If Catfish Had Nine Lives(95)

            He maneuvered his body to look like the one in the picture, who I assumed was Norman. I hoped I wouldn’t ever see the picture.

            “That’s right,” Amy said as she crouched. “Now, just move your leg a teensy bit this way. Good.”

            Amy stood and then plopped one hand on her hip as she confirmed that the man in the picture and the man on the ground were both in identical poses.

            “Now, Cliffy, when I looked at the body this morning, your ME and I did some trajectory calculations. Grant is the victim after he was shot. Billy,” she grabbed another man, “is the victim before he was shot,” Amy said.

            Cliffy? I crossed my arms in front of myself and brought my eyebrows together.

            “Okay,” Cliff said. He saw me out of the corner of his eye as he looked up from the papers in his hand. He smiled briefly and then turned his attention back to Amy.

            “Billy, I need you to stand right here. Yes, your feet will be away from Grant’s a bit.” Amy pulled out a tape measure and crouched again. She placed the bright yellow strip on the ground as Billy did exactly as she asked and Grant stayed in an uncomfortable, twisted position on the ground.

            Once again, Amy righted herself.

            “Now,” she said a little more loudly as she looked at the small crowd watching her every move, “this is where the bullet went into the body.” She placed her fingertip on Billy’s chest. “Based upon the calculations that we made this morning, we can assume—almost completely safely—that the shooter was no more than fifty yards back and was no more than five feet five inches high.”

            I leaned over and said to Evan, “Really? She can know that much?”

            “I think so,” Evan said, a little awe lining his voice.

            Amy pulled her hand away from Billy’s chest. “That puts your fairly short shooter back over there, in the spot in the street, in between that cookie place and the saloon.”

            “If I remember correctly, that’s the spot where the hanging platform sits for the cook-off, right?” Evan said to me.

            “One and the same. It’s where the town’s real hanging platform did its work back in the day. We do try to keep it authentic,” I said.

            “You think the killer was someone from Broken Rope and their location was somehow symbolic?” Evan said.

            “No, I don’t. Well, I hope not, Evan.”

            “Knowing the shooter’s size does narrow the suspect list,” Evan said. “I mean, of course there are men that height, but I imagine that Jim and Cliff will start to focus on more women, which would be a much easier task if we didn’t have so many visitors.”

            “True.”

            Jake was five feet six inches, but I hoped that his height challenge didn’t put him close to being on the suspect list.

            “Amy, how sure are you of all this?” Jim asked. He looked tired, but I’d seen him in worse condition. Still, I hoped the solution to the murder was close at hand.

            “Jim, I’m the best you can get. Isn’t that right, Cliff?” She smiled and winked at him.

            I didn’t even like thinking I might be jealous, so I decided to call what I was feeling curiosity. How did they know each other? How long had they known each other?

            “Amy’s the absolute best,” Cliff said sincerely.

            My lips twisted involuntarily.

            “It’s all based on measurements, Jim, you know that,” Amy said. “I just happen to be extra good at measuring.” She winked again, right at Cliff.