'Yeah, sure was,' Paul said, and sipped his port. Jack was certain
that in Montana, as in California, autopsies were not performed every
time someone died especially not when the decedent was a man of Eduardo
Fernandez's age and all but certain to have expired of natural
causes.
The old man would have been cut open only under special circumstances,
primarily if visible trauma indicated the possibility of death at the
hands of another. 'But you said the coroner couldn't find anything but
a damaged heart, no wounds.'
Staring at the glimmering surface of the port in his glass, the
attorney said, 'Ed's body was found across the tbreshold between his
kitchen and the back porch, lying on his right side, blocking the door
open. He was clutching a shotgun with both hands.'
'Ah. Could be suspicious enough circumstances to justify an autopsy.
Or it could be he was just going out to do some hunting.'
'Wasn't hunting season.'
'You telling me a little poaching is unheard of in these parts,
especially when a man's hunting out of season on his own land?'
The attorney shook his head. 'Not at all. But Ed wasn't a hunter.
Never had been.'
'You sure?'
'Yeah. Stan Quartermass was the hunter, and Ed just -inherited the
guns. And another odd thing--wasn't just a full magazine in that
shotgun. He'd also pumped an extra round into the breach. No hunter
with half a brain would traipse around with a shell ready to go. He
trips nd falls, he might blow off his own head.'
'Doesn't make sense to carry it in the house that way, either.'
'Unless,' Paul said, 'there was some immediate threat.'
'You mean, like an intruder or prowler.'
'Maybe. Though that's rarer than steak tartare in these parts.'
'Any signs of burglary, house ransacked?'
'No. Nothing at all like that.'
'Who found the body?'
'Travis Potter, veterinarian from Eagle's Roost.
Which brings up another oddity. June tenth, more than three weeks
before he died, Ed took some dead raccoons to Travis, asked him to
examine them.' The attorney told Jack as much about the raccoons as
Eduardo had told Potter, then explained Potter's findings.
'Brain swelling?' Jack asked uneasily. 'But no sign of infection, no
disease,' Paul reassured him. 'Travis asked Ed to keep a lookout for
other animals acting peculiar. Then . . . when they talked again, on
June seventeenth, he had the feeling Ed had seen something more but was
holding out on him.'
'Why would he hold out on Potter? Fernandez was the one who got Potter
involved in the first place.' The attorney shrugged. 'Anyway, on the
morning of July sixth, Travis was still curious, so he went out to
Quartermass Ranch to talk to Ed--and found his body instead. Coroner
says Ed had been dead no less than twenty-four hours, probably no more
than thirty-six.'
Jack paced along the wall of horse photographs and along another wall
