Deadly Currents (9 page)

Mandy turned to Kendra and Gonzo and took a deep breath. “Are any runs scheduled for tomorrow?”

Gonzo shuffled his feet, gulped, and nodded. He took a moment to draw himself up to his full height, obviously holding in tears. “The Brown’s Canyon afternoon run was cancelled. But we’ve got a full-day run down Bighorn Sheep Canyon in the morning with seven customers. Dougie and I are down for it.”

“Do you think you could still do it?”

“We need someone to run shuttle. Normally Bill
…” Unable to finish, he scrubbed a hand across his mouth and looked away.

“Oh God, Gonzo.” Kendra ran a comforting hand down his arm, then looked at Mandy. “I’ll do it.”

“But it’s your day off.”

“I’ll do it,” Kendra said fiercely, “and I won’t take any pay for it.”

Fresh tears sprang to Mandy’s eyes. She managed to push out a thick “Thanks.”

Then she fell apart again. Kendra wrapped her arms around her, and Gonzo patted her back. The three of them stood in a little knot in the hall, whimpering in raw pain, until David came out with a box of tissues.

After a round of blows and wipes, they were able to make plans for the next day. David volunteered to handle the payments and paperwork. With heads bowed in grief, Gonzo and Kendra left.

David tried to lead Mandy into Uncle Bill’s office, but she resisted. “I can’t go in there. Not yet.”

He sat her down on the living room sofa. “Wait here. I’ll print off some stuff and bring it out to explain to you.”

He returned with a few sheets of paper, mostly spreadsheet printouts, and laid them on the coffee table. “While you were out back, I went over the accounts. I need more time to understand everything, but from what I can see so far, Uncle Bill’s company was on a slow, but sure, one-way trip to bankruptcy.”

“See here, and here?” He pointed to totals on the spreadsheets. “His expenses have been greater than income for months now.”

Mandy fell back against the cushions. “Damn. He never told me things had gotten that bad.”

“Probably didn’t want you to worry.”

And she was too wrapped up in her river ranger training to wonder why he was belt-tightening, like patching the oldest raft instead of ordering a new one.

“He could have continued like this for another rafting season maybe, but the recent cancellations really hurt him. I doubt he would have made it through the end of this season. And he knew it.”

David handed her a bookings list printed out that morning with some notes in her uncle’s scrawled handwriting. The last line read ‘Not enough,’ and was underlined.

The desperation her uncle must have felt washed over Mandy. “What do we do, David? How can we save his business?”

With sad eyes, David appraised her then said softly, “Do we really want to save it?”

“What do you mean?” Mandy looked around the darkening house, dusk shadows lengthening across the floor. It was now an empty shell without the jovial presence of her protective uncle. “He poured his life into the company. It was his legacy to us. He wanted me to run it after he
…”

“Died?”

“No, retired! We can’t let his life’s work die with him, David. We’ve got to try.”

“I already told you, Mandy. I can’t stay here. And you’ve got your new career to think about. You can’t run this business and patrol the river at the same time.”

“I’ll quit.”

David took her hand. “No, you won’t. You weren’t willing to give up being a river ranger for Uncle Bill before. Why do it now when he’s not here to care?”

Tears of frustration and guilt clogged Mandy’s throat. “Because I care.”

David pulled her into his arms. “I know, and I’m sure he knows. But you shouldn’t give up your new career for a hopeless cause that has almost no chance of succeeding. Maybe we could sell—”

Mandy’s groan of protest was muffled against David’s shoulder. She stiffened and tried to push him away.

“Okay, too soon to talk about that. How about this idea?” He pulled back and looked at her. “Find someone to manage it through the rest of the summer. Then when things slow down, you and I can revisit the situation. Take the time to look at it logically.”

“When I’m not so emotional, you mean.”

“Well, yeah.”

Mandy sat silently, staring out the back window at the equipment yard, looking forlorn and dilapidated in the encroaching gloom of twilight. She didn’t want to accept any of this, Uncle Bill’s death, the death of his business, the death of her dream of becoming a river ranger, the death of everything bright and sunny in her life.

David gave her a few minutes, then asked tentatively, “You know anyone who might be able to help us manage?”

“I guess we could ask the other outfitters.” The memory of her argument with Rob over stealing her uncle’s customers made her sigh. “Maybe Rob knows someone.”

“I’ll talk to him. And I’ll come in here tomorrow to get a complete picture of the business, unless you want my help planning the memorial service.”

“Oh, God. I can’t face that yet.”

“We probably should hold it this weekend.”

“This weekend?”
Why isn’t that going to work?
“Oh no, we can’t. FIBArk is this weekend. The Chamber of Commerce kickoff is Wednesday night. All of Uncle Bill’s friends and associates are involved with the activities.”
As am I.

“The First in Boating festival? What’s so important about that? Why can’t these people take a break from it to attend a memorial service?”

“Because the river is their livelihood. And FIBArk pulls in way more rafting customers than any other weekend. It’s been the most important event in this town since the first race was run in 1949. Every guide and outfitter will be working their tails off when they’re not competing in races or volunteering. No way would Uncle Bill want us to interfere with the festival.”

“His friends aren’t going to be in a very festive mood.”

“They’ll put on a brave face for the tourists. And putting on a good show for the tourists is what matters. Uncle Bill knew that. I know that, and so do his friends.”

“Okay, we’ll plan the service for next week sometime.” David glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late, though. Let’s talk about it tomorrow. Are you going to stay home or come in here with me in the morning?”

“I’m supposed to work.”

“I’m sure you can call in sick.”

Mandy suddenly itched to get out of this gloomy house, away from the morbid memory of finding Uncle Bill slumped dead over his desk mere feet away. She couldn’t face coming back and spending the next day here. Nor could she face being alone at home. She had to get out, get away, get on the river.

“I probably could, but I need to go to work. If I sit around here or at home, I’ll just cry all day. I couldn’t stand that.”
And Uncle Bill wouldn’t want me to. He understood my need to be on the water. The river thrummed in his blood, too.

David stood. “Okay, let’s go.”

Mandy began gathering up the papers David had printed. When she picked up the bookings sheet, a realization hit her and the sheet fluttered to the floor. “Whoever killed Tom King is responsible for Uncle Bill’s death, too.”

“What?”

“Don’t you see, David? The bad publicity from King’s death caused those cancellations, and worrying about them caused Uncle Bill’s heart attack. If Tom King hadn’t been murdered, Uncle Bill would still be alive today.”

David’s return gaze was sad, solemn, knowing—too knowing. Knowing that she was searching for someone to blame other than herself.

“Uncle Bill wasn’t exactly in the prime of health, Mandy. No one can say for certain that this situation caused his death.”

“No, not for certain, and maybe I’m not totally rational right now, but my gut says that if Tom King hadn’t died, Uncle Bill wouldn’t have either. Not yet. Sure, his health wasn’t great, but he was an old bull, fighting until the end.” Mandy leapt up from the sofa and started to pace. “And I won’t rest until his killer is made to pay.”

_____

After David had ordered a pepperoni pizza and forced Mandy to eat a slice, she handed him a stack of bedding and towels. “You sure my sofa’s going to be all right?”

He eyed it, pushed down on the cushions, and gave a casual shrug. “I slept on worse during my college years. Am I intruding on anything by staying here?”

“Like with Rob? We’re sort of on the outs now, anyway. We had a dumb argument, and I said some things I shouldn’t have, so we’ve got some patching up to do first.”

David laid the pile of linens on the coffee table and unfolded a blanket. “You be sure to let me know when things are patched up between you two and three’s a crowd. And if you have trouble sleeping tonight and need to talk to someone, promise you’ll wake me.”

“Promise.” She stuffed a pillow into a pillowcase and handed it to David. She hated the reason he had come to visit, but decided it would be nice to spend some time getting reacquainted with her brother, even if they had some definite differences in opinions.

The phone rang, and David said, “I’ll take my turn in the bathroom now in case that’s Rob.”

When Mandy picked up the phone, though, Cynthia answered and almost immediately asked, “You want me to come over tonight after work?”

“No, I’ll be okay with David here.”

“How’re you holding up?”

“I’ve reached the numb stage, and I’m exhausted, and David and I have a new worry—keeping Uncle Bill’s business from going under.”

“Maybe now that Tom King’s death has been ruled a murder, Paula King will drop her lawsuit against your uncle’s company. That might help.”

“Maybe, but finding his killer would help even more. I want to do everything I can to help Detective Quintana solve the case, especially since the killer caused Uncle Bill’s death, too.”

“Oh, the heart attack? From the stress of the cancellations? I see what you mean. In that case, I’ve got some information for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Evie Olson came into the bar tonight with a couple of her aging hippy friends. Since they sat at the bar, tossing back chocolate martinis like they were Yoo Hoos, I overheard most of the conversation. When the others asked how she felt about Tom King’s death, she said the bastard deserved it.”

“I thought she was seeing him.”

“So did I. But she told this tale of woe to her friends about how Tom had decided to break up with her and go back to his wife to try again. She sounded angry, but she was also pretty broken up about it and his death. It wasn’t all her natural theatrics either. She actually started to cry.”

“Had Tom already gone back to Paula before the rafting trip?”

“I don’t know.”

If he hadn’t, Paula may have still thought he was seeing Evie. Could either woman have been jealous or angry enough to have poisoned Tom?
“I wonder how we can find out.”

“Evie and one of her friends made plans to go to the Final Touch Day Spa late Wednesday morning to get gussied up for the FIBArk kickoff. Evie said she needed some pampering after all the trauma she’s been through. She asked her friend to come along so she’d have someone to talk to. Someone to kvetch to, more like it.”

“You think you should go there and eavesdrop?”

“I think you should go. If anyone’s had trauma and needs pampering, it’s you. I’ll spring for a manicure.”

Mandy looked at her utilitarian nails, cut blunt for work on the river. “I haven’t had a manicure in years.”

“Then it’s about time. Are you still planning to attend the kickoff?”

“Rob asked me to go with him, and I haven’t told him I can’t. And I guess I’m the official representative for Uncle Bill’s business now. I’ll have to go.” The last few words came out sounding strangled.

Cynthia’s voice softened. “Oh, Mandy, what are you going to do about the business?”

What am I going to do about my life, period?
“I don’t know. After tomorrow, I haven’t the faintest idea what I’m going to do.”

Mother, may I go out to swim?
Yes, my darling daughter:
Hang your clothes on a hickory limb
And don’t go near the water.

—Rhyme

When Mandy walked into
the Arkansas Headwaters Recreation Area ranger headquarters the next morning, Steve Hadley’s eyes opened wide. “I didn’t expect to see you here. You sure you want to work today?”

“I need to work. And I need to be out on the river. And—” Her voice caught, and she started again. “Please, Steve.”

His brow furrowed with concern, Steve laid a hand on her shoulder, long enough to offer comfort but not long enough to set her off crying again.

“I’ve got just the thing. Hard labor. We’ve received some calls from guides about a strainer in Bighorn Sheep Canyon blocking one side of the entrance into Three Forks rapid. It’s a big old cottonwood with lots of branches, and it’ll take awhile to clear it. You haven’t had any hands-on experience with the chain saw yet, so this will be good for you.”

And good for her in other ways. Hopefully the work would exhaust her so she could sleep, instead of tossing and turning like last night. “That’s perfect. I won’t have to talk to many people. I think I would choke up if someone mentioned Uncle Bill.”

Mandy helped Steve load two chain saws and other equipment into the catarafts and muscle the rafts onto a trailer behind one of the ranger trucks. She followed in a second truck, going east on Highway 50, until they reached the Texas Creek put-in. There, they unloaded the rafts, then drove to the busy Parkdale takeout a dozen miles downstream to leave a truck and returned to their starting point.

A short distance downstream, they eddied out above the tree on the side of the river opposite the railroad tracks. They tied up the rafts and hiked to where the toppled cottonwood had lodged among the rocks. Torn from the riverbank, the root ball lay exposed, and the thick trunk angled over the water downstream. Branches stuck out all over—in the water, above the trunk, and to the sides.

Mandy tagged along while Steve walked the bank and studied the situation. She didn’t like the looks of the chest-deep water rushing through the branches at all. If one of them fell off the trunk and got tangled up in the underwater branches, a certain drowning death awaited. No wonder the guides had called in the hazard.

“Here’s the plan.” Steve folded his arms across his chest. “There’s no way we’ll be able to pull the tree to shore so we can work on land. So we’ll work over the water one at a time. Whoever’s on shore will hold a rope attached to the quick release harness on the sawyer’s PFD.”

“There’s a rat’s nest of branches out there. How can we use a chain saw safely?”

“We’ll cut off smaller branches first with the big clippers to give us some working room. Too bad we don’t have a little twelve-inch chain saw to make the job go faster. I’ve got a couple of them high on my equipment request list, but replacing the busted cataraft was higher.”

Mandy eyed the two twenty-inch chain saws they had brought with them. “And a twelve-inch one would be a lot lighter than these monsters.”

“Yeah, there weren’t too many female river rangers when we bought these years ago. If your arms get tired, let me know, and I’ll spell you. We’ll use these suckers to cut off the large limbs and section the trunk.”

“What do we do with the pieces?”

“The small branches can float downstream. We’ll rope up the large limbs and trunk sections before we cut them off. We’ll haul them onto the bank where we can saw them into firewood-sized chunks. Then we can toss them into the river because they’ll be small enough that they won’t impede navigation or cause log jams.”

Trying to show some enthusiasm for the time-consuming process, Mandy rubbed her hands together. “Let’s get started.”

Over an hour later, she straddled a large lower limb of the cottonwood, which gently undulated in the current. Her feet hung in the cold water, but the hot sun caused sweat to bead up on her forehead and slide down to sting her eyes behind the safety glasses. Steve had monkey-walked efficiently up and down the trunk, but after slipping a few times, she had opted to sit and slide along on her butt.

How was she ever going to stand up with the chain saw?

“After you clear those side branches, come back to shore,” Steve yelled over the roar of the river. “We’ll eat lunch, then start chain-sawing.”

Mandy nodded to show she had heard him and clenched her teeth while pushing the handles of the heavy-duty clippers together. She strained to close the five-inch curved blades until, with a snap, a branch fell into the water and swirled away. She positioned the clippers on the next branch and gripped the handles again with her gloved hands.

The heavy gloves were too big and already rubbing blisters into her fingers, but she welcomed the pain. Better the physical burn than the deep ache over losing Uncle Bill. She could bandage the blisters, but not her heart.

She clipped off a few more branches, then slid backward until she reached the main trunk and felt secure enough to stand and walk back along its length to the shore. After stripping off the gloves, goggles, and safety rope, she took a grateful swig of the water bottle that Steve held out to her.

As she bit into her PBJ sandwich, rustling and crunching upstream caught her attention. Two people were slowly walking down the bank, each holding a bulging trash bag. Two more patrolled the opposite bank, also with trash bags. Occasionally one would stoop to pick up something and put it into a bag.

When they neared, Steve yelled out, “Hey, Lenny!”

Mandy studied the thin, stooped-over man who straightened to his full, tall height and waved before bending down to pick up another object. “That’s Lenny Preble, the environmentalist who arranged the trip Tom King was on, right?”

“The same.”

“What’re he and his friends doing?”

“Lenny organizes periodic trash pick-ups along different sections of the river. He’s good about it. Stays off private land and lets us know when and where his teams will be. They all wear PFDs and work gloves, travel in pairs, and carry radios to call out if they run into a problem.”

When Lenny and his shorter partner approached, Mandy could see they both wore jeans and work boots, even though it was a summer day, presumably to protect their legs from being scratched by brambles and other riparian shrubs. The men wore sensible sun hats and matching forest green T-shirts emblazoned with a circular logo encompassing a cottonwood tree, not unlike the one she’d been cutting, overhanging a river.

Steve stepped forward to shake Lenny’s gloved hand. “You picked a good day, Lenny. Sunny, but not too hot.”

Lenny swept back a lank of long dark hair that had fallen across his eyes. His frown emphasized the sharp angles of his face. “Someday, when these God-damned tourists realize the Arkansas River is not their personal refuse can, we won’t have to do this.”

He shot a sheepish glance at Mandy. “Sorry about the language. The callousness of some people irritates the he
…
heck out of me.”

“That’s okay,” Mandy replied. “Frankly, I agree with you.” She held out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced, though I’ve seen you around town. I’m Mandy Tanner.”

In the process of reaching out his own hand, Lenny stopped, then recovered and grasped hers firmly. “I heard about your uncle. Good man, Bill Tanner. Cared about the river.”

Past tense.
Mandy mumbled her thanks.

“My friend here is Kurt Maxxon.” Lenny clapped a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “Kurt is a retired race driver who now cares for the environment.”

With an abashed grin, Kurt shook hands with Mandy and Steve. “Trying to make up for some of the damage done by all that oil I burned in my youth.”

Lenny introduced his other two companions across the river, who waved and continued on with their work. “We’re all members of ‘Citizens for the Arkansas,’ my nonprofit.” He pointed at the logo on his shirt.

“Sorry, I’ve got to take a leak, so I’m going to find some privacy.” Kurt walked toward a grove of cottonwoods downstream.

Before she could give in to her grief, Mandy dove on this opportunity to find out more about the people on the fatal rafting trip, one of whom could have killed Tom King. “So you organized the trip that Tom King was on when he died. How’d the trip come about? Why’d you pick Uncle Bill’s company to run it?”

Lenny shifted his gaze around, as if looking for an escape route.

The realization struck Mandy that he probably felt uncomfortable talking to the grieving niece of a man who just died. A lot of people would probably react this way around her in the days to come.
Unlike Cynthia and Steve, thank God.

After an awkward pause, Lenny said, “Your uncle cared as much as I did about securing high-priority recreation water rights on the Arkansas. I asked him for a donation a while back. He said he was strapped, but he’d do whatever he could to help out. When I decided that Councilman Saunders and the two developers needed to see firsthand the environmental damage that low flows cause, I called your uncle.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d be on the same side as the river runners,” Steve said.

“Ideally, this river should be left alone,” Lenny replied, “to recover from the damage humans have inflicted on it. But the high muckety-mucks in your office aren’t about to yank outfitter licenses. I’ve talked to them until I’ve gone purple in the face, but no luck. So, I’ve had to resort to Plan B.”

He waved a hand at the bulging bag he had set on the ground. “I hate the trash the tourists leave all over the place, but that’s minor compared to fisheries disruption from low flows and pollution from agricultural runoff. I decided recreational use of the river is the least of a whole host of evils. I’m focusing now on trying to convert some of the old agricultural rights to recreation.”

“Were you making any progress with Tom King and Nate Fowler?” Mandy asked.

“More with Fowler than with King. King insisted that he needed a golf course in his development plans, which is downright dumb. Everyone knows the river, not smacking little white balls, is why people come to Chaffee County.”

“So you hoped Fowler would win the bid for the land down south.”

Lenny nodded. “The lesser of two evils. Didn’t look like his chances were good, though. I can’t tell you who, but a source told me the city council was more favorable toward Tom King’s plan. Had more homes, thus more tax dollars. It all comes down to money, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so.”
And with Tom King out of the picture, Nate Fowler’s lone remaining bid could sail right through the council. How convenient for Nate.
“Did you notice anyone acting suspicious toward Tom King on the trip?”

Lenny narrowed his eyes at her. “You working with the cops?”

Mandy shook her head. “Not really. The case got turned over to them once the rescue operation was done. I’m just curious. Now, about my question?”

“The only weird thing was the ugly looks Paula King and Evie Olson kept shooting at each other. You’d think the man would be smart enough to keep his wife and his mistress apart. I was surprised when Evie’s father asked if she could come along, but I couldn’t say no at that point. At least I kept the two women from getting in the same raft. Got downright awkward, you know?”

Kurt came tromping back up the bank. “There’s a big pile of garbage down past those trees. Looks like someone’s picnic leavings.”

“Damn tourists.” Lenny picked up his trash bag. “Sorry. Seems I can’t say the word ‘tourists’ without the adjective they deserve. Good day to you.” He tipped his sun hat and left with his friend in tow.

“He’s pretty serious about taking care of the river, isn’t he?” Mandy asked Steve.

“Yep. His nonprofit seems to eat up all his time. I’ve never seen him with a woman or even just out drinking a beer.” Steve dropped his sandwich bag and apple core in his waterproof case and buckled it shut. “Ready to do some chain-sawing?”

After they donned protective chaps, Steve showed Mandy how to undercut limbs from below before finishing the cut from above, so they would break off cleanly. “Keep the trunk between your legs and the saw blade. And make sure that when the limbs fall off, you aren’t standing in the way.”

“This sounds dangerous.”

“The biggest danger is kickback, when the chain catches on something and kicks the blade back toward you. Don’t ever cut with the nose of the blade, only the middle.” Steve paused and peered at her. “Think you can handle it?”