"It's impossible to kill somebody and not leave a mark on them," Bat said. "Where were they found?"

"Different parts of the city," House said, "but the odd thing is . . . the family of the third woman."

"What about them?"

"Well . . . she was found down by the docks," the Inspector said. "They claim she never would have gone down there."

"Why not?"

"She wouldn't have reason to," House explained, "and she was afraid."

"So maybe a man took her there?"

"They say no," the inspector said. "She was married. Her husband can't explain what she was doing down there."

"How old was she?"

"Twenty-eight."

"Happily married?"

"By all accounts."

"Where were the other women found, exactly?"

"One was found in a Market Street alley, another at the train station."

"The train station? Where?"

"Behind one of the buildings."

"It sounds like all these girls were . . . discarded."

"Yes."

Bat sat and thought a moment. It was actually a smart move for Flaherty to bring in someone with a fresh perspective. He was just sorry it had been him.

House went on to expalin how he had conducted his investigation, and how he had come up with nothing concrete to point to the killer.

"The women are all in their twenties," he said, "but that's the only similarity. The first was a wh.o.r.e, the second an old maid and the third happily married."

"Old maid? How old?"

"Twenty-nine. Not attractive. No prospects."

"What about the other two and where they were found?" Bat asked.

"Not unusual," House said. "The wh.o.r.e was the one found behind the train station. She could have been doing some business there."

"And the second woman? Was she known to frequent the area where she was found?"

"Not frequent, but friends didn't find anything unusual about it."

"Where did she work?"

"The other end of town," House said, "near where she lived."

"So she was found a long way from either."

"Yes."

"I'm not a detective, but it still sounds like they were dumped, like human refuse. Were they killed where they were found?"

"Hard to tell."

Bat rubbed his face. He hadn't even had a cup of coffee yet.

"What else did the bodies tell you?"

"The bodies?"

"They were examined, weren't they?"

"Well, yes, but . . . I told you, they weren't attacked."

"Was anything done to them after they were dead?"

"What do you mean? Do you mean . . ." House looked horrified.

"People have done things to bodies after they're dead, Inspector. I'm sure you know that."

"Yes, well . . ."

"How about autopsies?" Bat asked. "Were the bodies autopsied?"

"Autopsied?"

"You do know what an autopsy is, don't you?"

"Well, uh, yeah, I guess . . ."

Bat knew that Doctor George E. Goodfellow had conducted autopsies during the time he spent as coroner in Tombstone, Arizona. He also knew until the 1860s autopsies were pretty much confined to execution victims. But this was 1899, the dawn of a new century. Autopsies were being used to find cures for disease, why not use them to find out other things?

"Maybe an autopsy would tell us something we don't know," Bat said. "Where are the bodies?"

"Well . . . the third is at the morgue. She was only killed a few days ago. The others are . . . I a.s.sume they've been buried."

"We might have to dig them up."

"What? Oh, no, the families . . . the Chief wouldn't like-"

"The Chief volunteered me for this and I've come up with an idea n.o.body else had. He'll go along with it."

"But-"

Bat stood up. "Let's go ask him."

3.

Chief Flaherty went along with it, but only to a point. He agreed that the third girl should be autopsied, but held off any decision about the other two until after that.

Now they needed to find a doctor who would do it. At that time Denver had no coroner and would not have until 1902.

"Get a doctor the same way you got me," Bat told Flaherty. "Volunteer one."

"I got a better idea," Flaherty said, and that's how it became Bat's job to come up with a doctor. But it was actually Emma Masterson who came up with a suggestion.

After Bat returned home and told Emma what had happened she said, "I have just the woman for you."

"Woman?" Bat asked. "A female doctor?"

She folded her arms across her bosom. "And what's wrong with a female doctor?"

"Emma, we're going to be asking her to cut open these women-"

"Justina is a doctor, Bat," she said. "Cutting into a body is not going to frighten her."

"All right, all right," he said. "How do you know her?"

"I came across her delivering babies in my volunteer work," she said.

"Delivering babies? This is a long way from delivering babies-"

"I told you, she's a doctor." Emma actually stamped her foot in frustration.

"All right," he said, again. "Since it's your fault I'm involved, I'm going to go with your suggestion. Where does this Doctor . . . whatsername live?"

"Doctor Justina Ford," Emma said. "She moved here only a few months ago to practice. She graduated from medical school earlier this year-don't you dare interrupt me again, Bat Masterson!"

The buggy pulled up in front of 1880 g.a.y.l.o.r.d St and Bat and Inspector House stepped out.

"A lady doctor," House said to him, as they approached the door.

"Yes."

"Women are supposed to be nurses," the Inspector said, "not doctors."

"House, I've already gone through this with my wife," Bat said, the exasperation clear in his voice. "We need a doctor, right?"

"Right."

"I can't keep calling you House. What's your first name? Or do you want me to keep calling you Inspector?"

"My name is Harry."

Bat looked at him.

"Harry House?"

"That's right."

Bat waited a beat, then said, "I'll call you House."

When the black woman answered the door Bat said, "We're here to see Doctor Ford. Would you tell her that we're here, please?"

"I am Doctor Ford," the woman said. "You must be Bat. Emma said you would be coming by to see me. Please, come in."

She turned and went inside, leaving them to follow her or not. Bat and House exchanged a glance. Both men were obviously even more taken aback by the fact that she was black, let alone a woman.

They followed her inside, Bat first. They found her in a modestly furnished living room. She was in her late twenties, her hair pulled back tightly, her skin very dark and smooth.

"My surgery is through there," she said, inclining her head toward a door, "but we can talk in here. Would either of you like refreshments?"

"No, uh, Ma'am," Bat said. "We might as well just get to it. Did Emma tell you what we wanted?"

"No," the woman said, "she just told me that you needed a doctor and she recommended me. What is it you need done, gentlemen?"

"An autopsy," Bat said.

"Just one?"

"At first," he said. "Maybe two more, but those victims are already buried."

She looked at House.

"You're a policeman?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Inspector House."

"Then this is about the three women who have been killed?"

"Yes, ma'am."