Birdie's Nest

by Linda LaRoque

  They’d reached the river and sat gazing out. Sun glistened off the water as it traveled slowly by.

  “Where will we work then?” Birdie couldn’t imagine them working outside where anyone passing by could see them.

  “Somehow the doc will have to figure out a suitable place on the Reservation. Maybe one of the houses has a basement or a room could be cleared out. If not, the hospital might have an area.”

  Birdie couldn’t imagine how the town folk would respond if they found out.

  “But, more importantly, Birdie, I’m hoping you can help me with this case.”

  Her heart thudded. “Me? Really?”

  “Yes, you said you’d been trained in evidence collection. I’m afraid this incident is going to be repeated. I thought you might take a look at the crime scene and be to see some things we missed.”

  “Has this been cleared with the chief of police?”

  He nodded and held up a piece of paper and grinned. “I even talked him into putting you on the payroll.”

  “You’re kidding.” She could use every penny.

  “On the sly, of course. No one is to know about you working with us. If word gets out there would be uproar.” He chuckled. “The chief wants you to be in disguise to protect you as much as possible.”

  Adrenaline pumped through her veins. “When can we start?”

  “How about right now?”

  Dr. Franks met them in the lobby and escorted them to his office. “Good to see you looking so well, Miss Braxton. I see life with the Lockharts is treating you well.”

  “Yes, they’ve been very gracious. I should soon have enough money to move out on my own though.”

  He waved at the chairs. “Have a seat.” He peered at Birdie over the tops of his glasses. “Has Detective Ethan filled you in on what’s going on?”

  “Briefly. I want to be honest here, the Texas Rangers don’t handle a lot of assault cases.”

  Ethan spoke up. “But you said—”

  “Yes, I am trained to collect evidence and think I can help. I would like to talk to the patient and then visit the area where the crime took place.”

  Dr. Franks stood. “This way.”

  “First though, I’d like to know if you still have her clothing.”

  “I’ll ask Nurse Taylor.”

  “Do you have brown paper I can wrap them in so they won’t become cross contaminated?”

  “Yes.” They followed him up to the second floor to the room at the end of the hall.

  The doctor rapped on the door before entering. Nurse Taylor sat by the bed reading a book. “She’s been hysterical on occasion so we’ve watched her around the clock.”

  Nurse Taylor stood and grasped Birdie’s hand. Birdie led her to a corner of the room. “Has she said much?”

  “No, just cries and touches her face.” She glanced at the bed. “Poor dear. She’s in a lot of pain.”

  Birdie drew a deep breath and forged forward. “Did you happen to keep her clothes?”

  “Oh yes. They’re right here in the closet.”

  “Have they been washed?”

  “No, I’d planned to take them by the laundry this afternoon.”

  Birdie squeezed her arm. “The doctor says you have brown paper. Can you wrap them up for me please? I’m going to sit and talk with her a minute.”

  She approached the bed. Ethan stopped her. “Be careful. She’s fragile.”

  “I understand. What’s her name?”

  “Lila Sanders.”

  Birdie pulled the chair close to the bed and took the woman’s hand and squeezed gently. She opened her eyes, fear tightening her features. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Birdie Braxton. I’ve been teaching women and girls self-defense tactics.” She nodded to the other side of the bed. “Detective Ethan is here too. He wants me to ask you some questions in hopes you’ll remember something to help catch this person.”

  Miss Sanders closed her eyes, shutting them out.

  “Please, Lila. If he’s not caught he could do it again. Next time he might kill someone.”

  “I told the detective everything I remember.”

  “I know, but he thought talking to a woman would be easier. Would you like for him to leave the room?”

  She nodded. Ethan handed Birdie a small tablet and a pencil and then left.

  “Now, close your eyes and think. Were you able to see him at all?”

  “No, it was too dark. All I saw was shadows.”

  “What did you see in the shadows? Could you tell the shape of his hat? Or was he without one?”

  “Yes, he wore a bowler.”

  “Now, did he say anything to you?”

  She covered her mouth with her hand and sobbed, “Called me terrible, vulgar things.”

  “What about his voice, was it deep or higher pitched?”

  “It was deep and scratchy like his throat was raw.”

  Birdie jotted down a couple of notes in the pad. “Could you tell how tall he was, how strong? Did you struggle with him?”

  “How can you ask me those things? Of course I struggled with him. Hit him with everything I had, and he just laughed.”

  Birdie patted her hand. “I’m not questioning your courageousness. I just need to know if you possibly left marks on him that could be seen by others.”

  “I screamed and scratched his face, but I don’t know how good cause he wore something like a scarf with nose and eyes cut out.” She pointed to her cheek just below her right eye. “Tore the mask and made him mad. He slapped me and knocked my head against the wood of the gazebo.”

  “Oh that’s good to know. Let me see your nails.” They extended beyond the tips of her fingers about one-fourth of an inch, enough to break the skin. It appeared there might still be tissue, enough to collect. If only they had the means to examine it. “Good, can you guess how tall he was?”

  “Not so tall, not much taller than me and I’m five feet, five inches tall.”

  “Could you tell if he was thin or heavy?”

  “He was thick, not fat, but stocky.”

  “Very good. This will all help.” Birdie patted her hand. “What happened after you hit your head?”

  Lila shuddered and sobbed. “He started hitting me. In the face, my body, everywhere until I blacked out.”

  “Were you unconscious when he cut you?”

  “Yes. I woke up in that tall grass. I didn’t know I’d been cut ’til I tried to get up and my face throbbed. Blood ran down my jaw, wetting my clothes.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, wetting the bandages. What Birdie wouldn’t give for a tissue to wipe them away.

  “What were you doing outside?”

  “It gets so smoky inside to where sometimes I can’t breathe. I just wanted some fresh air.”

  “Did you see anyone else out? Someone who might have seen something?”

  “No. It’s not uncommon for girls to stroll outside around the gazebo, but last night there was no one.”

  “You’re a brave young woman, Lila. I need you to be brave a little while longer. I need to see your bruises.”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean you want to look at my naked body?”

  “Yes. I promise it won’t take but just a moment. Would you like for me to call Nurse Taylor back in?”

  “No, let’s just get it over with.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

  Birdie lifted the sheet and raised her gown. The poor girl’s body was almost a solid bruise but it was evident the perp had aimed for breasts, belly, and abdomen. Most likely her kidneys were bruised and she had fractured ribs. She pulled the gown down. “Can you roll over for me for just a moment?” Birdie moved to the side of the bed. “Hand me your far hand and let me pull you over.”

  Lila cried out. Birdie took a quick look, yanked the gown back down and eased her to her back.

  “One more question. What did you smell—liquor, tobacco, shaving soap or cologne?”

  Gasping from the exertion and pain, she pan
ted, “Oh, lawsy, yes. Expensive shaving soap or cologne. I’ve never smelled it before but will never forget it to my dying day.”

  Now that was a clue they could work with. How many men in Waco could afford expensive shave soap?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Back in Detective Ethan’s buggy, Birdie glanced at the drawing she’d made of the victim’s wounds. Miss Sanders would be mighty sore for a good while. Hopefully none of her internal organs were damaged. “Can we go to the crime scene now?”

  “Not dressed as you are. I think we better put it off until tomorrow. Come in about the same time the classes start and hopefully Tad won’t notice a difference in your routine and start asking questions.”

  That’s all Birdie needed. He’d been quiet since learning about the Wounded Knee situation. She could see his not understanding her take on the situation. His experience with Indians was probably horror stories he’d been told by his grandfathers. Raiding parties attacking and killing settlers. She sighed. Of course, he’d not been out of Waco, and was just a child when the Civil War broke out. In fact, early in Texas’s history, several tribes—the Lipan Apaches, the Tonkawas, and the Wacos collaborated with the rangers to defeat the Comanche Nation. The Comanche slowed down progress in Texas and encroached on the other tribe’s lands.

  Shoot, that might not be the problem at all. The story upset Olivia, and the fact people had starved and been driven off their land might be causing his poor mood. Or, it was possible he still had difficulty accepting the fact she was from the future? She often caught him watching her, as if trying to make up his mind about something. Who knows what he thought. She knew one thing, though. If he found out what she was doing, he’d try to make her quit or kick her out of his house.

  “What if Tad finds out?”

  “He won’t like it, that’s a fact. If he suspects something and pressures you, be best to go ahead and tell him.” He stopped the buggy by the river and helped her down. “Let me get Molly for you.”

  Birdie stroked the mare’s neck. “Poor girl. I’ve made you stand around all day. We’ll see that you get an extra ration of oats tonight.”

  She mounted the horse. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Don’t worry about clothes. We’ll have a uniform for you. Bring something to tie your hair up.”

  Birdie led Molly into the barn and undid the cinch. Before she could lift the saddle, she was spun around. Alarmed, she raised her arms in defense. Tad eased back from her and slammed a fist into the wooden post.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick and was about to gather the men to come looking for you.”

  She bristled. “I didn’t realize I had a curfew.” She lifted the saddle and carried it to the waiting sawhorse. “Look, I’m sorry I’m late. Some things came up and I got distracted.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “I met some people and visited for a while.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Was it a man?”

  “You are not my brother or my father. And you’d have no right to question me if you were.”

  He yanked his hat off and raked a hand through his hair. “You’re three hours past the time you usually get home. Mother’s beside herself with worry, she’s been ready to notify the sheriff.”

  “I am sorry for that, truly.” Drat, she hated to make people worry. She’d been inconsiderate and would have to lie about where she’d been. “I’ll hurry here, Tad, and get up to the house and apologize.” She removed the bit and bridle and quickly stored them away along with the saddle blanket.

  Tad grabbed a bucket and filled it with a ration of oats.

  “I promised her a little extra.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “And you think she’ll remember?”

  “Of course. Women don’t forget things like that.”

  She swallowed a chuckle as he dropped his head to hide the twitch of his lips. He hadn't fooled her. “All right. If you say so.” He scooped a little more into the pail and hung it where Molly could get to it. While she brushed the mare, making sure to remove any dirt or debris that might have attached itself to her coat, Tad lifted her hooves and used a nail to clean them.

  Tad eased an arm around her shoulders as they walked up to the house. She tried to pull away but he squeezed. “Relax. I just want to touch you a minute.”

  Birdie slipped her arm around his waist and their hips bumped as they walked. “I’m really sorry I worried you. I’m not used to people fussing about my coming and going. My schedule was always so erratic Aunt Patty learned not to panic when I was later than usual.”

  “Where were you?”

  “It’s really none of your business.”

  “True, but it would be nice if you told me anyway.”

  “Detective Ethan came by the warehouse. We went for a buggy ride down to the river, and ended up going to the police station and talked for a long time.”

  “Is he courting you? I know he’s interested. I need to know if he has a chance.”

  “No, he’s not. We talked about detective work the entire time.”

  Tad snorted. “Maybe you thought it was all work, but I imagine Ethan thought otherwise. Guess I better start wooing you with a vengeance.”

  Birdie stopped and whirled to face him. “I told you I don’t want to be courted.”

  “Too bad.” He took her by the arm and pulled her behind a tree to protect them from view from the house.

  “What are you—”

  Before she could finish, his lips were on hers. His arms lifted her off her feet, up against his hard frame, her face even with his. Against his taller body, she made a perfect fit. She struggled for a moment then gave in and twined her arms around his neck. Tad deepened the kiss, grabbed her butt and pulled her hips flush with his. His arousal throbbed against her belly, eliciting a deep moan low in her throat. Breathless and shaking, she drew back and dropped her head to his chest.

  “Birdie, sweetheart, I want you something fierce,” he whispered against her hair. “But I can wait... for a time.” She tilted her head and stared into his blue eyes, searching her brain for a witty remark. None came to mind. He winked and lowered her to the ground. Evidently he’d worked through whatever had been bothering him earlier.

  No doubt about it, the man was sexy as all get-out and knew his way around the art of kissing. He was dangerous. Dangerous because she could care deeply for him, and she had a goal to accomplish. If she had to marry, it would be someone with money to build Birdie’s Nest. Shame washed over her for her materialistic position, but she had no choice. Her home came before her happiness.

  * * *

  Dressed in the wool uniform of the Waco Police, Birdie studied the horse Detective Ethan had selected for her. It was warm for February. Probably would get up into the 80s today. Sweat already tickled between her breasts and it wasn’t even nine o’clock. Even though it was winter, the sun could get hot some days. Texas was notorious for its unpredictable weather. She scratched her back. What was it about wool and this era? The fabric had always made her itch like the devil. At least she didn’t have to wear a coat over the uniform. Regardless, she’d be miserable on warm days. The mare named Brownie appeared gentle enough. She patted the horse’s neck and let her smell her hand. Molly munched on a scoop of oats and swished her tail contentedly as they walked by. They mounted and Birdie followed behind. On Washington Street they turned left and on Third Street turned right and crossed a bridge.

  “This is Barron’s Branch where the Reservation begins,” explained Ethan as he waved his arm to designate areas. “Every building along this street on either side of this block is part of the prostitution trade.”

  There were at least thirty houses—some mere shacks and others large establishments. How could a town of twenty-five thousand bring in enough customers to keep these places going, especially here in the Bible belt? Of course, everyone had vices; many they kept hidden their entire lives. “Every one of them?” she queried his statement.

/>   He scratched his chin. “I expect some are not.” He shook his head. “I pity the folks who live here and can’t get away from the neighborhood. Though the police are called on occasion, there are rarely problems. The madams don’t put up with it for fear they’ll get closed down. They administer their own form of punishment.”

  Birdie rode up beside him as they turned on what would someday become Columbus Avenue. She wondered how many citizens in her time were aware of the area’s shady past.

  “Let’s ride completely around so you’ll get a better feel for the layout.” His gaze raked her as she sat the horse. He grinned. “Remember, you’re a man. Rock back in the saddle a bit.”

  “Yes, sir.” The mustache they’d glued to her upper lip twitched as she talked. She placed her fingers on it to make sure it was still in place. Man, it was going to hurt when she ripped it off.

  The houses varied in size and appearance. Many were well kept while others showed signs of neglect—peeling paint and unkempt lawns. Shades covered most of the windows. Likely, the ladies slept days after their long nights of business. It seemed unnaturally quiet. No children played, or shouted or ran around. Inside the square was a large lawn area dotted with trees. Weeds and tall grass grew over much of the space, though a couple of yards sported benches and flowers.

  They pulled their horses to a stop at one of the larger houses. From that angle Birdie could see a lone policeman standing guard by an attractive white gazebo nestled within a grove of trees and shrubbery.

  The officer nodded to Ethan.

  “Jones, take a thirty-minute break.”

  Jones eyed Birdie. She rocked back on her heels and hitched up her pants as she’d seen men do. She nodded to acknowledge the man. Then she placed her hands on her hips, John Wayne style. She must have passed muster as Jones’s attention moved from her to Ethan.

  “Yes, sir, Detective.”

  Birdie followed Ethan around behind the gazebo to an area where tall grass had been flattened. “He must have dragged her over the rail and pulled her into the foliage,” Ethan said.

  “With all the grass, there’s no way we can obtain any footprints.” Birdie knelt by the flattened spot. “Has this area been scoured?”