Everybody said it was right, all right.
“Now,” I said, “what people didn’t like the cold man here?”
The Sheriff’s voice was high and stringy with irritation. “Simmons wasn’t liked by many. Always fightin’ with folks, tetchy-like.”
* * *
I looked at the men, wondering which one I could detect to be the murderer. My eyes kept snapping in rubber-band moves to Jamie MacHugh. Jamie always was flighty. You lost your match-box and stared at Jamie, he’d whine, guilty, “I didn’t take it.” If you dropped a nickel and it went away Jamie’d say, “I didn’t do it!”
Funny. Something scared him as a kid, all the time he felt guilty, whether or not he was. So I couldn’t help but see him now, and go up and down him with my eyes, him so nervous and losing his head over things. Just opposite of Hardware Willis, who would stand rock stiff while lightning bounced around him.
“I heard Jamie say Mr. Simmons should be killed,” I said.
Jamie opened his eyes. “I never said that. And if I did, you know how you say things you never mean.”
“I heard you say it, anyways.”
“Now, now, now,” said Jamie three times. “You, you, you are not Sheriff for this city, city. You just shut your trap.”
The Sheriff fox-grinned. “What’s the matter with you, Jamie? Second ago you was egging Peter on, all het up for his side.”
“I don’t want anybody accusing me, that’s all, you big slob,” said Jamie to me. “Go stand on one foot in the corner!”
I didn’t blink my eyes. “I heard you say Mr. Simmons should be dead.”
“You look sort of nervous, Jamie?” remarked the Sheriff.
“I remember,” said Mr. Willis. “You did say that, Jamie. Say, Peter, you got a good memory.” He nodded at me smartly. “I bet fingerprints of Jamie are around here,” I said.
“Sure,” cried Jamie, pale. “Sure, they’re here. I was here early yesterday afternoon to try and get back my thirty dollars from that damn scoundrel lying limp on the floor, you elephant!”
“You see,” I said. “He was here. His fingerprints all around like ants at a picnic.” And I added, “I bet if we looked in his pocket we’d find Mr. Simmons’s wallet full of money, I bet we would.”
“Nobody looks through my pockets!”
“I’ll do it,” I sai
d.
“No,” said Jamie.
“Sheriff,” I said.
The Sheriff looked at me, looked at Jamie. “Jamie,” he said.
“Sheriff,” said Jamie.
“Who was it picked me to solve this case?” I said. “Jamie did, Sheriff.”
The Sheriff’s cigarette hung cold on his lip, twitching. “That’s right.”
“Why’d he want me solving it, Sheriff?” I asked, and answered, “Because he thought I’d only kick up mud in the creek, rile you so you wouldn’t get nothing done.”
“Well odd damn, imagine that,” murmured the others, moving back.
The Sheriff squinted tight.
“Peter, I got to admit, you got something. Jamie was sure hot to bring you up to mess around. He started them goddamn bets. Irritated me with you until I can’t see beans from breakfast!”