A BEAD ON THE BARTENDER

While only a single bullet had ripped through the dead man’s head, there were three bullet holes in the bloodstained wall a few inches above the baseboard.

One shot had been fired from the revolver near Ed Madden’s hand.

“Who’s the stiff, and what happened?” Inspector Kelley demanded.

“He’s Ed Madden, an ex-pug,” replied tavern owner Tex Ferrel. “He came in here about 11 o’clock and proceeded to get drunk. I wouldn’t serve him anything after 12 o’clock but he had a bottle on him. He said somebody was calling for him at 1:15. I knew he was a bad actor so I left him alone. Everyone else had gone and I thought he was asleep. I was behind the bar when I glanced in the mirror and saw him standing against the wall, a chair in front of him, drawin’ a bead on me. He fired as I reached for my gun. I wheeled and shot three times—the last shot dropped him. Nope, ain’t touched a thing.”

The Professor, who had overheard Ferrel, righted the overturned chair near the 6‘3” Madden, went round the bar and stood at the cash register. In a mirror to the left was a bullet hole.

“Where did you keep your gun?” he asked.

“On a shelf to the right of the register.”

The criminologist examined Ferrel’s automatic from which three shots had been fired. He pointed in the direction of the righted chair.

Kelley nodded. “Self-defense, eh? You deliberately murdered that drunk, Ferrel! Get going.”

How did Fordney and Kelley know Ferrel’s account was a lie; that he deliberately murdered Madden? Turn page for solution.