The Body in the Barn

A Short Story

When they found old Oscar Delacort’s body on the floor of his barn, his neck broken, and a broken mason jar smelling of freshly brewed corn squeezings near his outstretched hand, Chief Constable Titus ‘Tip’ Tyler was ready to declare it an accident. He and his newly-hired deputy, Matt Kane were there due to an anonymous female caller reporting something suspicious at Delacort’s farm.

            “Kinda looks like old Oscar done imbibed too much of his own product and fell out of the hay loft,” he said.

Kane looked down at the body, and back up at the hay loft. He stepped off three long paces and looked at the ledge twelve feet above his head.

            “I don’t think he fell, chief,” he said. “Looks to me like someone might have pushed him.”

            Tyler glared at his young deputy. “Now, son, you been working for me all of a month now. You think you know more ‘bout investigating than I do?”

            Kane’s cheeks flamed red. The fact was, he did think he knew more than his boss. He’d spent five years as an investigator with the army’s criminal investigation division before getting out of the army and coming back home to Pinewood when his mother took seriously ill. He’d been trained in the latest investigative techniques, whereas Tyler, who’d been chief constable of the town for fifteen years running, had pretty much learned on the job. All that notwithstanding, though, Kane knew he owed the old man – he’d hired him as a deputy as soon as he came back home, and had treated him like a son. He didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

            “No way, chief,” he said. “You got more knowledge in your little finger than I’ll ever have. It’s just that, the way the body’s placed it’s not likely he could have fallen from that ledge up there. If you’ll let me, I’d like to try a little experiment to show you how.”

            Tyler had a soft spot for his young deputy, and besides, cause of death wasn’t his jurisdiction anyway. That was for the town medical examiner, Doctor Elwood Jenkins, Pinewood’s sole physician and part time coroner whose basic duty was to declare ‘death from natural causes’ when hunters died of exposure in the woods, or some fool farmer got himself caught up in the blades of his hay mower. This one, he thought, would be pretty easy. Everyone in Shelby County knew that Oscar Delacort was the main distiller of corn whiskey around, and that he often liked sampling a batch before putting it up for sale. Tyler figured he kept his hooch stored in the hay loft, and had stumbled and fallen after sampling a bit too much. Didn’t need a medical degree to see he’d broken his neck, the way his head was angled and all. But, no problem letting the young squirt show off a bit; when nothing came of it, it’d be a good lesson for him come the day he replaced Tyler as the town’s chief law enforcement officer.

“Heck, Matt, you wanta show me the stuff the army done taught you, go right on ahead,” he said.

They stepped carefully around the body, which they’d not touched the body, leaving that to the ME, Kane went to the rickety looking wooden ladder leading up to the half ceiling that served as the barn’s hay loft. When he got to the top, he dusted off his trousers and stood. The peaked roof of the barn was still six feet above his head. Bales of hay were stacked four high along the three walls, except near a small square window at one end of the loft which was left vacant. Kane walked over to the window, where he noticed that the line of bales were two deep, except on the right, where there was only the outer bale, leaving a space three feet wide from the bale to the wall. Must be where he stashed his whisky, He walked over and knelt down, peering into the space. Sure enough, he saw row upon row of mason jars that seemed to stretch back six feet of more.