Shot in the Face by an Old Barn

Billie Stross's brains exploded out the back of her head. Tufts of feathery red hair, as if a summer tanager had been shot at close range, floated gently back to earth. One of the old barn's door lay wide open, a chair on its side with a sawn-off shotgun tied to it. A spring trap.

She spent her final years in the Mojave Desert alone. Her husband had up and left her some time ago for a gigolo and her only child disappeared before he was a teenager. "Bad Luck Billie" used to be the talk of the town. People felt sorry for her, others made jokes out of her misfortune, while some just didn't care. More often than not, Billie would boast about her willingness to end it all, but her fellow drunkards weren't the type to take such threats seriously. Those diatribes for attention never brought sympathy, but disdain. It wasn't the kind of town that partied, but one that cherished silence, almost religiously. And Billie was the kind that you would hear before you saw her.

When the demon drink allowed her to maintain some form of balance, Billie would break into stores and steal money, booze, or anything really. She never got away with it, yet never served time. And although the locals saw her as a harmless fool, plenty of them would have preferred that Billie Stross was dead, even Billie Stross.

There she lay, in the desert without a face. The sun began to spread over the galleta grass, and thus, a new day was birthed without her.

"Maybe the barn killed her." Hoxton said, scratching his face.

His partner, Traxler, looked up from his notebook. "You suspect the barn had motive?"

"Look at the state of it. If I were that barn, I'd want to kill someone too."

"Humor at a crime scene is unbecoming, Hoxton. It'll hold you back in life, just like your receding hairline."

"Fuck you." Hoxton chuckled.

Traxler dropped his arms and sighed. "Ever just want to give up on these kinda deals?" If Billie wanted to opt out, why make it so elaborate? And if someone wanted her dead, why set up a spring trap? In the barn, of all places. Why not her front door?"

"Maybe to make you want to give up?"

"Well said. I walked right into that one."

Hoxton raised an eyebrow. "You ran into that one, buddy."

"Suppose I did." Traxler remarked, stuck on what to write in his little book.

"Hey, I figure since Billie here went and got her wings, think I could see if there's anything worth takin' in the barn?"

"Too risky. Cops could be right around the corner."

"A corner. In a desert."

"You know what, I don't care. Off you go."

Hoxton entered the barn. There was nothing inside. He exited. "Question for ya." he yawned. "Why would you come out, in the middle of the night, to this fine wooden structure?"

"To get something."

"To get something, from an empty barn?"

"You're telling me there's nothing else in there?"

"Nothing I could see." Hoxton said. Traxler, curious, ventured in. His partner poked his head around the one closed door. "Still nothing there?"

"Fuck off with the wisecracks already." Traxler said, rolling his eyes.

"Touchy boy. So, what do you think she was comin' out here for?"

"Don't know."

"Think she was lured out?"

"Lured out? You mean to tell me someone who was already armed, decided they didn't want to physically pull the trigger, set up this trap and made some kind of noise to lure Billie over? In the hope that she would open the right door and not the left? Much more likely a suicide."

"Like you said, people tend to commit suicide by simpler means...but by boobytrap?"

"Unlikely, but that don't mean it ain't impossible."

"Well, what the hell we gonna put in our report? Local Brewhound Killed by Homicidal Barn?"

Hoxton finished plucking a sneaky bit of sleep dust out of his eye. "It won't get us the Pulitzer, but at this point, I'd settle for that."

And with that, nothing was learned, nothing was solved. Hoxton and Traxler got in the car and drove off. After such a peculiar morning that almost promised them the beginning of a gripping mystery, the two instead went on to have a completely normal, boring, shitty day. Just like everyone else.