Title: Presumption of Guilt - 2 Author: hisgoodgirl Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss. I got nada but my imagination. Characters: Crew, omc, ofc. Warning: PG for graphic violence, profanity and other grownup things. Setting: In the town of Silverton, on Santo, immediately prior to “The Train Job”. Words:

A/N: As a kid, my two favorite TV genres were westerns and detective shows. I finally decided to tackle both in a mix I’ve thought of as “Firefly CSI”. Remember, feedback is what writers (and muses) live for. It’s all helpful, dear readers.

X - posted from my LiveJournal.

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Presumption of Guilt Chapter Two

Mal felt more than a little naked leaving his sidearm behind on the sheriff’s desk after Garvey patted him down. Zoe’s grim expression told him his first mate and battle companion understood completely. Unlocking the door that led into Silverton’s lockup, Garvey ushered him back. This wasn’t the first time Mal had come to see his merc in jail. In truth, he’d had to go Jayne’s bail on numerous occasions. The man had no sense about his drink and took an unnatural delight in bar brawls. It was as if he had a mortal need to blow off some steam after being cooped up on board the boat for more’n a few days.

The way Mal looked at it, if you had a junkyard dog, you had to occasionally give him the run of the place, lest he gnaw his own leg off out of sheer orneriness. Most times, he just docked Jayne’s pay for the bail money and all was square. But this? This was a different situation altogether.

“He’s back there in that last cell on the right, Captain. Take your time. Judge Budd won’t be here to arraign him for trial until tomorrow afternoon. Just knock on the door when you’re done.”

“Good enough,” Mal replied wearily, casting a sidewise glance at the drunks sobering up in the front cells. He’d done his own share of hard time, the worst of it with Zoe in an Alliance prison camp in the months following the war. The rank smell of piss and despair was always the same, and brought unwanted memories flooding back. Mal set his jaw and continued.

As he neared the end of the aisle, he could see Jayne’s large form seated on the platform that served as bench and bunk. The big man’s head was bowed and his wide shoulders slumped. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Jayne looked up and then stood, coming forward to the front of the cell.

Mal had seen his mercenary looking pretty rough on other occasions, but even Garvey’s warning didn’t prepare him for the sight of Jayne’s blood-crusted hands reaching through the bars in supplication.

“Please – you gotta git me outta here, Cap’n,” Jayne pleaded. “These gorramn yokels are plannin’ ta hang me.” The merc’s bruised face told Mal he’d struggled with his captors. “They claim I raped and murdered some fella’s wife, Mal, but I swear to God I’m innocent.” His steel blue eyes were sunken and haunted. “There’s a lotta things I might be guilty of, but I ain't one to go with married women if I know they are, and I ain’t never taken any woman ‘gainst her will.” Jayne was adamant. “The only woman I ever killed was doin’ her damndest to kill me first an’ what I done was pure self defense.”

Mal tilted his head, studying the man. “Sheriff says it was your blade still in the body when they broke in on you, Jayne. Is that so?”

“Yes, sir, ‘though I got no idea how it come to be there. I’d be the first to admit I was stone drunk last night, but drunk or not, that ain't my kinda action.” Jayne’s voice broke. “She was a real nice gal, Cap’n. We’d been together before, last time we was on Santo.” He paused, then sighed deeply. “When a classy, good looking woman makes it known she’s interested in your company, who can blame a man? I knew she weren’t no whore, but I never had reason to think she might be married…” His voice trailed off. He looked at his hands in revulsion before glancing back up at Mal. “They wouldn’t even let me wash up none.”

Mal’s mouth tightened as he considered what Jayne had told him. Something didn’t fit, but he wasn’t sure what. He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation before prompting Jayne, “Start at the beginning, right after you left the boat last night, and don’t leave anything out.” After year and a half with the man on his crew, Mal had learned that Jayne was a tetchy SOB and might lie without hesitation, but with his life on the line, he figured the big merc wouldn’t prevaricate about the events of the preceding evening.

Jayne nodded. “You paid me an’ cut me loose about seven and I walked from the dock down Boundary Street to Rosella’s Bar. I’d had a couple of whiskeys when this gal Nellie, she came in the place. Like I say, we’d hooked up before, and soon as she saw I was there, she made her way over, actin’ happy to see me. I ordered a bottle an’ we took us a table.” Jayne’s haggard face took on a far-away look as he searched his memories. “We was flirtin’ and carryin’ on, an’ a little before ten she suggested we get ourselves a room, so we left and headed down the street to the Golden Palace hotel. They got decent rooms and I didn’t wanna take her someplace too shabby, cause she was a real nice gal. You could just tell by how she was dressed and spoke, an’ her hands was real soft.” Jayne fell silent for a moment, his expression wistful and far away.

“Well, we killed that bottle and maybe a couple more, all in between the sexin’. I won’t lie, Mal, I was real drunk by then, but Wuo de ma, why would I rape an’ kill a woman I’d just been makin’ love to? That don’t make no sense. Anyways this woman an’ I drank an’ tussled until I passed out, and I don’t remember a gorramn thing until the Sheriff an’ his boys kicked in the fuckin’ door this morning.”

Mal studied Jayne’s bruised and bewildered face. The man hadn’t given him much to work with. “Are you sure there wasn’t anything else out of the ordinary you noticed, Jayne?”

The two men stood silently for a few minutes as Jayne reconsidered, then he spoke up. “Actually, there was one other thing I noticed, somethin’ that really bothered me. Nellie had a bunch of bruises on her. She was real fair skinned and they showed up, clear as glass. Old ones an’ fresh ones. I asked her who had been hurtin’ her, but she just turned away an’ wouldn’t answer. It ain't right to hurt a woman like that.” Jayne stared at his blood-crusted hands again. “Can’t ya git me some water to wash up in, Cap’n? Please?”

Mal sighed. “I’ll see what I can do, Jayne. Meanwhile, I’m gonna see what else I can find out.”

* * *

It took just a moment after Mal knocked on the lock-up door for Garvey to unlock it. The smell of whiskey on his breath was even more pronounced than before as he asked, “Learn anything ‘sides what I told ya?”

“Well, maybe. Did you get a good look at the body, Sheriff?”

Garvey scratched his head. “Well yeah, as much of a look as I needed to be sure she was dead.”

“And after you took Jayne into custody, what then?” Mal shot Book and Zoe a pointed glance over Garvey’s shoulder.

“Well, one of the deputies called the Coroner to come take the body until Mr. Murchison decides which undertaker to use. There’s two, see.” The sheriff shrugged as if this was obvious.

“And who’s the Coroner?” Mal asked. Getting any info out of this lawman was tough as picking out hickory nuts.

“Doc Bailey. He’s the town sawbones, but he does double duty as Coroner ever since Doc Mills died last fall.” Garvey handed Mal back his gunbelt and pistol.

Mal slipped the gunbelt under his brown duster and buckled his rig back around his hips before tying his holster down. “And I’ll find him where?”

“517 Boyd Street, just before the town burial grounds.”

Mal looked up, struck by the irony of the arrangement. “Now that’s a downright convenient proximity.”

“Yup.” Garvey studied the man before him intently.

“An’ Sheriff, any reason you can’t give Jayne a bucket of water and a towel so’s he can get that gore off him? Just seems like the decent thing to do.” The two men stared steadily at one another for a moment.

Finally the sheriff nodded. “I’ll see to it, Captain.” Garvey wearily took another sip from the coffee cup. “Oh, an’ your man’s gonna need himself a lawyer, too, although you’ll play hell findin’ one in the township ain't in Murchison’s pocket. Just so ya know…”

* * *

Mal sat stiffly in his chair at the head of the dining table, palms flat on the dark wood, as he studied the anxious faces of his crew. In a few short sentences he’d laid out the story for them. “I know some of you – “ he looked pointedly at Simon “-- figure ol’ Jayne’s guilty of the crimes he’s been charged with. Maybe he is. But after talkin’ with the man, I got cause to think otherwise and it’s gonna be up to us to find out what the hell really did happen. The way I see it, we got several questions we need to be askin’, so I’m callin’ for your input.”

Simon was the first to speak. “Why in heaven’s name would the wife of a prominent man wind up in bed with a drunken mercenary?” His refined features twisted with his disgust at such an unthinkable indiscretion.

“Good question, Doctor. And an equally good one is ‘Why would the lady in question be covered in bruises?’ Jayne said she was black and blue, but he couldn’t get her to tell him what had happened to her. I was thinking that you might pay a discrete collegial visit to the town doctor, Sam Bailey, since he’s also the Coroner and happens to be holding the body. Maybe see what you might suss out.”

Simon’s eyebrow arched as he considered the implications of this. “Do you think it’s safe for me to be out and about here, Captain? I mean, considering our circumstances.” He slid a protective arm around his sister’s shoulders.

“Trust me, son, folks around these parts got a lot more on their minds than looking at Cortex bulletins for a couple of Core-world fugitives.”

Kaylee smiled at the young doctor. “I’ll be glad to watch River for you. We do fine together.”

Simon’s little sister entwined her arm with Kaylee’s, all the while looking pointedly at her brother. “She plays jacks with me,” she informed him. “I calculate spatial vectors, rebound velocity of the ball. Kinetic energy is the key.” She glanced sideways at Mal and asserted, “I always win.”

“Well, ain't that nice for you,” Mal responded, noting the rueful expression on Kaylee’s face.

“Very well, then.” Simon clearly regarded his assignment with uncertainty. “I’ll see what I can learn.”

Inara spoke next, the careful modulation of her voice as refined as her dress and makeup. “I have an appointment with a rather wealthy local rancher this afternoon. Perhaps I can find out a bit of inside perspective on the Murchisons that might be of help.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. Whorin’ comes in right handy, don’t it?” Mal jibed, a fake smile plastered across his face.

“You got no call to be mean to ‘Nara, Cap’n.” Kaylee scolded. “She’s offerin’ ta help, an’ from what you said, we need all the information we can get if we’re gonna have any hope of proving Jayne ain't guilty.” She nibbled anxiously at a hangnail. “How long we got until his trial?”

“According to the sheriff, the township judge arrives late tomorrow afternoon and Jayne’ll be arraigned then.”

“Ai ya! That ain't much time…” Crestfallen, she studied her grubby hands, feeling so helpless.

“No, Mèi-mei, it isn’t. We gotta line up a lawyer for him, too, only Garvey says Murchison owns every one in town.”

Wash made a face and shook his head. “The more I hear about this Murchison fellow, the less palatable he sounds.”

“Good thing we’re not planning on eating him then, dear,” Zoe observed dryly.

“I can represent him, Captain.” Book’s voice was quiet but firm and everyone turned to look at him.

“They make you read the Law back at the abbey, Shepherd?” Mal asked, a bemused expression on his face.

The Shepherd smiled. “Well, there’s more than one reason they called me Book. I am familiar with the General Codes and court procedure, and as you’ve previously pointed out, my collar may afford me some extra respect. I’ll serve as Jayne’s counsel.”

“Well, I imagine he’ll be pleased to know he’s got you standin’ up for him, Preacher.”

Mal stood. “We’re burnin’ daylight, people. Zoe, I think you and I and the Shepherd best pay a visit to The Golden Palace. And Simon, you mosey on over to see what you can learn from Doc Bailey.” He gave Inara a thin, sardonic smile. “And you just wear that rancher out real good so’s you can pick his brains as well as his bank account.”

* * *

“I’m sorry, Captain,” the hotel manager said. “You’ll have to show me you got clearance to enter the crime scene before I can admit you. The Sheriff’s sealed off the room to preserve any evidence.” He tugged at his shirt cuffs nervously and lowered his voice. “To be honest, I’d like to get it cleaned out. Bad for business.”

Mal’s hand instinctively went for his gun, his voice filled with threat. “I’ll be more’n happy to show you my clearance, you don’t give us access to that room.”

The manager blanched, thinking of the consequences he risked by alienating Ambrose Murchison. “You don’t understand. I…I gotta answer to people.”

Book laid his hand on Mal’s shoulder and whispered to him, “Let me handle this, Captain.” Mal looked somewhat surprised but stepped back, curious to see what the Shepherd had in mind.

Book leaned close toward the manager, flashing his Ident card at him. “I am Derriel Book, Mr. Shang, legal council for the accused. You may not be aware of this but Alliance law assures me of full access to all evidence that might be applied against my client. The good Sheriff was just making sure I could examine the crime scene before any evidence was altered. We can quickly take care of our business. Then you’ll be free to clean and re-rent the room. I’m sure you’re currently losing revenue with it presently unavailable.” He nodded at Shang in a manner that made it very clear that he appreciated the inconvenience.

Shang looked warily from Mal to Book. “Well, since you put it like that, I guess I gotta let you see the place, although somebody’s gonna be liable for the damages.” He rooted around in a drawer behind the counter and came up with a hammer and a small pry bar.

Seeing Mal’s puzzled expression he explained, “Sometimes customers lock the door from the inside and skinny down the fire ladder to avoid paying their bills. I don’t have any recourse other than to jimmy the lock.” He waved at them to follow him and headed up a long flight of stairs and down a narrow hallway, finally stopping in front of a door that had a number of boards nailed across it. With a few sharp yanks on the nails, the boards came loose and the door swung open, its jamb splintered from the earlier forced entry. “Just so you know, it’s pretty awful in there,” Shang warned, standing back.

“Didn’t figure we was visiting a Sunday school,” Mal responded dryly.

Book reassured the manager, “You can leave us to our work, Mr. Shang – we’ll close the door when we’re done and stop by the desk on the way out to let you know so you can begin your cleanup. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Shang nodded and left, and the threesome carefully entered the room. It was much as Jayne had described to Mal, with empty liquor bottles and overturned furnishings, evidence of Jayne’s struggle with his captors. The bedclothes were tossed back in a tumble and a large darkening stain soaked the rumpled sheet and mattress. The air was close and heavy with the musty, coppery smell of blood and the tang of sour-mash whisky.

Mal looked around at the chaos, his state of mind evident in the grim set of his features as he spoke to Zoe and Book. “Like the man said, it ain't pretty in here, but we need to see if we can find anything that might help us understand what might have happened. Jayne clearly held this Nellie Murchison in high regard. I just have a hard time figuring him for the kind of cold-blooded killer as would murder a woman he’d just been havin’ sex with.”

Zoe proceeded to an overstuffed armchair where the slain woman’s dress and undergarments were still draped. Holding up an elaborate dark blue dress, she whistled. “Somebody had money. This is as fine as any of the things Inara wears, just… a little more proper. Strange to think of a well-to-do married woman going with a man like Jayne.”

“He did say they’d been together the last time we docked here.” Mal grimaced as he rifled through the bedclothes. “Now that’s right interesting,” he mused. “While there’s some blood smeared on the top sheet, neither it nor the counterpane show any signs of being pierced by a knife, yet the woman was found with Jayne’s Bowie in her chest. Guess that means whomever stabbed her had to have turned the bedclothes back first.”

Book nodded knowingly. “Suggests it was done with studied intent, not in the heat of a struggle. And if the boy was as drunk as he says – and these bottles suggest – I have to wonder how he could have managed it. We’ve all seen Jayne three sheets to the wind and he’s not very dexterous at that stage.”

Mal turned, slowly taking in the room as a whole, then crossed back to the doorway. “I’ll be damned. Looks like our killer got a bit sloppy. Planted his left hand right here.” Indeed, at about chest height the cream and green wallpaper was marked by a clear handprint in Nellie Murchison’s brownish blood.

Book and Zoe came over to examine the mark. Zoe spread out the fingers of her own left hand and held it close to the stain before turning to Mal. “There’s no way that’s Jayne’s hand print, sir. You know how big his hands are. His fingers are a good inch or more longer than mine.”

Book pointed to the middle of the palm where a sharp line of thicker blood lay crosswise. “This is significant. Our killer has a very pronounced scar across his left palm. I don’t recall Jayne having any such scar. That alone should be enough to exonerate the boy.”

“I sure hope you’re right, Preacher,” Mal said and took out his penknife to carefully cut a square around the handprint, then gently peeled it from the wall. After studying the piece of bloodstained wallpaper for a minute, Mal carefully rolled it up and tucked it into the inside breast pocket of his duster. “Looks like we’ve learned about all we can here.” He turned and spoke to Zoe over his shoulder as he headed off down the hall. “I’ve got me some more talking to do with the good sheriff. You and the Preacher best head on back to the boat after finishing up downstairs with the manager. I’ll catch you later.”

To be continued…