Crime Scene at Cardwell Ranch - B.J. Daniels [9]
When Hud had decided to come back, he'd thought at least he wouldn't have to see his father. Word was that Brick had moved to a place up on Hebgen Lake near West Yellowstone—a good fifty miles away.
The wind seemed cooler now and in the distance Hud could see dark clouds rolling up over the mountains. He turned his face up to the pale sun knowing it wouldn't be long before it was snowing again. After all, this was January in Montana.
The rope on the pulley groaned and he looked down again into the well as Rupert settled gently on the bottom, the headlamp now focused on the human remains.
Because of the steep sides of the well, the body was contained, none of the bones had been scattered by critters or carried off. The coroner had pulled on a pair of the latex gloves. He opened the body bag and began to carefully fill it with the bones.
"Good thing you didn't bet with me," Rupert said. "I'd say the bones have been here closer to fifteen years." He held up a pelvic bone in his gloved hands. "A woman. White. Late twenties, early thirties."
In the light from the headlamp, Hud watched Rupert pick up the skull and turn it slowly in his hands.
"Well, how about that," he heard Rupert say, then glance up at him. "You got a murder on your hands, son," the coroner said solemnly. He held up the skull, his headlamp shining through a small round hole in the skull.
"The bullet entered this side, passed through the brain and lodged in the mastoid bone behind the left ear," Rupert said, still turning the skull in his hands. "The bullet lead is flattened and deformed from impact but there will be enough lands and grooves to match the weapon. Looks like a .38."
"If we could find the weapon after all this time," Hud said. He let out an oath under his breath. Murder. And the body found on the Cardwell Ranch.
"Get one of those containers out of my rig so I can bag the skull separately," Rupert said, his voice echoing up.
Hud ran back to Rupert's truck and returned to lower the container down to him. A few minutes later Rupert sent the filled container up and Hud found himself looking at the dead woman's skull. A patch of hair clung to the top. The hair, although covered with dirt, was still reddish in color. He stared at the hair, at the shape of the skull, and tried to picture the face.
"You think she was young, huh?" he called down.
In the well, Rupert stopped to inspect one of the bones in the light from his headlamp. "Based on growth lines, I'd say twenty-eight to thirty-five years of age." He put down one bone to pick up what appeared to be a leg bone. "Hmm, that's interesting. The bony prominences show muscle development, indicating she spent a lot of time on her feet. Probably made her living as a hairdresser, grocery clerk, nurse, waitress, something like that." He put the bone into the body bag and picked up another shorter one. "Same bony prominences on the arms as if she often carried something heavy. My money's on waitress or nurse."
Few coroners would go out on a limb with such conjecture. Most left this part up to the forensics team at the state crime lab. But then, Rupert Milligan wasn't like most coroners. Add to that the fact that he was seldom wrong.
"What about height and weight?" Hud asked, feeling a chill even in the sun. His father had always liked waitresses. Hell, his father chased skirts no matter who wore them.
Rupert seemed to study the dirt where the bones had been. "I'd say she was between five-four and five-seven. A hundred and twenty to a hundred and forty pounds."
That covered a lot of women, Hud thought as he carried the container with the skull in it over to Rupert's pickup and placed it carefully on the front seat. All the teeth were still intact. With luck, they'd be able to identify her from dental