Twists… are Best Saved for a Rope

Well, luck is fickle, but I just seem to always grab it at the right time.
“Well, that’s one bridge that I’ve crossed while burning,” Jake Rawlins muttered. “How you doing, Dixon?”
“Oh, you know, not so bad, just the usual, murder attempts, torture, etc. Hey, you mind undoing these bindings?” I casually requested of him.
“Oh, ya, sure,” he responded, putting his gun back in his holster, sweeping a couple blond locks back, then working on the rope behind me.
Within a minute, he had undone all of it, and we immediately began to plan.
“So, when you got me in here, did you have a plan for getting me out?”(‘neone catch the quote? Comment the source) I asked, rubbing my wrists, then checking to see what equipment they had stripped from me.
“Well, I know the guards on this hallway are knocked out from some ‘special’ whiskey I gave them, though past that, I don’t think there are any major obstacles. What are you doing down here, anyways?” he inquired. So he was bluffing before…
“A Mrs. Betty Belle came to my door, looking for some cover when she was killed in my office. Went down to Pops, and he pointed me in this direction,” I explained.
A ghastly look came over Rawlins when I turned to look, and his eyes widened. Apparently something was wrong.
“Did, did, did, you… say Betty Belle?” he repeated, blinking hard as though to rid it of his mind.
“Uh, yeah, didjya know her?”
Color seemed to return to his face as he eased slightly, wiping his sweat with a hankerchief.
“We need to break into Captain’s office. Now.” He held his voice carefully, making sure to enunciate every word precisely.
“Why is that?” I asked him, wondering why it was so neccesary to take such a big risk.
“Because there’s no way she could be dead in your office if she’s locked in the Captain’s.”

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