I took one look at the rapidly swirling water and handed the leashes back to Jillian. Next thing I know, I’m following Vance over the rail and hurrying to the water’s edge. Thor had already unwound the rope he was wearing around his waist and was looking for a suitable place to tie it off. Catching sight of the two of us, he immediately handed me the end.
“Hold on to this! Both of you! Look, there’s Yeti! Over here! Swim for it!”
Yeti’s bedraggled form was pulled to the shore and then Thor single-handedly hoisted him out of the water. Vance grabbed Yeti’s arm and pulled him further up the embankment. In this manner, we pulled out the rest of Daredevils as they surfaced, and then finally, the guide, Jason. Unfortunately, we were one ‘Devil short.
“Where’s Jitters?” Thor helplessly cried. “Whose got eyes on her??”
FIVE
The rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades had me glancing up. For the third time in the last ten minutes, a search helicopter flew over our heads as it slowly patrolled up and down the river. I sighed, looked down at both of my corgis, and kept walking downstream. Sherlock whined once, turned to Watson, and shook his collar to get her attention. Once she was looking his way, the inquisitive corgi actually gave his packmate a quick lick on the side of her face, as though he wanted to say he appreciated her presence.
The baying of a nearby pack of bloodhounds generated a few warning woofs from Sherlock. I quickly glanced across the river and located the second team of police dogs, searching the opposite riverbank. Hopeful that the hounds had picked up a scent, I pulled Sherlock and Watson to a stop. Unfortunately, the two bloodhounds must have thought the scent wasn’t worth following, and moved on.
“Think we’re going to find her?” I quietly asked Vance, who was walking alongside us.
Vance solemnly nodded, “I have no doubt that we will. However, I hope you realize this isn’t going to be a rescue. No, this will be a recovery mission.”
“I just want to know what happened to her,” I said, carefully stepping around a section of the riverbank which looked as though it was ready to break away from the rest of the ground and drop into the river. “Do you think it was an accident?”
“I sure as hell hope it is,” Vance gravely answered.
“But you think it isn’t,” I guessed.
Vance nodded, “This marks the second death to befall Thor and his gang. That can’t be a coincidence, not when he tells me that no one in his club has ever had anything more severe than a bruised finger.”
“I’m just glad there were several people present who filmed the entire thing,” I said, a few minutes later. “I’m looking forward to reviewing the footage. Maybe we’ll be able to see something?”
We heard a bloodhound baying in the distance. I swallowed nervously and eyed my detective friend. “I hope that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”
Vance whipped out his cell. “Let’s find out. Detective Samuelson here. What… you have? Just now? I see. Where did you find her? Okay, send for the M.E. and have the crime scene techs go through everything that they can. I’m on my way. I’m guessing it’ll take me around 30 minutes before I can get there. I… what’s that? No, I was helping the others search. Zack and I are upstream, and progress is… yes, that Zack. Yes, Sherlock and Watson are here, as a matter of fact. No, we don’t think it is murder…”
“Yet,” I quietly interrupted.
“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“At least they found her. Was she, er, in the water?”
“Of course she was, Zack. She fell off a raft. There was bound to be water.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I was wondering if she was, er, found under the water?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Nothing, I guess. I was just wondering.”
“Well, she was found, face-down, tangled up in several shrubs that were growing out, over the water. We’ll find out soon enough. Come on.”
In actuality, it took us a bit longer than thirty minutes to retrace our steps, make it back to our cars, and then find the crime scene. I wasn’t expecting to reconvene with Jillian. Turns out she and the girls had already gone home. Thankfully, my fiancé left me her SUV and hitched a ride with Tori and her two kids.
Vance gave me a speculative look as he noticed we were headed toward Jillian’s SUV and not my Jeep. After a few moments, he snickered and shook his head.
“What?” I demanded.
My friend grinned at me. “Nothing.”
Let me guess. You’re probably thinking along the same lines as Vance, which means you probably believe…
Jillian and I are way too sappy, seeing how we now have keys to each other’s cars.
We are two peas in a pod, and are clearly destined to be together.
We’ve both fallen head over heels for each other.
All of the above.
If you guessed ‘4’, then you’re right. And do you know what? I’m perfectly happy with that. Jillian and I share a great many things in common. One thing we both like is…
Wow. Not the time or place. Sorry. I’ve said it many a time, and I’m sure I’ll say it plenty more: I have a tendency to run off on a tangent. Back to the story.
Returning to RealityLand, Vance and I hurried to the parking lot. Vance noticed his sedan was missing and, correctly guessing Tori had taken it to take her and the kids home, immediately angled towards Jillian’s SUV. I grabbed Sherlock, and he picked up Watson. Once both were sitting in the back seat, we hurriedly drove upriver, to the spot where poor Jitters’ body had been found.
By the time we made it the 5 miles upstream – by car – half of PV was already on the scene. Fire trucks, ambulances, and six of PV’s 7 police cars were parked alongside the road. Vance held up his badge as we exited the vehicle, which caused the approaching officer to spin on his heel and head back to his post. Vance strode forward, to talk to the officer while I unloaded the dogs. Together, the three of us approached the perimeter cop, who waved us through.
“Where is she?” I wanted to know, as the dogs and I pushed through the crowds of people milling about.
Vance pointed at a gurney several dozen feet away.
“Right over there. Come on. I’d like you and your secret weapons to do a drive by, if you will.”
“I thought you said you guys don’t suspect this to be a homicide?” I asked.
Vance shrugged, “I’m thinking it’s not, but what could it hurt to check?”
Not fully expecting much, the dogs and I wandered by the gurney. Thankfully, a sheet had been laid out over Jitters’ body, and I couldn’t see anything. However, the instant we got within ten feet of the body, I’m sorry to say both dogs perked up. Sherlock came to a stop, which caused Watson to stop as well. Both dogs lifted their noses, sniffed the air, looked up at the body, and then turned to look back at me, as if I was somehow responsible for this tragedy.
“What the hell was that for?” I complained, as I frowned at both dogs. “I didn’t do it.”
Sherlock then lowered his snout to the ground, sniffed again, and just like that, he was off. Together, he and Watson pulled me back toward the river, but then angled upstream before we could reach the spot the body had been found. Seeing how we appeared to be following some type of game trail, and it definitely hadn’t been created by someone as tall as me, I spent most of the time hunched over. Dense foliage and thorny shrubs threatened to tear my skin and clothes from all angles as I followed my two dogs further upstream, and away from the general public.
“Where are you going?” I heard Vance say, from somewhere behind me.
I pointed down at the dogs. “Beats the hell outta me. You and your damn ideas. This is all your fault. ‘Just do a drive by,’ you said. What harm could there be? Well, the dogs took one look at the body and then they took off. Sherlock? This had better not be a wild goose chase, buddy.”
Vance’s cell rang just then. I pulled the dogs to a stop, but received a
gentle push on my back from the detective.
“No, don’t stop. I can multi-task. Detective Samuelson here. Chief Nelson! I didn’t know it was you, sir! What number are you calling from? No, sir. You’re correct. It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you called. I… what’s that? Yes, sir, I realize I’m on vacation. I’m just helping with the search, that’s all. I’m a member of the same group as the deceased. What’s that? No, I’m no longer at the crime scene. I’m with our consultants. Yes, those consultants. Umm, that’s yet to be determined, sir. The moment we find something, I’ll let you know. Thank you, sir.”
“No pressure there,” I commented, as I continued to push my way through the brush and shrubs. Was it me, or were these shrubs growing closer? “Guys? You two might be fitting on this trail, but we’re sure not. There had better be something at the end of this trail, that’s all I’m telling you. Don’t let us down.”
“Talk to your dogs often?” Vance wryly asked, from behind me.
“All the time,” I admitted. “You’d be surprised at how much they seem to understand. Hold up, Sherlock is finally slowing down. He…”
“What is it?” Vance quickly asked, after I had trailed off. “What do you see?”
“It’s just a damn picnic area,” I reported, as I pushed my way through the branches and into the small clearing. “There’s nothing here but a picnic table and a small grill. What, are you smelling some leftover food?”
Vance immediately placed a hand on the side of the grill and shook his head.
“It’s cold. This thing hasn’t been lit for a long time. Zack? Give them some slack on their leashes. Let’s see where they want to go.”
Curious as to what the corgis had in mind, I let out the slack I had been holding. Both dogs, sensing they were given free rein to explore the area, headed straight for… the trash can. I groaned as I leaned over to look inside the refuse bin.
“Whatcha got?” Vance eagerly inquired. “Tell me it’s something good, buddy.”
I gingerly lifted the trash can’s lid and looked over at my friend.
“Not a damn thing, I’m afraid. Look, there are some leftovers from – I’m guessing – the last picnic which was held here. Hot dog wrappers, some half-eaten buns, and an open bag of chips.”
“Are those the only things in there?”
I shook my head, “No. That was only the stuff on top. I mean, we have some candy wrappers, a few empty beer cans, and a couple of other things I can’t identify. Sherlock? Watson? Is this what you wanted us to see? Or are you hungry?”
Vance snapped on a pair of latex gloves, reached inside the bin, and pulled out the hot dog wrapper, complete with dripping juice. Both dogs stared at it, transfixed. Vance groaned as he realized there wasn’t anything we could use in the trash can, and dropped the wrapper back inside the bin. He pulled out his cell, hurriedly punched in a number, and wandered off. From what I could overhear, he was reporting in to the chief, and I can only imagine the report he was spinning wasn’t going to be good.
Glancing back at the trash bin, and remembering all the times the dogs had led me to what I had originally thought of as ‘worthless’ in the eyes of a case, I decided to document what we found. Pulling out my cell, I snapped some pictures of the various bits of trash I could see. Since I didn’t have any gloves on me, I wasn’t about to touch anything inside. Giving the trash bin a few good jostles, and taking several additional pictures as a few new bits of trash made their way to the top, I let the lid clang back in place. Gathering up the leashes, I gave them a gentle tug, indicating I wanted to follow Vance, who was now retracing his steps back to the crime scene.
Both dogs resisted. Sherlock let out a whine as he looked longingly at the trash can. Watson resisted, too, but only for a few moments. After a few seconds, she snorted, gave herself a good shake, and started off towards the trail. I swear it sounded like Sherlock sighed with disgust before he turned to follow the two of us back to civilization.
When will I learn to pay attention to the dogs? Had either of us been paying better attention, then we could have saved ourselves a lot of time. But, more on that later.
By the time the four of us made it back to the crime scene, preliminary reports were suggesting that this was nothing more than an accident. However, wasn’t that what they said about that poor, unfortunate sky diver from a few weeks ago? Didn’t the authorities classify that as an accident, too? Could this Jerod person be responsible for both of these deaths?
I saw Vance talking with Thor, who – pardon the pun – looked like death warmed over. The Daredevils’ illustrious leader had sunken eyes, a glazed expression on his face, and could barely form coherent sentences. Vance caught sight of the three of us and motioned us over.
“As I was saying,” Vance continued, as he referenced his tiny notebook, “we are going to need contact information for everyone on that raft. By any chance, do you remember who was on it?”
Thor nodded desolately. After a few moments, he sighed. “I, uh, know there was six people on number three. In fact, there were six people on every raft. We do it for safety.”
“6-6-6,” I quietly breathed.
Vance’s pen was poised just above the notepad. He quickly elbowed me in the stomach before nodding at Thor. “I’m ready. Who was on it?”
“Well, it was headed up by Yeti.”
“Full name, please,” Vance instructed, without looking up.
“Oh. Of course. Umm, Patrick ‘Yeti’ Zanten. Sitting next to him was Patch, er, I mean, Nate Hesterman.”
As Thor began speaking, I could see some color return to his face.
“Second row had Joel ‘Jafo’ Kline and Lisa ‘Jitters’ Nordon. Then there was Darcy ‘Wednesday’ Addams in the third row.”
Vance looked up. “Who was she sitting next to?”
“No one. She was by herself. Finally, just behind her – in the last row – was the guide, Jason.”
“Full name please?” Vance asked, as he scribbled notes on his pad.
“Jason Johnson. We’ve used him before, including our last rafting trip. He did a fantastic job. Had impeccable references.”
“Why did he have his own set of oars back there?” I wanted to know.
“Yeti and Jason led the ‘pro’ raft,” Thor explained. Now that he was talking, I could see that he was starting to look – and sound – like his former self. “Since the Daredevils who’d ride that raft would be navigating down David’s Drop…”
“Excuse me,” Vance interrupted, looking up. “David’s Drop? Is that the name of that Class IV rapid?”
Thor nodded, “Right.”
“Not very original,” I decided.
“Well, it was named after the first guy who lost his life on it,” Thor nonchalantly told us. “It was what his family wanted.”
“Someone else has died on it?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“A few,” Thor told us.
“When was the last?” Vance wanted to know.
“Are you asking when David last claimed a life? Well, that’d be at least ten years ago. No one has had any problem with this river in ages.”
“What do you think went wrong?” I asked. “What do you think happened to Jitters?”
“The medical examiner found water in her lungs,” Vance answered, as he unfolded a hand-written sheet of paper from his back pocket. “Jack didn’t find any signs of foul play, either. Of course, we won’t know for certain until an autopsy is performed, but he feels confident enough to say that Jitters’ death was nothing more than a horrific drowning accident.”
“Jack?” Thor repeated, puzzled.
“Jack Spradlin,” Vance said, nodding. “He’s our M.E. He’s been PV’s medical examiner ever since we got an influx of dead bodies.”
“What?” Thor incredulously repeated. “Dead bodies? What zombie apocalypse was this?”
Without missing a beat, my schmuck friend looked me straight in the eye and said, “I can’t say for certain. When did you move in, Zack
?”
“Oh, kiss my ass,” I grumped.
“What’d I miss?” Thor curiously asked.
Vance pointed at me, “Ever since he moved to town, it would seem we’ve had nothing but murder after murder. Before Zack moved here, this town hadn’t seen a real-life murder for just over 50 years.”
“You cannot attribute that to me,” I scowled. “It’s a coincidence.”
“How long have you known each other?” Thor wanted to know.
“Oh, don’t ask him that,” I groaned.
Vance shrugged, “Ever since I first arrested him for murder, I guess.”
“You were accused of murder?” Thor gasped.
“Accused, yes,” I admitted, “but later proved innocent. It was just my bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Thor sighed and sank down on the closest rock which would serve as a chair.
“I’ll have to close Daredevils.”
“Look, pal,” Vance slowly began, “I know it looks bad, but don’t jump the gun. Let’s find out what the official cause of death is before we make any rash decisions.”
Thor ran his hands through his hair and groaned aloud.
“You don’t understand. Our last excursion? Prior to this? It was skydiving. That’s when we lost Hades.”
“Hades?” I querulously repeated.
“Right. Oh, sorry. That’d be ‘James Thompson’. There was a manic depressive if I ever saw one. It was why he joined up. Said he wanted a change of pace to cheer him up. Fat load of good that did him.”
“What happened to him?” I wanted to know. “Did he pass out in mid-air and not open his chute? Or… um, did his chute not open at all?”
“It was the latter,” Thor confirmed. “That’s a day I won’t ever forget. Now, today will rank right up there with some of the worst of my life. What am I supposed to do?”
Case of the Dysfunctional Daredevils Page 8