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trade-off for no more pain.
    “How did he pick it up?” Ezra asked quietly.
    Ambrose shrugged.
    “It ain’t all that heavy,” the constable answered with a frown. “It’s just a shoehorn. Took a lot of force to do what he did with it, though. Probably a man we’re looking for and not a woman.”
    A blush rose to Ezra’s cheeks, and he gave the constable a game nod and smile. “Yes, of course.”
    Ambrose chuckled. “You forget, don’t you?”
    Ezra glared at him but didn’t answer out loud.
    “Jennings also liked to take a small token of remembrance,” Ambrose told him. “Things he could keep to remind himself of his victims, small items that could fit in a saddlebag. You need to tell them to take a look-see if anything’s missing.”
    Ezra repeated what Ambrose had related to him, and the two constables shared a glance. “We did notice his pocket watch was missing. He never went anywhere without it, but it’s not here nowhere.”
    Ezra nodded grimly and met Ambrose’s eyes.
    “This was him. Jennings. He’s back.”
    “Inspector?” the mustachioed constable finally asked. “Did Jennings ever work with a partner?”
    Ezra looked conflicted for a few moments before nodding slowly. “He did.” He was lying blatantly, but it was certainly better than trying to tell the constables that Jennings was a spirit back for revenge. “If this is . . . someone avenging his death, then the other members of the trial must be warned and protected. The lawyers, the jury, witnesses. Everyone.”
    The constable gave a curt nod and turned to the two US Marshals at the door. “Let’s go ring the bell, boys.”
    Ezra was left alone in the room. Ambrose drew closer to him, eyes still on the judge’s body.
    “What bell are they talking about?” Ezra asked, his voice still a whisper just in case anyone was within earshot. “Is that a colloquialism I’m not familiar with?”
    Ambrose nodded grimly. “Twenty years ago, vigilantes cleaned up this town, made it safe for respectable folks.”
    “Vigilantes?”
    Ambrose grinned. “Let’s just say trials ain’t an everyday thing out here.”
    “I see.”
    “They’d ring the bell when it was time to assemble. Got to where that bell ringing struck fear into even the hardest of men.”
    “So they’re forming a mob?” Ezra hissed, his eyes growing wider behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. “What are they going to track down, a ghost?”
    “My guess is it’s more a warning now than a call to action. No matter, though, we need to be ready for anything. Including a lynch mob hunting down innocent people.”
    “This keeps getting worse and worse.”
    Ambrose let his gaze linger on Ezra’s horrified face. “You’re on that list too, you know. Only witness to testify.”
    “I am aware, yes.” Ezra gave Ambrose a tight smile. “But I have you to watch my back. How did Jennings pick up that shoehorn? You can’t even grasp a door handle without losing your temper first.”
    “Maybe it’s ’cause I’m calm most times. Jennings had the temperament of a bull with a band around his balls. Angry all the time. Might give him the advantage.”
    “Thank you for the disturbing imagery,” Ezra said with a wrinkle of his nose. “Who will he go for next? It seems he started at the top; will he work his way down?”
    Ambrose looked again at the judge’s body, sighing. “He’s not that thinky. He acted on opportunity and that was it, unless he got wind of someone having something he wanted. He probably went for the judge ’cause he knew where he was.”
    “All right, so the more important question then, I suppose, is how do we find him?”
    Ambrose nodded. “Well that’s easy. The gallows or the jailhouse.”
    Ezra glanced heavenward, as if he was thinking it through, then closed his eyes. “Of course. He’ll be drawn to where he spent his last moments, just as you are.”
    “The better question is how do we get rid of him when we find him?” Ambrose said. “You