Cimarron by Edna Ferber

Yancey put his question wherever he came upon a little group of three or four lounging on saloon or store porch or street corner. "How did Pegler come to die? " The effect of the question always was the same. One minute they were standing sociably, gossiping, rolling cigarettes; citizenry at ease in their shirtsleeves. Yancey would stroll up with his light, graceful step, his white sombrero with the two bullet holes in its crown, his Prince Albert, his fine high-heeled boots. He would ask his question. As though by magic the group dispersed, faded, vanished.

He visited Coroner Hefner, of Hefner's Furniture Store and Undertaking Parlor. That gentleman was seated, idle for the moment, in his combination office and laboratory. "Listen, Louie. How did Pegler come to die?"