Murder at the Courthouse by A. H. Gabhart Page B

the building, Roy’s keys jangled on his belt.
    Normal sounds. The same sounds he heard the morning before when a dead man was on the steps out front. Michael glanced at his watch and wondered if Miss Willadean would appear at the courthouse at nine sharp as usual. Of course after yesterday, she had probably taken to her bed with the vapors or was still on the telephone. Maybe both. Sixteen minutes from now, he’d at least know the answer to that particular question.
    Betty Jean looked up from her newspaper when Michael came through the door and nodded toward his desk. “Hank got the paper out early this morning, so I bought you a copy. It’s in the Eagleton News too, but just one paragraph, no pictures.”
    Michael unfolded the Hidden Springs Gazette and the black headline jumped out at him. B ODY F OUND ON C OURTHOUSE S TEPS .
    Betty Jean put her copy down long enough to get a cup of coffee. “The picture of you is nice.” She peered at the paper as she sat back down. “Thank goodness I came back inside before Hank pointed that camera at me. I look like a cow in pictures.” Betty Jean took a sip of coffee. “But you look good. The way an officer of the law should look. Concerned, serious, in control.”
    Michael scanned the pictures on the front page. The biggest one was of the body being loaded into the hearse. Hank would get complaints about that. A hometown weekly paper was supposed to be different from the big-town dailies thatmight print that kind of thing. Then again, maybe this would be different since nobody knew the deceased.
    At the bottom of the page were a couple of smaller pictures. One showed Paul Osgood talking to Miss Willadean, and another caught Michael standing by the bloodstained post after the body had been taken away. The bloodstains looked like smudges of ink on the paper. The caption under the picture identified Michael as the first law officer on the scene. Michael studied his own face in the picture and tried to see the in-control look Betty Jean said he had, but all he could see was a baffled expression.
    He looked up from the paper. “Any new developments this morning? No new bodies on the steps?”
    â€œNope. I peeked out there when I got here to be sure. Felt silly doing it, but I did it anyway.”
    â€œYou probably weren’t the only one who looked.” Michael smiled a little, remembering his own urge to check out front. “Anything else?”
    â€œNothing except Paul Osgood called a few minutes ago. Something about being sick. I don’t know. I never talk to him any longer than I have to.”
    â€œPaul’s not that bad,” Michael said.
    â€œYou talk to him then.” Betty Jean turned back to her paper and coffee. “Boy, I sure could use a doughnut this morning.”
    â€œGo up to the Grill and get one. I’ll watch the office till you get back,” Michael offered innocently, as if he didn’t know Betty Jean was on one of her periodic diets, this time a little more seriously than usual because she was sure that the new teacher at the middle school would ask her out if only she were a little slimmer.
    Betty Jean glared at him. “Go soak your head in a bucket.Or better yet, call Paul Osgood up and find out his marching orders for you today.” When she flipped open the newspaper, it crackled loudly. Then as quickly as she’d snapped at him, she was laughing. “Wait till you see the picture Hank put in here of Paul and Buck going at it. Sheriff Potter’s got a hand on each guy’s arm, and it looks like he’s barely preventing the second homicide of the day.”
    â€œHank likes to stir things up. I don’t even want to read what he quotes us as saying. Worst thing about it, we probably said every word.” Michael skimmed the article, glad he spotted his name only a couple of times.
    â€œOh, it’s not too bad. He just keeps harping on how nobody knows who,