Wicked Eddies (16 page)

Rob chafed her arms to warm her up. “Ajax picked me up at
my place, so you're driving. You need to take care of Lucky? Or
do you want to go straight to my place? I stocked up on coffee ice cream and caramel syrup.”

“Oh, yum.” Mandy licked her lips. “We're going to your place for sure. Lucky will be okay until morning. He's been fed and run, and he's outside with a full water dish and a rawhide bone.” She looked up at the star-studded sky. “It'll be a warm, dry night.”

They jogged to her car and she started it up and pulled away from the curb. As they drove to Rob's house, she filled him in on her conversation with Cynthia. “So that's why I want to find out more about Lee Ellis and the rest of the family. I think they have just as much motive as Cynthia, and I want something to give Quintana so he'll turn his attention away from her.”

Rob's brow furrowed. “I can't see any of them killing Howie. He was Brenda's brother, after all.”

Mandy pulled into Rob's driveway and shut the engine off. “Can you see Cynthia killing him?”

“No, no I can't.” He stared out the window. “Lee and Craig are working as controllers for the tournament tomorrow. Like me, they'll be carrying business cards, I'm sure, and chatting up the teams to try to get some future fish-guiding business. I'll talk to them in the morning when we all meet at the SteamPlant to get our instructions from John, see what I can find out.”

“What time? Maybe I can be there, too, before I check in at AHRA.”

“Early, six o'clock.” He opened his car door. “We'd better hit the sack. Race ya!”

By the time Mandy had shouted, “You're on!” and leapt out of her car door, Rob was already at his front door. When she ran up giggling, he had unlocked it and pushed it open. He swept her up in his arms and carried her inside.

She reached out and pulled the door closed behind him. When he gently set her back down on her feet, she deliberately rubbed the full length of her body against his.

That got a rise out of him. His mouth was hot and hungry on hers in an instant. He kneaded her buttocks while their tongues fenced and he pulled her in even closer.

Mandy tugged his T-shirt out of his jeans and ran her hands up inside along the fine curls of chest hair until she found his nipples. She flicked her thumbs over them.

He groaned. “To bed, woman!”

They left a trail of clothing down the hallway as they raced to the soft, pillowy finish line.

_____

Mandy sucked on her spoon, savoring the sweet caramel syrup as it melted on her tongue. She sat propped up in Rob's bed, the sheet pulled up under her armpits, luxuriating in the feel of the smooth, cool sheets against her bare skin. And she was feeling totally satisfied. Only one more luscious spoonful of coffee ice cream remained in the large bowl Rob had fixed her, and she was delaying the eating of it as long as she could.

He had long finished his bowl and lay propped on one elbow, watching her appreciatively.

The sheet puddled around his hips, exposing his muscled chest. Mandy decided she had the better view.

“You know,” he said languidly, “having you over here full-time a few months ago was real nice. I could get used to that.”

Mandy swallowed her last bite of ice cream and put her bowl on the nightstand. She pulled her knees up under her chin and put her arms around her legs. Yes, moving in to take care of Rob after he'd been shot in the shoulder had been nice, and having the fenced-in yard for Lucky was handy. But after two weeks of waiting on him hand and foot, she had jumped at the opportunity to move back to her own place when Rob regained enough movement in that arm to dress and feed himself.

She peered at him over her knees. “You know it wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't be at your beck and call, fixing all the meals and doing all the chores.”

Rob grinned. “No? Darn! Seriously, though, we'd find a way to
share the cooking and cleaning. I'd even volunteer to pick up Lucky's messes. What do you think?”

“More importantly, what would your mother think? She'd never
approve.”

That wiped the smile off his face, but after a moment, it slyly reappeared. “We both know what we could do to gain her approval.”

“Yeah, I know, a huge church wedding, with a long white dress, eight attendants each, and flowers and incense and all that jazz.” Mandy had tried to make a joke of it, but just in case, she added, “But it's waaay too early to think about that.”
If ever.
“Merging two lives—and two households—is a big deal.”

Rob's expression had grown more serious as she talked, until he was looking down at the mattress, scratching idly at the sheet. Mandy was just beginning to wonder if he was sad or disappointed in her, when he raised his head, his face wiped of emotion, and spoke.

“Not just two households. You still own both your house and Bill's. Any progress on selling your uncle's house?”

Mandy sighed. “Bridget Murphy called Monday and said a couple had made an offer.”

Rob sat up. “That's good, isn't it?”

“Not so fast. The offer was twenty-five thousand less than the asking price.”

“Maybe in this economy, that's as good as you'll get.”

“Maybe, but it was still fifteen thousand less than the appraisal, so I asked her to counter with that price.”

Rob frowned and rubbed the evening stubble on his chin. “I think that was a mistake. What if you scare them off ? You may not get another offer.”

“Well, if that's what happens, then that's what was meant to be. I'm still not really ready to give up the place. Having it on the market a few more weeks would give me time to get used to the idea.”

“But then the money from the sale would come in too late to expand RM Outdoor Adventures into fall and winter adventure trips.”

Mandy was getting irritated. “Is that all you care about, expanding the business?”

Rob looked at her, opened his mouth, then hesitated. “I also care about you, Mandy, your happiness, your financial security. That's why I suggested that you invest the rest of the money, set up a retirement account.”

He was about to say something stronger. Mandy knew it. He was just smart enough to realize she was getting riled, even if he didn't fully understand why. “There's plenty of time for that. I'm only twenty-seven after all.”

Rob blew out a breath. “But I thought you were interested in expanding the business, too. We made all these plans, then I selected equipment, found guide training classes. Have you changed your mind?”

“No, I understand why we need to expand. It's just, just…” She flopped her hands down on the bed as she struggled with the words. “The change is coming too fast.”

“We talked about the timeline before—”

“I know that! But I didn't know how it would feel.”

“But you contacted Bridget and started the process. So, I thought
you were getting used to the idea. You seemed ready to sell.” Rob peered at her. “Are you deliberately sabotaging the deal by countering too high?”

“Of course not!”
Or am I? No, no, I wouldn't do anything that underhanded.
And the implication that she would made her even madder, turning her voice steely cold. “Countering with the appraised price is a perfectly legitimate thing to do.”

“Not if you really want to sell.”

Mandy threw off the sheet and got out of bed. “It's not your house to sell, Rob. Stop questioning my decisions.”

“I'm not!” Rob's brow furrowed in confusion. “I'm just trying to understand what you're thinking.”

“That's the problem, Rob. By now, you should know not just what I'm thinking, but what I'm feeling.”

Rob flung back the sheet and stood, facing her across the bed. “God damn it. I do know what you're feeling, and frankly, I don't like it one bit. You're using Howie's murder, your uncle's house, and whatever else you can come up with to avoid having to think about us!”

Mandy felt like she'd been slapped. “What?”

“That's right,” Rob stabbed a finger at her. “You can't make a long-term commitment to our relationship, so you're throwing all this
stuff
in my face instead.”

Quivering with anger, a hot flush reddening her naked body, Mandy stared at Rob, who was in the same state. “You are so wrong. That is
not
what I'm doing.” She started picking up her clothes.

Rob watched her with dismay. “What are you doing?”

She walked into his bathroom with her clothes bundled in her arms. “I'm getting dressed and going back to
my
place.” Then she slammed the door.

Fourteen

. . . of all the liars among mankind, the fisherman
is the most trustworthy.

—WILLIAM SHERWOOD FOX,
SILKEN LINES AND SILVER HOOKS
, 1954

The next morning at
a quarter after six, Mandy hunched her shoulders against the early morning chill. She walked from her car to the Salida SteamPlant with her hands in the pockets of her black AHRA fleece jacket. She wasn't looking forward to seeing Rob after their argument last night, but she had to come. Talking to Lee and Craig Ellis was important.

Besides, she'd woken up with the infuriating realization that
Rob was right, that she had been avoiding thinking about, and talking
about, making a commitment to him. That's what had made her so angry last night. That he had pegged her feelings about their relationship better than she had herself. He had shoved them under her nose, where she couldn't avoid examining them any longer. It wasn't fair to Rob to string him along any longer if she wasn't willing to take the next step. But she didn't want to give him up. No way.

If only the next step wasn't so damned scary.

She took a deep breath, pushing her thoughts once again to the back of her mind, and entered the lobby. The SteamPlant's red brick walls were hung with watercolors by a local artist, but she was too intent on following the hand-lettered signs to the first meeting room in the Riverside Annex to enjoy the artwork. When she walked into the room, it was bustling with people all talking at once. As Mandy scanned the crowd, she could distinguish two types of people. Those wearing waders and bristling with gear were the competitors. Those wearing a hodge-podge of outdoor clothing and carrying clipboards and fish measuring tubes must be the volunteer controllers.

Behind a cafeteria table covered with paperwork and gear, a middle-aged man and woman stood talking to two controllers. As Mandy moved forward, she heard the fit and slightly sunburned man giving the wiry female controller across the table instructions on how to use the fish measuring tube. The tube was a lengthwise half of a large white PVC pipe, with one end closed off and hash marks at quarter-inch intervals along the middle of the inside.

“The angler will help you get the fish out of his or her net,” he said to the nodding, white-haired woman. “But it's your responsibility to make sure the fish doesn't get away before you measure it. So, it's best to put the closed end of the tube into the net after the angler removes the hook from the fish's mouth.”

He held the half-tube at an angle, defining the circle of an imaginary net with his other hand. “Gently roll the fish into the tube with its head down then lay your hand lightly on top of the fish until it stops flapping its tail. You can ask the angler to help you hold the fish still. Call out the measurement you see at the end of the tail and make sure the angler agrees before you release the fish.”

“How do I do that?” the woman asked.

“Just lay the tube in the water and slide it forward and away from the fish. As soon as it realizes it's free, it should swim away. You know how to revive a fish if it's exhausted?”

She nodded. “Hold it upright in flowing water until its gills pump in some oxygen.”

He handed the tube to the woman. “Think you've got it?”

“Yes.”

The man glanced at Mandy and held up a finger, signaling he'd get to her soon, before returning his attention to the woman volunteer. By now, Mandy had pegged him as John Squire, the tournament director, and figured he would know if Lee and Craig had arrived yet. The brunette beside him must be his wife. Spouses and other relatives usually ended up getting roped into volunteering at their loved ones' activities, especially when budgets were tight. At least John's wife looked like she didn't mind it much.

“And you know the four species of trout that can be found in the Arkansas, right?” John asked the volunteer. “Brown, rainbow, brookie, and cutthroat?”

Cocking her head, the woman answered, “I'd better after being a recreational angler in these parts for over twenty years.”

John put a hand to his chest, his expression pained. “Sorry about that. My wife recruited you from Colorado Women Flyfishers, didn't she? I should have known she'd only recruit the best.”

His wife smiled and held a thumb up before resuming her conversation with the volunteer in front of her.

The woman volunteer pshawed and waved her hand. “No offense taken. I've never participated in a tournament, so this is all new to me.”

“I'm sure you'll enjoy it. You may even want to compete next time.” John winked at her. “Anyway, we're recording the species so we can recognize folks who catch all four for the Colorado Grand Slam later. But the species don't have any bearing on the final scores.”

He handed her a clipboard. “The first few pages are for you to record catches. Write the two team member's catches on different sheets, because we're giving out individual medals, too. The last few sheets have the rules on them. Read them carefully, then come back to me if you have any questions.”

“Okay,” she said. “I'm really looking forward to this. Where's my team?”

John peered at a large chart on the table in front of his wife. “They haven't checked in yet. I've given you the Aussies. They're a lot of fun. I'll match you up with them once they arrive.”

“Oh, goody.” The woman flashed a smile at John and moved off to study her notes.

“Hello, ranger,” John said to Mandy while holding out his hand for a shake. “Please tell me you're volunteering. Two volunteers have called in sick so far, and I've only got three standbys.”

Mandy shook his hand and smiled. “Sorry, no. I'm working river patrol, so I might see you on the river later today. I'm Mandy Tanner. Nice to meet you.”

John's face lit up. “Oh, you're the ranger who spotted those saboteurs. Thanks! I'm so grateful you caught them before they could do any more damage. Any word on why they were doing it?”

“I haven't heard anything yet.”

“Please let me know when you do. In the meantime, let me introduce you to my wife, Carol.” He interrupted his wife's spiel to introduce her to Mandy then asked, “So what can I do for you this morning?”

“I'd like to talk to Lee and Craig Ellis. I heard they're volunteering for you today. Have they checked in yet?”

John checked his chart. “Yes, about ten minutes ago.” He scanned
the room. “They wanted to work together, so I assigned them to the two North Carolina teams, who are going to fish together all day. The six of them headed off in the direction of the coffee pot to get acquainted, but I can't see where they are now.”

John pointed to the far left corner of the room. “There're donuts over there, too. Feel free to help yourself.” He glanced at his watch. “I'll be checking in folks for another twenty-five minutes or so, then I'll be addressing the troops, if you'd like to stay and hear what today's schedule is.”

“Thanks,” Mandy said. “I'm interested in learning how a fly-fishing tournament is run, so yes, I'll stay to listen to your talk. In the meantime, I'll let you get back to work.”

She turned and threaded her way past a fishing team and two volunteer controllers who stood behind her, waiting to check in. When she passed them, she spotted Rob across the room, standing with a clipboard and tube tucked under his arm and talking to a couple of fishermen. Not feeling ready to talk to him yet, she turned in the direction of the coffee pot, hoping he hadn't seen her.

“Do you know Lee or Craig Ellis?” she asked a tall man next to her.

“Sure.”

“Can you see where they are?”

Being taller, he could see over more heads than Mandy could. “They're over by the beat map.” He pointed across the room, where a large USGS map of the AHRA hung on the wall, with bright red lines along the Arkansas River marking the tournament beats.

“Thanks.” Mandy wended her way through knots of competitors and controllers until she reached the Ellis men, who were talking to four burly men with Southern drawls.

After a round of introductions, Mandy said to the North Carolinians, “Do you mind if I steal these guys for a few minutes? I need to ask them some questions.”

“Not at all, darling,” one of them answered, “as long as you return 'em before the starting bell rings.”

Lee and Craig gave her some curious looks, but they readily followed her out to the mostly empty lobby.

Mandy led the way to a private corner away from the meeting room, below a large watercolor of cottonwoods leaning over the river, all glinting orange in a sunrise.

She took a deep breath and turned to Lee first. “I have to tell you that I'm really worried about Cynthia. Detective Quintana seems to be narrowing in on her as the most likely person to have killed Howie Abbott. I'm afraid he might arrest her soon.”

Craig's jaw dropped and Lee's brow furrowed. “Anyone who knows Cynthia knows she's not capable of murder.”

“Of course, but a lot of evidence is pointing at her.” Mandy kept her growing doubts about her best friend to herself. “Did Quintana ask you about your hatchet last night, if Cynthia borrowed it for a camping trip?”

Lee nodded. “I can't find it, and the picture Quintana showed me of the one that was used on Howie matches mine. So, I assume Howie borrowed it when he went camping. Unlike Cynthia, he never asked when he wanted to borrow stuff. He just took it. I remember Cynthia asking to borrow some camping gear when she went to Ouray, but I couldn't specifically say that she took the hatchet then.”

“What?” Mandy was aghast. “You couldn't back her up on that tiny point?”

Lee held up his hands. “That was in July. I just don't remember what all she took.”

“Do you
want
Quintana to arrest Cynthia?”

“Hell, no,” Lee said. “I wish he'd leave the whole family alone.”

“You know,” Mandy said, hands on her hips. She didn't like the answers she was getting, and decided to push the Ellis men—hard. “There are other fingerprints on that hatchet. They could match yours, or Craig's here, or even Brenda's.”

“It was Dad's hatchet, after all. Why wouldn't our fingerprints be on it?” Frowning, Craig took a step forward. “What are you implying?”

“Maybe one of you wants Cynthia to take the fall for this, because one of you is the guilty party and doesn't want to admit it. Howie was abusing your daughter and sister, for Christ's sake!”

Lee's expression was pained. “But we didn't know about it.”

Mandy glanced at Craig. “I almost could believe you didn't know, from the way you behaved Monday night. Either that or you're a darned good actor.”

“Hey,” Craig said, “That's a low—”

Mandy turned to Lee, fury pushing her past the brink of civility. “But it's just your word that you and Brenda didn't know. Maybe you found out right before Howie went camping and it ate you up inside, enough to take a hatchet to your brother-in-law.”

“Mandy,” Lee said, his hands making a calm-down motion. “I know why you're saying this. You're worried about Cynthia. But believe me, we had nothing to do with Howie's death. No matter how despicable the man was, I wouldn't kill him.”

“Really? You wouldn't try to protect your daughter from a monster?”

Lee's face reddened. “Of course I'd try to protect her. But not by becoming a monster myself. I'd let the law put him away, in prison, where he belonged.”

“What's going on here?” The voice was strident, shrill, and it was Brenda's.

She had come up behind Mandy, out of her field of vision. When Mandy turned toward her, Brenda was glowering, the lunch sacks she carried shaking in her hands.

Lee licked his lips. “Nothing to worry yourself about, dear. Mandy's just expressing her concern that the sheriff's office is targeting Cynthia for Howie's murder.”

“That's not what it sounded like to me,” Brenda said, her eyes wild-looking as if she was barely under control. “Sounds like Mandy's picking on a grieving parent, trying to get you to confess to something you didn't do.” She poked a finger at Mandy. “Shame on you!”

Mandy's cheeks and neck flushed with heat. “No, no, I'm sorry if that's how it came across—”

“Don't try to excuse your behavior!”

“Mom.” Craig took the lunch sacks. “Thanks for bringing our lunches. But you don't need to get involved here.”

Lee walked over and put his arm around Brenda's shoulders, gingerly, as if he was afraid she would break.

The woman did look close to cracking as she shuddered and pointed a wavering finger at Mandy. “You're despicable. Leave my family alone.”

“C'mon, honey.” Lee turned Brenda toward the entrance. “I'll walk you back to the car. Craig, you go back in and listen to Mr. Squire's briefing. You can fill me in on what I missed after I get back.”

“But, but, …” Mandy stuttered as the two of them walked away.

“I think we're done here.” Craig glared at her, as he stood with a lunch sack in each hand. “I'm going back in the meeting room. John's probably about to start his talk.”

While Craig walked away, Mandy took a deep breath to still her racing heart. She felt like sinking into a hole to hide her embarrassment over behaving like an ass. And she hadn't found out anything useful. Then she noticed that it had gotten quieter in the meeting room across the lobby. Deciding she might as well listen to the briefing, she rubbed her sweaty hands on her jeans and gathered her composure.

When she walked into the room, John Squire was standing on a folding chair. He held a hand out to help a woman climb onto a chair next to him. Another man held the woman's chair steady for her.

John held up a hand. “Folks, this is Emma Crawford, and she has something important to say to the group. Please give her your attention.”