Perverted Justice

by Michael Arches

  Taking a different approach, I let a second rock roll down the slope. It was so steep that the rock bounced only a few times before splashing into the churning white foam below.

  With a pair of binoculars, I scanned as much of the cliff face as I could. It mostly faced south and very little snow stuck to the rocky face. No body parts were visible.

  I said, “I’m guessing this is where the killer dumped the pieces of the corpse.”

  “We’ll be sure to let you know,” Linda said.

  “Don’t take any chances,” I added. “If either of you gets hurt, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Jason laughed. “Yeah, Hank, that keeps me up at night. It’d be a damned shame if I broke my neck then people yelled at you for sending me to my death.”

  When he put it that way, I felt ridiculous. Not that I’d admit it. “Just be careful, smartass.”

  In a few places, a few trees and shrubs had managed to grow on the almost-vertical slope. “And look closely around the vegetation. Those are good places for something to get stuck.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Linda said with a snicker. “We actually are trained investigators, you know?”

  That was true, but since the election, I’d felt a lot more responsibility for everyone in the office. I tended to annoy them by telling folks how to do their damned jobs, but I had a hard time stopping myself.

  Boomer was eager to go over the side with them, but I kept him behind the guard rail. It was even colder up here as compared to town, so I’d put on his new, official K9 winter vest and snow booties. The vest included both a bulletproof layer and thermal insulation.

  After the election, Randy had agreed to “hire” the mutt as a staff member but no salary. He did get dog treats and a limited amount of new gear. And if he ever got injured in the line of duty, he’d be patched up at the county’s expense.

  While I held the dog back with one hand, with the other, I showed my two intrepid rock climbers where I thought someone might’ve tossed human remains. They hooked their ropes to the guard rail in front of those spots and walked backwards over the side.

  I cringed as they slowly lowered themselves. I wanted them to be careful, but I couldn’t wait to find out whether my hunch had paid off.

  As each passed the sparse clumps of vegetation, they carefully searched that area.

  I couldn’t do much but peer over the edge, and that wasn’t smart. Waiting was worse than going down there myself. I didn’t have the training, but I would’ve felt better about risking my own life than asking them to do the same.

  I was still ruminating about the joys of command when Jason’s voice came over my portable radio. “If stink means anything, I’ve got something. It’s jammed hard against the uphill base of a small lodgepole pine.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from saying, Be careful, again.

  “Ewww!” he said. “A chunk of thigh. The birds have been pecking at it pretty good. I’m bagging it.”

  “Might be more parts near there,” I said. “Take your time.”

  Linda didn’t find anything on her way down, but now I knew we were searching at the right spot. Or, a right spot. The remains could’ve been scattered far and wide across the forests.

  Linda reached the river. “The water is crashing up against the base of the cliff here,” she said. “I’m moving sideways a dozen feet to where there’s a strip of dry ground. Think I see a puzzle part.”

  A clump of vegetation on the hillside blocked my view of her. Anxiety made my skin crawl as she remained silent. Finally, I said into my radio, “Linda, you okay?”

  “Yeah, just having a ball down here. Found a couple of chunks. One’s a foot and ankle with six inches of leg. The other part must be a part of someone’s ribcage. I can see several exposed ribs where an animal has eaten away the skin and muscle.”

  I kept my advice to myself and let them do their work.

  Jason piped up, “You definitely picked the right spot, boss lady. I see more smelly bits. You’re going to have to lower the basket. Too much to carry up by hand.”

  Our three snowmobiles had towed sleds filled with equipment, including a portable winch attached to a large, tough, plastic basket. The thing was big enough for two people to sit inside if necessary.

  I secured the winch to the guard rail and lowered the basket. Boomer wanted to get in, but no chance. The hound had no common sense.

  -o-o-o-

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