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At Baseline he jagged a quarter of a block and then turned up Kinnikinnick into the grounds of Chautauqua. He slowed briefly as a patrolman guarding the entrance to the parking lot by
the ranger station waved us farther up the road, past a string of streets with flower names, up behind the huge wood frame of the Chautauqua auditorium. Purdy stopped abruptly at the end of the street where it
bordered a usually quiet knoll that stretched up toward the base of the immense vertical rock face of the first Flatiron. A large, curious crowd had preceded us to the crime scene, but apparently not by
long. Uniformed Boulder police officers hadn't finished stretching yellow crime scene control tape around a base perimeter of an area that seemed to be at least a couple of acres in size. An ambulance
was on the scene along with a half a dozen patrol cars, two crime scene vans, and a couple of civilian-looking late-model sedans and wagons.
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