Chapter 4
1969
Three
deputies roped off a crime scene using the Lincoln Continental as a center-point. Undamaged on three sides, but with a slight
scratch on the front fender where the vehicle rested in a row of shrubbery, it
was, as Deputy Sheriff Lawrence Ford described it, “one hell of a car.”
Ford
gave his report as he walked Sheriff Maddox around the perimeter. “...black with white leather upholstery. She’s got a 430 inch V8 engine at 320
horsepower. It’s got a three speed
automatic transmission, power brakes, power steering, and air conditioning.”
“Uh
huh,” nodded Sheriff Maddox. “And what
about the dead woman in the driver’s seat?”
“That’s
right. I almost forgot,” Deputy Ford
said. “There’s a dead woman in the
driver’s seat.”
“Any
chance this was an accident?” Sheriff Maddox asked.
“There’s
hardly any damage to the car,” said Ford.
“No skid marks in the grass. It’s
like somebody just parked the damn thing in the bushes.”
“And
the woman?”
“No
contusions that I can see. Not even from
the steering wheel. My guess is she was
suffocated.”
Sheriff Maddox stopped to survey the landscape, but there wasn’t much to see: just the
highway, a little patch of green grass and the the tree line on both sides of
the road. “Could be another insurance
case.”
“Another
one?”
Sheriff
Maddox started walking toward the Lincoln.
“What’s her name?”
Deputy
Ford flipped a page of his notepad. “Baxter,
first name Mary Anne. Her husband is a
preacher in Cottage Grove.”
“What
do you know about him?” the Sheriff asked.
“We
don’t have a file on him, but I know he’s a vet. He served in one of the colored units during
the war. The Philippines, I think.”
“Find
out if he ever had any public altercations with the missus.”
“Will
do, Sheriff.” Deputy Ford bounced off
toward his cruiser.
Sheriff
Maddox called after him. “Hey Larry.”
“Yeah,
Sheriff?”
“Find
out if she had a policy.”
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