<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f2/Beardycox.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name</strong>: Avery Burnham<br/><strong>Faction</strong>: Law Dogs (1)<br/><strong>Date</strong>: May 18th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day</strong>: Morning<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Helga’s Wafflehaus (exiting); Sheriff’s Office (entering)<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Charlie Flathbush; Dolores Whateley, Sheriff/Deputies (?) CLOSED<br/><hr/>"Horses eh?  What you people get up to out here…"  Charlie had told him what should be obvious to anyone.  Whatever her mental state, and Avery would attempt to determine that soon, the Whateley woman was simply not physically capable of the crime with which she was being charged.  He didn’t see how any one person could be in truth.  Tearing a victim limb from limb, let alone multiple victims, was beyond the capability of even the strongest of men.  Horses could quarter a man, certainly, but otherwise…<br/><br/>Avery could only assume a mistake on the deputies' part.  Panic at the sight of the carnage perhaps.  The hatchet work had to be done by instruments of some kind.  He’d seen the Chinese perform lingchi once while he was stationed overseas, cutting a man to bloody ribbons an inch at a time, and then at the end dismembering the corpse -- head, arms, and legs, whick-whack, simple as that, with a heavily weighted blade.  It could be done.   But by a woman 'ninety pounds soaking wet' as Charlie said, he rather doubted that.  There must have been something they missed, a way off of that mesa other than the bridge.  Most likely Dolores had simply been lucky enough to survive the attack herself and was now facing the gallows because the sheriff was too incompetent to find the real killers.   If he could get her to talk and say something reasonable, even just a few words about what had really happened…<br/><br/>"I suppose you've guessed it Charlie but this isn't just purely social.  Mrs. Whateley's husband hired me to find out what really happened that night, before there's a trial.  I plan to speak with her today.  That I can handle myself, but I'd also like to get out to that asylum and get a look at where it happened."  Avery blew at the steam from his tea before continuing, "I'd appreciate your help although I understand if you'd rather not.  I don't suppose Bilton will appreciate it.  You just so much as said you don't really believe it yourself though, and you're certainly right…the sheriff's office is going to emerge with egg on its face if this goes through to the end.  No way around that.  It's absurd on its face isn't it?  So help me figure out what really happened?  Or at least enough to scupper the charges against the Whateley girl and save everyone the embarrassment of trying her?"<br/><br/>Avery realized he did want to figure it out, rather badly.  It was a mystery and it intrigued him.  If he could put the pieces together where these other men had failed…well, it was enticing, and he had to remind himself firmly that that wasn’t why he’d been hired.  The client came first, which meant getting Dolores out of jail was his primary goal here.  Not that he couldn't pass along whatever he did learn to Bilton’s gang.  Whoever committed this heinous crime needed to be caught, or at the very least dealt with in such a way that they couldn’t put on a repeat performance.  So-called frontier justice wasn’t to his own tastes, but if ever there was ample excuse for it, this was surely it.<br/><br/>"Thank you very much for the breakfast conversation Charlie.  If you decide you're up for Deadman's Rest, I can meet you outside my office in a few hours, and pay you for the time of course.  I understand if you'd as soon decline though."  Leaving change enough on the table to cover for the tea and coffee, he propped his hat back on and nodded his brisk goodbye.<br/><br/><div align="center">****</div><br/>There was still some time before the doctor was set to meet him at his place, an interview he suspected might supply most of what he needed to make the trial moot, so he headed for the Sheriff’s office to speak with Dolores first.  Singing children's songs and offering the sheriff biscuits, Charlie had said, which might be more useful information than it seemed.  If she was refusing to talk to them, she might well refuse to talk to him, even though it was in her best interests.  He would need to gain her trust and that was usually best done, he’d found, by playing into whatever nonsense a person believed.<br/><br/>Rapping on the door as he stepped inside the sheriff's office, he offered the on-shift deputy a smile.  "How do you do?  Avery Burnham, Burnham Detection.  I've been hired by Nicodemus Whateley to represent his wife, Dolores.  That means I have the right to speak with her in private, or as close as we can manage around here."  Removing his hat, Avery continued politely but not without a certain air of determination.  "I'll understand if you don't wish to take my word on it.  I can wait while you send one of those, what do you call them?  Whippersnappers? to check on me with Mr. Whateley, if you like.  I'm sure the judge would back what I'm saying in terms of her rights as well, should you wish to draw him into this… "