And of course, by that time, I couldn't stand not knowing who he was. I picked up a pair of iron firewood tongs, stepped a little closer to the body again, and used the tongs to lift up the edge of the tricorn hat, just enough to see his face.
Roger Benson.
„Damn,“ I said, letting the tricorn hat fall back into place. I could feel my headache kick in again, just at the sight of him, even before I started to consider all the complications his murder could cause.
„So, what's the problem here?“ came a familiar voice from behind me.
„Someone's been murdered, Sheriff,“ I said „Murdered!“ the sheriff exclaimed. „Oh, dear.“
He stepped forward, rather hesitantly, and peered at the body.
„He's in costume,“ he said.
„Most of us are,“ I said. Including, of course, the sheriff himself, who had changed out of his tomato-spattered blue colonial coat into another one in an astonishingly vile shade of greenish mustard.
„Yes, but is there any chance this could be one of those living-history reenactment things?“
„I doubt it,“ I said.
„Sir?“ the sheriff called. „Sir? Excuse me, but if you're doing a reenactment, could you kind of give us a clue? So we don't have to get all the squad cars and ambulances and such out here and spoil the period ambiance? Sir?“
No response from the corpse – and unlike the sheriff, I wasn't holding my breath, waiting for one.
„Who is he?“ the sheriff asked. „Do you know?“
I held out the fireplace tongs. The sheriff looked at them as if he had no idea what I was suggesting, so I reached out again myself and lifted the tricorn hat enough for us to get another glimpse of Roger Benson's face.
„Oh dear,“ the sheriff said again. „I hope Monty gets here soon.“
„Monty?“
I let the hat fall down again.
„My new deputy,“ the sheriff said. „He's got big-city police experience.“
„Really? What city?“
„Cleveland?“ the sheriff said. „Or is it Columbus? Someplace in Ohio.“
„Cincinnati, maybe?“ I asked.
„Could be. Someplace like that. You can ask him when he gets here.“
I nodded. Not that it mattered, but it gave us something to babble about while we both stood staring fixedly at the late Mr. Benson.
„He does all our homicides,“ the sheriff went on.
„You've had a lot since he got here?“ I asked. Yorktown wasn't exactly a hotbed of crime.
„Oh, no,“ the sheriff said. „Actually, I can't remember that we've had one since he got here, come to think of it. But if we had, he'd have been die one to handle it. He had a lot of experience back there in Cincinnati.“
„Or Cleveland.“
„Wherever,“ the sheriff agreed.
„So what do we have here?“ boomed a flat midwestern voice.
I turned to see a tall beanpole of a man in a deputy's uniform, standing at the entrance to my booth with his hands on his hips.
„Murder,“ I said, as the sheriff and I walked over to meet the newcomer. A little brass nametag on his chest said „r. b. MONTGOMERY,“ so I assumed he was the homicidally experienced Monty.
„I see,“ Monty said. He took a small notebook out of his pocket, checked his watch, scribbled something in the notebook, then looked back up at me. „Want to tell us about it?“
„Nothing much to tell,“ I said, rubbing my forehead. The headache was getting worse.
„What happened, he try to stiff you for your fee?“ Monty said. „Or are you going to claim you changed your mind at the last minute and had to defend yourself?“
My mouth fell open in astonishment, and I stifled the impulse to giggle. I was willing to bet he'd started to inspect me from head to toe and gotten stalled just below shoulder level.
„Monty!“ the sheriff exclaimed. „This is my cousin, Meg Langslow. She was attending a costume party when she found this body.“
„Costume party?“ Monty said, looking around the deserted booth.
„The party's at the Moore House,“ I said. „I was leaving the party to go back to my tent, and I stopped by my booth on the way to pick up my cash box. I found the booth ransacked“ – I indicated the fallen ironwork – „and a body in my storage area, behind those curtains.“
„I see,“ Monty said. He was still studying my costume with overmuch interest.
„Look, Monty,“ I said. „I don't know how the hell they do these things in Columbus – “
„Cincinnati,“ the sheriff corrected.
„Actually, I came here from Canton,“ Monty said, frowning.
„But here in Yorktown, we expect our law-enforcement officials to do something when they arrive at a crime scene. Something more than leer at the witnesses.“