Death at the Black Bull by Frank Hayes

catch. Finally, with Jimmy’s guidance, Abby started to reel in the fish.
    â€œWow, Abby! You got yourself some big catfish. There’s tomorrow night’s supper. You did good.” Jimmy started to work the hook out of the catfish’s mouth.
    â€œJimmy, it’s not about the boys.”
    â€œWhat d’ya mean, Ab?” He saw the serious look on her face, so he dropped the fish in a bucket at his feet and gave her his full attention.
    â€œWell, you know how kids used to make fun ’cause we lived in a trailer and our clothes were . . . Well, you know.”
    Jimmy nodded at the painful memories he had worked so hard to forget.
    â€œI know it was much worse for you than it was for me,” she said. “But people don’t do that no more because of you. Kids now treat me pretty nice and when Virgil, I mean the sheriff, picked me up last week on my way to school and dropped me off and all the kids saw when he waved to me and called me Abby, I could tell they were looking at me different and it felt nice. I think some even think I’m special.”
    â€œYou are special, Ab.”
    â€œI know to you, but I never been to other people. It’s a good feeling. So, if you were to tell me something about Buddy that they didn’t know, well, it would kinda help me.”
    Jimmy looked out over the stretch of river beneath them. The sun was pretty much gone. The light no longer danced on the surface. The water looked almost black.
    â€œBuddy was found by Virgil floating in a stock tank. He didn’t look too good because the water and the hot sun took its toll. You can tell that ’cause I know it will eventually come out, but I don’t want you pestering me for more. This is an ongoing investigation and we’ve got to be real careful with the information we have. We don’t want anybody to get a hint we’re onto them. Let’s get home now, so I can run down something I’ve just thought of.”
    â€œBoy, Jimmy, you sound just like a detective. Wait till the kids hear about this.”
    *   *   *
    Not too far away, sitting with his feet on the railing of his porch, with a cold beer in his hand, Virgil was also enjoying the quiet. The nighttime smell of flowers and trees in full bloom mixed with barnyard smells of hay, manure, and hard work.
    Cesar came out of the kitchen, the screen door slapping shut in back of him.
    â€œGot almost all the hay. Left that field across the road for last. If we were to lose it to the weather, it wouldn’t be much of a loss. It’s pretty poor.”
    Virgil looked at Cesar, surprised to hear that much from him in one stream.
    â€œGuess it’s time to turn that ground over,” Virgil said. “Cover it with rye, then plow it under and reseed.”
    â€œThat’s what I was thinking.” Each took a sip from his bottle while he contemplated the idea.
    â€œThey putting Buddy in the ground tomorrow?” Cesar said.
    â€œNo. They don’t dig holes on Sundays.”
    â€œAny progress?”
    â€œNot much. I think we’ve got to take a step back and look at this thing from the beginning. That’s what I just told Jimmy. Guess I’ll head off tomorrow where we found the truck and see if I can come up with something.”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, maybe?”
    Cesar took another sip from his bottle before he answered. “Seems to me that’s the end. Down the bottom of that ravine is not the beginning.”
    Virgil turned that over in his mind. Then he pushed back from the railing, put his feet on the floor, and stood up.
    â€œOutta the mouths of babes,” Virgil said.
    â€œGuess you’re talking about me.”
    â€œYou got it. You just ruined my night.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œYou were right. I gotta begin at the real beginning. And now’s the best time to do it. Saturday night at the Black Bull, instead of