Free Kiss of the She-Devil by M. William Phelps Page A

Communion every week). Andrew was an altar boy. Emily volunteered at church events, including bingo and other fund-raising festivities, along with Gail’s mother, who, with Gail, was part of the Altar Society. In many ways this was a homecoming for the family. Everyone in the church knew the Fultons. Gail’s untimely death was a punishing blow to this community—many of whom had known Gail personally and adored her immensely.
    “And, of course, they knew my grandma,” Emily added, “as she is basically a pillar of the community. And then you add the fact that my papu was so well regarded, even though he had died so many years before.”
    The OCSD needed to send a team down to good old boy country so it could work with Texas authorities to set up surveillance at the funeral and conduct one very important interview. There was always the outside chance Gail’s killer would attend the funeral and take part in the sick satisfaction of enjoying the fruit of his or her labor—and, heck, maybe he was even part of the mourning crowd of attendees. A photo of Donna Trapani was distributed among investigators, who were told to be on the lookout for the woman who, authorities believed, had had the most to benefit from Gail’s demise. Of course, at the same time there would be many eyes on George Fulton. His every move scrutinized and recorded.
     
     
    “The sexual revolution sort of bypassed us here in South Texas during the late sixties and early seventies,” an old friend of Gail’s said with a laugh.
    Gail was a junior and her friend Jeanette Cantu-Bazar was a sophomore when they met at an all-girls school outside Corpus Christi. This was a time in Gail’s life when coming of age was innocent and clean; it was something to enjoy without much fear of the dangers and social pitfalls that kids face today. Both Gail and Jeanette had come from traditional American-Hispanic Catholic homes, where Mary, the Virgin Mother, and the seven sacraments played key roles in everyday life. Gail’s father was a federal judge. All of her family members were educated and popular within this large, predominantly Catholic community. They had friends, same as everyone. They gave to local charities. They went to church more than just on Sundays. They took to raising their kids with the utmost sincerity, seriousness, love, and care. They gave of themselves. Life was full of promise and peace. The American dream was a reality for Dora and Noe Garza, Gail’s parents, who had worked extremely hard and raised great kids.
    “Gail was a lot of fun in high school,” Jeanette remembered. “The word that comes to me as I think back is ‘prim-and-proper.’ Our school uniforms [consisted of modest] hemlined skirts, cardigan sweaters.” Every part of the body was covered. This was quintessential Catholic school attire. “The sisters that taught us were all in their full habits, and most of us, at one time or another, talked about and wanted to be nuns.”
    It was a good time to be a teenager. The United States—if not the world—was in a state of continuous transformation and innovation. When social commentators talk about Texas during the sixties, the space program comes to mind, as well as JFK’s assassination and the rise of the Republican party. Strong family ideals. An iron-clad economy.
    The kids went to church every day while in school. Religious instruction was mandatory teaching.
    “We also participated in the Catholic Youth Organization for our parish, and that’s where we met George,” Jeanette recalled.
    George Fulton was one of Jeanette’s neighbors; he and his family lived down the block. George hung out at Jeanette’s house because she had three brothers. Gail took to George, a cross-country runner and senior class president, almost from the moment that she met him. In high school George was considered “Mr. It,” according to several classmates. He was first-chair clarinet and all-around pretty boy whom the girls chased.