“Was he killed before or after the stagecoach disappeared?” Jane asked.
“About a month before. It must have been a strange time for Lily,” Alice said. “First, Hardy’s shot down, then Munson is lynched—and four weeks later, Sage McCormick up and disappears, along with Red Marston.”
“They disappeared on the same night, didn’t they?” Jane asked.
“Yes. According to local legend,” Sloan said.
Alice smiled at him affectionately. “Poor Sloan! His great-great grandmother was the scarlet woman of the age! But, boy, according to everything I’ve read, she was a brilliant actress. She could go from comedy to drama in the blink of an eye. They said her performances could make the toughest cowboy weep.”
“Well, I don’t think she did run off with Marston,” Sloan said.
“Really?” Alice looked at Sloan and then Jane. “Did you finish with the skull? Do you think it belonged to Sage McCormick?”
“It’s possible. I haven’t finished, but I have done a two-dimensional sketch. Seems like it just might have been Sage.” She glanced reproachfully at Sloan. Apparently most people in town knew about his ancestry—something he might have shared with her from the get-go.
Alice shivered. “So, maybe she has been haunting the theater. But if she was murdered, who killed her?”
“Who killed who?” Valerie Mystro asked. They all turned around as they heard her voice; she was coming down the stairs.
Alice said, “The skull you found might have been Sage McCormick’s.”
Valerie shivered. “That was soooo creepy!” she said, taking a seat at the bar. “I mean—soooo creepy! But I guess she might’ve been buried around here somewhere. Under the floorboards. Oh, but...she disappeared after a performance. I wonder how and where she was killed, and where the body was hidden.”
“That was a long time ago!” came a booming voice from the theater. It was Henri Coque, heading toward them from behind the curtains, a notepad in his hand. He looked at Sloan. “We have a man who’s just been murdered in town. That’s what matters. How’s it going, Sheriff?”
“Henri, we’re doing our best,” Sloan said.
“With all these people coming to town, it’s a problem, Sloan.”
“We’re working a few different angles, Henri. And the county detectives are on it, too. So, hopefully, we’ll find the truth and the killer soon.”
“Not in time.” Henri was somber. “All the people flooding in tomorrow... I called the guy at the county, your Detective Newsome. He told me we can reopen the trail rides and the haunted hayride. That’ll be something for the crowd at night—going out where a murder was just committed.”
“I don’t think I could go under the circumstances,” Alice said. “I mean, old mysteries and murders and shoot-outs are fun. New murders are scary.”
“Believe me, there’ll be crowds who will want to go,” Henri said, almost wearily. “Sloan, why are you hanging around here when there’s a murder to be solved?”
“Eating lunch on your tab, Mr. Mayor,” Sloan told him.
Henri grinned. “All right, fine. Eat your lunch. By the way, are you going to dress up as Hardy for us this year?”
“Henri, you just said I have a murder to solve,” Sloan began.
“Yes, but you can solve it in costume, can’t you?”
“Who dresses up as Sage McCormick?” Jane asked, trying to take a bit of the heat off Sloan.
Henri turned and looked her up and down. “Hmm. We don’t usually have a Sage because I can’t get either of these two chickenhearts to play her. But, Agent Everett, you would do us a tremendous honor if you’d take on the role. After all, you’re a federal agent and not a clucking little bird like my divas here,” he said, glancing from Alice to Valerie.
“Hey, Sage haunts this theater. I’m not getting her mad at me!” Valerie said.
“Ditto,” Alice agreed.
“Please. Seriously, you wouldn’t have to stop your work. You could be in costume when you’re here on Main Street. Or you could dress up all day, and then, whenever you’re on Main Street, we’d have a Sage McCormick,” Henri said.
“What a great idea.” Sloan smiled pleasantly as he leaned on the bar.
So much for saving his ass, she decided.
“Wow. That would be cool, Jane,” Alice said.
“Really. You could be mysterious—around sometimes and not around other times,” Valerie chimed in.
“I don’t have a costume,” Jane protested.
Henri lifted his hands. “Come on! We’re a theater troupe. We have tons of costumes. We even have costumes that were actually worn by Sage McCormick. Of course,” he added. “Those are really museum pieces now.”
“Valerie, you and Jane are about the same size,” Sloan said.
“Sure!” Valerie said. “I have several costumes—not just for the show we’re doing now, but other shows, too. A number of them are late Victorian.”