Her face fell, and she looked suddenly crestfallen and pale. "Paul...Goodwin?" she asked.

Morgan nodded. His voice sympathetic, he said, "I believe so, ma'am. From what I understand, Mr. Goodwin was a man of habit, and dining here was amongst his regular activities."

"I'm truly sorry, ma'am. If you could tell me about Mr. Goodwin, or could point me to some of his friends or associates, it could help us track down those responsible for his death."

"I was wonderin' when he didn't make it in for breakfast. He's here every day for his three squares. I'm 'fraid I don't know much more than that. Nice man, from back East, I think, by his way of speakin'. Kept to himself, for the most part. Stayed across the street at the Dog Eye. Not sure what he was about. I think he said he was writin' a book. Maybe writin' a dime novel or some such, now that I think about it."

Morgan nodded as he listened. "Ma'am, I know you said he kept to himself. Did you ever happen to see him with anyone? Were there any regulars here that he spoke with from time to time? Perhaps someone he spoke to about the book he was writing?"

Obviously, the book was a cover story, but it was a well thought out one. To casual observers, it would explain away Goodwin's apparent lack of profession and enable him to ask questions relevant to his real interests in the name of research. If Morgan could discover the subject of the "book", he believed it might provide clues about what Goodwin was truly involved in, and who his enemies were.

Morgan let his eyes travel over the restaurant's interior. He suspected that the spy had frequented certain locations for a reason. That somehow, his haunts were connected to the subject of his interest as an agent of the Union.

She scratched her chin. "No, not that I can think of. He was friendly enough, but he kept to himself. Mainly came here just to eat. Sometimes he would sit and write, but that's about it. Sorry I can't be of more help."

Morgan tipped his hat to the woman. "I really appreciate your help, ma'am. If you happen to think of anything else, you can talk to me or Deputy Marshal Earp at the Town Marshal's office."

Morgan stepped outside and walked briskly over to the Dog Eye. Entering the saloon, he looked around for Hank McNary.

Hank wasn't a hard man to find. As ever, he was standing in the middle of the room with a mop, and looked like he was getting things ready and cleaning up messes from the night before.

"Howdy, deputy. If you're here after Suzy, she's at the doctor's place."

"Actually, I  didn't come to see Suzy," Morgan explained, "There are a couple of other deputies visiting the doctor's office today. "

"I wanted to see Paul Goodwin's room again and collect his personal effects if I could. There might be something amongst his belongings that could help us find his killer. Are all of his things still upstairs?"

"Deputy Earp asked me to box 'em up for him to come pick up, so I put it all in there. Hopefully there's somethin' in there that'll help with the investigation, but it wasn't much stuff," he said.

"Go right ahead - door's still open. They came for the body earlier, and I cleaned up some of the mess. I gotta turn that room back around at some point. Maybe you could take it with you over to the jailhouse if you're headed there again later."

"Thank you, Mr. McNary," Morgan said, "If you don't mind, I had a couple of questions about Mr. Goodwin."

"I was curious about how long he had stayed here at the Dog Eye. And, from what I've gathered in talking with some other folks around town, he was writing a book. Did he ever happen to mention to you what he was writing about?"

"He's been here...I think a few months. Maybe four, five months. Came in from Back East talkin' about wantin' to write a book. He wasn't much of a talker. Said he was gonna write the next big dime novel."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 02:31, Mon 01 Apr 2013.

Morgan nodded. "Thank you. I'll get that box over to the jail."

He climbed the stairs, the events of the previous evening flickering in his memory as he did. The murder. Gabby finding the letter. The Wilderness Riders and broken Walter Jackson lying helpless in the street. Sarah and the ghosts of all that could have been.

Reaching the landing he stepped into the late Paul Goodwin's room. He took a long look around, searching for any detail that might have been overlooked in the confusion of the previous night before moving to the box to inspect its contents.

The box Caleb found was an old wooden crate that at one time had probably held whiskey bottles. Inside it were a collection of clothes of a decently expensive cut, some assorted personal effects, a box containing ink, writing instruments and spare paper. Mixed in with the lot of it was a small book, informally bound as if done with the papers in the box.

Morgan took a moment to skim the book. It was, just as Goodwin had represented to others in town, the beginnings of a novel. A story about the war. Morgan wasn't a reliable judge of writing. Only Darling could give a fair assessment of the spy's skill. But the effort seemed earnest, the descriptions of the battlefield vivid.

Reading over the novel, Morgan wondered if Goodwin had been striving to change professions. To put spying behind him and retire to a quiet life as a novelist. He felt a brief pang of jealousy, to have the freedom to change one's course, to seek out an existence free of conflict. Only someone had robbed Goodwin of his chance. Someone, Morgan felt certain, with a secret to keep.

He turned back to the front of the book and read the dedication. To Barney Ford, my Greatest Friend. Goodwin thanked Ford for showing him and his wife hospitality during their visit to Denver. What business had Goodwin pursued in Denver? Most likely, it had been a Union errand.

And the man had been married. Someone needed to inform Goodwin's wife of his demise. As Morgan considered that, his thoughts drifted to Suzy and Goodwin's apparent closeness to her.

Frowning, Morgan shut the book and returned it to the box. He would take the articles to Earp's office and go through them there, hopefully with Earp's help. Two sets of eyes were always better.

Descending the stairs, Morgan approached McNary again. "Mr. McNary, I need to trouble you with a couple of more questions. Was there anyone besides Suzy that Paul Goodwin talked to on a regular basis? Anyone he drank with, or even met here for business?"

"And, if you wouldn't mind me asking, how long has Suzy worked for you?  Does she work strictly at the saloon or does she have another job here in town?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:26, Tue 02 Apr 2013.

"Nobody in particular, not that I know. Every once in a while, he'd have somebody in over a drink, and write in that book of his. I think people comin' in on the train. One time he said somethin' fancy 'bout collectin' experiences o' new travelers to the west, so I think mebbe that was it. Other than that, just Suzy. He'd try to get her to go to bed with 'im, but Suzy's awfully particular about her customers."

"She's the best lookin' whore in town, and folks pay a pretty price for a night with her, so she can afford to be picky. She didn't work for me, though. Just let a room here. It's good to have a steady customer or two, keep the money comin' in. She's a good ol' Southern girl too, and don't much care for the company of Union men like you and me and Paul, at least not without chargin' us a king's ransom for it, I think. Paul would mainly try to talk her price down. I never asked personally how much she was gonna charge him. I don't make a habit of payin' whores for company."

Hank 'Dog Eye' McNary grinned. "Why buy the cow, when you can get the milk for free?"

Morgan arched an eyebrow. "Some of Mr. Goodwin's papers indicated that he was married. I hope I don't have to bring up his interest in Suzy when his wife is contacted."

Morgan shifted the box in his hands. "How long has Suzy rented from you, Mr. McNary? Do you happen to know if she has any kin here in Dodge?"

"Well, if he was married, I never seen his wife. I suppose you'll do what you feel is best. I personally don't see a good reason to bring it up. Won't do nothin' 'cept to cause her pain. Plus, I don't think he really ever got with Suzy. And I never seen him 'round no other whores. No harm done, looks to me," he said with a shrug.

"Suzy's been rentin' from me about a year or so. She came down over from Wichita. I think that's where her people are. She don't talk much about that. I suppose it's a bad situation she got out of or some such."

"That's my intention," Morgan said with a nod, "I'd think it best not to bring his association with Suzy up, if it can be avoided. It's good to know that I can honestly tell Mrs. Goodwin that nothing really ever occurred."

"Thank you kindly for the information. If you happen to remember anything you think might be important Mr. McNary, please let me or Deputy Marshal Earp know."

Morgan exited the saloon, walking back to the Town Marshal's Office.

Randolph conducts Coraline across the street, watching for horses and wagons as they cross.

"Hullo, Marshal, we were just wondering whether it's puppies or kittens you have in that crate?" He assists Coraline to step up onto the board sidewalk.

Morgan smiled. "Bear cubs, actually," he replied. "I thought they might liven things up at Earp's office."

He shook his head. "These are the personal effects of the man who was murdered. The name he used here in Dodge was Paul Goodwin. The story he gave was that he was a writer, hard at work on the next great dime novel."

Morgan nodded to a book lying atop the other items in the crate. "I'd be obliged if you'd have a look at that, Mr. Darling. I'm no judge of writing, but it appears that Goodwin was authoring a book, a story about the War of the Rebellion. It made me wonder if he had hopes of quitting spying and living a writer's life."

"He makes mention of the fact that he was married in the book's dedication. Dedicated it to a friend by the name of Ford, who Goodwin and his wife spent some time with in Denver."

"From all I've gathered, Goodwin seems to have kept to himself, which comes as no surprise. McNary told me that he would want to talk to newcomers in Dodge about their experiences in coming out West. That certainly wasn't what he was writing about. Perhaps it had something to do with the work he was doing for the Union."

"The only person he appears to have spent much time with is Suzy, from the Dog Eye. McNary said that Goodwin spent a lot of time and effort trying to woo her. Apparently, he never was able to able to win enough favor, or pay enough, to get the affection he wanted."

"Did you two learn anything at the doctor's office? Were you able to speak with Suzy?

Coraline shook her head.  "Unfortunately not.  The doctor says that she is in a very bad state.  He thinks that witnessing the murder has driven her a touch mad.  He didn't think it wise that anyone should speak to her just now.  Apparently she hasn't been making much sense."

"He did give us information on the deceased, but it was not anything of great note.  The limbs and head were removed with surgical precision, but that is all he could determine."

Randolph takes the offered book.

"It was no frenzied butchery, though. The doctor estimates it would have taken an hour or more to remove the arms and head. He couldan't determine a cause of death from the remains, but suggested the throat might have been slit.

"I didn't notice that Suzy was blood-stained, so I'd say she's in the clear as the one who dismembered Goodwin at least," Darling shrugs, "She might not even have seen the murderer. However, Smith said the only intelligible word he's heard from her is 'monster'. I told him Earp might want to post a guard at their house where Suzy is, in case the fiend comes for her."

He turns to Coraline, "Miss Hawthorne, I understand the distaste you feel for the woman's profession, but you should probably be the guard. You may be less threatening to Suzy and best able to gain her trust. We need to know what she saw last night... and soon."

"Surgical precision." Morgan repeated Hawthorne's words with a frown.

Listening to the additional information Darling gave, he said, "When this killing took place, we were all downstairs, drinking a toast. We weren't alerted that anything was happening until the girl screamed. None of us heard the sounds of a brawl upstairs. With all the violence that happened, the killer was quiet about his work. "

"One of three possibilities exist, in my mind. Either Suzy came upon the scene when the killer was close to finishing or she was there and so frozen with fear she couldn't bring herself to scream until the deed was done. Or...whoever was responsible was able to accomplish an hour's worth of work with inhuman speed."

Morgan shook his head. "And here I thought this would just be a matter of walking a patrol and breaking up a fight or two," he muttered.

Looking to Hawthorne and Darling, he said, "If you do find Suzy's presence distasteful, Miss Hawthorne, we might ask Gabby or Daniel if they'd be willing to take on the guard duty. He grinned. "McNary maintains that Suzy strongly prefers the company of Southerners. It might be that she would open up to one of them."

"But you're quite correct, Mr. Darling. We need to speak with Suzy soon."

Addressing Hawthorne, he said, "If you'll forgive me for asking, Miss Hawthorne. I couldn't help noticing, back at the mine, that you're able to accomplish...well, some remarakable things with that deck of yours. Is there anything you could do that might help mend the girl's mind?"

Coraline stared at Caleb, a slight crease forming between her brows as the corners of her mouth turned downward.  First Gabby and now Caleb?  Apparently she wasn't as clever and sneaky as she thought.  "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Marshal," she stated firmly.  It was a desperate and transparent attempt to deny what they both knew had happened, but she certainly wasn't going to talk about such a thing in public where anyone could hear.  Quieter, after a sidelong glance at Randolph as she tried to gauge his reaction, she mumbled, "Still, it is something to think about."

Randolph has developed an intense interest in the 'book' he had taken from Morgan's crate, giving no sign that he has heard what passed between Morgan and Coraline.

He looks up, tucking the papers under his arm: "I suppose we should get these items to Earp while Caleb's arms are still attached to his shoulders." He chuckles, then realizes the reference he has made and turns a bit pale.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to make light of the dead. Let's go."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:55, Fri 05 Apr 2013.