Pity and a Shame

Chapter 10

The wind gusted outside bringing a bevy of new noises into the room. Gwen slipped off her bra and then got up off the bed, undoing her skirt and letting it fall to the floor. The vision of Paynter lying in the pool of blood forced a moan from her throat and she plodded into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

When it was hot enough, she shed the rest of her things and stepped into the pummelling stream, immediately ducking her head into the spray, hoping to wipe away Paynter's image. She tried to think about her predicament. At first she'd thought that she'd killed him, but the news came out that he was beaten and stabbed the same night she had been to see him.

Gwen knew none of that was her doing – the bottle incident aside – so who was it? Who killed Paynter after she left, and was there any trace of her having been there? Of course there was – the bottle! She placed both palms against the shower wall and let the stinging water course down her back.

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Doc Butler leaned on the door frame, the ash from his cigarette spilling carelessly down the front of his cardigan. Brian looked up and sighed, waving him in.

"I know, I know... I said tomorrow...today. So what's so important?"

"I don't believe Paynter was killed in his house." He sat down in the solitary chair and leaned on the front of the desk. "And I don't think all the blows to the head occurred at the same time."

"Care to enlighten me? Particularly since Ingersol established otherwise."

"They didn't, actually. Their final report says the scene was too messed up to determine if it was the actual sight. The fact that there was so much blood on the floor just made it an easy surmise. Don't forget, the murder weapon was found in the barn."

"I know, I found it but so what? The killer just hid it out there figuring nobody would look."

Doc flapped a hand and slumped back on his seat. "So what about the knife?"

"What knife?"

"The stab wound, remember—after he was dead?"

"You know, Doc, this is all Ingersol's problem now, let's let them look after it." He pushed the ashtray across the desk. "You wanna use this before you self immolate?"

Doc Butler snorted and stabbed out the remainder of his smoke in the ashtray. "What happened to the keen policeman who didn't want any help solving a mystery?"

"I made some inquiries," Brian protested. "I just didn't like some of the personal stuff that came out. Stuff that was unrelated to the Paynter business. I was going to follow up on the pipe after I found out it came from Garrison's and I wanted to interview the judge 'cause he bought some but..."

"Jesus, what made this town elect you sheriff?" Doc snorted, hoisting himself out of the chair and hovering for a moment in front of the desk before stomping out.

Brian swore at himself under his breath. Doc was right; he was just making excuses because he was lazy. So what if he found out about the community's secret vices, a good sheriff should know that stuff. Be discreet about it. File it away. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out the slim file the Ingersol police had sent to him. He read everything again, slowly, keeping the doctor's suspicions in mind as he did.

Think laterally, stupid! Or what's the other fad phrase – outside the box?

The report was very light on information about the knife, and he wondered if they were just ignoring it, since it was postmortem, or if they weren't telling him everything. What about that knife? Why would the killer hide the pipe near the scene but not the knife? Why put the body back in the house if the killing took place in the barn? And why stab a dead body?