Page 53 of The School Mistress (Emerson Pass Historicals 1)

I told him what I’d learned from the Higgins boys. “They said they already told you. I wanted to see what you knew.”

“Yeah, I talked to them. Those boys at Carter’s were just blowing off steam.” He took a long drag from his cigarette. “What do you know about Kellam?”

“Not much. I know his daughter’s attending school without his knowledge and that Miss Cooper is worried about him coming to her classroom and dragging the poor child out by her hair.”

I waited as he let out a long stream of smoke from his lungs. One couldn’t be in a hurry with this fellow.

“I went out and talked to Mrs. Cole a few times.” He had the raspy timbre of a heavy smoker. I wanted to give him a glass of water. “She told me about the financial arrangement her husband made for her.”

I watched him carefully. Where was he going with this? Would I have to fight him for her right to the money? “Yes. What’s that have to do with his murder?”

“It puts you as the prime suspect.”

My immediate reaction was to lambaste him, but I held my temper and answered calmly. “Samuel Cole was a rich man, true. In comparison to my own wealth, however, it was of no consequence.”

“That right?”

“That’s right. Anyway, Samuel was my friend.”

“What about her? Any motive to get rid of him?” The tip of his skinny, hand-rolled cigarette burned orange as he took another drag.

“They had a good marriage despite the tensions from the outside world.”

He tossed the cigarette on the ground and stomped it with the heel of his boot. “Let me know if you hear anything else, but you need to prepare yourself. This murder may never be solved.”

“Isn’t it your job to do so? The governor sent you out here to keep law.”

“Let me put it to you this way. As far as I’m concerned, the guy got what he deserved. He brought a woman like that here and lived with her like man and wife. What did he expect?” Without another word, he sauntered away, disappearing around the corner of the building.

I picked up his cigarette and tossed it in the trash bin Murphy kept near the back door. Then I headed down to the barbershop.

I entered through the front door of Carter’s barbershop. All heads turned, and the room silenced. Carter was giving the postmaster, Ray Owens, a shave. At a table in the front, two bearded men I didn’t know played checkers. Two others I’d seen around town read a newspaper and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes. The room smelled of smoke and shaving cream.

“Looking for a shave, Barnes?” Carter asked.

Matthew Carter was in his fifties with a paunch, a long white beard, and white hair slicked back with thick pomade. He was a good tenant, never late with his rent or outwardly hostile. However, I’d heard from others that he resented my power and money.

“I’m here about Cole’s murder,” I said. “Wondering if you gentlemen know anything about that.” Cigarette smoke hovered near the ceiling like a cloud cover.

“What would we know?” Carter asked.

“You and your friends here have let your opinions be known when it came to the Cole children going to school.” I left it at that, hoping to bait someone into talking.

“Like you said, no secret there,” Carter said as he scraped the blade across Owen’s chin in short, fluid movements.

“Did you dislike it enough to kill a man?” I asked.

Carter didn’t bother to look up from his work. “Not sure what you mean.” Scrape, scrape, scrape went his blade.

“I heard something about a group of men joining up to go out and talk with Cole. You know anything about that?”

“Can’t say as I do,” Carter said. “But talking ain’t the same as killing.”

The rest of them were all back to pretending to play checkers and reading the paper.

“May I ask why you care?” I asked.

Carter lifted his head to look at me. “Listen, Barnes, you may own most of this town, bu