Moonscape

by Julie Weston

  Charlie studied Nell and nodded. “You may be right. And if the blood dried, she might have been easier to move.” He paused, then continued. “But where would one get a lever of any kind out there in that desolate place?”

  “Maybe a jack from an automobile. Maybe a crank.” She had thought of something else. “Mayor Tom knew that a lever was needed. I hate to think it, but could he have circled around and then removed her before we had a really good chance to see her?”

  Charlie nodded his head. He looked through the magnifying glass again and pointed to the white blur. “Any idea what this is?” He moved it closer to his face. “It could be ice behind her.”

  “I don’t know. I saw it when I was printing the negative.” She took the glass, and she, too, studied the white patch, then shook her head. “A ghost.”

  The sheriff laughed. “That would have been the place for one.” He gestured toward both photos. “These give us a good picture of her. She was beautiful.”

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you. While at Jacob’s studio, I met a woman posing for a photo. Her name was Euphemia. Jacob called her ‘Effie,’ the name Tom mentioned. She was not as beautiful as this woman, but when I printed this photograph, I realized they resemble each other—strongly. I think they might be related.” She knew this was all speculation, but the words tumbled out of her. “If so, maybe they are sisters, and that takes care of the third person in the trio. No one has been left out there in the lava fields. And, if she is related, then she escaped— before or after her sister was murdered. Or died.”

  “That presents another puzzle, then.” Charlie held his head in one hand. “I need to get back out there.” He slammed his hand on the cast. It didn’t break, but his hand might have.

  “What about crutches?”

  Another sigh. “I cannot even imagine trying to get across those lava fields on crutches.”

  “A horse?”

  He thought. “Yes, I could do that.” He shifted and turned toward the packages. “But first, let us go through those. I have not opened them yet. They do not look as if they have been opened since Tom found them in the deserted auto. The brown tape has not been disturbed as near as I can tell.”

  Nellie walked to the first—there were three. She lifted the package by the twine wrapped around it and brought it to the couch next to the sheriff. “I’ll get some scissors and a knife.” When she returned the sheriff had managed to get the twine off with a pocketknife and was working on the paper tape, which easily broke apart. Charlie lifted the flaps on what was a cardboard box and whistled.

  “Well, that is a surprise,” Nellie said. Lying in the box were packets of money, dozens of them. “Are they real?”

  “Huh. I do not know.” Charlie riffled through the stacks and pulled out one packet of ten-dollar bills. “There must be around a thousand dollars in here.” He pulled one out and used the magnifying glass to study it closely. “Looks real to me. I would have to have a banker inspect them to be certain. I know counterfeiting is a fairly common crime in the East, maybe in Chicago, but we have seen few phony bills around here, or even in Idaho, as far as I know.”

  “Let’s look at the others.” Nellie moved the first package and brought the second one again to Charlie. It was smaller but wrapped in the same manner—twine and paper tape.

  The sheriff opened it with little trouble, and, once again, there were stacks of bills filling the entire package. He shook his head. “Why would those three leave money sitting in a parked automobile near the lava fields? Anyone could have stopped by and stolen it. Clearly, they intended to return, but still—several thousand dollars, I would guess.” He glanced at the last, smaller, package.

  Goldie appeared in the door. “Are you two hungry? What is all that money for?”

  Nellie’s inclination was to cover the opened box, but Goldie had already seen it. “We don’t know. These were found in the automobile by the road, apparently belonging to people who went into the lava fields.”

  The sheriff must have had the same idea, because he folded one of the flaps over and then stopped. “There is one more box. Come in, and you can guess with us.”

  This one Nellie opened. There was no money, but instead baby clothes, including a blanket, a knitted hat, and a small sweater and pants, all in blue, and wool nappies. “This seems to confirm a baby was expected.” She rubbed her hand over the items. “These almost make me cry. They were hand knit, I think.”

  Charlie studied the money and the baby things. “Was the money to be traded for the child?”

  “And where would a religious cult get that kind of money?” Nellie said. “I shudder to think what went on in the lava fields before we arrived. It must have been terrible.”

  Goldie so far had said nothing, unusual for her. “Of course they were hand knit,” she said. “I used to do baby things like that myself. Easy as pie. ’Course, I didn’t do them for any child of mine, having had none. All those religious people get together in sewing bees and knitting bees, like the quilters do. Could have been knitted up by any one of a hundred people.” She strode to the box and lifted them out. “Humph. Not a practiced hand, I’d say. Probably a learner.” She laid them back down. “And as to money? That sect out in the desert by Idaho Falls makes people pay to join ’em. And the men take a dowry from the girls that are sent out there. There’s enough people who want to get rid of extras in their households, so they sell ’em off, especially if they ain’t pretty and can’t get a man on their own.”

  “You’ve never talked about them to me,” Nellie said.

  “Ain’t been no reason to. Shameful practices. So far as I know, no one around here has had anythin’ to do with them.”

  “Do you think that baby came from them?” the sheriff asked.

  “Doubt it. They want to keep all them girl babies. If it had been a boy, I might have thought that. Those dirty old men don’t want boys around. They sell them off, too, to farmers in the area as workers.”

  The sheriff nodded his head. “I will make enquiries of the town in southeast Idaho where they are supposed to live—Utah City. Maybe there is a sheriff or some kind of law there, although I suspect not. ‘God’s work,’ the man said, so God’s law may be the only kind they follow, or at least their interpretation of it.”

  CHAPTER 17

  After much wheedling, Nellie had been able to get crutches from the small clinic in Hailey. She brought them back to the sheriff, using the automobile belonging to Henry, one of Goldie’s boarders. She had driven an auto all summer when she traveled back and forth to the Stanley Basin, after she spent time at the Basque sheepherder’s camp. It took a few minutes to get used to driving again, but then she felt at home. She even missed the upholstery smell of old cigarette smoke and that hint of moonshine—the liquid kind.

  Charlie struggled with the wood supports, but, after a few adjustments in their height and several practice rounds of the boarding house and up and down part of the stairs, he said he was ready to try them out in town. He drove a county automobile and allowed Nell to drive it while he sat in the passenger seat. Charlie said little as they headed to Hailey, except a few gasps and grabs of the hand hold in the door. His left leg jammed the floor several times. Nell tried her best to be careful and not to cause any of the aforementioned reactions from Charlie. Having a passenger was not her preferred situation, and having the sheriff was definitely to be avoided in the future.

  In Hailey, they parked near the butcher shop. There was no snow yet, which was a grace, and together the butcher and Nellie managed to get the sheriff into the ice room. The butcher asked several times when the bodies could be removed. He needed the space for venison and elk that hunters were bringing down from the back country. The coroner, a man named Jack Sharp, met them.

  “The doc looked over them two,” Jack Sharp said. “I couldn’t even guess how that lady died. Although she had a big puncture wound in her stomach.” He glanced at Nell and then away. “Doc said she bled out from having
a baby, but he needed to do an autopsy to make a final determination. Was there a baby with the body?” When both the sheriff and Nell said no, he continued. “The man’s end was pretty clear. See those dents on the back of his head? Probably spewed brain all over.” He shuffled his feet and, to Nell’s thinking, avoided looking at her. She was just as happy. She stayed as far back as she could.

  The sheriff peered closely at both bodies. He picked up the man’s lapel and poked his finger through the rip he and Nell had seen in the photograph. At the woman’s side, he fingered her dress material, felt along her body, including her arms, turned her head one way and then another. The ice upon which she lay was tinged pink. Her skirt was still stiff with dried blood, and it had leached onto what appeared to Nell to be a pedestal. She no longer resembled a Madonna, however. The skin on her face had shrunk, and the bones of her head looked as if they would eventually rid themselves of the skin cover. Nellie grasped her arms around herself and bit her lip.

  “Contact the doctor, please, and ask him to do the autopsies. If we cannot find relatives by then, I will authorize their burial,” the sheriff said. He motioned to Nell to leave, and he hobbled after her on the crutches, narrowly missing a hanging slab of raw venison. It still had legs on the bottom half. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Jack Sharp closed off the cold room.

  The butcher met them at the front counter. “Thank you for the use of your cold room. One of these years, the county might build a morgue that is more convenient for everyone,” the sheriff said.

  “Always glad to help the law.”

  “I searched their clothes for identification when we found them but might have missed something. The circumstances were not optimal. Did you find anything when they arrived here?”

  “Dunno. Didn’t look myself. I don’t know about the fellows who brought them here. Maybe talk with them?”

  The sheriff nodded, and he and Nell went back to the county auto. “Now where?” Nell asked. “Are you tired?”

  “Yes, but I think we should try to find the fellows and see if they did any searching on their own.” He climbed into the passenger seat, so Nell circled the auto to drive. “The problem is, I do not know who they were. Mayor Tom found them. Could you go back and ask the butcher for their names? Maybe he knew them.”

  Nell did as asked and returned. “He didn’t know them. He thought they might have come from the Basque boarding house. Were they familiar to you?”

  “It has been a long time since I did any sheep herding,” the sheriff retorted. “I already said I did not know them.”

  Nell climbed again into the driver’s seat. “Close the door.” She started up the auto and did a U-turn to head back to Ketchum. So much for being helpful. “Max and Trapper were the names of the men who took the woman out.” She glanced at the sheriff and back at the road. “Maybe Goldie knows them. She knows everyone else in the valley.”

  They drove the ten miles without talking to each other. At the boarding house, Nell realized the sheriff had dozed off. She touched him gently on the shoulder, and he opened his eyes. They stared at each other, and Charlie took her hand. “Thank you.” His face was drawn, and he half stumbled when she helped him place the crutches under his armpits. “I can do it.”

  After Charlie was settled again in the parlor, Nellie sat in the kitchen with Goldie. “It was gruesome, looking at the bodies,” she said. “Charlie didn’t know the names of the men who helped Mayor Tom bring in the man. The other two were Max and Trapper. Do you know those names?”

  “Trapper used to work at the Triumph mine. When they cut back, he was let go. I don’t think he does anything now except sit in a beer—uh, soda parlor. Max—hmmm. That would be Max Adkins. He’s the one who told me you two were staying out at the lava fields. He works in a warehouse there in Hailey— maybe one connected to the railroad. I think they pal around with each other. Not sure how Tom would know them. Rosy might. Probably does. They all had the same affliction.”

  “Do you think they would have searched a dead woman’s clothes?”

  Goldie shrugged. “They might, looking for a few coins. Doubt if they’d take anything but money though.” She paused and thought a moment longer. “Jewelry maybe. Did you notice if she had any? A necklace or bracelet or ring or something?”

  Nellie tried to visualize the body in the icy cave. “Yes! There was a necklace. I don’t know if it was still on her when Rosy and Charlie brought . . . her up from the hole in the cave where I—” She stopped. No one had mentioned that Nell had fallen, along with Moonie, and had to be brought up by rope. And, so did the body.

  To avoid Goldie’s sharp look, Nell turned the subject to the man. “The man might have worn a ring. Certainly, he was there with me alone long enough. You’d think I would have noticed something then.” Again, she tried to picture him with his face covered and his cloak wrapped around him. No, she didn’t think his hands were visible. Ben O’Donnell had approached him, but she was sure he didn’t touch the body. “He was covered up, I guess. I’ll ask Charlie if he noticed anything. He and Mayor Tom carried him quite a ways.”

  “What hole? What happened?” Goldie was not to be diverted.

  “I slipped down a hole when we were in one of the caves.” Nell told Goldie the whole story.

  “Lands’ sakes. You get out of my sight, and there you go— gettin’ in trouble again.” She shook her head and stood up. “I don’t think this work for the sheriff is a good thing. I have a mind to give him a piece of mine!”

  “No, Goldie. I have to be like a man—be strong and steady. Otherwise, he won’t hire me. I need the money, and I like the work. It is one of the few things I can do and still be a photographer. Besides, here you are running a boarding house. I doubt if you think a man should be the one to do that.” Nell stood as well and reached for Goldie’s hand. “How would you like it if you were told this wasn’t a job for a woman. Look at Franklin in Twin Falls. Mrs. Olsen helps, but mostly, she does the cooking. You do the whole thing. And a good job of it, too. So do I.”

  “Hmmph.” Goldie took Nell’s hand in both of hers. “I just don’t want you gettin’ hurt or killed yourself. You ain’t no policeman.”

  “No, I’m not. And I am careful. It’s just that sometimes—”

  “I get to thinkin’ you are a big part of my life, Missie. Don’t leave it.”

  Tears sprang to Nellie’s eyes. “You’re a big part of mine, too.” She felt awkward, but she put her arms around Goldie, who was warm and smelled like flour and butter and cinnamon. Nellie missed her mother but wouldn’t trade Idaho for Chicago now for any reason.

  Charlie insisted on going to his office in Ketchum where he could use a telephone without being on a party line. Nell insisted that he talk to the doctor who molded the plaster cast to his leg before he did any more work. She had seen how exhausted he was when they returned from the morgue trip to Hailey. The doctor would see him the next day, so Nellie said she could take him in the county automobile again, and she would ask Goldie to locate Max or Trapper to talk to. The doctor might have finished the autopsy, and they could learn of any results as well.

  Once again, they embarked—the sheriff on crutches and Nellie in the driver’s seat. She tried her best not to grind gears, but, when she did, Charlie said nothing. She was not even sure he heard, as he simply watched out the window and was in a brown study. The cottonwoods along the river flashed lemon yellow in the sunlight, and a few orange-yellow aspen varied the texture. All the grasses beside the road shone gold and amber. It was another blue sky day, an Indian summer after a week of cold, not unusual for October.

  “I have been thinking about what you said—money in exchange for a baby. Why would anyone do that? Even if the mother was dead, wouldn’t the sister have wanted to keep the child? Or maybe it died, too. There were a myriad of crannies and holes in the lava where it could have been hidden or buried.”

  The sheriff seemed to wake out of his thoughts. “I have thought again, to
o, of that idea. Goldie said the baby left at the church was only a couple, three days old, and, although it was hungry, it was not starving.”

  “She,” Nell said.

  “Yes, she. And why would a sister leave it at the church? Maybe the sister wanted a boy baby, not a girl. Or the mother wanted a boy. Would the mother have been the one to knit the clothes?”

  “Heavens, I don’t know. I’ve never been around mothers and babies. Grannies and aunties might have been the knitters. And, for some strange reason, nearly all fathers want a boy, so that might be why the clothes were all blue. Pink is for girls.”

  “I never see you in pink,” Charlie said.

  “I’m not a girl. I’m a woman, and I don’t like pink.”

  He laughed.

  At the doctor’s office, the doctor sawed off the plaster cast. Nellie couldn’t help wincing with the noise. She was afraid the saw would cut into the sheriff’s leg. However, the doctor said he thought the leg was healing nicely, and he put on another, much smaller, cast. When he talked about the dead woman, his cheeks sagged, and his eyes almost teared up. “The ice spear is what killed her. She would have died anyway, but, when she was stabbed, the wound bled. She had already lost a lot of blood from the birth of a child, judging by her clothes. Her lower limbs were swollen with eclampsia. She should have been in bed, not wandering around the lava fields. What were her companions thinking, I wonder? Lots of women die in childbirth, and so do babies.” He shrugged. “She might have been one of those women, even without being on the ground in a cave.”

  “Did you see the baby that was left at the church?” Nellie asked.

  “No, but I did find a nursing mother to feed her. From all reports, she is doing fine, although the wet nurse would like someone else to take the baby. She has a child of her own to tend to.”

  Charlie and Nellie looked at each other. Goldie was not a good answer. She had her hands full with roomers and with Rosy and the boys on the weekends. Nellie didn’t like to think her landlady was too old, but she certainly couldn’t nurse a child. “Can a baby have a bottle instead of mother’s milk?” She felt herself blush. She wasn’t used to discussing such private affairs as breast feeding out loud and to men.