Felony File by Dell Shannon Read Free Book Online Page B

regulars who were there."
    " In fact, all up in the air," said Mendoza.
    " So what do you think?"
    " That you'd better wait for the autopsy and lab
report."
    Hackett wandered into his office about four o'clock
to say that he'd been talking to other forces around the county about
the blonde heister. "So far, no bells ringing . . . Luis?"
    " ¿Qué pasa, compadre? "
    " Oh, hell," said Hackett. He thrust his
bulk out of the chair—he had really been serious about the doctor's
diet last month and was down to two hundred—and stood staring out
the window at the silver curtain of rain. "The Hoffman hearing.
Tuesday. Who do you want to cover it?"
    " ¿Nada más? "
said Mendoza. " ¿Qué puede uno hacer? What can anyone do there, Art? You were on it, me, George, John. We'd
all better show up. You don't know what testimony the judge may ask
for. At least it's not a jury trial, with the confession on record.
And he's turned eighteen, he's a legal adult."
    " And the judge," said Hackett abruptly, "is
Fletcher." " Bastemte .
The mills of the gods," said Mendoza sardonically.
    " I just hope to God I don't have to testify.
What I couldn't help saying—and Fletcher the bleeding heart looking
sideways at that confession and talking about police brutality—"
    " Cross the bridge when we get there," said
Mendoza, and stabbed out his cigarette as if it was a personal enemy.
 
    THREE
    ON MONDAY MORNING, with Palliser off, Mendoza came in
rather late and was just glancing at the night-watch report when
Bainbridge came bustling in, plunked himself down in the chair beside
the desk, and brought out a fresh cigar.
    " Business being a little slow for once, I did
the autopsy for you myself." He laid the official report on
Mendoza's desk. "Got her identified yet? Well, you probably
will. She was somewhere in her middle fifties, and what's called well
preserved. She'd lived an easy life, that is, never had to scrub
floors or whatever. She'd never borne a child. What you want to
know—it was a depressed skull fracture all right. I doubt if there
was any weapon involved, what it looks like is that she fell, or was
knocked, against some broad flat surface, and kaput. She might have
died within five minutes or so. The indications are that she had a
little struggle with somebody—there are bruises on both her upper
arms, as if somebody had taken hold of her pretty roughly, and
there's a fainter bruise on the left side of her jaw."
    " Yes. And?"
    " Well, she hadn't been raped and she hadn't been
engaging in sexual intercourse. She'd had a meal about four hours
before she died, which was any time between seven and midnight Friday
night, but we decided to call it about ten. There was the equivalent
of about three drinks in the stomach contents. I don't know what, I
haven't done any analyses. If you're bound to know what her last meal
consisted of, or whether she drank martinis or Scotch highballs, I
can probably find out."
    "Yes," said Mendoza. "Not much to go
on until we know who she was. But thanks so much, Doctor. Maybe you'd
better do those analyses, give us some details. What about her
clothes?"
    "I sent 'em to your 1ab." Bainbridge fished
in his pocket and dropped the two rings onto the desk. "You
never know what little detail may show up to give you some lead. I'll
get to the analyses, probably get back to you sometime on Wednesday."
    Mendoza didn't watch him out; he picked up the
diamond ring. It wasn't a new ring, and quite anonymous, just a nice
solitaire diamond in a Tiffany setting. The wedding band was just a
wedding band—no engraving. Mendoza rummaged and found a paper-clip
box in the top drawer, dropped them both in. If they ever identified
her, and any relatives showed up .... A well-preserved lady of middle
age. Whom nobody had yet missed, or Carey would have called. And
nothing in from the Feds yet or the lab would have called. But a
woman of this type would be bound to be missed sooner or later. Wait
and see.
    He picked up the report