The Maude Rogers Murder Collection

by Linda L. Dunlap

  The noise of the helicopter was hard to talk over, so the two settled back quietly, watching below for signs of people on the ground.

  “Fly over that inlet,” Jack told the pilot pointing below. “My oyster hidey-hole.”

  The ground grew closer as the bird circled lower and lower, running along the banks of the inlet.

  “Something’s down there.” the pilot offered. “Let me go back over.”

  “Definitely something there, see if you can find a landing spot.” Jack said, after they circled again. From the air he could see some spots of color and bulk.

  “No luck. Have to go further back, maybe walk a ways.” The pilot said. “Too many rocks and puddles of tide water close in.”

  “Okay, get as close as you can. The lady and I will hike over there.”

  “You ready Maude?” Jack asked.

  “Yes sir, I have my walking shoes on.” She was almost flippant, trying to cover her gut response to what she believed she had seen on the ground. “Snakes out here?”

  “Rattlers, centipedes, some water snakes--some as long as you are. You’ll want to watch your step,” Jack replied.

  “Wish I had a big stick. Maybe I’ll look for some driftwood,” she said worriedly. “I don’t like snakes.”

  “How far do you think we’ll have to walk?” They both asked the pilot.

  “I believe I can put it down right here,” the pilot answered, indicating a flat open spot about a hundred yards from their destination.

  The arthritis in Maude’s knees had started acting up with the tight seats in the helicopter squeezing her against the back of the pilot’s chair. She reached in her pocket and removed the small vial that held several ibuprofen. Popping two she offered the container to Sheriff Jack. “Care to partake?”

  Jack shook his head, “No, I loaded up before we left the office. But you go ahead. There’s a water bottle in the side pocket, might want to take it with you.”

  “Much obliged. I’ll be okay. Part of my life, arthritis. Family thing.”

  The door opened as the blade on the machine stopped turning. Both law enforcement officers stepped out and looked around at the tall marsh grass outside the circle where the craft had landed.

  “I’ll wait here for you.” The pilot said softly, the engine finally quiet on the helicopter. “I think I’ll take a nap while you’re gone. Wake me when you get back.”

  “Sorry,” the sheriff said. “But I need you to head back to the office and pick up the crime-scene crew. There’ll be some coming by boat, but I need the first ones out here as soon as possible. I had hoped we wouldn’t find anything, but my hope is not to be realized. Wonder if you’ll call my deputy, direct him over here, down the inlet. Here’s his number.”

  “Sure, what’s his name?” The pilot asked, pulling out his cell phone, getting ready to depart.

  “Ernest,” Jack replied, getting his land legs back after a minute.

  “I met a man named Ernest not too long ago,” Maude said, taking a first step into the high grass. “Over at Buena Vista. A deputy and a good man.”

  “Sounds like the same fellow. He came from Buena Vista after the sheriff elections-didn’t like his new boss putting him to work in the jail.”

  “Well he’s a fine man, Jack. I’d work with Ernest anytime.”

  “Meanwhile, we got a little bit of a walk.” Jack said, hating the idea of getting his boots muddy along the banks of the channel. “The tide has come and gone, there’s standing water up here along the edge. We have a while before it comes again. Let’s get it done.”

  The sound of a boat’s engine came to Maude from across the bay and she figured it was Ernest on his way. She hoped to witness the look of surprise on his face when he saw her. She chuckled, remembering the trip they had made together with her partner, Joe Allen.

  The distance from the helicopter to the sight was a short hike; the cold air unpleasant, but not unbearable. Overnight a northern, weather front had moved in along the coast, bringing brisk winds, but clear skies for most of the day. The morning was almost gone, and the sun was bright, drying the ground a little, preparing once again for the tides that would come later.

  As the location came into view, Maude’s eyes fastened upon a flag of indistinct origin attached to the thorns of a lone huisache tree. The force of the freshened wind moved the flag back and forth, drab-hued against the tree’s last yellow blooms. A few yards later brought her close enough to see that flag was a wad of blonde, blood-stained hair, and interspersed among the individual strands, dozens of small coastal ants were busy loading and carrying away tiny pieces of flesh.

  A closer inspection identified a jagged circle of human scalp still attached to the hair strands. The wad of hair had been cut around and then ripped away from the back of a young woman’s head.

  Beneath the scrawny tree in odd positions were two bodies, a male and female. The female was naked, her injuries at first unnoticed because of the silt residue from the tide. Lengths of grass and other weeds were on her body, and a thin layer of mud had coated two wounds on her chest. A large gouge was in her solar plexus, and another similar one was near the ribcage. The skin on her back and shoulders appeared bruised and was torn in several small areas.

  An array of ants had found the blood inside the wounds and were feasting and carrying it away. A tiny fish washed ashore in the tide had been trapped in the marsh grass and lay dead beside the woman, its body also covered in insects.

  “Somehow, all that makes it seem worse, doesn’t it?” Maude reflected, easing herself to the ground beside the victim. “The insects on her body. Seems more terrible, even though the poor thing can’t feel it.”

  “Take a look, Maude, the way her hands are clenched. Maybe she kept something from the killer.” Sheriff Jack remarked, making his way to the other body that was lying in the grass. The male victim’s outer shirt was pulled up over his head, either washed there or placed by the killer.

  “Let me get my gloves. I’ll see. Nothing here that hasn’t been contaminated by the tide, except maybe she scratched the killer, and there’s some skin under the nails. Want me to take the samples or wait for the lab techs.”

  “She can wait. Not going anywhere. See anything under that blanket? Find what might have killed her?” Jack asked over his shoulder, looking Aaron Dennis’s body over. “This fellow has a hole in his head, fact is, looks like a couple of them. Beaten pretty badly, too.”

  “Looks like whoever killed this girl took it personally. Cutting her hair off like that. Darndest thing. Why would anyone do that?”

  “Must have been surprised, maybe lying back in the sun, enjoying the vacation. Blew his brains out. Sorry state, the tide and all, fooling with the evidence.” Jack paused a minute, catching his breath. “Been dead a few hours, at least long enough for rigor to set up, he’s stiff as board.”

  Maude looked sharply at Jack, to see if he was having a small joke to break the tension, but the sheriff looked very serious. “Her too,” she said. “Whoever killed this girl really enjoyed it. I found her polo shirt wadded and muddy. Either she had already pulled it off, or he did it when he jumped her. He stabbed her with something big, maybe a knife, cut her at least twice. Evidence shows she was still alive when he cut her scalp off. Lot of blood ran down that little tree. I hope she fought him hard, got some of his skin. Savages, that’s what kind of murderers we have now.”

  “I’m going to look around for peripheral evidence,” Maude continued, pushing off the marsh grass, careful to preserve the crime scene, or what there was of it. She stood and walked away, shaking her head at the violence, amazed anew every time she saw what terrible things people did to one another.

  Pulling her little book out of the pocket of her jacket was a thing she did so automatically that the pages were already open to the clean lines. She stopped for a minute, and looked at the ground where she had walked, searching for impressions, scraps of hair, anything to give away the location, to tell the story as it
happened. The grass near the waterway was still wet from the tide, and any footprints that had been there were now washed away.

  About fifty feet from the scraggly tree, out a ways from the crime scene was a place in the grass that was flattened, away from the tides heavy overflow. Maude found a large boot print, barely visible, sunk into the damp ground. A pair of women’s jeans laid there, the legs spread about a foot apart, their bulk pressed into the mud and marsh grass as though the cloth was stepped on or leaned into. Maude lowered herself to the ground again, the arthritis in her right knee bringing a groan. Going to get these knees fixed when I find the time, she said to herself.

  She began writing in her notebook, drawing out the crime scene as she had found it, the new spot in the grass deserving another page. There had been some wrestling of a sort, some of the grass and weeds had been pulled from the ground. He had fought her--probably chased her and then assaulted her, protecting his tender knees from the grass with her blue jeans. The swine. Some things she couldn’t put in the book. Emotions, wishes; they weren’t evidence.

  She left it all as she found it, waiting for the techs who would picture the clothing, the grass, the ground under the clothing. Maybe there was something there, something that would help the lawmen draw it out in their minds to help put the puzzle together in search of justice for the two victims.

  The trail back to the picnic site was easy to find after locating the flattened grass. Maude kept her eyes out for more evidence, but she found nothing that had been dropped or left behind other than some blood spots on the clumps of grass above the tideline. There was always the hope that the killer had lost blood from his own injuries.

  It seemed to her that the girl had escaped for a short time, probably after the killer had stripped her shirt away. Maybe she struggled and slipped through his hands. Good for her. But he caught her anyway, dragged her back when he was through with her. Killed her at the picnic spot? Making a statement? What kind of man would treat a woman so badly? One that was paid to do his worst?

  When she looked up, Ernest Garrison was staring at her in amazement, his large face overwhelmed by a huge grin.

  “Why Miss Maude, it’s you, out here in the grass, looking at another dead woman. I swear it’s good to see you. Maybe not such a good place, but good anyway.” The big deputy’s delight in seeing her was pleasant to hear and took her eyes from the terrible sight of the victims.

  “Great to see you, Ernest, poor circumstances though. We’ll have to talk later.”

  Sheriff Jack was leaning against the scrawny tree, taking some notes, his jaw set in a hard line when Maude caught his eye. “What do you think Jack? This work like any you’ve seen before?”

  “Maybe. Some time ago we had a burglary in town, at least we thought it was a burglary. Fellow worked in a jewelry store was killed, stabbed three times in the chest. Coroner thought it was a little unusual. Burglar took a couple of rings, but it seemed to be part of a set up. The robbery didn’t appear to mean much, it was the killing that did. Never did find out who did it, the killer left no trace, no little screw up that gave him away. Clean as a whistle. I always wondered if whoever killed him was paid to do it and get out.”

  “You want my help with this? I can write my report and leave it with you, get on up the way if you’d rather work alone, but sometimes an extra set of eyes can see the things the first one misses, so I’m available.”

  “Maude, I’d be much obliged to you if you’d stay a day or two till we get this wrapped up. Just me, Ernest, and two other deputies most of the time. I have a couple of guards who work the night shift, taking care of the holding, but we’re always short of manpower. No offense,” he said blushing. “I know you’re not a man.”

  “None taken, but I’ll need to get in touch with my niece and let her know I’m staying for an extra day or two. You’ll be notifying the family?”

  “Yeah. I’ll call up the next of kin when we get back. Let you know when, so you can tell your niece the sad news.”

  “That’ll be fine. I’ll stall her in the meantime. This is going to be a shock to her and the rest of them at the university. Think I’ll go back myself and do a little interviewing, find out more about the project Aaron Dennis was working on.”

  “Sounds like a good plan. Meanwhile, if you don’t mind, we’ll hang around here until the crime scene fellows get their work over and done with, then we can go back in the boat and look around. They had to come in by water; this ground out here is marshy all the way back. No roads because of the tides. The lay of the land is real strange, high on one end and low on the other, shallow pools of water here and there.”

  “Well, Jack. I’d like to be as much help as possible. You want my take on this?”

  “Please. I’d be glad to hear it.”

  “It appears to me that someone followed these two here for one purpose, to kill one, or both of them. This Dennis fellow might have been the target since he’s been working for the government on a secret project. He does seem the most likely. Anyway, the killers took the rented boat, so the question would be, why would they want another boat to slow them down when what they need is a fast getaway?”

  “Maude, you’re right. I’ve been puzzling over that same question. Where’s the boat these two had? We need to look along the shoreline. Maybe it’s still there.”

  “How’s your medical examiner? Any good?”

  “Yeah. Good man. He’ll get this done pretty fast. I’ll see to it.”

  “I bet you will,” Maude said, thinking she wouldn’t want to be the one to argue with Jack Fuller.

  “Sheriff, how about I see if I can help them boys out when they get here?” Ernest was picking mud off his boots, sliding it off on one of the clumps of marsh grass.

  “That’ll do Ernest.” Jack Fuller was eyeing the sky, searching for the helicopter he had sent to bring the crime scene crew out. Some of them would follow in a boat, but the photographers and evidence gathers would show up with the coroner. The print men would come out on a boat. Jack intended to leave Ernest in charge after the coroner gave his first report.

  “I think I’ll look around a little more on the other side and down the bank before the crew gets here,” Maude said. “You want to remember to tell the techs to watch for that boot print I marked beside the girl’s clothes. Ernest, you have a camera in that boat?”

  “Yes ma’am. Sure do.”

  “Walk along with me and shoot what I say.”

  “Yes ma’am,” he said.

  “That’ll be enough ma’ams, Ernest. Just a yes will do.”

  “Yes. I mean okay, Miss Maude.”

  “See this little step up. See if you can get close to it. Looks like a shoe tread.”

  “Whatever happened to that really bad hombre’ that you and Joe were chasing? Is he still locked up?” Ernest asked while adjusting his camera.

  “Yeah, he’s locked away,” she said. “Doesn’t know anything these days--too much damage in his head from the car that hit him. I never did thank you for all you did, Ernest. You were a mighty big help.” Maude was staring at something on the ground and stooped to see it more closely.

  “Down here Ernest. See this print. Looks like a small boot with pointed toes. Shoot that, but don’t step on anything while you do. I think that’s enough over here. Make sure that the crew knows this is out here. This boot wearer stayed away from the scene, nearer the water.” Maude was moving farther outward, away from the channel. “Let’s walk out here a ways and see what we find besides more mud and water.”

  The tide water had covered most everything near the bank or so it seemed. Aaron and Jenny had chosen one of the few places high enough to be dry for part of the day. The rest of the area was mostly wet during the winter weather. Maude searched for another high spot with good visibility, but there was nothing but marsh. She could see why the land wasn’t used for real estate development. That thought reminded her of the small building that she had seen from the air.

  �
��Sheriff Jack, hey, Jack,” she yelled. “How about we go see that man you say lives in the shack on the cliff? Maybe he saw something yesterday.”

  “Theodore Billings. Now that’s a good idea. Here comes the crew,” he called back.

  The helicopter landed closer to the crime scene after Maude motioned to the pilot that there was another clear spot safe for landing. The key to the work involved and the motorized craft was the arrival of the next tide. A great deal of the area where they were working would be under water later.

  The coroner came over, introduced himself as Walter Edmonds, and then proceeded to get to his part of the job. Maude traveled along behind him, wanting to see and hear what he had to tell about the cause, and time of death of the two victims. Her guess was based on experience. The two had been dead since the afternoon before, which meant that the case was almost twenty-four hours old. That also meant that the killers had a day’s start on their escape.

  The coroner went straight for the bodies and performed his tests with ritualistic ease, first the female and then the male. He spent a few minutes working and then stated that he wanted to leave, after giving the techs instructions to wrap the bodies and send them directly to the morgue for autopsy. Maude interrupted him, and asked for time to clean the man and woman’s fingernails for early testing to which he agreed by a nod of his head.

  She pulled a container from the lab man’s kit, and went to the girl first. Taking her hand gently, she was careful not to bend it, or break a bone, for the muscles were stiff, not yet at the compliant state after rigor. The slender fingers had long nails with pink polish, their youthful skin broken in several places from the stress of her ordeal. Maude scraped under the nails, storing what there was inside one of the tubes from the kit. That work done, she went to the man’s hands next. The nails were short and blunt, with little space for storage of skin or evidence, a doctor’s hands without calluses, but strong, with long, competent fingers.