The Perfect Crime

Chapter 1

The sheriff walks up to an old taverned building with a wooden barn style door.

He inhales as he stares up at the entrance the building, gently, he pushes the doors open before entering.

"One of your finest drinks please, Mary." The man raises his hand to signal the bar maiden as the door closes behind him.

"Coming right up, sheriff." A woman calls from behind the bar's counter, she wore a blue  dress with a white apron over top of it. She has auburn red hair that rests gently upon her shoulders as the rest drape down her back.

She smiles as she places a glass mug that she had been drying down onto the counter, she wipes her hands on her apron before swiftly moving towards where the clean glasses sat ready to be used.

Mary picks up a clean glass and walks over to the pump, she places it under the spout and gently pulls the handle towards her. The corners of her mouth spiral inwards to form a slight grin as the golden liquid pours out from the spout and into the glass mug below. She tilts the mug ever so slightly so that the sweet alcohol hits the side of the mug and trickles down, nicely pooling in the bottom of the glass.

"How's work, sheriff?" The woman pulls the lever up as the liquid begins to reach the mug's limits.

"It's been quite quiet lately," the man sits down on a bar stool and leans his arm against the counter of the bar. Mary pulls the mug of alcohol out from under the spout and walks towards where the sheriff is sitting.

Before she hands it over, the woman takes a butter knife out of one of the pockets on her apron and pushes the excess foam off of the top with the flat side of the knife.

"How about you?" The glass clinks lightly against the counter as the woman sets it down in front of the man.

"Just the same old, same old." Mary smiles lightly as she lets out a light sigh. She then wipes her hands on her apron, trying to dry them from any liquid that might have escaped from the glass during transit.

Suddenly the doors of the bar fly open and a short, stout, man barges in. He huffs and puffs and wheezes loudly, using the door for some much needed support. His head is down as he stares at the ground, trying to catch his breath. Slowly, he lifts his head and spots the sheriff. He then runs to the man and grabs a stool next to him to sit down upon.

"Sheriff! Sheriff!" The man huffs some more as he leans his left elbow against the counter of the bar, trying to stabilize himself.

"Bob, what's wrong?" The sheriff looks at him and leans back a bit on the stool, a concerned look forms upon his face as he lifts his drink up to his mouth to take a sip.

"It's lil' Betty!" The man exclaims frantically, he looks to the counter of the bar and grabs an unclaimed drink. He then lifts the drink to his mouth and begins to chug its contents.

Mary takes a cloth out of another pocket on her apron and begins to wipe down the bar's counter. All while she casually eavesdrops on the two male's conversation.

"What about about Miss Betty?" The sheriff straightens up in his seat. He pulls the mug from his lips and slowly places it down upon the counter of the bar.

"A child was found, dead, in the park." Bob replies as he slams his now empty glass down on the bar's counter. "An' they think it's lil Betty." He leans towards the sheriff and grabs his glass, raises it to his mouth, and dumps the rest of its contents into his face hole.