Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 01 - Gunfight at Grace Gulch Read Free Page A

Accident?” Cord stared at the gun in his hand as if he didn’t know where it had come from. “No, Audie, you have it wrong. Whoever’s bullet did this, didn’t come from my gun. I was using blanks. You know that.”
    “ We’ll figure that out, if you don’t mind.” Ted Reiner, chief of Grace Gulch’s four-person police department, joined us in mid-street, with female officer, Frances Waller.
    For the first time since arriving by Penn’s side, my mind registered the crowd. They remained frozen in place, looks of puzzlement on some faces, horror on others. Mothers with small children scurried down the sidewalks, hiding the all-too-real violence from their young eyes. Dina huddled by the swinging saloon doors, her eyes wide with fright. At least she hadn’t run out into the street to join us. I saw a few other familiar faces at the saloon. Suzanne Jay’s bouffant blond hair looked even stiffer than before, as if fear had frozen it in place. Ronald Grace, the mayor and Cord’s cousin, talked to Mitch Gaynor, the editor of the Sequoian . The tall newspaperman gestured widely to the bald, short mayor. I wondered what spin they would put on today’s events. Pastor Waldberg preached—really, that was the only word to describe his posture—to a small cluster of people I knew from church. He was probably lecturing them on the need to prepare to meet their Maker.
    I took a deep breath and looked once again at Penn’s body. Frances, surgical gloves covering her delicate pianist hands, watched Dr. Barber as he examined the wound on Penn’s chest. She and I knew each other from way back. “I’ll set up the perimeter,” she told the chief.
    Ted Reiner represented the worst of the police profession. Loud, obnoxious, a good old boy, he welcomed opportunities to throw his weight around. Like now. “Wonder how this happened. You put on a show, and look what happened.”
    “I believe it was an accident,” Audie responded to Reiner’s comment. Did I hear a trace of intolerance in his voice? Perhaps his director’s eye cast Chief Reiner in some Keystone Kops routine.
    Reiner turned his attention to me. “Why did you run into the street? Did you see anything suspicious?”
    “No, I was just afraid. . .” No, I couldn’t say that I was afraid Cord had been hurt. Two men had fallen, after all. Even though I didn’t voice the words, I felt heat coloring my cheeks. “I was afraid someone had been hurt. The two weren’t supposed to fall to the ground, you see, and—”
    “Humph.” Reiner turned the sound into an accusation. “I’ll need that gun, Cord.”
    “It wasn’t my gun that killed him. Look for yourself.” He held the gun in the palm of his hand but didn’t let go. “Why aren’t you canvassing the crowd, looking for the real shooter?”
    “We’ll do that. I still need your gun. And we need you to come down to the station.”
    “Why? I didn’t do anything!” Cord sounded desperate. Frances took the gun in her gloved hands.
    “We’ll need your fingerprints for comparison, Cord.” Frances interjected a note of reason to Reiner’s request. “What about you, Cici? Audie? Did either one of you touch anything?”
    I shook my head.
    “I checked for a pulse, that’s all,” Audie said. “I saw the blood. It was in the wrong place. He was supposed to receive a fake leg wound in the gunfight.”
    Reiner frowned. “You’d better come with us, too.” He turned accusatory gray eyes on me. “We’ll take your statement later today.”
    “Sure. But don’t you want to speak to the crowd? Someone must’ve seen some—”
    “I was just about to do that.” Reiner placed his hands on his hips. He’d probably dreamed all his life of getting to boss around a crowd of people like a real city cop. Not much in our small town had prepared him for the actual experience.
    “If I can have everyone’s attention!” he shouted. His announcement rippled through the crowd in waves, creating silence in its wake.