10 Millimeter

They galloped up to the business which was a half block away on the south side of Douglas, dismounted and went inside.  There were several “painted ladies” and naturally they all focused their attention on him.  Again, he couldn’t see any female there that would’ve caught his eye.  It was a wonder any woman could make a living being a prostitute looking the way they did.  Then again, to a lonely...and thoroughly wasted...cowboy, even a knothole would probably look inviting.  They didn’t stop and went straight through to the rear of the business and out the back door.  Isabel, the proprietor of the bordello was standing off to the side of one of two outhouses, looking at the dead man that was lying behind it.  The two structures were about twenty feet apart and the one the victim was behind was on the left and approximately fifteen feet further out.  There was a large, empty cast iron cauldron just outside the back door, to the right.  It was hanging on a spit over a pile of ashes.  He reckoned it was used to heat up the water for the baths.

“Hello Wyatt.”

“Afternoon Isabel...you know who this poor bastard is?”

“Just another cow poke with a few dollars to spend in my place.”  She looked over at Kevin, “Who’s your friend?”

“That’s Officer Collins.  He’s from out of town and is helping to fill in while Mike and John are absent.  Did you happen to hear a shot ring out last night or today?”

“Wyatt, I hear shots every night since the cattle drives started coming through.  Last night was no exception.”

While he continued to ask her questions, Kevin went to get a closer look at the body.  The victim was partially nude, missing his trousers, shirt and boots.  There was a small pile of clothing lying a few feet off to the side of the corpse.  Upon closer examination, the clothing consisted of a tan pullover shirt, blue jeans and a pair of black, worn out sneakers.  It was beginning to look bad...in fact, it was beginning to look downright ugly.

The man had been shot above the bridge of the nose, right through the middle of his forehead and out the back of his skull.  There were signs of powder burns around the wound and face in general.  Where the victim was laying though was not where he fell after being shot--there were indications he’d been dragged to that spot.  A smaller pool of blood had soaked into the dirt a couple of feet in front of the outhouse he was now behind and this was more than likely where the victim was when killed.  He opened the door to it and there was blood and brain matter splattered on the inside wall, opposite the door and on the “toilet” as well.  This time though, the bullet hole in the wall was clearly visible.  He guessed the victim had opened the door when someone just outside of it shot him point blank as he walked out.  Whoever the suspect was, he was showing himself to be a ruthless, cold-blooded murderer...he figured this man would probably not be taken alive.

He approximated where the killer may have been standing when he fired the shot and stood at that spot.  Facing the outhouse, he held out his right hand in a manner he believed the suspect would have been holding the gun.  He then looked over to his right and behind himself slightly and began rummaging through the patches of grass and dirt in that area.  Wyatt was curious as to what he was trying to accomplish with his actions.

“I’m looking for something I hope isn’t here.”  He continued to search as he squatted down and ran his hand through the grassy patches.  He found what he was looking for and stood up--