Murder on Edwards Bay (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 2)

by Linda L. Dunlap

  “I’m going to look around for other evidence.” Maude continued, pushing off from 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 small 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 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 had 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 man’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, 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; 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 the 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.” Maude said, “Take a walk on the other side, and down around the bank, before the crew gets here. Want to remember to tell the techs to watch for that boot print I marked out there 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.”

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

  “Yes. I mean okay.”

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

  “Miss Maude, whatever happened to that really bad hombre’ that you and Joe were chasing? Is he still locked up?”

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

  “Down here Ernest. See this print. Looks like a small boot; 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. The boot wearer stayed away from the scene, nearer the water.” Maud
e 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 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 again. “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 crews,” 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 tide. A great deal of the area where they were working would be under water later.

  The coroner came and introduced himself as Walter Edmonds, 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, then the male. He spent little time before stating that he wanted to leave, and have the bodies wrapped and sent directly to the morgue for autopsy. Maude stopped him, and asked for time to clean the man and woman’s fingernails for early testing, to which he agreed with a nod.

  She pulled a couple container from the lab man’s kit, and went to the girl first, taking her hand gently, 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, the man’s hands followed next, the nails short and blunt with little space for storage of skin or evidence, a doctors hands, without calluses, but strong, with long, competent fingers.

  “Such a tragedy, their life cut down like that.” The coroner said. “We’ll see what they tell us in autopsy,” he said as the lab techs secured the bodies for travel, carrying them on stretchers to the helicopter.

  “Can they both fit in that small bird?” Ernest whispered to Maude. “You know, with the pilot and the coroner. It’s going to be crowded.”

  “They’ll be crowded, but those two won’t mind.” She said, dropping to her knees again, looking at the place where the victims had lain. “Help me here Ernest, let’s see what we might have missed.”

  “Okay, Miss Maude. Let me get my flashlight, and we’ll check in that grass, before the others get here.”

  The search proved fruitless, reassuring Maude that they were not dealing with amateurs. The murderers had cleaned up behind themselves. The blood spatter on the clothing would prove to be from the victims. The men would have worn gloves, covering the lines and swirls of fingers and palms, each particular to only one person. Add the tidal waters and the chance for prints were slim to none. Maude had been down that road before, working against clever people who made it their business to outsmart law enforcement officers.

  Sheriff Jack got back to Maude after the helicopter took off with the bodies of the victims; the group that was left seemed preoccupied with getting their equipment together for the trip back on water. “Want to go ask a few questions?” he said to Maude.

  “Yeah, I’m ready. The mosquitoes are really getting bad out here; must have slapped my own face a dozen times trying to get away from them.”

  “Which boat we going in Sheriff?” Ernest asked.

  “Well now, I want you to take the speedboat, and get back to the office after all these folks leave. See if everything is running as it should. Go home when your shift is up. There will be plenty to do tomorrow, I guarantee you.”

  Ernest was disappointed to be left out of the trip with Maude and the sheriff.

  “Tomorrow morning, you get your tablet, and go to that resort, find out everything you can about these two, gather up all the evidence from their room, talk to the maids. Get plenty of pictures. I’ll call the lab and get them to go out there with you. See if anyone came to see either one of the victims during the days they spent there. Think you can handle all that?”

  “Yes sir, I can rightly take care of that; might even start my questioning today.”

  “Where we headed, Jack?”

  “Well, Maude, the way I figure it, the boat is not too far away. Only a fool would tow a boat away from here, and take it out in the bay. They must have left it near the banks, maybe tied it off, but most likely they left it to drift. We’ll motor down there and look around, then get on up to see Old Man Billings. It’s a little walk, are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “Sure, let’s go. I need a little bit of distraction from the picture of that girl still planted in my head. She’s not much younger than my niece Lilly Ann; I could almost see her there.”

  The trip to the open bay seemed fast, and Maude was glad for the wind in her face as they motored quickly down the Slip, back toward the bay. The shore and the inlet met there in a deep channel, the waters calm between the tides. A few large rocks lay along the bank, their source a constant mystery to the locals and the geologists who had studied Edwards Bay. They and the cliffs weren’t supposed to be there, any more than the lost pines were supposed to be in Bastrop County. Their presence was another fluke accorded to Texas.

  “Sheriff, is that the rental boat up there alongside that other old boat, laying up in the edge of the marsh grass beyond those rocks? Maybe they floated there in higher water.”

  “Yep. Looks that way.” Jack said, maneuvering the speed boat up against the shore. “See if you can catch on to something and wrap that rope around it. We’ll get out here and start walking, can’t be gone long though. The tide will start in here in a few hours, and we could be stranded on the shore.”

  “There’s a post here, someone hammered into the ground, a couple in fact. It appears that the boats up there on the grass are tied here too.”

  Maude grunted and leaned out of the boat, tying off the rope. The water was sloshing where the aluminum boat had caused the waves to ripple to shore; a fact that worried Jack more than it did Maude. She had her tennis shoes on, but his Harley engineer boots, a leftover from an earlier passion, were still shined and only slightly muddied. It appeared they were about to get wet.

  “Left my Wellies in my truck,” Jack grumbled. “Damn. Guess I’ll remember them next time.”

  Maude never knew how to read Jack, for his unsmiling face never changed, even when he appeared to be cracking a joke, a characteristic that puzzled all who met Jack Fuller the first time.

  She jumped out of the boat after it was tied to keep from appearing an invalid, who had to slide over the edge, otherwise Jack might wonder how she was managing to hold down a job in the police agency back home. The ground underneath her feet jarred the bad joints in her hips, but she felt fine afterwards. A week prior to her visit to Lilly’s Maude had made a trip to a bone doctor, and received a shot in both knees. It hadn’t healed the pain, just made it easier to live with. The cortisone delayed knee surgery, an event she was hoping to put off as long as possible.

  “Glad you can do that, for I can’t,” Jack said, sliding out of the boat on his belly, finding solid ground for his feet, “bad knees.” He added.

  “I think we can head out right here, and veer east, toward the Gulf, staying close to the shoreline. The ground is going to get farther away from the w
ater as we go, you’ll see we get a ways above sea level at Billings place.”

  “Does he own this land?” Maude asked, seeing the shack in the distance.

  “No more than you and me own it. He just staked his cabin there. He doesn’t bother anybody. Every so often, someone new from the Corps comes around and wants to move the old man out, but he must still carry some influence. He’s still here. They say he has a pile of money somewhere, but you can bet it isn’t here on this rocky ground.”

  “He has a pretty good view from up there,” she said, “Maybe he saw something.”

  “Don’t count on him remembering it, even if he did. I’m hoping we can get something out of him, but I don’t expect much.”

  “Hey Billings,” Sheriff Jack yelled. “Theodore Billings, Sheriff Jack here.”

  The door to the small one room shack opened slowly, and two bushy eyebrows peeked around the edge. “What do you want?” the old man asked.

  “Just talk, to say howdy. This lady is Maude Rogers, a detective from over at Madison.”

  “Hello Madam.” The old man came toward her, exposing a tobacco streaked gray and white bird’s nest that began on his chin and grew into his striped overall tops. “Don’t get any ladies up here.”

  “Glad to meet you, Mister Billings.” She said with her hand outstretched.

  Billings reached out and took her hand, unsure of what she wanted. She stood for a minute then took her hand back, fighting off an urge to spit on it, and wipe it on her jeans.

  “Say Theodore, did you see that boat down there parked next to yours?” Jack asked the old man the direct question, hoping to break through his memory problems.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Is it mine?”

  “No, Theodore, it belongs to Sandy Gandy up near the resort. It’s a rental.”

  “Don’t remember. Maybe I saw it.”

  “Well, never mind that. Did you see anything else going on yesterday?”

  “Killed a rattler with my shotgun,” the old man said. “Nearly six feet.”