Free Days of Reckoning by Chris Stout

you’ve already been inside, why don’t you lead the way? And don’t touch anything. The scene’s been desecrated enough already.”
    Jimmy reddened, but guided Sam through the open back door of the shop. It looked like someone had used a sledgehammer to break it down. A light was on in the back storeroom. “Was this on when you got here?”
    “No, sir. I turned it on so you’d be able to see your way.”
    Sam swore to himself again. “Thanks Jimmy.”
    They made their way past several boxes and came to the door leading into the store. Sam could already detect the smell of bodily gasses and fluids. Not good. “Okay, before we go any further, tell me exactly what you touched when you went in there.”
    “Well, I checked Henry for a pulse, but I guess that was silly since he had a big hole drilled through his head. And I looked for his gun. It was still in his holster. His pocket piece and keys was gone, though.”
    “So you moved the body?”
    “Not much, but yeah, I reckon I did shift it around some. Pretty foul stuff, too.”
    Sam sighed. “Anything else?”
    “No sir. I poked around and saw some pistol cases smashed in. Cash register too. Looks like maybe someone took some boxes of ammo as well. That’s about it.”
    “Okay. Wait outside with your buddies while I look around here.”
    Jimmy started to move into the store, intending to go out the front, but Sam caught his arm and stopped him. “Not that way. Go around back, the way we came in!”
    “Sorry,” Jimmy said, sheepish again. He headed out the back door with his head and shoulders slumping. Sam moved into the store.
    Just as Jimmy had promised, Henry Beaumont lay dead in the middle of the floor. Sam drew in a sharp breath. He counted bloodstains on the man’s shirt and trousers, in addition to the obvious hole through his forehead. Footprints in the pools of tacky blood indicated that someone – probably Jimmy – had been around the body long after Henry had been shot. Sam walked around in a wide circle. He guessed that Henry had caught an intruder, but the intruder had the drop on him. Given what Jimmy had said about his pocket pistol being gone, Sam guessed that Henry had not been shot immediately. The intruder may not have intended to kill him at all, only firing when Henry tried to draw his gun. Sam wondered why Henry would have gone for a pocket pistol instead of the large revolver holstered on his hip.
    He stood with his back to the front door. There was no spray of blood across the carpet. That meant that Henry had been shot through the head after he was already down. Whoever executed him had decided to make sure he didn’t cause any more trouble. Sam rubbed his chin. Dancing lights from flashing sirens splashed across the wall as an ambulance and another police cruiser pulled into the lot. Sam continued his inspection of the store.
    As he was looking over the shattered gun cases he heard footsteps in the storeroom. He looked up and raised his eyebrows when he saw Chief Wainwright standing in the doorway.
    “Jesus,” Wainwright said, holding a handkerchief over his nose. “What the hell happened here?”
    “Looks like Henry was taken by surprise and held at gunpoint. Somewhere along the line he reached for a hidden piece and got killed in the process. I doubt he ever got a shot off. Of course, that’s all assuming that what Jimmy out there told me is correct.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Sam explained what he had learned. “This crime scene sucks, Chief. At least one other person has been in here before me. I’m sure they meant well, wanting to check on their friend, but they fucked the whole place up.” Sam was glad he finally had someone to whom he could vent his frustration. “Body’s been moved, evidence tampered with… We ought to arrest the lot of them for obstruction of justice.”
    “Take it easy, Sam,” Wainwright said gently. “They’re just a bunch of ‘good ol’ boys,’ looking after one of their