Free Fool's Gold by Ted Wood Page B

word about the evidence.  
    I waited a moment or two, then told him about the bearskin Prudhomme had bought, and about the fact that Sallinon had said it was something else.  
    "I was starting to figure that somebody killed Prudhomme and tried to dress it up as a bear mauling," I said. "But when the guy owned the murder weapon already and when he's found alive and well enough to get laid some days later, I wonder just whose body that was up there on the island."  
    Gallagher sat up. "If this Eleanor is right—and we'll know better when we get that photo—then you've got to think that Prudhomme killed some other guy and dressed him up in his own clothes."  
    "Why?" I wondered out loud.
    Gallagher stood up and paced around his desk. "Hell, I don't know. Why does anybody kill anybody? Maybe he was in over his head with a loan shark? Maybe he was sick of his wife and wanted to drop out of sight. We don't need a motive, we've got a goddamn body."  
    "Yeah. But that raises another question, for me anyway. If he bought that bearskin from Sallinon, why did Sallinon lie about it? Did Prudhomme ask him to, I wonder?"  
    "Beats the hell outa me." Gallagher said. At last he began to grin. It started around his mouth, cold and hard, a flexing of the muscles. Then it spread until it lit up his whole ugly face. "Go to it, Reid. Let's bring this case back to life and show these arrogant bastards that they know nothing. It won't make any difference to them, they're in too solid in a town this size. But it'll show them there's more to life than taking the plane to Chicago or Los Angeles and standing up there talking bullshit about animal bites."  
    I wondered why he had such a personal anger against the good doctor. Was he perhaps interested in the big nurse? It was a thought, but I let it slide. "Okay. I'm heading to Thunder Bay tomorrow. As soon as I've got the picture we'll turn this investigation on its ear."  
    He didn't say anything. Instead he reached across the table and shook hands with me. "Come on," he said. "I'll drive you back to the motel."  
    Â 

 

 
    7
    Â 
    Â 
    I was up at eight after four hours' broken sleep. First I let Sam out of the car, fed him, and gave him a brisk run, then I went for breakfast. The same girl was on duty and I ate the same breakfast, looking through the same window at the same grand view. After that I went down to the little courthouse, ready to tell the magistrate what had happened.  
    First I had to sit through half a dozen hearings of vagrancy. In each case Gallagher gave the same evidence. He had found the men panhandling in town. He had driven them all to the city limits and give them five dollars and told them to head back down the highway, there weren't any jobs vacant in Olympia and there was no room for beggars. All of them had come back into town and taken up panhandling again. He had arrested them, given them a night's shelter in the cells and a solid breakfast, and brought them to court. In each case the magistrate cautioned the men, told them they would get thirty days next time, and advised them to leave town for keeps. They had all agreed to do so. Two of them had stopped on their way out of court to shake hands with Gallagher and thank him. He brushed it off, but it increased my respect for the man. He was a good copper and a kind man.  
    I didn't get a chance to talk about the attack. The town lawyer was there on behalf of the two men, Tettlinger and Gervais. He asked for a one-month remand, telling the magistrate that his clients had suffered a severe beating, frowning at me as if he expected me to go red. I didn't. My initial horror was over. These two were bad news. They deserved a jail term. I would do what I must to see they got one. In the meantime, thanks to the Bail Reform Act, they were freed on their own recognizance and told to return a month later for the hearing.  
    There was only one florist in town, but he had yellow