“No, I understand why you did it at the time. It’s just, with what has happened, it might have contained some clues that could be related to Rick’s murder. There’s a pad of paper in the nightstand drawer. Why don’t you recreate what was on the paper as best you can? I have no idea if it’s relevant, but it might be. Allison, is there someone I can call for you?”
“Yes, my sister, Marci. She lives pretty close to me. Here’s her number. If you’d call her, I’d really appreciate it. I think I’d be too emotional if I tried to tell her.” She handed Liz her phone.
While Liz called Marci, Allison did her best to recreate what she’d seen earlier that morning on the piece of paper she’d found in Rick’s shirt, the eagle and the words “You Are Next.”
Liz ended the call and said “She’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. I’ll help you pack. She said to tell you that she’ll stay with you tonight and tomorrow. She’ll take tomorrow off to be with you and do whatever needs to be done. She also said she’ll arrange for someone to come and get your car, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
Liz helped Allison pack her things and within a few minutes a car pulled up in front of the cottage. A moment later there was a knock on the door. “Allison, it’s Marci. Open up.”
Liz walked over to the door and opened it for her. She ran over to Allison and put her arms around her, and both of them started crying. “Allison, Marci, I’m leaving. Please give me a call tomorrow and let me know what you’ve found out. Again, I am so, so sorry.”
Liz and Winston left the cottage and slowly walked back to the lodge, tears of sympathy and sadness coursing down Liz’s cheeks.
*****
Another one down and more to go, the killer thought. Time these people find out what happens to people who aren’t real Americans, and looks like I’m the one who has to do it, just like the voice told me.
He put his U.S. Army M24 high powered sniper rifle back in its protective gun case and carefully removed the telescopic sight from the barrel. Then he unscrewed the silencer on the end of the barrel. Just like it was supposed to, the only sound made when he’d fired the gun was a slight “puff.”
He put his cap back on, the one with an American Eagle on it, and silently made his way down the fire escape of the building across the street from and behind the post office, pausing from time to time to make sure no one else was there. No one was.
CHAPTER 3
Charlie “Red” Patterson rolled out of the spartan-like single bed in the tiny cabin at first light. Red’s mother was a Miwok Indian, still living on the reservation in Northern California. His bright red hair and his last name came from his father, a Scotsman, who had met his mother when she’d gone with a friend to San Francisco for the day to buy some things the tribe needed.
They’d decided to take a break from their shopping and have a beer. James Patterson was taking a break from his job as an insurance actuary. The meeting was meant to be. Within a short time, James married Red’s mother and moved to the reservation. Ten months later Red was born.
Red had grown up on the reservation, and since he was one-half Native American, he qualified for a full scholarship to California Polytechnic State University in San Luis Obispo and graduated with a degree in Fire Science. As a member of a minority, he had his choice of which fire authority he wanted to work for, but it was pretty much a no-brainer. He was an only child, and with his father now deceased, he wanted to live near his mother.
He’d worked for the U.S. Forest Service for 28 years and was looking forward to retiring in two more years. Although Red had recently been promoted to a management position at the regional headquarters in Santa Rosa, he wanted to show the men and women who worked under him that he was just like them, so he’d volunteered to take a tour of duty at one of the fire watch towers in the district.
As a fire watch ranger for the U.S. Forest Service it was important for him to survey the surrounding area as soon as dawn crept over the eastern horizon. If he spotted smoke anywhere in the area from a fire that may have been started by lightning during the night, he had to immediately contact central dispatch by radio telephone and report the location of the fire.
Red had been living in the small 14’ x 14’ wooden cabin perched atop an 82’ steel tower for the past nine days. A tour of duty at a fire watch tower lasted ten days, and he was looking forward to tomorrow, when his replacement would arrive by helicopter. The tower, known as the Mt. Holy Oak tower, was located deep in the Coastal Range National Forest in Northern California, high atop Mt. Holy Oak, which at an elevation of 4,500 feet, was the highest mountain within twenty miles.
The nearest road was ten miles away and the only way to gain access to the tower, other than by helicopter, was by walking cross country over very steep mountainous terrain. For this reason, the Forest Service used helicopters to bring in provisions for the fire watch ranger and to ferry in a replacement fire watch ranger every ten days.
Fire watch towers first became popular in the United States in the early 1900’s. Hundreds of them, including the Mt. Holy Oak tower, were built in the 1930’s by members of the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). Although nearly 4,000 towers were built throughout the United States, today there are only 900 in service. The walls of the cabin on all four sides consisted of heavy-duty glass windows that stretched from the ceiling to waist high level. High powered binoculars and a telescope were provided for use by the ranger. A device called an Osborne Firefinder was situated in the center of the floor area of the cabin and was used by the ranger to pinpoint the exact location of any fire once one was sighted.
Access to the cabin was by way of a steel rung vertical ladder that led up to the floor of the cabin, and then entry was made through a trap door. It was a rather dizzying climb and not one for the faint of heart or anyone who was bothered by being in high places. A side door to the cabin led to a wooden catwalk with a wooden safety railing that surrounded the cabin on all four sides.
While he was on fire watch, Red had a 360-degree view of the heavily forested surrounding land. After making a full panoramic inspection of the area and seeing no smoke columns, he picked up the radio telephone and was immediately connected to the central office of the Forest Service.
“Good morning Millie, this is Red at Mt. Holy Oak checking in. I’m happy to tell you that all is quiet out here. No fire, no smoke, no nothing, just the beginning of an absolutely beautiful day in the mountains. Not a cloud in the sky and the wind is calm, about five miles an hour out of the northwest. I gotta’ tell you I love it out here. Sure beats having to sit at some desk at headquarters pushing paperwork all day.”
“That’s good news Red,” Millie said. “Glad to hear you’ve got everything under control. By the way, the chopper will be arriving at Mt. Holy Oak at 10:00 tomorrow morning with your replacement. Looks like it’s going to be Jack Reiner who will be coming out to replace you.”
“Okay, I’ll be sure to ferry all my personal gear down to the bottom of the tower and over to the helipad. I’ll be waiting for them. I know the pilots don’t like to stay on the ground any longer than they have to, so I’ll be there, ready to jump aboard, just as soon as they hit the ground.”
“Good, Red. I’ll pass the word along to the pilot. See you tomorrow here at headquarters. Over and out.”
After hanging up the phone, Red poured some dry cereal into a bowl, grabbed some milk out of the tiny propane refrigerator and poured it over the cereal. He sat down in the only chair in the cabin and began to eat his breakfast. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was only 6:15 am.
Sure gets light out early in the day during the summertime, he thought. It’s going to make for another long day given the fact that it won’t even get dark tonight until nearly 10:00 pm. I’ll have to be on fire watch for that entire period of time, which means it’s going to be another 16-hour day. After I finish breakfast, think I’ll step outside onto the catwalk and breathe in a little clear clean mountain air to recharge my b
atteries, so I can make it through the rest of the day without wilting, or worse yet, falling asleep.
*****
After a long and difficult cross-country hike during the night, using night vision goggles, the killer was nestled down in a pile of broken rocks about 400 yards from the Mt. Holy Oak fire watch tower. Wearing full camouflage clothing, he was nearly invisible as he patiently watched for movement in the small cabin perched on top of the steel tower. The night before, he’d hidden his car in a dry wash 50 yards off the gravel road that was the closest road to the tower, which, according to the topographical map he’d reviewed, was about ten miles from the tower.
Using his GPS device for guidance, he’d made his way through the forest until he arrived at his current location an hour before sunrise. His military style sniper rifle, with an attached telescopic sight and silencer, was laying on the ground beside him. The only sound the rifle made when it was fired was a slight “puff-like” sound that couldn’t be heard from ten feet away, not that there was anyone around to hear it. Silent and deadly accurate, just the way I want it, the killer thought.
He looked through the telescopic sight and aligned the cross-hairs of the scope on the side door of the cabin that led to the catwalk. He could see the door perfectly. In fact, he could even see two or three nails that were protruding from the nearly worn-out door.
This military style telescopic sight is unbelievable in the detail and sharpness it provides, he thought. If I can see a couple of nailheads with this scope, you can bet your firstborn that I won’t have any problem making a dead center heart shot on the ranger. Now all I have to do is be patient and wait until he steps outside onto the catwalk. Don’t know when or why he’s going to do that, but sooner or later, sometime today, he’s going to open that door and step outside. I’ll be ready when he does.
Red finished his bowl of cereal and wiped the bowl out over the dry sink in the cabin. There was no running water in the cabin. The only water available was for drinking and sponge-bathing and that water had to be hoisted up to the cabin in a five gallon can using a pulley system that was attached to the tower.
Picking up a pair of binoculars, he scanned the horizon on all sides of the cabin looking for a telltale column of smoke. Seeing none, he put the binoculars down on the only table in the cabin and walked over to the door leading to the catwalk. He opened the door and stepped out onto the catwalk, taking a deep breath of the clear clean mountain air that he’d been thinking about earlier.
It was the last breath Red ever took in his life as a bullet tore into his chest, killing him instantly. He was dead before his body hit the wood plank floor of the catwalk. The next day, his replacement, Jack Reiner, found his body lying on the catwalk. Because the murder involved a federal employee who was on the job when he was murdered, the FBI was brought in to investigate the strange killing of Red Patterson.
CHAPTER 4
When Liz got back to the lodge after telling Allison about the death of her husband, she immediately called Roger and told him what had happened.
“Do you want me to come home, Liz? At this time of night there’s no traffic, and I can be home in an hour.”
“No, I’m not in any danger, but I’m just so sad. Allison Lawrence is a really nice person, and she was so proud of her husband’s promotion, plus her husband was murdered on their anniversary. That’s beyond tragic.”
“Does she have any idea who might have done it, or did she say anything that would help identify and catch the killer?”
“When we were having dinner, she told me she’d found a piece of paper in her husband’s shirt pocket with a picture of an American Eagle with a slash mark drawn through it and the words ‘You Are Next’ cut from a newspaper or magazine pasted on the paper. She wondered if that had something to do with it.”
“Might have, but what did her husband have to say about it?”
“He’d gone to work when she found it earlier this morning, and she was going to ask him about it when she saw him tonight. Guess now we’ll never know.”
“Liz, I know this had nothing to do with you or the cottages, but I’d feel a lot better if you kept Winston with you at all times as well as that little gun you have. Since there’s a murderer loose somewhere in the area, it’s just smart to be a little extra careful. Will you do that for me?”
“Sure. As a matter of fact, he’s with me right now, and I’ll get the gun. Don’t worry. We’ll be perfectly safe.”
“My love, when it comes to you, I always worry. Take care of yourself, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I should be home in time for dinner, so tell Gina to set a place for me. Sleep well. I love you,” Roger said.
“Love you too. Good night.”
She and Winston walked down the stairs, and she checked all the doors to make sure they were securely locked. A few moments later, they were both sound asleep.
At 3:00 a.m. she awoke with a start and tried to figure out why. Something was swirling around in her mind, but she couldn’t grasp it. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and she laid there, knowing that if she was patient, whatever it was would become clear to her. A few minutes later the word “murder” came to her mind and she remembered what it was that had caused her to be awakened from a sound sleep.
A week or so earlier, she’d read an article in the Red Cedar Tribune about a woman who’d been murdered while she was on guard duty at the nearby federal prison. Why that thought had come to her, Liz had no idea. She recycled her papers weekly, and she knew that particular edition of the paper was gone. Liz decided to go to the newspaper’s office in the morning and see if a friend of hers, Bart Stevenson, the editor of the paper, could get a copy of the article for her. Maybe if she read it again, something would stand out. She soon drifted off back to sleep, the swirling thought having been identified.
*****
“Good morning,” Liz said to the receptionist at the Red Cedar Tribune the following morning, “is there any chance I could speak with Bart Stevenson? I’m a friend of his. My name is Liz Lucas.”
“Amy, I’ll save you the trouble. I’m right here,” a tall man with salt and pepper hair and wearing thick red suspenders said. “Liz, come into my office and tell me what I can do for you.”
She followed him as he ushered her back to his office, closing the door behind him. “So, what brings you to the Red Cedar Tribune this morning?” he said as he sat down in the large black leather chair behind his desk. He put his elbows on the desk and waited for her answer.
“Bart, I’m sure you heard about Rick Lawrence being murdered behind the post office last night. His wife was a spa guest and staying in one of our cottages. I was called by the police chief after he found a printout from the Red Cedar Lodge and Spa in the victim’s shirt pocket. Seth asked if Rick Lawrence’s wife was staying there, because one of his deputies had gone to the Lawrence home to inform her of his death and no one was home.
“When I told him yes, he asked if I’d tell her about her husband’s death, since the murder had interrupted him from catching speeders, and he needed to get back to his speed trap spot. Long story short, I was the one who had to tell her the tragic news. What made it even worse was that it happened on their 25th wedding anniversary. The spa stay was his gift to her.”
“Liz, I’m not a politician, but if I had any background in law enforcement, I’d be tempted to run against Seth. He has to be the worst police chief in California. What he did is not only insensitive, I think it’s downright unethical.”
“I couldn’t agree more, and believe me, Roger has threatened to do just that more than once. Anyway, that’s the background.”
“Of course I know about the murder,” Bart said. “We got the information too late to get it in this morning’s edition, but it will be the lead story tomorrow. I didn’t know about it happening on their 25th anniversary. I hate to sound like a newspaper editor, but that’s what I am, and something like that goes a long way towards humanizing a story.”
/> “Bart, something about this murder bothers me. I woke up in the middle of the night, and I couldn’t sleep. I laid there for awhile and it came to me that I saw an article in your paper recently about another murder, a woman who was a guard at the prison outside of town. Something’s telling me I need to read that article and that’s why I’m here. Is there some way I can get that article? I figure you must scan them or do something with the past editions of the paper.”
“I can do better than that, Liz. I’ll have Amy print the article for you, and by the way, I remember it quite well. As a matter of fact, we’d done a special article on the young woman who was murdered, because she was the first female Asian American in the United States to become a chief deputy prison guard. The article ran a few days before her death.”
He pressed a button on his phone and a moment later a voice answered, “What can I do for you, Mr. Stevenson?”
“Amy, I want you to make a copy of the article about Sylvia Tanaka’s death. It was in the paper about a week ago. When you’re finished, bring it to my office. Thank you,” he said as he released the button.
Liz and Bart talked about what was happening in Red Cedar and each other’s families while they waited for Amy. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Bart said.
“Here you are sir,” Amy said handing him the newspaper story which she’d placed in a manila envelope.
“Thanks,” he said as she turned and walked out the door.
“Here you go, Liz. Hope it helps whatever it is you’re looking for. I sure don’t like the fact that we’ve now had two murders in a week. I talked to Sheriff Richards a couple of days after Sylvia was murdered because the prison falls under his jurisdiction, since it’s located in the county area. He said he had no clues, and because it involved the murder of a federal employee, he had to call the FBI.
Murdered by Prejudice: A Liz Lucas Cozy Mystery Series Page 2