Murder at the Powderhorn Ranch by Jessica Fletcher & Donald Bain

Author:Jessica Fletcher & Donald Bain [Fletcher, Jessica & Bain, Donald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780451194763
Publisher: Signet
Published: 1996-03-31T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

When the ambulance pulled up to the emergency entrance of the Gunnison Valley Hospital on Denver Avenue, I was surprised to see Sheriff Murdie and Bob Pitura waiting there. A woman was with them. The med-techs helped Seth exit through the vehicle’s rear doors; he refused to be carried out on the wheeled stretcher.

“Looks like you’ve been through a war,” Murdie said to Seth, whose face had swollen over the past few hours, his bruises blossoming into grotesque black-and-blue blotches.

“I feel like I have,” Seth replied, forcing a smile bordering on a grimace.

“Anything broken?” Pitura asked.

“His arm might be,” I said.

“We can talk later,” one of the med-techs said, “after we get him looked at.”

We escorted Seth inside. The woman with Murdie and Pitura fell in alongside me. “Mrs. Fletcher?” she said.

“Yes?”

“I’m Nancy O’Keefe, a reporter with the Gunnison Country Times.”

“I’m sure you’re not here because of my friend’s accident. People fall off horses every day.”

“No, I’m not here because of that. It’s the murder that happened at the Powderhorn Ranch.”

“A murder must be big news out here. I understand they’re rare.”

“Extremely rare.”

Our entourage reached swinging doors leading to the hospital’s treatment rooms, in front of which stood a big, burly physician in a white lab coat. I recognized him as the coroner who’d come to the ranch to examine Paul Molloy’s body. He smiled at Seth as he said, “Never easy for a doctor to be a patient.”

“Ayuh. You’ll get no argument from me.”

“Well, we’ll take good care of you.” He pushed open the swinging doors to allow Seth to enter the treatment area, where two younger physicians waited. After the doors swung shut, the coroner said to me, “We were never introduced when I was out at the ranch.” He extended his hand. “I’m Hal Scudari, county medical examiner.”

My hand was lost in his. “Pleased to meet you,” I said.

“I thought we might grab a few minutes together while your friend is being treated.”

“All right.”

“Mind if I tag along?” the reporter, Nancy O’Keefe, asked.

“Prefer that you didn’t, Nancy,” Sheriff Murdie said, pleasantly. “But stay around. Happy to talk with you when we’re finished.”

If she was disappointed, she didn’t show it. She said she’d be in the waiting room, then walked away.

“Nancy’s a good gal and a hell of a reporter,” Pitura said as we followed Dr. Scudari to his office. “She came out here to Gunnison after working for some big-time papers back east. We all trust her. She’s never betrayed a confidence.”

The ME’s office was small and spartan. The only chair was his, behind a gray metal desk. He dragged in three wooden folding chairs, and we managed to squeeze into the confined space.

“I understand from the sheriff that you’ve been helpful in his investigation of the Molloy murder, Mrs. Fletcher,” Scudari said.

“I’d like to be, but I’m afraid I haven’t produced much.”

“Modesty is always an appealing trait. Bob tells me you discovered the possible weapon.”

“By sheer chance.”

“It doesn’t matter how the discovery came about. I’ve examined the rasp closely and subjected it to a number of tests.

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