Wicked Eddies (21 page)

Mandy sighed. “You're right, and there's something else important I need to tell you tonight.”

“More important than saying you love me?” Rob leaned over her shoulder and smiled at her.

Mandy tilted her head back to kiss him then dropped her chin so his wondrous fingers could resume their work on her rigid neck muscles. “No, not more important than that. And keep on rubbing, lover boy. What I have to tell you is that I made a decision this morning.”

She told him about stopping at her Uncle Bill's house with Steve. “When that bluebird stole a bite of my sandwich on the river bank then chattered at me, I took it as a sign from Uncle Bill. A sign that that's where he would be for me, on the river, whenever I needed him. Not at the house.”

She turned to face Rob and put her arms around his waist. “So, I'm ready to sell it now. I'm going to call Bridget on Monday and accept the counteroffer.”

Rob's gaze searched her face. “And you're really comfortable with this? It's not because you're feeling pressured by me, is it?”

Mandy shook her head. “I feel at peace. I spread Uncle Bill's ashes on the Arkansas River. Whenever I need to talk to him, that's where I'll go. Sure, I have lots of fond memories about things that happened in that house, but it's just a building. It doesn't hold his spirit anymore. And I don't need to hold onto it anymore.”

Rob hugged her tightly, his chin resting on top of her head. “I'm glad,
mi querida.
And
not
just about getting the money we need for RM Outdoor Adventures. I'm very happy you can still feel Bill's presence and talk to him when you need to.”

Mandy smiled against Rob's chest. “Now, if he could only talk to Howie Abbott's spirit, then let me know who killed him.”

_____

In the middle of the night, Mandy was suddenly awake. She lay there for a moment, listening, trying to hear the echo of a sound, of what might have startled her from her slumber. Rob lay snoring gently beside her, his swollen nose still giving him breathing problems. And Lucky lay on his pillow next to the bed, his doggie's snuffles a quiet accompaniment to Rob's more sonorous wheezes.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could make out vague shapes of furniture, her dresser and chair, the doorway to the bathroom. But nothing seemed out of place, nothing stirred, except the chests of her fellow sleepers. So, it must have been a dream. Mandy shut her eyes, eased her breathing to drift back into a relaxed state, and tried to remember where she'd been in slumber land.

An image of something swishing through the air flashed through
her brain, then a wet thwock as it hit flesh. A cry of agony, and a wet gush of red puddled on the ground. Then the whole scene repeated, as if on instant replay. The “something” was an ax, and the flesh was Howie Abbott's neck.

The next time the scene replayed, Mandy swallowed back her
revulsion and tried to pull her mind's camera back, to see who was
holding the ax. The look of fierce rage on the wielder's face dis
torted
it enough that Mandy was unsure who she saw. But the scene didn't
replay again.

Wide awake now, she picked apart the alibis of the suspects until a crack opened in one. She rolled over and smiled. She could check out her hunch tomorrow before Faith's funeral.

Eighteen

Good things come to those who bait.

—AUTHOR UNKNOWN

Mandy threw on her
clothes for Faith's funeral, her trusty black skirt and a matching black twin sweater set she'd bought before stopping by the Ellis home the evening before. She finally had a decent outfit to wear to the funerals she seemed to be attending more frequently these days. Rob had left earlier that morning to open RM Outdoor Adventures and run the shuttle for the morning raft trip. After that, he was going to meet her at the church—the same Baptist church where Faith's uncle's service had been conducted.

Mandy was rushing because she had an important hunch to follow-up on before she went to the service. And she needed to do it that day, a Sunday, the same day of the week when Howie was killed. After Rob had left, she'd used her laptop computer to search for Lee Ellis's name on the Internet, hoping to find a news photo of the family in relation to the articles about Howie's and Faith's deaths. She finally lucked out with one of the whole family taken at a charity event a couple of months ago, and she printed it out on her small, slow printer.

The research had taken longer than she thought, and she would have to move quickly to get her errand done before the service started. Clutching the photo, she settled Lucky in the yard with a rawhide bone and headed for the Safeway grocery store downtown. It wasn't the closest grocery store to the Ellis home, which was the Wal-Mart. However, that Wal-Mart didn't have a fresh deli counter like the Safeway did.

At the Safeway, Mandy went to the deli counter and introduced herself to a white-haired woman behind it, stretching the truth a bit. “Hi, I'm Mandy Tanner. I'm a ranger with the AHRA, and I'm helping the sheriff's office with a joint investigation. Were you working here on Sunday two weeks ago?”

When the woman said yes, Mandy asked, “Was anyone else also behind the counter that day? I'd like to talk to everyone who might have waited on a customer then.”

“Kathy was here, too.” She waved over a young woman with dark hair who had been ladling potato salad into plastic containers.

Kathy came over and gave Mandy a friendly smile. “How can I help you?”

Mandy introduced herself again and held out the photo of the Ellis family to the two deli workers. “Do you recognize any of these people?”

The white-haired woman pointed to Brenda. “Her. She shops here every Wednesday morning. Buys sliced ham and Swiss cheese religiously, for sandwiches for her husband and son. We shoot the breeze a little most times she comes.” She turned to Kathy. “You don't work on Wednesdays, do you?”

Kathy peered at the photo. “No, but I recognize her, too.”

“Was she here Sunday two weeks ago perhaps?” Mandy asked.

“The day that fisherman was killed?” Kathy gave a shiver. “I read about it in the paper the next day and tried to remember what I was doing about the time he was killed. You ever do that?”

Mandy and the white-haired woman nodded.

Kathy snapped her fingers. “So I went back over all the people I waited on, and she was one of them. I especially remember her because she came in all flustered and acting weird.” She turned to the white-haired woman. “You were in the back, making macaroni salad.”

With her heart beating faster, Mandy asked, “What time did she come in and what did she want?”

“It was late afternoon, around five. She said she needed a rotisserie chicken right away, and some mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and rolls. When I said that sounds like a great dinner, she told me she hadn't had time to fix a homemade dinner and was in a rush to get something in the oven before her men came home off the river. I remember her because she seemed so desperate and looked kind of wild-eyed. Almost made me think her husband was going to blow up at her, maybe even hit her or something if she didn't have a meal waiting for him.”

The older woman tsked. “It's a shame how some men mistreat their wives still, in this day and age.”

Kathy looked at Mandy. “Why do you need to know this? Did something happen to this poor woman?”

Mandy shook her head. “Sorry, I can't tell you anything yet, but a Detective Quintana may be by later to ask you to verify what you just told me. Thanks.”

She rushed out of the store, almost shaking with excitement. Her theory was confirmed, as unbelievable as it seemed. Brenda hadn't cooked the Sunday dinner herself. And she probably dashed through some cleaning chores to make it look like she'd been working hard at home all afternoon. It didn't take long to run a vacuum over the carpet, especially if you were rushing, and she could have just tossed the towels in the dryer with a scented dryer sheet to make it seem like they'd been freshly laundered. Mandy had pulled that trick once or twice when her brother had come to visit and she hadn't had time to wash towels.

While Mandy drove to the church, her heart rate increased as her suspicion solidified. Brenda was about the same size as Cynthia, in fact had about twenty pounds on her. She could have hefted the camping ax. And if she'd found out that Howie was abusing her daughter, that was motive enough, even though he was her own brother. Maybe even especially so.

The horrific certainty landed with a thud in the pit of Mandy's stomach. Brenda had been acting very strange lately. Sure, her brother and daughter had both recently been killed, but more than just grief seemed to be driving her to distraction. Maybe guilt had been worming its way into her psyche, especially since Cynthia had been arrested.

Mandy drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.
Now, we just need some solid proof. Something more than blasting a hole through her alibi.

She arrived late to the funeral service, which had already started when she slipped into a pew next to Rob, sweat beading on her brow from her dash from the car to the church. He raised his eyebrows at her, but she just shook her head. She heard nothing of the eulogy as her mind raced over the clues they'd found at Howie's campsite and how any of them might be tied to Brenda. After the last hymn, she could barely contain herself while she filed out with the rest of the mourners, searching the crowd for Quintana.

“What's with you?” Rob asked, when they got outside.

“I can't tell you yet, but I just found out something that I've got to tell Detective Quintana. Do you see him?”

Rob pointed toward the edge of the crowd milling around the base of the steps. “There.”

Mandy spotted Quintana scanning the crowd with a concentrated expression on his face, as if he was memorizing everyone in attendance. She pushed her way through knots of people as politely and quickly as she could until she reached him.

Almost out of breath, she leaned in and whispered, “I found out something about Howie Abbott's case. I've got to tell you—in private.”

Quintana took one glance at her face and straightened. “We'll talk in my cruiser. I can drive you to the Ellis house for the reception.” Then he looked at Rob, who had followed Mandy. “That okay with you, Rob?”

With a curious expression on his face, Rob nodded. “Sure. Mandy and I came in separate cars anyway.”

Mandy gave Rob a quick peck on his cheek. “See you there. Maybe you can bring me back here to get my car later.” She took off at a trot beside Quintana for his cruiser.

Once the two of them were inside, Mandy excitedly filled him in on what she'd learned from the Safeway deli clerks.

Quintana gave out a long, low whistle. “Well, what do you know? It was a woman in the family, but not Cynthia. And that makes me wonder …”

“What?”

“If Howie abused his own sister when they were younger. Maybe that's when it all started.”

“Oh my God!” Then Mandy thought for a moment. “But if that was the case, why would Brenda encourage Faith to hang out with her brother? Wouldn't she try to keep her away from him?”

Quintana nodded. “Either way, Faith must have told her mother
sometime before she died about Howie's abuse. That blows my theory about Faith's death out of the water.”

“What do you mean?” Mandy asked.

“I was thinking the girl committed suicide after her uncle's abuse because she couldn't get the support she needed from her parents. Maybe even that Brenda knew about her brother's behavior and chose to turn a blind eye.”

“Craig said his dad even accused her of that.”

“But it doesn't ring true if she's the one who killed him. And with an ax. Striking that kind of blow takes a lot of anger.”

Mandy replayed her dream from the night before. It had been Brenda's face she had seen, twisted with rage as she rained the fatal blow down on Howie's neck. “Yeah, it's like she'd just found out and couldn't stomach the sick thought that her brother had forced himself on her daughter.”

Quintana turned the ignition key to start the car. “I'll definitely follow-up with the deli clerk, but in the meantime, we need to go to the reception at the Ellis home. It's a way to get in without a warrant and maybe pick up some more information. We've blown Brenda's alibi apart, but that's not enough to make a strong case against her. I need physical evidence, something like Cynthia's thumbprint on the ax handle.”

“Brenda must have worn gloves of some sort, since you didn't find any of her fingerprints.”

“Right.” Quintana merged his cruiser into the line of cars leaving the church. “Though I'm going to ask the fingerprint technician to review those small partials on both the hatchet and spray can again, see if he can make a case for matching any of them against Brenda's. He'd stopped working on them when we found Cynthia's thumbprint and thought we had the killer.” He gave Mandy a rueful smile.

She folded her arms across her chest. “And threw her in jail. If you'd matched one of the partials on the hatchet to Brenda, would you still have done that?”

He thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Probably. Since Brenda's alibi seemed solid, and since it was family gear, it made sense for her prints to be on it.”

“The same could be said of Cynthia!”

“I know. But the spray can is a different story. If one of Brenda's prints had been matched on that, I would have had to rethink everything.” He sighed. “I'm not perfect, Mandy.”

She uncrossed her arms. “I'm not saying you have to be. I just wish Cynthia hadn't had to go through all that.”

“Me, too. Anyway, after I talk to that deli clerk, I should be able to get a search warrant to check out Brenda's shoes and clothing for blood spatters, like I did with Cynthia's.”

Mandy turned in her seat to stare at Quintana. “I didn't hear about that. Did you find anything?”

Quintana shook his head. “And that made me worried that I didn't have a strong enough case against Cynthia. Of course, a smart killer would have disposed of or washed all of their clothing, even cleaned their car upholstery.”

“But maybe not an emotional one,” Mandy replied. “Or one who had to rush to the grocery store to set up a good alibi story. Of course, Brenda's had two weeks to take care of that by now. Are you thinking we should look for a stain while we're there?”

“No,” Quintana said firmly. “I don't want to tip our hand until I get a warrant and can thoroughly search without any of the Ellis family interfering. I'm more interested in observing Brenda's behavior today. If I can't find any physical evidence with a search warrant, I'll need to figure out how to get a confession out of her.”

He glanced at Mandy before turning into the neighborhood where the Ellises lived. “Do you think you can act normal at this reception? Not let on that you know anything and treat Brenda the same way you've been treating her?”

Mandy knew this was a serious question that required a well- thought-out answer. She didn't want to mess up Quintana's investigation. Could she hide her conviction that Brenda had killed her own brother? Could she grasp a murderer's hand and offer her
condolences over the death of her daughter? Mandy mentally
rehearsed doing just that in her mind. Maybe if Rob was with her, and she made the interaction quick.

She took a deep breath to try to calm her nerves. “Yes, I think I can.”

Quintana parked his cruiser behind some other cars about a block away from the Ellis home. He turned to peer at Mandy. “And you can keep all of this from everyone, including Rob?”

“He already knows something's up. But if I say I can't tell him what, he won't press me.”

“Good.” Quintana opened his car door. “Let's see what we can find out. Stay alert. You may find that navigating the wicked eddies swirling around this family will be a lot harder than any Class V rapid you've run on the river.”

_____

Rob was waiting for Mandy at the end of the Ellis driveway. When he took her hand, she realized it was damp with nervous sweat.

“You okay?” he asked as they walked up to the open front door behind Quintana.

Mandy knew Quintana was listening. “Just stay with me while I offer condolences,” she said to Rob. “I'm feeling nervous about that.”

Then Mandy stopped dead in her tracks, jerking Rob to a halt. “Oh crap!”

“What?”

“I told Brenda that I'd bring a dessert and I forgot all about it.”

Rob glanced at Brenda. Dressed in a dark navy skirted suit, she stood between Craig and Lee just inside the front door to greet the mourners. “I don't think she's going to notice.”

Mandy looked at Brenda's gray face, with its dark shadows under glassy eyes, and realized Rob was right. Too many other things were going through the woman's head. She was shaking hands and accepting hugs like an automaton. Lee shot a worried glance at his wife and put a hand on the small of her back to give her a reassuring rub before accepting a man's handshake.