The Ghost of Angelfort

The Ask

Angelfort, a small town in the middle of Georgia, nearly as old as the United States. A town lost in time, so much so that a duel at high noon would not look out of place in the highstreet. I walk up to the bar, the building looks like something out of a western movie.  "Chester's Bar" is painted on the wall above the door, I give it a quick glance before I stride confidently through the doors.

"I need a room," I say as I pull a credit card from my pocket. "And a beer."

The man behind the bar, who I assume is Chester, was the embodiment of mid-west America. Place a shotgun in his hands and a screeching eagle beside him and he would have been the full package. He painted a stark contrast to me in my city clothes, my backpack slung over my shoulder, I'd need to change my outfit if I wanted to blend in.

"How long will ye be stayin' for darlin'?" He asked in that midwestern drawl that drags words out as if he needs more time to think of what the next one is.

"As long as I'm here," I reply as I hand him the credit card. "You can keep this until I leave."

"Well thank ye kindly Miss," he squints down at the card, and for a moment I wonder if he can even read before he continues. "Miss Graham, have a great stay at Chesters Bar."

As I drink my beer I pull my notebook from my bag. The e-mail had arrived just over a week ago, and it was a strange one. Normally the requests I get are more related to, let's call it pest control. But this one was different, I was being asked to solve a death instead of cause one. I began to read through the message yet again.

"Dear Miss Osborn

I assume you are wondering how I find you, but let's just suffice to say I understand you take care of problems.

My sister, Daisy Hawke, was the Sheriff of a small town called Angelwood, and six months ago she was found dead in her office. She had four bullet wounds to the head and had burnt both her filing cabinet and computer. The police deemed it a suicide but the evidence clearly points to murder. Who shoots themselves in the head four times? No one will listen to me, so I found you.

I don't have much money to offer you, but I have nowhere else to go. Please, find out what happened to my sister!"

Something definitely wasn't right about this, even the most idiotic policeman couldn't think that four shots to the head was suicide. Even though the paycheck would be smaller than usual I couldn't help but take this case. I'd never miss a chance to uncover a cover-up, I've seen too many of those already. There was one question that wouldn't stop bouncing around my head though. Why had no one else been looking at this?