Dead Man's Hand (Caden Chronicles, The) by Eddie Jones

people you sure have a way of getting on their bad side. Anyway, to answer your question, no, I didn’t kill anybody.” Raising an eyebrow, he added, “Least, not yet.”
    “So, there was nothing to this movie competition with Bill Bell then?”
    “Look, I never had a real shot at that part in
Rio Bravo
, okay? It was Bill’s all the way. He goes to all the right parties and knows the producers by first name. Me? I’d rather let my acting get me the work. And for the most part it does. But if you’re asking if I’d do anything to hurt Bill’s chances of getting that part, the answer is no. We’re friends and competitors, that’s it.”
    “What about the assault charge?”
    “See? There you go shooting off the hip and missing everything. That charge you’re referring to got tossed. Knew it would be. Nothing but a disagreement with a hothead at a bar who was so drunk he could hardly stand up. He took a swing at me, missed, and hit his head while falling. The proceedings lasted all of twenty minutes. Got any more questions, Deputy Caden?”
    The way he said my name made it sound like he was spitting a gulp of sour milk from his mouth.
    With less conviction I replied, “Besides you, who else would benefit from Billy’s death?”
    “See? Now that’s a question. Can’t think of a soul except the marshal. Bill loaned him fifty grand to keep this tourist trap alive. As I understand it, Bill got in a bind and demanded the marshal start paying him back, but Buckleberry doesn’t have it. Probably never will. Shouldn’t be telling you this, but the honest truth is this could be our last season at Deadwood. That’s why Bill was so anxious to land that movie role. Gets him out of this dead-end town and into the bright lights of Hollywood.”
    “And you?”
    James shrugged. “I’m a survivor. If this place folds, I’ll find work.”
    He adjusted his hat and thumped me on the arm the way a high school quarterback might when he’s trying to be friendly with a lower classman.
    “Look, Caden. I know this little investigation of yours is a big deal. And I feel bad that your family hauled you all the way out to this place. If I was your age I’d be bored outof my gourd, too. But the fact is, no one was murdered. You were there last night in the saloon. You saw how we do things. Nobody really gets shot. It’s all one big put-on. As for Annie, I’m not sure what to tell ya. She’s a good girl. A little too talkative for my taste, but I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt her. Certainly wouldn’t be me. Not with her being the marshal’s niece. I think what you have here is a lot of loose pieces that you’re trying to shoehorn into place.”
    “If I locate the murder weapon, any chance I’ll find your prints on it? Any chance at all?” I watched to see his reaction. But instead of flashing a hint of anger like I’d expected, he laughed—which only made
me
mad.
    “Tell ya what, Caden. Snoop around all you want, but odds are you’re going to come up dry. Just like the marshal and his big plans for this place. Hang around Deadwood long enough and you’ll discover there’s nothing here but a whole lot of disappointment.”
    “You didn’t answer the question.”
    “Call Bill. Ask him how it is with us. He’ll tell you the two of us get along just fine. Or ask anyone else in this town. They’ll all tell you the same thing. We ‘bout done here? I need to get back to them mustangs.”
    “Almost.” I wanted to ask if he was in the graveyard the night before, but I knew he’d deny it even if he was. He certainly
seemed
friendly. But then, so far almost everyone I’d met had been cooperative in their own guarded way.
    “Anybody else with you this morning while you were breaking those mustangs?”
    He shook his head. “Got here early, just a little before dawn.I’d probably been working a good half hour before the first hands showed up to get things ready for the guests.” “What type of car do