2nd Place- Small Town America- James Flanigan- Saint Charles, Illinois

Small Town America

The wooden staircase from the train stop had never seen so much traffic. As the dozens of feet ascended and descended the stairs in hurried excitement, the wood seemed to get more and more rubbery with each footstep. The staircase heaved up and down under all the weight almost as if it were breathing. 

Officer Dougherty made some effort to discourage everyone from using the stairs while the investigators from the county and state were working down by the railroad tracks on an incident which was being referred to interchangeably as a crime or accident. Even though he was law enforcement, the townsfolk thought of Officer Dougherty as generally harmless and universally ignored him. He was known as being more interested in the daily pastry special at Kramer’s Bakery in their quaint small town rather than for keeping the peace. Behind his back, he was Deputy Doughnut to the townsfolk, a comic figure reflecting just how sleepy and sheltered this town was.

In the lawman’s defense, there wasn’t really much need to keep the peace. It sort of just kept itself during the middle of the century. Sure, the kids in town made mischief occasionally, like painting Small Town over the actual town name on the sign above the railroad platform. Once they painted Hicksville, and another time it was Podunk. Officer Dougherty always just chuckled and dutifully alerted the railroad that they needed to send someone to repaint the sign again. 

But Dougherty wasn’t laughing about those kids today. He went through the motions of yelling at them when they ignored him. Office Dougherty could keep the kids off the stairs, but he couldn’t stop them from scurrying up and down the grassy embankment on either side of the stairs. Down they went to get close enough to sneak a look at the scene and back up to tell the younger kids the gruesome details. Every once in a while, one of the investigators from the county or state would bellow something like, “Hey, Dougherty. Geez, Louise. Keep those kids away. This is a potential crime scene and not fit for young’uns.” Officer Dougherty would huff and puff and harumph back, “I’m trying, but I’m just one man.” Dougherty didn’t like the scene being referred to as a potential crime scene. He wanted it labeled as an accident. Officer Dougherty officially told bystanders, young and old alike, to stay away, but he expended little actual effort to prevent their ingress to the crime or accident scene down by the tracks. 

Five days before on a Monday, two strangers arrived in town at that very train station. As they disembarked, they were bemused by all the children gathered at the train stop. The rich kids who had plenty of penny candy back home had laid one cent coins on the tracks. The poorer kids used round metal slugs from electrical boxes that they had found behind Graham’s Fix-It Shop in town. 

The children were waiting for the train to depart, hopefully revealing flattened pennies and slugs. If the train was not derailed by the objects on the tracks, much to the disappointment of the children, the smashed items acquired good luck in their eyes. They carried them at all times until they lost them playing baseball in one of the vacant lots in town or rolling down one of the many hills. Well, they didn’t start out rolling. The kids began seated on burlap sacks sliding down the steep grassy hills slick with morning dew, but that invariably devolved quickly into sackless rolling. 

As the two strangers made their way up the wooden staircase from the train platform, the train pulled out and the children squealed with delight as all the freshly-minted good luck talismans were revealed. The men shrugged and made their way up the hill to the only hotel in town. 

Their arrival had not escaped the gaze of Officer Dougherty. While sometimes playing the buffoon, he was far from being one. Dougherty made sure to be within eyesight of the train station every day to see the comings and goings of passengers. He had seen men with big valises arrive in town before. Dougherty knew their type. Grifters, looking for small town rubes to swindle. There were plenty of those in Dougherty’s town, but few with enough capital to warrant the investment of time needed to move ownership of that capital from the mattresses of the rubes into the grifters’ wallets. Except for Mrs. Hawthorne.

Hawthorne Industries occupied the large brick building one first encounters walking up from the train stop. Mabel Hawthorne was the sole owner of the family business after the passing of her husband Felix. The Hawthorne’s only son ran the business for Mabel. She lived a comfortable life which she found to be a tad on the mundane and dull side. 

The two strangers didn’t know much about Mabel Hawthorne other than she gave the appearance of a wealthy widow. Once in their hotel room, they unpacked the valise that contained their files. They rifled through the accordion file until they found the newspaper obituaries for Felix Hawthorne and the few articles they could find about Hawthorne Industries and Mabel Hawthorne’s philanthropic work. The two strangers never arrived in a town immediately after the passing of a wealthy resident. They let some time pass after the death before making their way into town to allay suspicion. Then they made the acquaintance of the heir or heirs, and the game was on.

Tom and Bob aimed to be as unobtrusive as possible. They were both in the five foot eight or nine range. They dressed neither shabby nor chic. Their suits were a dull brown, like the dirt in the small towns from which they harvested cash to make their livings. Their shirts were white with plain ties that complimented their drab suits. It would have been impossible for their hats to have been a duller brown color. Their shoes were well-worn but clean. Not shiny, mind you, to garner a look, but they had a dull, clean sheen to them. They were con men trying not to attract attention, or perhaps more aptly stated, a con team. 

In prison, Tom and Bob found each other while playing cards. Of course, both men were trying to cheat, and they could tell the other was, too. They struck up a good friendship behind bars based upon a mutual desire to deceive others. The two felons passed the time comparing notes on the grifts and scams they had used successfully. Of course, there were also the unsuccessful con jobs that landed them in the slammer for a stretch.

Bob was released first and used his freedom to build up a file of potential marks while working a mindless job at a hat factory. He was biding his time until Tom was released about eighteen months later. Bob’s goal was to save enough money to buy them both the conservative clothes they needed to resume their fraudulent careers as a team. Once Tom was released, they hit the road together. 

Tom asked the hotel clerk for a room on the third and top floor of the skinny hotel. There were only two rooms per floor, and the men chose the room overlooking most of the town. From that room’s window, if they squinted into the distance, they could just barely see the Hawthorne estate on the outskirts of town. They settled in and observed the comings and goings of the town for a day from their observation point high above the town. Meanwhile, down in the street below, Officer Dougherty casually noted the two men’s faces peering out of the front room on the top floor. 

Three days prior to the incident at the railroad tracks, Tom and Bob noted that Mabel Hawthorne had visited the bank in town two days in a row, and then she stopped to make a purchase at Kramer’s Bakery while her driver waited to return her home. Once she left the bakery, the con men discreetly made their way on foot to Mabel Hawthorne’s estate on the edge of town and observed from a distance, taking in the details of the mansion and property. The grandeur was so out of place for the small town. Hawthorne Industries had obviously been a cash cow for the Hawthorne family. After a bit, the two men turned and smiled at each other. Mabel was perfect.

Officer Dougherty was parked just up the road a bit in his squad car doing his own observing using binoculars he had brought home from the war. They had served him well in Europe and continued to do so on his home front back in the States. Dougherty knew what the two con men were after. Dougherty was determined to make sure the grifters successfully and safely swindled Mrs. Hawthorne before confronting them with their crime.

Two days preceding the ruckus at the railroad station, Tom and Bob met Mabel Hawthorne. It wasn’t a formal introduction by any means. They just happened to arrive, on purpose, in Kramer’s Bakery right after Mabel stopped by following her daily bank visit. Tom and Bob spoke loudly and effusively about their oil and gas lease investments. But, surprise! They needed additional investors quickly, or they would lose the rights to the leases. 

“I really don’t know what to do, Frank,” an exasperated Tom sighed.

“It is certainly frustrating, James,” Bob replied. “I don’t know how we can possibly just walk away from such a financial windfall.”

Tom and Bob both knew that no matter how much money the wealthy had, they always wanted more. 

Tom loudly whispered, “Frank, better keep your voice down. We don’t want to air our investment laundry in front of everyone.”

The only other people in the bakery at that time were Mrs. Darla Kramer, the baking genius at Kramer’s Bakery, and Mrs. Mabel Hawthorne. That was enough for Tom and Bob. Their goal was to establish themselves as Frank and James, a subtle homage to famed bank robber Frank James. In this grift, they portrayed two oil and gas investors desperate for partners in a “can’t miss” investment opportunity. 

Darla Kramer appeared not to care at all. She invested heavily in flour and sugar to make magical pastries that rewarded investors in her creations with delicious dividends. But Mabel Hawthorne? She was a different story. Her ears noticeably perked up at the sound of exciting investment opportunities in oil and gas leases. She knew that with automobile sales skyrocketing, demand for oil should also rise, along with the value of any investments she may have made. 

“Quite all right, really,” Mabel said turning to the two con men. “You’re not disturbing me in the least. In fact, perhaps I know an investor who may be interested in oil and gas leases.”

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Bob apologized. “We shouldn’t have been talking so loud about high finance. We were on our way to Chicago to present an oil and gas lease opportunity to some investors, but we had to stop here when James took ill. He’s been recuperating for a couple days now. Unfortunately, we won’t get to Chicago in time to make our meeting, so we’ll probably not get the additional investors we need, and the whole deal will fall apart. I hate losing out on such a sure thing.” 

“Oh, you poor man,” Mabel said turning to Tom. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes and no, ma’am,” replied Tom. “Yes, I feel better physically. But no, I’m just sick over being the reason Frank will lose out on this investment opportunity. He’s my best friend and needs the profits from this investment for his family, what with his child’s illness and all.”

“I insist you both come back with me to my house to discuss this some more,” Mabel emphatically declared. “My driver is out front, and he can take us all there.” 

Bob weakly objected, “That’s nice of you, ma’am, but we couldn’t impose upon you like that. And it’s a sizeable investment we need.”

“I won’t hear of you not coming,” insisted Mabel. “It would be rude of you to decline my invitation. Look at this delicious sponge cake I just purchased. We can all enjoy a piece of that. It’ll do James there some good to get some of Mrs. Kramer’s scrumptious baked goods in him. Oh, and I have money. I’m always making investments.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tom and Bob answered in unison.

Down the block, Officer Dougherty was parked with his trusty binoculars pressed to his face and focused on Kramer’s Bakery. He certainly couldn’t hear the conversation, but he didn’t need to listen. Darla Kramer would fill him in on the discussion when he stopped in for his daily pastry. 

Dougherty watched as the trio of potential oil and gas lease investors entered the Hawthorne automobile. Kevin Dixon was the Hawthorne driver, and he would serve as Dougherty’s ears for the ride back to the Hawthorne estate. The officer slumped down in the front seat of his squad car as the Hawthorne car passed. Dougherty followed the vehicle with his binoculars all the way into the gates of the Hawthorne estate before heading to the bakery.

“What looks good today besides you, Darla?” inquired Officer Dougherty perusing the display case at Kramer’s Bakery.

“Everything, same as always. Except, you may want to try a cruller with a raspberry glaze I made using fresh raspberries I picked myself. I know you love raspberries.” 

“Darla, that sounds delightful. I’ll take two. One for now and one to save for later.”

Darla Kramer knew better. Both those crullers would be eaten by Dougherty sooner than later. “My Deputy Doughnut,” thought Darla as she bagged up the two special pastries.

“Say, Darla, what can you tell me about those two mugs I saw in here with Mrs. Hawthorne?” 

Darla didn’t bat an eye at the question and replied, “I don’t think they were friends coming in, but I know they planned to share one of my sponge cakes as they left. They were going to discuss some oil and gas investments of some sort. Mabel took their bait and swallowed the hook.”

Darla always made Dougherty’s job so easy. “Thanks, my dear,” the deputy said as he grabbed the bag of deliciousness from Darla and tried to leave a quarter on the counter. Darla grabbed his hand before he slapped it down on the glass. 

“Keep it. You can pay me back with plenty of interest later. Just don’t play your cards so early this time and scare them off. Hang back a bit. Let it play out.” 

That night, an off-duty Officer Dougherty stopped for a drink at McGinty’s Pub. He knew that Kevin Dixon would be there, as he was every night after driving for Mabel Hawthorne, running her errands, and doing odd jobs around the estate the rest of the time. The food was excellent at McGinty’s with drinks poured tall. Dougherty and Dixon had served in the war together in the same company. Although they never found themselves in the same platoon, they knew what horrors of war the other had seen. They generally avoided each other in order to eliminate any opportunity to discuss the war. But Dougherty set aside his wartime memories as he sidled up to Dixon at the bar. 

“Can I join you, Kev?”

“Well, well, well. What did I do to deserve the presence of our town’s finest peacekeeper tonight?” Dixon asked jokingly.

“You know I always enjoy your company, Kevin. And I could use a little help from you tonight.”

“Sure, sure. What can I do you for?”

Dougherty explained, “You know those two businessmen you drove back to Mabel’s place?” As Dixon nodded, he continued, “I have reason to believe they are being followed by syndicate toughs. Their lives may be in danger. I don’t fear for Mrs. Hawthorne’s safety, but I think these two gentlemen may have run afoul of a criminal element.”

Dixon’s eyes widened as Dougherty continued his fabricated tale. He ordered a drink and the meat loaf special while unrolling a fable of epic proportions. Dougherty painted Tom and Bob as legitimate investors who had angered a crime syndicate boss when an investment went south because of circumstances beyond anyone’s control. Force majeure. Details of that deal were sketchy. The mob boss had vowed revenge and had goons trailing them, waiting for an opportunity to take them out. 

As Dougherty spun his tale, Dixon’s jaw dropped lower and lower. After Dougherty was done, he made sure to request, “Keep it quiet, Kev, okay? You didn’t hear anything from me. I’m keeping an eye on these guys all day, every day. Nothing will happen to them on my watch. And nothing will happen to you and Mrs. Hawthorne. Just go about your business as you normally do. Now, Mrs. Hawthorne isn’t seeing them again, is she?”

“Ten o’clock at the bank again tomorrow. I think Mrs. H is investing in some oil and gas leases with them,” Dixon explained.

“That’s just fine. You do your job and get Mrs. Hawthorne there and back home safely. I’ll watch the businessmen after the meeting. No harm will come to them while the sun shines on our town,” assured Dougherty. But to himself, he thought, “After dark is another story.”

With Dougherty’s tale of intrigue complete, the two former brothers-in-arms sat mostly silently as they ate their meatloaf specials. Dougherty paid for both meals and as he left, he reminded Dixon, “Not a word, okay? I’ve got this under control. Business as usual. Nothing will happen while I’m on duty.”

The day before investigators were examining the railroad tracks, Officer Dougherty surveilled Mabel Hawthorne’s every movement outside her house. It was a normal routine in the morning for Mabel with stops at the bank and bakery but with two exceptions. First, Kevin Dixon got out of the car at the bank, looked around nervously, and tried to take Mrs. Hawthorne’s arm and walk into the bank with her.

“You idiot,” muttered Dougherty under his breath.

Mabel Hawthorne took a swipe at her driver with her pocketbook, and directed him back to the auto. She collected herself and walked into the bank alone at five minutes to ten.

The other difference that day was Mabel Hawthorne having company at the bank. Walking up the hill from the hotel were Tom and Bob. They entered the bank at precisely ten o’clock. Bob carried a black leather bag that looked somewhat like a bag doctors would take on house calls. 

Kevin Dixon paced nervously the whole time Mabel Hawthorne was in the bank with the two supposed investors. He left a trail of cigarette butts showing his straight-line pacing route between the bank entrance and the auto. Officer Dougherty wanted to calm him somehow, but he also didn’t want to be seen. He kept Darla Kramer’s advice uppermost in his mind, “Let it play out.” Dougherty hoped the worst thing Dixon did was pace. 

At half past ten, Tom and Bob left the bank and headed to their hotel. Although he wasn’t certain, Dougherty swore that the bag’s sides bulged a bit from its contents. Dixon stopped his pacing for a bit to stare alternately at Tom and Bob as they walked away and through the bank window at his employer. Mabel Hawthorne emerged not five minutes later and was whisked into the auto by Dixon. Dougherty watched as Dixon initially started driving the auto back to the Hawthorne estate but quickly turned around and headed to Kramer’s Bakery. “Back to business as usual,” thought Dougherty. 

Officer Dougherty pondered whether he should check with the bank manager about the transaction that had just transpired. He vacillated between telling the bank manager that he feared for the safety of Tom and Bob or just letting it be. Dougherty decided that too many lies told to too many people is never a good thing, so he chose the latter. The lawman was certain that their black bag was full of cash, and he settled on accusing Tom and Bob of theft as the way to verify that. 

Dougherty kept an eye on the hotel the rest of the day. Most of the time, he sat in his police vehicle at a distance with a clear view of the front door. Before his shift ended, Officer Dougherty took a walk into the hotel’s lobby and struck up a conversation with Chet behind the counter. 

“How’s life treatin’ you, Chester?”

Dougherty heard none of Chet’s answer after “Well, let me tell you …” The police officer was only interested in getting a bit closer to see how many keys were in the cubbyhole for the top floor, front room. Two. The two men who were the object of Dougherty’s attention were obviously still in their room. 

Before Chet had finished his life story, Dougherty interrupted, “Oh, Chet, you got your hands full again, dontcha?” He always did. Before Chet could resume his story, Dougherty said, “Police business, Chet. Can you put in a call to the station for me and tell Officer Jameson to come pick-up the squad car over on Main Street? I’m off duty now.”

“Sure, sure. Always happy to help law enforcement. Now where was I?” 

“Chester, I’ll stop in tomorrow, and you can tell me the whole story. But now, I have to hit the road. Police business.”

“But I thought you were off duty …”

Officer Dougherty was out the door and headed nowhere before Chet could finish his thought. Dougherty staked out a bench in the park across from the street and down the block from the hotel. He pulled out an apple and waited for the sun to set.

Each night around midnight, a freight train slowed as it reached the small town. The tracks crossed Main Street at one point, so the freight cautiously crawled through that intersection. The slower speed reduced the train’s noise to a low rumble and allowed most of the town to continue their sleep uninterrupted. Dougherty figured that his two suspected con artists would be taking advantage of the train’s lowered speed to hop a ride out of town in the middle of the night without paying their hotel bill despite having a bag full of Mabel Hawthorne’s cash. 

At about ten o’clock, the deputy took a circuitous path to the rear of the hotel, walked in the back door, and climbed the steps to the top floor. Dougherty stood in the hall taking in the sounds of the old hotel on a summer night. Occasional creaks and groans from the hotel itself were accompanied by a constant chorus of crickets chirping wafting in through the open window at the end of the hall. Officer Dougherty observed a sliver of light peeking out from under the hotel room’s door. He took a few steps closer to the door. Blocking out the ambient noise as much as possible, Dougherty strained to hear movement from inside the room.  Once he did, he knocked and said, “Police, open up.” 

All went quiet except for the crickets and the hotel’s aged, complaining infrastructure. Dougherty knocked again before he heard any movement resume in the room. There was a general scurrying about before a voice was heard from inside the room.

“Be right there.”

The door opened a crack and Bob peered out into the hall, giving a uniformed Officer Dougherty the once over. 

“What can I do for you, officer?” 

Officer Dougherty pushed the door wide open and strode confidently into the room.

“Not much,” Dougherty replied. “I’m here for your protection. You know, that’s what I do, keep the peace and protect the general public.”

Tom chimed in, “Thank you, but I don’t think we’re in any danger. We won’t be needing your protection tonight.”

“Oh, but you do. You just don’t know it yet. You see, I know how you swindled the widow Hawthorne. That bag you are sitting in front of is full of her cash.”

Tom shifted slightly on the bed to shield the bag a bit more. Bob appeared to ready himself for a fight as he straightened his spine and spat out, “We didn’t swindle nobody. You got no proof. In fact, you got no right to be in this room.”

“Hold on, you two. Just relax. Nobody is getting arrested or in a fight tonight. That’s what I’m here to prevent. Mabel Hawthorne has more money than she knows what to do with. What do I care if she loses several thousand dollars on a speculative investment? But she does have some associates who watch her investments, and if they think she’s being cheated, well, then there can be hell to pay.”

Tom and Bob appeared to let their guard down just a bit with Dougherty.

“Then what’s your angle? What are you doing here?” Tom probed.

“I know you gentlemen will want to leave town tonight. I can see your valises are packed and ready to go. I can ensure your safe passage out of town. The Hawthorne dame can’t even remember my name when I bump into her in the bakery some mornings. I’m just a dumb cop to her. Maybe she’ll have a bit more respect for those who serve and protect this town once she loses a few bucks. And a very small portion of Mabel Hawthorne’s fortune is all that it’ll take for me to get you safely on that freight train headed out of town tonight. You won’t even have to pay your hotel bill, not that you were planning to anyway.”

“Maybe we was, and maybe we wasn’t,” Bob replied. “We know which way to the railroad tracks. What do we need you for?”

Dougherty explained, “There’s an ideal spot to hop the freight once it slows to cross Main Street. I’ll lead you out of the hotel safely and down to that exact spot. If anyone sees us, I’ll cover for you. And if Mabel Hawthorne’s associates come looking for you, I will protect you. That’s worth five sawbucks, don’t you think?” 

Tom and Bob looked at each other and seemed to come to agreement without saying even a single word. 

“Yeah, sure. It’s worth it. Kinda like an insurance policy,” admitted Tom. 

“Perfect! You two gentlemen finish packing, and I’ll be back at half past eleven to accompany you to the station. Until then, I’ll be waiting by the back door.” And with that, Dougherty left the room and headed down the stairs to the back door where he killed sixty minutes or so.

“Whaddya make of that copper,” asked Bob.

Tom replied, “Just a two-bit cheat who’s looking to skim wherever he can.”

“Yeah, you got him pegged right,” agreed Bob. “Maybe we pay him to take us to the train, but maybe he gives us a refund once the train comes, if you know what I mean.” Bob smacked his fist into an open hand. 

“Let’s get ready, and we’ll play it by ear down at the tracks. What’s half a Benjamin when we’ve got almost ten grand in the bag?” Tom schemed.

At thirty minutes to midnight, Officer Dougherty climbed the hotel stairs to the criminals’ room and gave a single, light rap on the door. Tom and Bob exited with their valises and the bag full of cash. Tom slapped five ten-dollar bills into Dougherty’s extended open hand. Not a word was exchanged as they followed Dougherty down the stairs and out the back door. They walked in silence during the ten-minute trip to the train station. Dougherty led them on a path that stuck mostly to the shadows, away from the few working street lights in town.

In theory, the street light at the corner where the Hawthorne Industries building sat was supposed to provide light to the rail station. However, once anyone descended the stairs to the platform, the light from the street corner was minimal. It was also unnecessary. Nobody needed light on the platform at night. The passenger train arrived during the day. 

Dougherty delivered the con men to the tracks as promised. “You were wise to purchase the insurance, gentlemen. Now look, just a few yards up the tracks toward Main Street starts a level patch of ground next to the tracks. That will give you a stretch where you can run alongside the train and hop aboard. It’ll be going pretty slow as it crosses Main Street. Here, let me walk you into position.”

Dougherty maneuvered Tom and Bob down the tracks into position standing shoulder-to-shoulder. He stood closely behind the men and instructed, “Watch for the train coming from this direction and be prepared to run about twenty yards until you can hop on.”

Bob started, “Yeah, yeah, we’ve hopped trains before and we know ...”

But before either Bob could finish his objection, Officer Dougherty had rags dripping with chloroform and alcohol pressed over both of their noses and mouths. They gradually slumped to the ground unconscious. Dougherty spread the wet rags over their faces as he positioned their bodies in the dark. He collected some of the men’s personal belongings and the bag of cash to take back to his small house. 

Eight hours later, the first children of the day meandered down the steps to the railroad platform and the tracks. As usual, those young boys had left discarded treasures and worthless trinkets on the tracks for the overnight freight to flatten. Officer Dougherty watched from afar through his binoculars as the boys scoured the area for where the train wheels had scattered the flattened items. As their search gradually widened, Dougherty heard a shout, then silence, and finally a whole lot of yelling from the group of boys clattering up the stairs. He had moved his squad car into position at the corner of the Hawthorne Industries building. The group of boys ran right to him.

A cacophony of voices and entreaties cascaded down upon Dougherty. He didn’t need to listen for details he already knew. 

“Boys, show me what you saw.”

The boys led the way, some running down the stairs and some half-running and half-sliding down the grassy embankment. Dougherty was thrilled with the area being trampled by at least a dozen small footprints along with his. 

Once Dougherty reached the scene that had so shook the young boys, he sent them all over to wait on the railroad platform. Dougherty then walked around the scene a few times before calling over the boys again. Footprints covered footprints covering footprints. Officer Dougherty then dispatched the boys to head to the police station and tell the officer on duty there that an investigation needed to be launched immediately. Dougherty stayed behind to secure the scene and make sure that his footprints were everywhere.

It was another two hours before investigators from the county and then the state began arriving. As Officer Dougherty weakly tried his hand at crowd control, he intently listened to whatever he could make out the investigators saying.

“No identification on either of them. No money neither. Kinda odd.”

“Looks like they laid their heads on the track and held on tight.”

“No fingerprints available cause there’s no fingers left to print.”

“Maybe an accident trying to hop the freight.”

“There’s no possible way this was an accident. Either suicides or these two mugs had an enemy.”

“There’s kid footprints everywhere along with the local deputy’s.”

“Let’s get the decapitated bodies off the tracks before the afternoon passenger train arrives. We can examine the bodies more at the station.” 

Dougherty smiled to himself. He knew that once the bodies were moved and the next train came through, the potential crime scene would be further compromised. As it was, the investigators were paying no attention to all the footprints of Officer Dougherty found at the scene. After all, he was the first lawman on the scene and had reported the two grisly deaths. 

The investigators were able to identify the men only as the assumed names they used to sign the hotel register. Mabel Hawthorne confirmed the bodies were wearing the suits that her oil and gas lease co-investors sported during their meetings. Mabel’s investment money was nowhere to be found. Kevin Dixon told investigators that he had heard a rumor at McGinty’s that the two men were mixed-up with organized crime, but he couldn’t remember who told him. Investigators concluded that Mrs. Hawthorne’s investment partners had been robbed and murdered by out-of-town thugs. 

Officer Dougherty took a leave of absence from the town’s police force once the investigation was officially closed with no suspects charged with any crimes and the victims unidentified. Dougherty claimed that the shock of finding the headless and fingerless bodies had taken a toll on his heart. He headed out of town to supposedly recuperate but never returned. 

Dougherty wasn’t much missed as the town returned to a bucolic existence. It was mutual. He didn’t much miss life in that small town. And neither did Darla Kramer once she joined her Deputy Doughnut several months later. Ten grand bought a lot in those days, even the start of two new lives in a different small town in a warmer, sunnier clime.