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mean anything bad. I just knew there were a bunch of them that hung
out together back in the old days and thought maybe Bart might have some
information he passed along about things that went on out there,” Sam
clarified. “I’m looking for any information, no matter how seemingly minor,
which might help the investigation.”
    Bill
paused for a second and looked blankly into space as if he was thinking back to
long forgotten conversations.
    “Nope.
Bart never told me anything about what went on out there,” Bill declared, still
a bit standoffish from Sam’s mention of his son. “I’m just glad I never had to
arrest my own son out there. That would have been embarrassing. Like I said,
the best thing that ever happened was when the place burned to the ground.”
    The
Red Dog burned under mysterious circumstances about twenty-two years ago. The
pervasive rumor was the fire was intentionally set, however, as far as Sam
could recall, no one was ever charged with arson.
    “It
was intentionally set as I recall,” Sam began. “Did you ever have an idea who
was behind it?”
    Sam’s
question seemed to again fluster his host who remained silent for a moment as
if deciding whether to answer the question.
    “It’s
according to whom you talk to, Sam,” Bill started. “Some people say old Earl
Cutts decided to torch the place to collect insurance and got caught up by the
inferno inside before he could get out. Others say it was payback for trouble
that happened there over the years. Beer wasn’t the only thing being sold out
of the place so let your imagination run wild. I know from my dealings with him
over the years that Earl Cutts was shady as they come. There were a lot of
people who were happy when he went up along with the saloon. Some folks even
say the fires of Hell itself reached up to claim the Red Dog and its owner.”
    “So
I take it the proprietor wasn’t on the up and up then,” Sam said.
    He
already knew the former bar owner’s reputation as a businessman who didn’t let
the law stand in the way of making a dollar. Earl Cutts' less-than-honorable
reputation remained two decades after he was gone.
    Eyeing
Sam across the table, Bill wanted answers as to what caused the sheriff to link
the killing of Andy Crouch to the old Red Dog Saloon.
    “You
said you had reason to believe his murder had something to do with the Red
Dog,” Bill recalled. “What makes you think that if you don’t mind me asking,
one lawman to another?”
    The
sheriff decided to take his predecessor into confidence when it came to the
writing on the mirror.
    “We
found the words Red Dog written on a mirror at the crime scene,” Sam explained.
“I think whoever did it was trying to send a message or perhaps a warning.”
    “So
why would you think that one is related to another?” Bill asked. “He could have
written that on the mirror himself. For all you know he may have hooked up with
the wrong man’s girl and got himself killed. That used to happen from time to
time when I was sheriff. A man would bed down with the wrong man’s wife and
wake up dead.”
    “The
words were written in his own blood,” Sam declared. “Whoever killed Andy used
his blood for the ink to write those words.”
    An
awkward silence fell upon the pair as Bill processed what he had just heard.
Something about the former sheriff’s actions wasn’t sitting right with Sam. He
just couldn’t put his finger on it.
    “And
you’re sure you don’t know anything that could help us out on this case?” Sam
asked.
    “Like
I told you, it was a bad place,” Bill snapped as he took a big swallow of
his beer. “Who knows what he got into there.”
    Considering
his next words carefully given Bill’s earlier reaction, Sam reluctantly had to
ask.
    “You
don’t mind if I talk to Bart and see if he remembers anything about it do you?”
Sam requested.
    “Do
what you want! He’s a grown man!” Bill said in a loud voice as he stood up from
the table. “He