June 6th, 1894

[timeforjustice]

It was a fine Wednesday afternoon, only the gathering heat of the day a blemish on what would've been a perfect day for the outdoors. There was hardly a breeze and not quite enough clouds for any relief from the sun, which is why one Deputy Apollo Justice was forced to don his hat as he trekked further and further from the city center. He would've taken more notice of the day had he not been in a hurry, and grumbling under his breath besides.

His bicycle had been stolen again. He'd had it chained up behind the sheriff's office, but some scoundrel had pried a link apart and taken the goods, leaving only the cheap chain there in the dust. Lucky for Apollo, there'd been a couple of witnesses; the only problem with that was his thief had covered his head and his face, making real identification a tough prospect.

Apollo used what he'd heard to follow the trail, so to speak. His path lead down to the river, not further into town but heading out of it, towards where crops were grown using the water diverted from it. There were less people out here to be questioning, so he kept his eyes peeled instead, looking for a flash of metal -

And when he found it, it was on a river bank, half-submerged and stuck in the mud. Muttering a curse, Apollo shoved his gloves on his hands before sliding the short way down the bank, his boots leaving tracks in the mud behind him.

"Damn! It'll start to rust at this rate..."

Comments

[temsikspirit]

Yomiel exhales something of an airy laugh--an empty sound, the sound of someone laughing at something painful in retrospect or self-defense.

"You don't have to believe me, Mr. Justice, wouldn't surprise me one bit nor would it do a thing to change the truth. I don't think anyone wants to acknowledge that incident, in fact I've watched them go along pretendin' it didn't happen at all. She was dreadfully pretty, his betrothed, didn't have to go and do something like that... Smart too, she coulda been successful or had a family, proper waste of a person goin' out like that."

He frowns to himself more than anything, shooting his gaze away quickly as if in thought while Apollo continues speaking.

"... And what's so important about a tale like that?" he asks, gaze flickering back. "It's already history alright, just a penny's worth of space in a couple newspapers. Look it up if your office bothered to keep em: December of 1888."

It was true, the papers hardly knew what to publish considering how quiet the sheriff's office was about it. Jowd claimed to have killed the suspected criminal when he fled and that was that. The body sure looked like it'd been shot, only Jowd would know otherwise--and Cabanela the only person told the truth of the bizarre death once Jowd found it fit to tell him. What made better news was how a falling star landed outside town; nobody wanted to hear about more deaths.

"He was suspected of robbery and a murder that took place during one. He was a person from out of town who was intimately involved in the banks as of late so they turned to him first. Crazy the way they treated him, a city fella, he wouldnt've killed a fly if it bit him. I guess that's good a reason as any to be in disagreement with the law 'round these parts."

He hunches his shoulders in a quick, defeated shrug.

"I reckon nobody cares about it as they never figured out what really happened with those banks. As far as they're concerned, he's their man. It's a cryin' shame, dead men sure do tell a lot of tales, just ain't no one around to hear it."

The ghost cracks a smile at this, looking oddly like he's restraining a laugh despite the morose story.

"Thank ye for hearin' me out, Deputy, you like like a good kid so I hope fate sees it fit to bring you less troubles."

[timeforjustice]

Apollo moved a hand up as he listened, pressing a finger against his forehead with a moue of concentration. This tale had already caught his curiosity, even if the circumstances were on the strange side. He never would've reckoned that a stranger'd come up to him and out of the blue mention an old crime no one else cared to recall.

"I'm not doubtin' you for the sake of it, Mr. Yomiel. You seem to be speakin' from experience in the first place, but I'm just gonna need more proof than what a talk can get me. I think I will try lookin' for those papers. There's gotta be some sort of record of it..."

It truly sounded like Yomiel was here when it happened, and must have known the dead couple personally. Even aside from how detailed Yomiel's story was getting, Apollo didn't think the man was lying. Call it a hunch ... one he didn't particularly want to believe in, but there all the same. If the Sheriff's Office had really caused the death of an innocent, then there was someone that had escaped being held accountable. And that didn't sit well with Apollo, either.

"The difference between a story and history, sir, is that a story's made up. It matters 'cause real people died. I know it's easy for most to treat the newspaper's words like it don't matter to 'em, but I'm not one of those people."

... Never mind that he only ever flipped through the newspaper for those clever little editorial cartoons. The news around here was most often depressing, and he heard most of what he needed to from the talk around town instead.

"That's mighty kind of you, Mr. Yomiel, but I'd go so far as call hearin' people out part of my job. ... I'll be hopin' to see a little less trouble, anyway." Apollo gives him a faint smile in return, idly wondering what the other man could possibly be so amused over.