System, and it was generally pretty fast, but not with single prints and not with as many as they’d be sending.
“Anything that looks like a solid lead?” he asked.
Ruth shook her head. “Not a thing. Oh, there was a lot of stuff in the car, and I’ve got it bagged and tagged, but most of it was trash. The rest looked like it belonged to the owner and not whoever was driving the car. We can go over it and see if any of it’s any use, but I don’t think it will be.”
Rhodes hadn’t expected anything different.
“One more thing,” Ruth said.
“A good thing?”
“I don’t know. There were some blood spots in the carpet in the trunk. I sent them off for analysis. Eventually we’ll get a report.”
“It might help us,” Rhodes said.
“Or it might not,” Ruth said. “I know. But there’s some good news, too.”
“What’s that?”
“Since you said the guy stole some gas, I printed the gas cap and the filler cover. Got some good prints. And I printed the victim. If those prints match…”
“We’ll know he’s the one who stole the gas,” Rhodes said. “Now all you have to do is figure out which of the other zillion prints belong to the other passenger.”
“Or if any of them do.”
“Yeah,” Rhodes said. “There’s that. Even if they do, what does that prove? Not that he’s the killer.”
“So what’s next?” Ruth asked.
Rhodes was way ahead of her on that one, at least. He already had a list.
“You get the driver’s prints into the system. I’ll talk to the Chandlers and see what they can tell me about last night, and then I’ll check on the autopsy. And why don’t you see if you can find out who some of the hog hunters are. We need to find out who was in those woods last night.”
“All right,” Ruth said. “That should be easy enough. To find out who some of the hunters are, I mean. I’ll bet nobody’s going to admit being in those woods, though, not if they’ve listened to Milton Munday.”
“You hear his program today?” Hack asked.
“I listened while I worked,” Ruth said. “It’s always a pleasure.”
“I’ll bet,” Rhodes said.
Chapter 6
Blacklin County had no medical examiner, so Rhodes considered himself lucky to have someone like Dr. White, who knew what he was doing, kept good records, and wrote comprehensive reports. He was even certified by the American Board of Pathology, though that wasn’t required, either.
Blacklin County didn’t have a morgue for Dr. White to work in, but Clyde Ballinger, who owned the largest funeral home for miles around, let White perform autopsies there. He even had a room set aside for it and didn’t charge the county a penny. He said he liked being a good citizen.
Ballinger lived alone in a little house in back of the funeral home. The house had once been the servants’ quarters for the large mansion that now served another purpose entirely.
When Rhodes went in, Ballinger was sitting at his desk reading a paperback. The funeral director was a short, compact man with black hair and a suit to match. It was a nice suit, and Ballinger had probably bought it in Houston or Dallas. There was no longer a store in Clearview that sold suits.
Maybe that was the reason that Ballinger was one of only two or three men in town who still wore suits to work, Rhodes thought. Even some of the bankers and lawyers didn’t wear suits anymore.
The suit might have been unusual for Clearview but not for a funeral director, and there was nothing at all unusual about Ballinger’s having a book in his hand. He read a lot. What struck Rhodes as odd was that the book Ballinger held appeared to be brand-new.
“What’s up with that?” Rhodes asked, indicating the book.
Ballinger held it up for Rhodes to see. The title was Baby Moll, and the cover looked like one that would have been right at home on the books Ballinger used to find in the local garage sales.
“It’s what they call the retro look,” Ballinger said. “It’s a