gregor's face, “Who was murdered?”
“You know your boy, James? His sister Violet was killed during the night.” Flint saw the latent anger in Gregor's eyes fade for just a second. “I'm tryin' to figure out who did it.” He took out the knife and showed it to Gregor, “You ever seen this knife before?”
Gregor took at it and looked it over, then said plainly, “This is just a regular knife, Sheriff. This could belong to anybody.” Flint took the knife back. “So, what makes you think I killed her?” Gregor once again glared at Flint.
“Well, I heard that she wasn't a fan of gamblin'. And, if there's anything I know about your boys, it's that they love a good game of dice.”
“What does that have to do with me, Sheriff?”
“Well, Gregor, last I heard she was lookin' for you to get them to stop that. Did she ever find you?”
“I might have run into her once or twice,” Gregor shrugged, “Plenty of people come up to me to talk about what my boys do in their off-time. I tell them all the time that it's none of my business what they do, as long as they're here to do their jobs.”
“So, you don't remember talking to her at all?”
“To be perfectly honest, I barely know James. He's a quiet kid; comes in, does his work, and leaves.”
“That's all you know about him?” The disbelief in Flint's voice was palpable. Gregor just shrugged again. “Alright. Well, I'm sure you saw Dr. Daver and myself ridin' to the chapel earlier. Care to tell me what crisis of faith you had earlier that necessitated such an early trip out that way?”
“I don't think I will. What I said to Father John is between him, myself, and the Lord.”
“Well, if I find out what you did was kill that girl, what you said is gonna be between you, the Lord, and the Law.”
“Well, I didn't do it.”
“Then what were you doin', Gregor? The longer you stand in my way, the more likely I'm gonna come for you when my other leads dry up.” Flint started walking back to the table and picked up his gun and handcuffs. “I'm gonna give you time to reconsider your decision to hide whatever it is you're hiding. When you're ready to share, you can find the deputy down at the jailhouse.” Flint started walking out of the mill.
“I didn't kill that girl, Sheriff.”
Flint looked back over his shoulder, “Well for your sake, you'd better hope I figure out who did, Greg.” He walked out of the mill and got back up on his horse. The Doctor was approaching him, wiping his gloved hands.
“Done so soon?”
Flint shrugged, “Gregor says he didn't do it. He won't tell me what he was doin', but he says he didn't kill Violet.”
“Well, that's not helpful to us.” The Doctor whistled for his horse, who trotted up quickly.
“Not helpful to me. You're not even supposed to be here.” Flint shook his head.
“And yet here I am.” The Doctor got back on his horse and looked at his pocket watch again. “Ah, well for now, anyway. I've a house call to make shortly here. Where to next, good Sheriff?”
“Well, I suppose I can go and have a talk with Chris and see if he knows anything. I also need to see Joel later today since he'd hired the young lady to work in his saloon.”
“Ah, yes, Joel, who is famously cooperative with the law.”
“He cooperates when his business is on the line.” With a kick, his horse took off back into town. Dr. Daver just shook his head.
“Sometimes I wonder what's the difference between you and the criminals you stop.” The Doctor rode back into town, catching up with Flint easily. They rode side-by-side until they approached the main square, where Dr. Daver broke off to attend to a patient. Flint continued until he reached the general store, which already had several carts parked outside. He could see Tobias, Chris' unfortunate assistant, scribbling madly while speaking with a very frustrated patron. Flint tied his horse to a nearby post and walked over confidently.
“Mornin', gents.” He tipped his hat. He could see the panic setting in on Tobias' face.
“Oh no,” Tobias said under his breath, “Uh, good morning, Sheriff.” The other gentleman tipped his hat to Flint.
“Toby, any chance Chris is inside? I gotta ask him a few questions.”
“Oh, yes, sir, Mr. Flint, sir.” Tobias quickly wiped his brow as a short-lived wave of relief came over him. Flint gave him a solid pat on the back as he walked into the general store. He heard Chris getting into a heated argument with a different patron.
“And I'm telling you sir, that we're the only shop around for days! You're more than free to take your business elsewhere, but I make no promises that you'll make it there!” The man made a rude gesture at Chris, who returned the favor. The man rudely walked through Flint as he left the store. Flint shot him a dirty look, but then turned back to Chris.
Chris Ett was a small man, who made up for what he lacked in stature with a loud, boisterous presence. He had short, blond hair that he kept neatly combed and parted to the side and a thick and bushy, but well-groomed mustache. Chris wore a pair of thin, small glasses that Flint swore were just decorative, and a plain, long-sleeved white shirt and black vest. He stood behind the counter of his shop and wiped his face with his bare hand, looking frustratedly off to the side. He huffed before noticing Flint, and he immediately perked up.
“Sheriff! My friend, it's so good to see you!” Flint approached the counter and Chris enthusiastically shook his hand. “How're things going, Sheriff?”
“I'd say I'm doin' better than you are, but then I'd just be lyin'.”
“What, those guys? They're jerks, but they'll come back around. Ole Chris knows what he's worth, and I ain't about to be bullied by a bunch of know-it-all Yankees going to California who are just blindly chasing wealth.”
“Chris, ain't you from New York?”
“Don't argue with me, Sheriff.” Chris quipped, eliciting a small chuckle from Flint. “What can I get for you, Sheriff?”
“I actually came to ask you some questions. A girl was murdered late last night. Her brother says he does some work for you sometimes. James Allen, you know him?”
Chris was stunned by the news, “Violet was murdered?” It took him a few seconds to process the thought before he suddenly snapped, “Who's the bastard that did it?!”
Flint shook his head, “Chris, I don't know, but I'm trying to figure it out.”
“Well, whatever you need to catch this guy, you got it! Just name it and it's yours, Sheriff!”
Flint couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle. “Thank you, Chris. But for now, I just have questions.”
“Oh, yeah, of course, Sheriff. I didn't kill her, but I got answers for you.”
Flint sighed, Why does everybody think I think they're the killer? He took out the knife and showed it to Chris, “This knife look familiar to you?”
Chris inspected it, “Maybe, sheriff, but honestly that could be anybody's knife.”
Flint just grunted and put it away. “Her brother James, how often does he help you?”
“Once—twice a week, maybe? He's a good, strong kid for twenty, y'know?”
“You mean twenty-four, right?”
“Twenty-four? No, the kid's twenty. Violet told me that.”
“And how old was she?”
Chris just gave Flint a hard stare, “Flint, you know I didn't ask a lady that question.” He waited a moment, looked around, and then motioned for Flint to lean in close. “Twenty-two.”
“So, she's the elder sibling?” Flint nodded slowly, “How long have they been in town?”
Chris shrugged, “About two, maybe three, months. They weren't gonna stay in town much longer. Maybe another week or two?”
“Where were they headed?”
“West? California, maybe? Neither one ever really knew.”
“Why'd they leave home?”
“I could never figure it out. They always got real cagey whenever I asked them. I figured it had something to do with the war, like everyone else heading our way these days, y'know?” Chris shrugged, “I'm sure they've got a good reason not to go back.”
“I suppose she'll never go back now.” Chris nodded sadly. “Do you know if Violet or James ever got on anyone's bad sides?”
“I dunno about anything for certain. I know plenty of folks weren't fans of Violet's on account of how vocal she was about drinking and gambling.”
“How'd Joel take it?”
“Joel doesn't come in here, Sheriff. You know that.” Chris rubbed his chin pensively, “Although, Caroline said he wasn't too fond of her. She said he told her that Violet was bad for business.”
“I assume it's because she kept driving his patrons away?”
“She did, but not in the way you expect.” Flint gave Chris a confused look. “She—she didn't—she didn't play the game, Sheriff.”
“I wouldn't expect her to.”
“No, no, not the actual games. She never gambled. But she—” Chris fidgeted with his fingers trying to find the words, “Sheriff, have you ever gone to the saloon after dark?”
“Can't say I have. If I'm to be parted with my money, I'd rather it be on my terms.”
“So, what Joel does is he brings out his best girls out when he's running the business. It's always the pretty ones—the ones that make boys stop thinking when they get all sweet on ‘em. You know the kind. Violet, she—she made boys stupid. If she tried, you would've needed to have another chat with Joel about that arrangement you've got goin' on.” Chris just shook his head, “But she—she didn't. She worked for Joel because she had to; he's the only one who would hire her around here. But she hated it. She hated every second she had to work at the saloon. All the boys would try to be sweet on her, but she had no patience for them. She didn't disrespect them or nothin', but she didn't tolerate any disrespect either.”
“And for Joel, that's a problem.”
“Yeah. He doesn't allow outright harassin' his girls, but there's an understanding that sometimes they're gonna be uncomfortable. For some girls, they're fine with that. Getting a little uncomfortable just means the boys get more generous with their gifts. Violet refused to be uncomfortable and didn't let anyone else be uncomfortable either—sometimes whether they wanted it or not.”
“Why'd Joel keep her around then?”
“Well, Sheriff, some men like a challenge. They thought they could throw around a little more money here and there and get Violet on their good sides. From what I could tell, that worked out better for Joel than it did for the players.” Flint nodded in understanding. “As we all know, Joel likes money more than he likes most other things. So, he kept her around, even though they didn't exactly see eye-to-eye.”
“But he told Caroline that Violet was bad for business.”
“She might have brought in men who were willing to spend a lot of money on her, but there are only so many of those guys who make their way through Sur Posta, Sheriff. For most of ‘em, she wasn't worth the challenge.”
“I see.” Flint rubbed his chin pensively. “What about James?”
“What about James?”
“He's been living in this town just like his sister has. He ain't made no trouble for nobody?”
“Eh, not really? If you've talked to the boy at all, you've probably learned that he's not exactly the brightest. He's more like a—a big dumb dog. He's big and full of muscle, y'know? That's why Gregor's trying to keep them from leaving.”
“Hold on, Gregor's tryin' to keep them from leavin'?”
“Of course, Sheriff! His money's all in lumber. He needs guys who can chop down trees and move logs. Ain't a lot of guys who can do what he needs ‘em to around these parts. I don't know what's he's tried doing to keep James and Violet from leaving, but him making offers to big guys to keep them around isn't unusual.”
“What does he do?”
“I dunno any details, Sheriff, I've just got rumors. He's the second-richest man in town. What can't he do?”
Flint nodded his head and clicked his tongue, “Looks like I've gotta have another chat with Gregor. Thank you for your time, Chris.”
“Just catch whoever did this, Sheriff.”
Flint tipped his hat once again and started walking out of the store. He caught sight of Tobias, who was struggling talking to two different customers at once. “Hey, Chris! Toby looks like he's having a time out there.” He heard Chris start throwing a fit as he walked out of the store. Even with it being as early in the morning as it was, there was a bit of bustle in the main square. Flint knew it would only get busier as the day went on, which meant he was on a time limit. Whoever killed Violet could leave the town by sundown. As he started walking back to his horse and considering his next steps, he noticed more than a few horses were tied up outside of the saloon.
Strange, he mused, Joel usually isn't awake this early in the day. Flint figured it couldn't hurt to pay Joel a quick visit and see if he knew anything.
The saloon went silent as Flint swung the door open. There were about twelve men who were already patronizing the establishment, and each one of them was looking at the Sheriff. Flint had spotted one of them hastily putting cards away. He could only chuckle to himself as he walked inside. He took long, deliberate steps towards the mysteriously untended bar. As he took a seat, everyone sheepishly went back to their drinks, trying their best not to draw any attention to themselves.
“Now how the hell did it get so quiet out here? One of y'all must've died.” Everyone heard a deep, husky voice booming from the back room. Out from behind the doors busted through a tall, dark-skinned woman carrying a wooden bin full of mugs. Her long, thick black hair was pulled up into a ponytail that sat at the top of her head, but several strands of hair had escaped from her hastily applied hair tie. “Well as I live and breathe! Sheriff Flint Waters, what brings you to our fine establishment?” She set the bin down on the bar and waved away a patron asking for a drink. She leaned on the bar, resting on her arms and giving Flint a large grin.
Flint leaned on the bar with one arm. “I've got some questions for Joel. He here?”
The woman scoffed, “No. I ain't seen him all night. Surprising, really. Why, what'd he do this time?”
“I don't know if he's done anything yet, Mags, but I'm trying to see if he can help me.”
“If it's anything that'll help him keep his little arrangement with you, I'm sure he'll cooperate.”
“That's what I'm hopin', but maybe you can answer a few questions for me.”
“You should already know I'm always ready for you, Sheriff.” She gave Flint a sultry look, and he just shook his head and chuckled.
“You know Violet Allen, right?”
“Of course, I know Violet Allen!” Mags' smile was so fake, Flint could be convinced the snake oil so many salesmen were peddling actually did something. “She's such a precious doll of a girl!”
“I'm glad you're so fond of her. What do you know about her?”
“Well, Sheriff, if you're so interested in her, I can see if Joel can set you up something tonight if you feel like sticking around.”
“It'll be a touch difficult to do that, considerin' she's dead, Marguerite.”
The color in her face drained as her eyes opened wide. “I need you boys to clear out now,” she said in a serious voice. The bar's patrons all started grumbling discontentedly. “I'll give you fresh drinks when the Sheriff and I are done talking. Leave.” They all started leaving slowly.
“Boys, you'd best do as she says, or you can get whatever we'll give you in the jailhouse. I can promise it won't be nearly as refreshing.” They cleared out faster with Flint's encouragement. He turned to watch everyone leave. As he looked back, he saw Marguerite lighting a cigarette. She took one long drag and exhaled slowly.
“What do you mean Violet Allen is dead?”
“She was murdered early this morning. Stabbed, from what I can tell. I'm tryin' to figure out who did it.” He took out the knife and showed it to Marguerite, “You ever seen this knife before?”
She looked at it, shook her head, and gave the knife back to Flint. “Are you sure it wasn't her idiot brother?”
Flint shook his head, “Boy has a solid alibi.”
“So, you think it was my fool husband, then?”
“Well, that all depends on what he tells me. You said you haven't seen him since last night?”
Mags shook her head, “I'm not involved with his little late-night setups. I take care of everything during the day, and he handles everything at night. The most I do with it is schedule the girls to work.” She sighed, “Gonna be harder to schedule them now.”
“What do you know about Violet?”
“She's a decent girl. At first, I wasn't sure why she wanted to work for Joel—especially with her morals the way they are.”
“How long has she worked for Joel?”
“Only a couple of months. She walked up in here with her nose turned up at everyone and all but demanded a job. She had a pretty enough face, so I set her up as one of Joel's girls for his little setup.”
“When did you figure out why she wanted to work for Joel?”
“As soon as I saw her working. She might have put on a pure faced, holier-than-thou air, but she's got her vices just like the rest of us. I might not do anything with Joel's silly games, but I still come down and make sure he's keeping things civil. There was a man with a big wallet running the table that night. I ain't ever seen a man who gambled for the sake of the game. Joel, the sneaky devil he is, would dry him up, but he'd get more cash and play himself right back into the game. Other men would be out, but he'd spot them to keep them playing. I told Joel to watch himself, but this man just laughed and told me not to worry. We've had plenty of high rollers in our house, but that man was something else.”
“Where does Violet come in all this?”
“Well, she was working that night and she took a particular shine to that man. He needed a drink? She'd pour him some fine whiskey. He needed a smoke? She'd light his cigar. He needed a pretty little thing to sit on his lap and make doll eyes at the other men? You'd best believe she'd be right there, draped over him like a fine silken sheet. The other men she treated with her usual chilly demeanor, but him? I ain't ever seen Joel so mad about how one of his girls treated a man.”
“I think I remember hearing about some big wealthy banker passing through Sur Posta. Wasn't he married?”
“He sure was.” Mags nodded, “He and his wife left the next day. Had he been a bachelor, she'd have gone right with him.” She took another long drag of her cigarette. “As much as she liked gold, you'd think she'd be working for the church.”
“How interesting. Was she scheduled to work last night?”
Mags shook her head, “She hasn't worked in a few days. Joel was none pleased with her after the last big roller came in. He's tired of her playing favorites with rich men and leaving his other patrons high and dry. He said to keep her off the schedule for a week to teach her a lesson about picking and choosing.”
“I can't imagine she'd be too happy about that. When was the last time you saw her?”
“The last time I saw her? Probably a day or two ago? She just came to get her pay and ask when she'd be working again. I told her she'd have to take that up with Joel. She was upset, understandably, but I don't think she suspected she was being kept off the schedule on purpose. Of course, if she talked to Joel at all, there's no telling what he told her.”
“Did you hear any commotion last night?
She shrugged, “Well, if I'm being perfectly honest, no, but I didn't hear any commotion last night.”
“Well Joel's gotta take a break sometime, right?”
Mags laughed, “Death is the only respite that man will accept. He's been keeping that little scheme of his running for years. I think the last time he slept at night was the night before he started hosting those stupid games of his.” She shrugged, “I suppose that's the only reason I'm up and awake so early today.”
Flint had known about Joel's illicit gambling house for as long as he'd been in Sur Posta. Joel had arrangements with Sheriff Carter, although Flint felt their deal was much fairer. “I thought it was a little odd y'all were already open.”
“It was odd to be waking up with the sunrise instead of well after it.”
“So, when was the last time you saw Joel?”
Her lips pursed in thought, “I suppose it was last night, just before final call. I'd already wrapped up everything I needed for the night. He has an office in the back, so I went back there to let him know how many gentlemen were waiting to partake in the night's activities. He asked me who was working with him, and then that was that.”
“So, there were men waiting on Joel, but you didn't hear any commotion during the night?”
“Sheriff, the men don't start rowdy right away. It might be easier to part a drunk from his money, but Joel can't run a table and babysit. We've got rules the men have to abide by if they want to play in our house. Firstly, they can't come to the bar drunk. Second, they can't drink at the bar. There is a specific order they need to make. If they make that order, we give them a special coaster for their glass. That way, we know not to give them any alcohol. If they insist, they don't get to play.” Mags stood up straight and crossed her arms. “They had plenty of folks playing last night, I'm not sure how they didn't make any noise.”
“Could they have wrapped up early?”
She shrugged, “It'd be the first time, but I suppose that's the only reasonable explanation. No idea why they'd stop early though.”
Flint grunted and nodded sagely. “Alright, well thank you for your time, Marguerite.” He tipped his hat and stood up.
“Aw, Sheriff,” she pouted, leaning both of her arms on the bar and pushing up her breasts, “Is that all I can do for you? You don't ever come around here; it'd be rude of me not to make your visit special.”
Flint just smirked as he shook his head, “I know what you're doin', Mags, but—well you just aren't my type.”
She gave him another sultry look, “And just who is your type, Sheriff?”
The doors to the saloon swung wide open and Dr. Daver walked in, “Ah, Sheriff! You've had me lookin' all over for you!” He strutted up to Flint and saw Marguerite glaring at him, “Ah, I see you're having a chat with Marguerite! Best be careful with this one, Sheriff; gambling isn't the only illicit activity that goes on in this house.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Mags responded bluntly.
“Oh, you don't?” He looked over his glasses, his eyes piercing hers, “Then why do your girls keep comin' to me with all manner of filthy diseases?”
“Now ain't the time.” Flint didn't want or need to sit through yet another of the Doctor's spats. “Doc, I was just finishin' up my chat with Mags here about the murder that happened last night. You didn't happen to see Joel while you were out tendin' to your patients, did you?”
“Oh ho!” Dr. Daver's face lit up, “Looks like I'm not the only one making house calls anymore. I didn't think Joel worked that side of the saloon as well.”
“Doc.” Flint gave him an incredulous glare. Dr. Daver couldn't help himself but laugh a bit.
“No, I haven't seen the fine proprietor of the saloon. I figure he'd be up sleeping like a baby.”
“Well, you'd be wrong then,” Mags responded, “Wouldn't be the first time.”
“Pardon?”
“Joel ain't here,” Flint interrupted once again, “So, we gotta keep an eye out for him if we want to find out what he knows about the murder.” Flint looked at Mags, “I'll let your patrons know that you're back open for business.”
“Much obliged, Sheriff.”
Flint and Dr. Daver walked out of the saloon, and the men waiting outside scurried back in. As they walked back to their horses, Flint told the doctor everything he had learned. At the Doctor's suggestion, they opted to return to the jailhouse to discuss their next steps. As he got back up on his horse, Flint swore he saw someone sneaking around the saloon, but when he looked back nobody was there. He grunted and started riding back to the jailhouse. Henry walked out to greet them as they arrived. He gave the doctor a dirty look.
“What is he doin' here?”
“Oh, please,” Dr. Daver looked Henry in the eye as he got off his horse, “Don't make this difficult for me.”
There was a brief second of silence, “Fine, but I ain't gotta be happy about it.”
“I wouldn't ask you to be.” The doctor started walking into the jailhouse, but then turned and looked Henry in the eye again, “Oh, and stable my horse.” He continued walking again as the deputy took the reins.
“Ain't you forgettin' somethin'?” Flint called out loudly.
“Stable my horse please.”
“Better, but next time ask the first time.” Flint dismounted and led his horse to the stable nearby. He put his horse in the pen and walked with the deputy into the jailhouse. The doctor was leaning back in one of the chairs waiting for them. “Get out of my chair.”
“No, I think you'll let me keep it.” The doctor replied, looking Flint dead in the eye.
“Don't try any of your damn trickery with me, get out of my chair.”
Dr. Daver huffed as the chair's legs hit the ground, “Fine.” He stood up and Flint sat down in the chair, scooting it up to his desk.
“Alright, so where are we at? Let's start from the beginning.
“Early this morning, Violet Allen was murdered in her own home. Violet was a twenty-two-year-old woman who had come to Colorado from Virginia with her brother, James. Our best estimate is that they'd been in town for no longer than three months. James did odd jobs around town, Violet seemed to have a stable job working for Joel at the saloon. Late last night after a fight, likely with her murderer, she was stabbed and killed. From the looks of things, this was not a premeditated crime. This happened in the moment. We have three potential suspects who could have done this:
“First, we have Gregor Hess. The victim knows him because her brother, James Allen, often works at the lumber mill. We know Violet was tryin' to meet Gregor to get him to try and stop his employees from gambling in their free time, but Gregor claims he does not know if he's ever met Violet. Gregor did something last night that rattled his conscience so badly, he needed to visit the church for absolution. We can only guess what he did because he refused to tell me. Lastly, we know that he often bribes potentially valuable employees to stay in Sur Posta. Until he tells us otherwise, we can only assume that he was attemptin' to bribe the Allens to stay, but somethin' went wrong.
“Second, we've got Joel Santos, the victim's employer. Joel and his wife Marguerite run the saloon durin' the day, and at night they run a small gamblin' ring. Although Violet has a strong moral disdain for gamblin', she tolerated working for Joel because it gave her the opportunity to meet wealthy visitors to the town. Violet's preference for the wealthy seems to have had a significantly negative impact on Joel's business, enough to say that Violet was causin' more problems than she was worth. As punishment for her behavior, Joel had kept Violet off the schedules for at least three days. Violet had approached Marguerite about the schedules, but she was told to speak to Joel instead. Joel is the one person of interest we haven't talked to because he seems to have disappeared since last night.
“Third, we've got James Allen, Violet's brother. Henry, I know that look. Yes, James has an alibi, and it seems to be a decent one at that. However, the boy has some trouble with lying. I asked him for his last name, he said they don't have one. I asked him for his and his sister's ages, he said he was older than Violet. We know the Allens are from Virginia, but nobody knows why they left Virginia. I'm not ready to take James off our list until he starts telling us the truth.”
“So, what's our plan?” The doctor asked.
“Our plan,” Flint replied, motioning to Henry and himself, “Is to start trying to clear people's names. We need to make findin' Joel a priority. Marguerite hasn't seen him at all, and if there's someone we don't know about who could have murdered Violet, it's possible they could have gotten Joel as well. We'll need to put pressure on Gregor to tell us what he was doin' last night and what kind of deal he made James to keep him in Sur Posta. As far as James's concerned, we need to get him to start tellin' us the damn truth or we're not gonna get nowhere in this case.”
“Well, let's go talk to James first.” Dr. Daver casually mentioned, “I don't have another appointment for a while, and Gregor will be a tough nut to crack. If we just need James to tell us the truth, I can get him to do that.”
“What about Joel?” Henry asked.
“Deputy, that's gonna be your job. I need you to find and detain him. I don't care what he tells you, you bring him back here for questionin'. If he's innocent, he'll make it back to the saloon in time to start swindlin' some travelers. The important thing is that we talk to him.”
“You got it, Sheriff.” Henry tipped his hat and walked out of the jailhouse.
Flint looked to Dr. Daver, “Alright, you're up. Let's see if you can get James to be a little more honest with us.”
“I've got a few tricks up my sleeve.” The doctor took another vial out of his bag and drank the dark contents like a shot. “Let's get moving. Lead the way, Sheriff.” The pair walked out of the jailhouse and retrieved their horses from the stable. They rode back into town, heading directly for Marie's inn. Although they weren't sure where James was right now, they figured that Marie would at least be able to point them in the right direction.
Of course, she also had to be willing to tell them where he was.