of blood radiated from his skull across the terrazzo, a ghastly corona.  The store's black metal linoleum crank lay across Mays's right arm.

Yawn and Thompson--perhaps some of the others--had already flipped several wall switches, but the power was off. Yawn and Thompson began to look for a master switch.  Three or four times Yawn passed near the body of Charlie Mays. He noticed two revolvers on the floor within a few feet of Mays's head, two more pistols near Mays's feet.  A fifth pistol lay near the head of the white man, in front of a pair of metal doors in the back wall of the showroom.

Yawn went through these doors, followed by Thompson.  They found themselves in the rear storage area.  The big overhead doors at the loading dock were closed and locked.  But at the back, a second swinging door was unlocked.  Thompson and Yawn opened it and looked out into the fenced back parking area.  They saw a pickup truck, no driver, parked at the loading dock.

They were in the store for several minutes.  During that time Yawn went into the kitchen to look at the young woman.  At first glance he thought she was a mannequin.  She had no obvious wounds.  Her left hand was in the pocket of her cloth coat; she seemed too straight, too composed, to have fallen where she lay.

Her feet were against a closed door that would open onto the rear of the showroom.  Yawn noticed three bullet holes in the door.

Apparently Ficke did not go into the kitchen to see the body.  Although his wife had pointed out the Edwardses' car less than an hour earlier, he failed to make the connection.  None of the others on the scene knew Perry and Virginia Edwards.  None knew Eunice.

*

Gerald Justice, a uniformed sergeant in the sheriff's office, was on road patrol when he got the call.

He found nobody when he parked out in front of the store.  According to a message from the dispatcher, Don Ficke was supposed to be here.

The store was dark.  Justice was walking around to the north side of the building when he heard shouting behind him.

He turned around and saw Ficke, Thompson, and the others leaving the store, through the front doors.

Ficke spotted Justice.

"God damn, Sarge, get me some help," Ficke shouted.

"What do you have in there?" Justice said.

"Multiple homicides," Ficke said.  "I need assistance."

Justice made a radio call to Bruce Churchill, the sheriff's lieutenant who was in charge of the Criminal Investigation Division, and he told Churchill what Ficke had said.