Wicked Eddies (20 page)

_____

Mandy spent Saturday on the Arkansas, rowing her cataraft beside Steve's as they patrolled the river. Thankfully, she hadn't had to rescue anyone because her mind was engrossed with the dilemma of getting Cynthia out of jail. She had called Lee Ellis in the morning and set up an appointment that evening to discuss Cynthia's bail fund with the family.

While she and Steve had paddled through Brown's Canyon in the morning, Mandy had run names of potential donors through her head and figured out how to approach each one and for how much money. She didn't need to worry about Rob; he'd already offered money the night before. Mandy practiced her pitches on Steve until he said he'd contribute some money if she'd just stop obsessing about it and focus on her ranger duties instead.

Only a few pods of commercial rafts and a couple of private rafts were in the canyon that morning since the season was winding down and the water level was low. None of the rafters had any difficulties, and Steve only had to give one private boater a stern warning about not leaving trash on the river bank after a lunch stop. They had watched while the guy paddled back to the shore and gathered up his trash to stow in his raft.

It was one of the last warm days of the rafting season. A cold front was due in late that afternoon, bringing with it rain, plunging temperatures, and the unofficial start of fall, though the fall equinox wouldn't occur for a few more days. Mandy had brought her fleece and spray jackets along in case they were still on the Arkansas when the weather blew in. Right now, though, after finally focusing on her surroundings instead of on Cynthia, she was enjoying the brilliant sunshine sparkling on the river and the brilliant yellows of the hillside aspens.

Steve gave voice to her thought, “A perfect late summer afternoon.”

Mandy sluiced her oars through the water. “I'm going to miss being out on the river most days.”

“Yeah, the end of the month will be here before you know it, and your employment for the year will be over. You've had a great first season, Mandy. I'd like to recommend that AHRA hire you again next year. You still interested?”

Mandy glanced at Steve's earnest face. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“You and Rob have RM Outdoor Adventures to run.” He shrugged. “I thought that might take more of your time, especially if Rob's plans for expansion pan out.”

“No matter what, I'll make time to be a river ranger next summer. I like the work. I get paid to be on the river. It's exciting…a little too exciting sometimes, though.”

Steve cracked a smile. “I won't count the bodies against you.”

“I hope not!” Mandy smiled back at him. “And thanks for the recommendation. It's nice to know I didn't screw up too much. And sorry about bugging you this morning with my pleas for bail money.”

“I'm glad to help.” Steve's brow furrowed. “But what about future expenses? Can Cynthia afford a good lawyer?”

Mandy sighed. “I doubt it. I'm hoping to convince her to ask her mom for help, even though they're on the outs.”

“An even more important question is whether Cynthia really needs a good lawyer. How solid is Quintana's case?”

“He's got physical evidence, her thumbprint on the murder weapon. That's pretty damning. And she has motive, but I don't want to go into it.”

“I've heard rumors. Remember, Salida's a small town. The rafting community's even smaller, and we count Cynthia as one of our own. She's served all of us at the Vic. What a bum deal.” Steve rested his oars under his knees and peered at Mandy. “Are you convinced she's innocent?”

A lump rose in Mandy's throat. “God, I wish I could say yes, that I'm a hundred percent convinced, but I can't. I want her to be innocent. I really can't picture her using that hatchet on her own uncle.”

Steve looked off into the distance. “Nor can I.” He pointed. “Hey, there's your uncle's place. I'm starving and could use a break. Why don't we stop and hike up to it? There are picnic tables in the backyard, right?”

“Right. Good idea. I haven't checked on the place yet this week, with all the stuff that's been going on. Thanks for suggesting we stop.”

They beached their rafts and tied them to some willow bushes, then hiked up the hill and across the road to her uncle's abode that had also housed his small whitewater rafting business. On the way, Steve said, “I heard you put the house up for sale.”

“Yeah, but I'm still not convinced I want to part with it.”

“Why not?”

“It's the last home I shared with Uncle Bill. I've got a lot of good
memories of happy times here.”

Steve nodded and stopped to gaze at the quiet house. “Reminds me of something your uncle told me once. He said the river was his real home, that he always just thought of this as a place to run his business and lay his head at night until you came to live with him.” Steve looked at her. “Bill said you made it a second home for him. Until you moved out, that is.”

Tears sprang to Mandy's eyes, and all she could do was nod in response.

Sensing her need for some private time, Steve went around to the back to sit at one of the weathered picnic tables there and eat a late lunch.

Mandy used her key to go inside and look around. Since a lot of the furniture had been removed, the old wood floors and walls echoed with her footsteps. She looked over the customer check-in counter into Uncle Bill's office, but without the desk and chair, she couldn't really form a picture of him sitting there anymore with the phone to his ear. It was the same in the other mostly empty rooms. While she had memories still of what had gone on in those rooms, she didn't feel her uncle's presence in any of them. It just felt cold and foreign, like the abandoned building it was.

After locking up, she walked back down to the river and sat on the bank to eat her PBJ sandwich in the sun. A breeze caressed her face and a sense of calm oozed into her tense muscles. Here, outdoors, was always where she and Uncle Bill had belonged, where they found comfort, fulfillment, and their livelihoods. And wasn't outside where she had felt his presence since he'd died? Not once, when she'd been in his house after he died, had she ever heard his voice, felt his touch. But she had sometimes on the river, especially where she'd cast his ashes.

She put the last quarter of her sandwich on the plastic bag in the grass beside her and hugged her knees to watch the current flow by. Suddenly a Western bluebird swooped down and snatched a beakful of bread with jam, carrying it into an alder bush by the bank. Mandy could no longer see the bird among the foliage, but she could hear its soft kew calls and chatter as it savored the sweet treat it had snatched. Probably fattening itself up before it flew down to Mexico for the winter.

“Got a real sweet tooth, huh,” Mandy said to the bird.

Just like Uncle Bill.

Mandy stuffed the rest of her sandwich in the bag and got to her feet. She headed back up the hill toward Steve and the house, the house that she now knew what to do with.

Seventeen

Don't tell fish stories where the people know you; but particularly, don't tell them where they know the fish.

—MARK TWAIN

Mandy walked up to
the Ellis front door with some trepidation Saturday evening. The last time she'd seen the family was when Brenda had yelled at her for picking on a grieving parent and called Mandy despicable. Not a good start for asking the family to donate money to Cynthia's bail fund.

Lee opened the door to her knock and led her back to the living room, where Craig lay on the sofa watching a sitcom on TV. Brenda sat in her La-Z-Boy rocker, jerking the chair swiftly back and forth with one foot. Her knitting needles clacked in rhythm with the chair.

When Craig saw Mandy, he turned the TV off, sat up and, with a wave of his hand, indicated she should take a seat next to him. Brenda looked up, frowned and resumed her work on the gray and blue yarn Mandy had seen the last time she'd been to the house.

Mandy decided she'd better start groveling. She perched on the edge of the sofa, faced Brenda, and began with her rehearsed speech. “I owe all of you an apology for the way I behaved Thursday morning. I was worried about Cynthia, but that was no excuse for being rude to you. I'm very sorry.”

Brenda harrumphed, while Lee settled into his chair next to hers.

He glanced at his wife, then said to Mandy, “Apology accepted. We've all been under a lot of stress lately, and your concern is understandable.” As if anxious to change the subject, he quickly added, “Are you planning to come to Faith's funeral service tomorrow?”

“Yes, I'm taking off work for it.”

“We're having a lunch reception afterward at the house. We thought it would be more comfortable for Faith's friends to come here instead of having the reception at the church. You're invited.”

“Thank you. I'd like to come. ” Then as another peace offering, she asked, “Can I bring anything?”

Lee looked at Brenda.

Brenda blinked, as if suddenly realizing she was expected to answer this question. “A dessert, I guess.” She dropped her gaze back down to her knitting, obviously avoiding looking at Mandy.

“Sure, I'd be happy to.” An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
Mandy smoothed her jeans that didn't need smoothing while trying to think of something else to say or a way to bring up Cynthia's bail fund.

Thankfully Craig filled the gap. “We visited Cynthia in jail this afternoon.”

Mandy turned to him. “How was she?”

“Depressed. She seemed resigned to staying there for a long time.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Mandy said. “I'm collecting donations to bail her out on Monday, once the judge sets the amount. Even if it's high, all we need is about five percent to give as collateral to a bail bondsman.”

Lee leaned forward, making his leather chair creak. “That's if the judge sets bail. Sometimes they don't in murder cases.”

“Crap, I hadn't thought of that.” Mandy's hands clenched. “That means she could be in jail for months before they finally schedule her trial. She could lose her job, and if she can't pay rent, her apartment. No, they've got to let her out on bail!”

“What if she's convicted, Mandy?” Craig said quietly. “She'd be in prison for years.”

Brenda flinched and dropped a stitch. She clenched her teeth while she picked apart the yarn to fix her mistake.

“Do you think she did it, Craig?” Mandy studied his face. When he raised his brows and shrugged his shoulders in the universal gesture for “who knows,” Mandy pressed harder. “Do you really think she could drive an ax through her uncle's throat?”

Brenda gasped.

Mandy looked at the woman, who'd given up on her knitting and sat with her fist in front of her mouth, her face reddening. “I'm sorry, Brenda. I shouldn't have brought up how your brother died. But I just can't see Cynthia committing such a violent act.”

“Who's to say what violence someone could be capable of,” Lee said philosophically, “if you or someone you love is threatened?”

“But you already said you'd never do such a thing, even to protect Faith,” Mandy replied. “Why do you believe Cynthia could?”

Lee shrugged. “It's hard for me to understand what she feels, having been a victim of Howie's …” He glanced at his wife. “You know. But regardless of whether or not she did it, Cynthia is family. We'll contribute to the bail fund, and do everything else we can to make sure she gets a good defense. Right, Brenda?”

Brenda nodded, her hands kneading the yarn in her lap, ruining the neat stitches she'd just put in. Finally she spoke. “I wish the sheriff's office had found someone else to arrest.”

“Don't we all!” Mandy jumped to her feet. “There certainly were
enough people who had a reason to hate him or were at the campsite. But everyone has alibis that Quintana hasn't been able to crack yet.”

She ticked them off on her fingertips. “Jesse Lopez was working at his gas station. Ira Porter was visiting his mother in Colorado Springs. Newt Nowak was collecting cans at Hecla Junction. And Arnold Crawford just walked into the Quintana's office to vouch for you two men.”

“Yeah, we heard,” Lee said. “Sounds like Arnold will be in the
doghouse with his wife for quite a while. I'm glad he finally showed up to vouch for Craig and me, though.”

“And I was cleaning house and cooking a chicken dinner,” Brenda
added softly.

Lee reached over to pat her shoulder. “No one's accusing you, dear. The house looked great and it was a good dinner.”

“Yeah, that was the best chicken you've ever made,” Craig said. “It was really juicy.”

Lee smiled. “Or we were just really hungry after a day of fishing.”

Mandy stood with her hands on her hips watching the three of them. Their alibis sounded just a little too pat, a little too convenient, especially with Lee and Craig's good friend appearing all of a sudden to say he'd been fishing with them. He was a gambler, probably with debts. Maybe Lee had paid him off to vouch for them.

Lee had already insisted that he would never have killed Howie, but Craig hadn't said anything one way or the other. And Mandy knew he had a temper. When Mandy caught his eye, his gaze slid from hers, as if unable to stand up under too much scrutiny. And Brenda's gaze flitted around the room like a nervous bird trapped indoors and looking for a way out. Maybe she knew something, something she wasn't telling. Something about Craig, perhaps?

Mandy focused on Brenda, the one she thought most likely to crack. “So who else could have killed your brother, Brenda? Who else besides a family member?”

Brenda shook her head violently. “I don't know,” she wailed. “I don't know. I don't know. Just tell them to go away and leave us alone. Leave
me
alone! Howie's dead, and Faith's dead, and nothing anyone does is going to change that.” Tears started running down her cheeks. She dropped her face in her hands and sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

Lee reached over to clasp her hand, then looked at Mandy. “Why
does it have to be someone who knew Howie? Why not a vagrant, or a psycho just traveling through town who stopped by the campground? Has Quintana thought of that?”

“There's no evidence that anyone was there other than Howie,
Ira, and Newt,” Mandy said, “besides a family from Texas with
small children.”

Brenda's face shot up, her eyes wild. “Yes, yes, it was a madman, a serial killer. That's who they should be chasing. Not Cynthia. Not us.” She stood and grabbed Mandy's arm, her hand a claw that dug in deep. “You tell that Detective Quintana to let Cynthia out of jail. Tell him a crazy person killed Howie.”

Mandy glanced at the painful red marks on her arm under Brenda's quivering fingers, then at Lee and Craig, who stared at Brenda in alarm. The chances seemed slim that a crazy serial killer murdered her brother, but the chances seemed great that grief was driving this woman over the edge of sanity.

_____

Lucky jumped on Mandy when she opened the gate to her yard,
smearing mud on her jeans. A short rain shower had blown through
while she was at the Ellis home. She absently bent down to hug and pet the damp dog while visions of Cynthia spending another lonely night in jail swirled in her head. The musty and somehow comforting smell of wet fur brought her back to the moment. She stood.

“C'mon, Lucky, let's towel you off.” She glanced at her muddy jeans. “And me, too.”

She walked around to the back porch, left her water sandals there, and grabbed an old beach towel off a hook inside the door that she kept there for just this purpose. After toweling off the dog and herself, she filled Lucky's food and water bowls. Then she changed into a pair of old sweatpants cut off at the knees and an oversized FIBArk T-shirt. She'd just opened the refrigerator door to see what she could make herself for dinner when the front doorbell rang.

When she opened it, Rob stood there with his swollen bruised nose, a six-pack of Pacifico, and a brown paper bag that steamed with a delicious aroma. He waved the bag under her nose. “You eaten yet? I brought moo shu pork and egg foo young.”

Her mouth watering, she pulled him into the house and stood on her toes to kiss him. “I love you. You know that, don't you?”

She turned to go into the kitchen then realized he wasn't following her. When she looked over her shoulder at him, he was standing stock still with a bemused expression on his face. “What's wrong?”

“That's the first time you've said you love me,” he said. “If I'd known all I needed to do was bring Chinese food over, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Her statement had just slipped out, but Mandy realized as she watched him approach that yes, she loved this man. She loved him deeply, had for a while and had never admitted it to herself or to him.

She grinned as he put the food on the kitchen table and pulled her into his arms. “It's not the food. It's you, Rob, and how you always seem to know exactly what I need.”

“And I know you need this.” He thoroughly kissed her, then drew back to gaze at her. After a moment's hesitation, he reached up to caress her cheek with his thumb. “Did you really mean it, then, when you said you loved me?”

Mandy put her hand over his, kissed his thumb, and looked steadily into his eyes. For once, Rob needed reassurance from her, and she could give it to him. “It slipped out, and I should have picked a better moment to tell you, a more serious one. But I meant it, Rob. I love you.”

A little sigh escaped his lips. “I love you, too,
mi querida.
” He hugged her tight, held her for a long moment, then pulled back. “Now let's eat. I'm starving.”

Mandy grabbed plates and silverware while Rob emptied the bag. They plowed into the food and beer until they sat back with full bellies, Lucky at their feet contentedly munching on half of Mandy's fortune cookie.

Her fortune had read, “Something you lost will soon turn up.” She had a niggling feeling that she had overlooked some important detail in the case of Howie Abbott's murder, something that might save Cynthia. She desperately hoped that the fortune was true and that the answer would turn up soon. To get her mind working on the puzzle again, she told Rob about her visit with the Ellis family.

After she finished, he took a thoughtful drink of beer. “So, you're thinking Craig might have found out about Howie lusting after his sister and taken an ax to his uncle?”

“Think about it, Rob. That murder was obviously a crime of passion, one done in extreme anger. And what could cause more anger than finding out your sister was being sexually abused by her uncle?”

Rob spread a hand wide. “Finding out that your daughter was?”

“True, but Lee has already said he wouldn't have killed Howie, that he would have let the law put Howie away, in prison where he belonged. His statement rang true to me.”

“You sure?”

Mandy exhaled. “No, just a feeling in my gut. And unlike his father, Craig has never outright denied killing his uncle, at least to me. He even said after Howie's funeral that if Howie hadn't already been killed, he'd take great pleasure in doing it himself. And you know, his mother seemed to be hiding something tonight, some secret. Made me think she knows Craig did it.”

“So how do you prove it?”

“There's the rub. Unless Craig confesses, I don't see how I can. Arnold Crawford provided him with a strong alibi and there's no physical evidence linking him to the crime scene. Unlike Cynthia.”

Rob rinsed his beer can at the sink, then crushed it and dropped it in Mandy's metal recycling bag. “I don't see Craig being callous enough to let Cynthia go to prison in his place.”

“Maybe he's hoping she'll get off, that the evidence won't be enough to convict her.” Mandy stood and began clearing the table. “He could be thinking that they'll get a good lawyer to convince the jury of Lee and Brenda's wild theory, that some unknown serial killer or psycho vagrant could have done it instead.”

Rob nodded. “The lawyer might plant enough doubt that someone on the jury wouldn't vote to convict Cynthia. Or he could go for the sympathy ploy, claiming she went temporarily insane because her uncle raped her in the past, and she thought he would do the same to Faith.”

“I'm not willing to take that chance, though. Sure, Cynthia had plenty of motive, with Howie abusing her and going after her cousin. But after visiting the Ellises tonight, I suspect one of them killed Howie, most likely Craig. I just need to find a way to prove it.” Mandy clenched her fist.

Rob came up behind her and started massaging her shoulders, releasing waves of tension that she didn't know she was holding in. “Faith's funeral is tomorrow, right? You'll get another chance to observe the Ellises then. You won't solve anything tonight, though.”