Page 32 of Death on Gallows Path

“I have no idea.”

Silence fell again.

One block later, Clara said, “We should stop by the post office.”

“Before the café?” I might have whined a bit because what I was thinking was, Before pastries?

“Yes.”

* * * *

“Oh, my goodness,” Ruby said as we walked in. “You must have heard. I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Heard what?” I asked.

Ruby Zweydorf runs the tiny Haines Tavern Post Office. The one in Stringer is newer, bigger, and always requires a long wait before the clerk says you have to wait in another line.

Ruby never makes you get in another line, because she does everything.

Also, there wouldn’t be room in this lobby for a second line.

Ruby sent a worried look toward her husband, Ike.

He sat in a corner of the lobby, not far from the door, with a newspaper folded open. His vacant gaze was pinned on the floor below it.

I wish we’d brought the dogs.

A bad car accident left Ike with a brain injury. The dogs’ joy at seeing him and his pleasure in petting them exerted an amazing calming effect on him, which had a way of loosening Ruby’s tongue.

She answered my question promptly. “Heard about the murder.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Okay, her tongue didn’t need loosening.

“What murder?” Clara asked.

“Damon Swindell. You know him? He and his wife live in that swanky area out of town.”

“Oh, my goodness. We know him from dog training at Zepke’s. Saw him last night,” Clara said. “He’s dead?”

“Murdered,” Ruby confirmed. “He was found early this morning on Gallows Path.”

“Gallows Path?” I repeated. Who on earth would want that address? “Where’s that?”

Clara dismissed my question with a quick, “Road southwest of here,” before pelting Ruby with, “Who found him? How was he killed? What’s being said?” then, belatedly, adding, “Poor Pammy Swindell. She must be devastated.”

“All I’ve heard about Pammy is that Zoley Georger is with her. And Donna has the dogs.”

Clara’s eyes hadn’t deceived her about Donna’s passengers.

“How about the other questions?” I asked. “Who found him? What’s being said? And—” I’d lost at least one question from the pelting. “—something else.”

“How was he killed?” Clara supplied.

“Shot. In his head.” Ruby nodded her own head for emphasis. “Twice.”

“Well, that argues against suicide,” Clara murmured.