Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] (30 page)

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“Come in, come in. I’ve rigged up some lights. Hello, Miss Dolan. We haven’t met, but I know about you from Johnny. This is a terrible thing for Rawlings. We must hurry, Johnny. I’ve work to do on the body before Mrs. Ramsey comes down, and you can never tell who else. Folks are curious, especially in a case like this. There hasn’t been a woman murdered in Tillison County in a long time. Doc Herman will want it hushed up. Oh, yes, I discovered her jaw is broken and some of her teeth are missing.”

Most of this was said without Eldon taking a breath. Kathleen was to learn that was his natural way of speaking. He threw out a hand beckoning them to follow and bustled through another set of doors, a long white duster flapping about his legs.

Clara’s body lay on a waist-high cart just as it had come from the ditch where she died. A string of hooded lights hung above the body and when Eldon turned them all on, Kathleen had to blink. To keep from looking directly at the pitiful heap on the cart, Kathleen fiddled with the adjustments on the camera.

“What do you think, Kathleen? Is it light enough?”

“Do you want overall, or just up-close areas?”

“Mostly close-up.”

“Can one of the lights be lowered to the area you want?”

“You betcha,” Eldon said, and scurried to the other side of the cart. “Show her the tire marks, Johnny. I’ll hold the light where you want it, Miss Dolan. This is sorry business, I tell you. I’ve not had a corpse this tore up in a long time. I don’t know if I can make her presentable for the laying away. Oh, poor Mrs. Ramsey. It’ll be hard for her, that’s sure.”

Kathleen tried to tune out the voice of the undertaker. Johnny folded Clara’s skirt up over her thighs. Oklahoma red clay was clearly imprinted on the white flesh.

“Take the thighs, Kathleen. These are tire tracks.” He pointed to the mud streaks.

Eldon held the hooded light, and Kathleen lowered the camera until only the area of the marks was visible in the viewfinder and snapped the picture. The prints on the lower, broken legs were not as distinct, but she took a photo of them anyway. Johnny folded back the gray jacket to reveal prints from the muddy tire on Clara’s white blouse where the wheel of the car had run over her chest. After the picture was taken, Johnny pointed to the flicks of mud on her side.

“This will be rough, Kathleen,” Johnny said as he removed the cloth covering Clara’s face.

Kathleen steeled herself to think that what she was seeing and photographing was a broken doll. Clara’s face was a sight that would long haunt Kathleen’s dreams. When the light was lowered, she snapped the picture. Eldon tilted Clara’s chin so a picture would be taken of the neck area. Her windpipe had been crushed. By the time Johnny covered the face, Kathleen was swallowing rapidly.

“How many exposures left?” Johnny asked the question in a sharp business like tone.

“Two.”

“Let’s turn her over, Eldon.” After the body was turned, Eldon lifted Clara’s dress up over her bare buttocks. “Are you all right, honey?” Johnny asked gently. Kathleen nodded. “See this bruise? It was made before she died because you don’t bruise after your heart stops pumping. It’s a bootprint. You can see the heel. He stomped on her before he killed her. Take the last two pictures of it.”

Eldon was careful to get the light just right, and Kathleen took the two pictures, each from a different angle. When she finished, she stepped back, turned away, and headed for the door. Johnny caught up and put his arm around her.

“Are you all right?” After she nodded, he said, “I’m proud of you, Kathleen. I’ve seen men faint after seeing such a sight.”

“It wasn’t . . . easy—”

“Let me know how the prints turn out, Johnny.” Eldon unlocked the back door. “I’ve got work to do. Poor girl. Poor, poor girl. She was worked over all right. Didn’t deserve it even if she was ah . . . loose. Hazel and Sam Ramsey were fine folks. I knew Sam back in the twenties. He was in the war and fought in France. Hazel will be here soon. I don’t know how she’s goin’ to pay for a funeral. I’ll do the best I can, but I’ve got expenses, too.”

“I’ll check back with you, Eldon.”

“He would wear me out,” Kathleen said after the door closed.

“It took me a while to get used to him. But he’s a man of his word, and he doesn’t knuckle under to Doc Herman.” Johnny held her arm as they walked back up the alley to the
Gazette
building.

“I hope the pictures are plain enough to do some good. Paul will develop the film and enlarge the pictures.”

“I want to show the prints to Keith. He worked on a tracking case once with me, and he’s pretty good.”

“Can you tell what kind of car ran over her by looking at the tracks?”

“Maybe not the kind of car, but we may be able to match the prints to tires on a car. This was a big heavy car, I know that.”

“Who would have done such a terrible thing to Clara? She was just a stupid, terribly irritating girl.”

“She was a girl that started her loose ways young. She must have had Emily when she was fourteen or fifteen.”

“Does Hazel know who Emily’s father is?”

“I doubt if Clara knew.”

“What will a funeral cost?”

“There may be room to bury her beside her daddy. If not, I’d say between fifty to a hundred dollars.”

“Hazel doesn’t have that kind of money.”

“I don’t imagine she does,” Johnny said sadly.

Chapter Eighteen

“I
don’t want to ever have to do that again.” Kathleen was in the office with Adelaide. “It was just awful. Poor, poor girl. She looked like a broken doll.”

“Johnny seems sure that Clara was murdered. Doc Herman won’t stand for there being a murder in his simon-pure town.”

“Is that why Sheriff Carroll now calls it an accident?”

“He must have his reasons.”

“I wonder if the doctor is afraid of the attention it would bring to the town if it becomes known that a woman was murdered here?”

“I can’t think of any other reason.” Adelaide leaned back in her chair wearily and stretched her arms over her head. Press day was always hard, but this one had been especially difficult.

“You’re worn-out. You had to do my share of the work today.”

“Judy was a big help. She and Woody stuffed all the papers. Paul helped me get them ready for the post office.”

“With all that’s happened, I had almost forgotten about Judy.”

“She a quiet girl. She hasn’t asked me one time about finding her mother. She has thanked me a hundred times for letting her stay. When I went upstairs this morning, the bed was made; and you couldn’t tell that she’d been in the kitchen.”

“Her sorry excuse for a mother must have taught her something.”

“I was glad that she was here today. She pitched right in, and I didn’t have to explain things to her but one time.”

“Tomorrow I’ll go to the courthouse and look at the birth records.”

“You’ll not be greeted with open arms, I’ll tell you that. When I insisted on seeing them a year ago, the clerk watched me like I was about to raid the U.S. Mint.”

“They have to let me see public records.”

“I was surprised at how many babies were born here. Doc must advertise in Dallas, Fort Worth, Waco, and even as far away as Denver. When I came back and told Paul what I had discovered, we both decided that something wasn’t quite right about so many out-of-town women coming here to have babies.”

“Did you ever mention it to Sheriff Carroll?”

“Heavens no! Pete is a good man . . . or he used to be. But he’s cowed where Doc is concerned. He’d tell me to tend to my own business . . . or something like that.”

“I’ve a niggling suspicion in the back of my mind about all this. I’m going to wait until I see the birth records and get it sorted out before I tell you because you’re going to think that I’ve lost my mind.”

“I doubt that. I think you’ve got a pretty good hold on that mind of yours.”

Lately Adelaide appeared to be more lighthearted than when Kathleen had first arrived. It was as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. An astute student of human nature, Kathleen was sure that Adelaide’s change of mood was because she now shared the secret of her love for Paul with someone who didn’t disapprove.

“I should go back to Hazel’s, but I’m not eager to be in a crowd of women and make small talk. There were six or more ladies there when I left.”

“Stay here then. Come upstairs and I’ll fix us some sandwiches. Paul mentioned going to Claude’s and bringing back hamburgers.”

Kathleen and Adelaide went to the back room where Paul and Johnny were looking at the photos spread out on the ad table.

“It was a big tire. It went over her thighs, came back over her legs, and broke them. It then went over her chest. Damn, but I hope that she wasn’t conscious at that time.” Johnny swore softly under his breath. “That’s about all I can tell from these prints. I’d like for Keith McCabe to see them. I’ll give him a call, but not from Rawlings. Too many ears on the line.”

“You’ll be making a couple of powerful enemies if you stick your nose in this,” Paul said. “Doc Herman has declared it an accident and so has the sheriff.”

“I can’t just stand by and do nothing when I think that girl was murdered.”

“If they could figure out a way to do it and make it appear to be legal, they could blame it on you.”

“Let them try. I don’t see how anyone could pass this off as an accident. Clara’s ribs and her legs were broken when the car ran over her, but it sure as hell didn’t run over her neck and head. Hellfire, Paul, her jaw was broken, her teeth knocked out! I wish I had gotten there before the place was trampled over. I might have found the track he made when he dragged her into the ditch and got a decent footprint.”

“Can you tell anything from the one on her back?”

“It was a boot, and not a very big one according to the space between the heel and the sole.”

Paul snorted. “Doc Herman will never admit that it’s even a bootprint.”

“The best track man in the country is Frank Hamer, the former Texas Ranger, now a U.S. Marshal. I’d like for him to see these prints. Doc Herman would sit up and take notice if he came to town.”

“Do you know Frank Hamer?”

“I know him, but not as well as Keith McCabe does.”

When Kathleen came up beside him, Johnny moved the picture of Clara’s tortured face out of sight.

“Where is Judy?” Adelaide asked.

“She’s sleeping there on the cot. It’s like she hasn’t slept in a week,” Paul replied.

“If she walked and hitched rides all the way from Fort Worth, she probably hasn’t slept much in a week. Johnny, did Paul tell you about Judy?”

“He said she was here looking for her real mother.” Johnny’s eyes shifted from Adelaide to Kathleen. “Are you going back to Hazel’s?”

“Not right away. There’s a houseful of people there, or was when I left this afternoon.”

“I’m going to call on her after I fix your tire.”

“You’re determined to fix that blasted tire, aren’t you?”

“I said I’d fix it, and I will.”

“Then let’s get it over with so I can go home,” she said irritably.

Johnny followed Kathleen through the office and out onto the street where her car was parked.

“Why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad! Well, I guess I am . . . but I’m not sure why.” She got the keys out of her purse and dangled them in front of him. “It’s in the trunk, but I’m sure you know that.”

He swept the keys from her hand. “Get in.”

Later she waited in the car while Johnny carried the slashed tire into the back of the filling station. He was a puzzle to her, always leaving her with a thousand conflicting emotions. It made her angry that her heart fairly jumped out of her chest at the sight of him. How dare he come into her life and make her so miserable?

She watched him come back to the car with the tire. What was it about this man, this cowboy, that, with a look or a word, could bring her so stupidly close to tears.

“How much did it cost?” She began digging into her purse as soon as he got in the car.

“Forget it. It’s taken care of.”

“I’ll not forget it. I’ll not have you paying to fix my tires,” she said crossly.

“I’m not rich like
your
Mr. Fleming, but I can afford to fix a tire.”

“He’s not
my
Mr. Fleming.”

“No? Then why are you always hangin’ around his neck?”

“Hanging around his
neck!
You make me so damn mad! Where are we going?”

“To Hazel’s. I’ve got to pay my respects.”

Not another word was said until they stopped in front of the well-lighted house. A number of people were milling about.