Sex. Murder. Mystery(10)

Despite his success, outside of his part-ownership in a private airplane, Dr. Nelson was not one to flaunt his wealth. To look at him was to see a fellow who dressed neat and clean, ran two nice offices and went about his business without the gold-chained, diamond-dripping accouterments so many small town docs consider de rigueur. Mercedes? Forget it. BMW? Out of the question. Dr. Nelson had several old cars he was always tinkering with on his days off. In time, one of his favorites would be an old, black VW bug.

No one in Rocky Ford could deny that Perry Nelson didn’t dote on his three daughters and that none of them went without. It was true that he cried “poor” whenever Julie took the girls shopping for clothes, but after a fashion show, he’d give in. Dr. Nelson also took his family on trips, often tied to optical conventions. Los Angeles, St. Louis and Las Vegas were but a few of the cities they visited.

Not long before Mike and Sharon Fuller arrived on the scene, the Nelsons purchased a Champion motor home, which made their weekend camping trips as comfortable as staying in a motel.

At various times, Perry also took the family flying in one of three airplanes he owned or co-owned over the years.

When late summer 1976 came, it brought hot days and cool nights. The crisp morning air hinted at fall. Hillsides blazed with the yellow fire of turning aspen. Huckleberry leaves morphed from green to crimson almost overnight. Trinidad had seen another summer tourist season come to a close; another season that had not met the expectations of a town desperate to turn from a mining center to tourism magnet. Maybe when ski season arrived?

There was always the hope.

Dr. Nelson gave Barb Ruscetti a day’s warning that he was bringing a “new girl” to Trinidad for office training. He informed Barb it would be up to her to break in the gal for a part-time office assistant position that was opening in Rocky Ford. The new girl was Sharon Fuller.

Barb, then 54, had heard Sharon’s name many, many times over the course of the summer. Too many times, she felt, to let pass without comment. Sharon this. Sharon that. A month before the doctor announced his new hire was headed for the Trinidad office, Barb asked about her.

“Who is this Sharon you keep talking about?”

Perry grinned from ear to ear. “Why, Barb, she’s our preacher’s wife—Sharon Fuller.”

Barb’s eyes bulged. She was nearly dumbstruck. “Preacher’s wife? My goodness, and you’re carrying on over her like this?”

Perry shrugged. His lips formed a wistful smile as he thought of Mrs. Fuller.

“Oh, she’s a doll. I’d give anything to have her,” he said.

Barb, of course, knew Dr. Nelson had strayed in his marriage in the past. She didn’t have her head buried in the gritty bottom of a sand trap. She felt Dr. Nelson’s interest in the minister’s spouse was far beyond any transgression the eye doctor had made in the past. Miles beyond. He was playing with fire in the form of a woman. Sharon Fuller was the mother of two little girls, the wife of a Seventh-Day Adventist minister.

Years later, Barb Ruscetti would never forget her initial impression of Sharon when she arrived for the supposed training.

“She came in and it was all lovey-dovey. There was no breaking in, let’s face it. She went into his examining room and she was supposed to take notes. Oh, they just kidded around and everything.”

At 11 A.M. that first day, Perry told Barb that she could go to lunch.

“You don’t have to come back at one if you don’t want to,” he added.

Lunchtime had always been from noon to one. Perry Nelson was a stickler for keeping the office schedule. Patients counted on it. Barb was stunned by his words.

My God, I was ten minutes late one day and he ate me up alive, she thought.

Barb canceled appointments, one right after another, planted herself at her desk and fumed. Some help Sharon Fuller was going to be for the business! There was no breaking in this lady. There was no way to teach her a damn thing. The preacher’s wife had her own agenda and Dr. Nelson didn’t seem to mind one bit. He had his own ideas, too.

That following Sunday, a motel manager stopped Barbara Ruscetti as she was coming out of church.

“I met the doctor’s wife,” the man said, explaining that Perry and Julie had checked into a room at his motel.

It surprised her. It was not like Julie to do anything like that.

“You did? Julie?” Barb asked as they strolled outside into the brightness of the day.

The man smiled. “Yeah, isn’t she cute?”

Something about the motel manager’s compliment made Barb feel funny. While Julie Nelson was sweet and kind and not at all unattractive, no one would call her “cute.” Cute was not a word that went with Julie. Loyal. Motherly. Caring, yes. But not cute.