Roaring left Wind River Jim with Pete and went to see Dr. Shelley, the coroner, who had an office at the east end of the street. The old doctor was a short, fat, breathless man, with two double chins and no waist-line.
“Going to have an inquest, I suppose,” puffed the doctor.
“Shore,” nodded Roaring. “He won’t keep a long while this kinda weather. You fix up about the inquest, Doc. That’s somethin’ I dunno anythin’ about. Are you shore Mallette didn’t kill himself?”
“Might have shot himself at long-range. No powder marks on his face, and the bullet went through his head.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Funny thing,” said the doctor. “You know, Mallette wore boots—the short kind. Well, there was dirt in both boots.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know; I just mentioned it.”
“Uh-huh. Mallette didn’t look to me like a man who had taken a bath very often. You fix up about that inquest, will yuh, Doc? You’ve held ’em before.”
“All right, Roaring. Ryker was down to look at the corpse. He says there’s no doubt in his mind that Pete Conley killed Mallette. They chased Conley all night last night.”