Murder at the Courthouse by A. H. Gabhart

before he called Chief Sibley to tell him they had an ID.
    â€œI’ll let Paul know when he gets to feeling better. I talked to Caroline awhile ago,” the chief said. “She says Paul’s suffering something awful. Thinks it might be food poisoning, and if he doesn’t get better soon, she’s going to make him go to the emergency room over in Eagleton.”
    Michael made some all-purpose sympathetic noises and tried not to be glad Paul was sick. But the truth was, he hadn’t looked forward to playing follow the leader in this investigation with Paul Osgood, the leader. Aunt Lindy was right. The man couldn’t catch a Peeping Tom.
    After he told the chief goodbye, Michael stared at the phone and wondered if he should try Buck Garrett’s cell number again. Surely Buck wasn’t sick too, but sick or not, he wasn’t bothering to check in.
    Michael didn’t like the feeling he was withholding information from Buck about the investigation. Besides, he wanted to hear what Buck had to say about it all. Nobody ever wondered if Buck knew what he was doing. He was every inch a law officer and good at his job.
    Buck’s eyes had taken on a special gleam the day before when they were talking about the murder. It was almost as if Buck considered the homicide some kind of challenge to see which man found the answer first. Michael smiled. Buck wouldn’t be happy when he found out Michael—better yet, Lester Stucker—had come up with the first real breakthrough.
    Michael’s smile widened. Since Buck wasn’t answering his cell, he’d send Lester out to the cluster of motels, gasstations, and restaurants around the interstate exit to see if he could find him. Lester had a few hours before his crossing guard duty that afternoon. Buck wouldn’t be happy to be chased down by Lester, but it would serve him right for not keeping in contact.
    At her desk, Betty Jean scrolled through pages on her computer. She was a wizard at tracking down information and had a way of finding out more than he even knew to ask.
    He looked over her shoulder. “How long before you have something?”
    She frowned up at him. “This kind of thing takes time. You can’t expect to find what you need without having to search a little. Now quit watching over my shoulder. You know I hate that.”
    â€œRight.” Michael nodded. “Then I’ll be at Joe’s. I’m going to get a haircut.”
    â€œDidn’t you just get a haircut last Monday?” Before he could answer, a new screen flipped up on her computer and she waved Michael out the door.
    When he passed the judge’s office, Judge Campbell hurried out to walk with him toward the front door. “Alvin tells me you got a name on the poor soul who was shot out front yesterday,” the judge boomed. If anybody in the courthouse hadn’t heard the news, they knew it now.
    â€œThanks to Lester. He spotted his car in the parking lot.”
    â€œWas there anything in the car?” the judge asked as they went outside. “I mean anything that might help you figure out who shot the man.”
    â€œNothing so far, Judge. But we’re bound to come across some kind of lead sooner or later. Hidden Springs is a littletown. Somebody will have seen something.” Michael tried to sound confident. “We’ll catch whoever did it.”
    â€œI have no doubt at all you’ll have the perpetrator in jail in no time flat.” Judge Campbell clapped him on the shoulder. “Of course, if this was the big city, we’d just think it was a street mugging that got out of hand. Could be this Rayburn fellow, that was his name, wasn’t it?”
    â€œYes. Jay Rayburn.” There was no reason to keep that a secret.
    â€œWell, then it could be this Rayburn fellow was even trying to rob somebody else when he got shot. He could have been asking for it.”
    â€œThen where’s the