Sheriff Clyde and Deputy Dewey had been busy investigating the events at the Jackson property as well as trying to find the identity of the body Dewey had recovered. The two men sat in the sheriff’s office, a sparse room with no decoration, two solid oak chairs with high backs, and a three-legged stool. The only heat was a black wood stove in the corner of the room, next to a window, unadorned by curtains.
Clyde sat in the chair behind a small pine desk while Dewey sat on the stool at the end of the desk, near the sheriff.
“Been doin’ some diggin’, Dewey. Seems our dead body is one Terrence Hilliard.”
Dewey cut off a bite of the apple pie Molly had made for him. He held his fork in the air. “Yeah, I been diggin’ too. Molly hears a lot of talk when people come into the bakery. Between her and some of the fellers that play checkers in the mercantile, it seems these here Terrence feller come here from Ohio or some place up north.” He put the piece of pie in his mouth.
Clyde nodded and removed the toothpick he’d been moving from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Yep. Rumor says he was here lookin’ fer work. You find out anything about that?”
“Yep.” Dewey swallowed the piece of pie he had just finished. “Worked at the livery. Wonder why Toby didn’t say he had a worker missing when I went by.”
Clyde spoke around the toothpick. “Reckon he’s used to help comin’ and leavin’. It ain’t like this is a big city. Only thing keeps most of us here is there ain’t no place else to go unless a body likes c...