“We might have to wake some people up to make that happen,” interjected Arnold. “It’s getting late.” He thought a moment, then, “Y’know, Anderson, the Protected Shorelines group has a couple of summer interns gettin’ around with canoes and ATVs... I could make a call and ask ‘em to help out. I’m sure they would be happy to take a break from water-sampling and frog-counting.”
The sergeant thought for a moment. “I kinda hate getting civilians involved in finding dead bodies, but I guess if I brought along a couple of our folks from the detachment – we do have two 3-man inflatable boats – and Frank, if you could bring your big boat and shadow us just off the shore, we could cover the area almost before anyone knew what we were doing. I could stay on the beach and look too, but mostly be there to answer questions if anyone curious shows up. Those interns of yours could help too, on an ‘unofficial’ basis. Arnold, you could be ‘officially’ in charge of your interns and work from the boat with Frank. Anderson – you’re not saying much...”
Anderson had sat quietly through the discussion, but responded right away: “I like it. It’s simple to make happen, and if we don’t find anything, we haven’t wasted very much time. Let’s make some quick phone calls; Sergeant, dig up your guys to make sure they are available and Arnold, better track down those interns; there’s just the slightest possibility they are over at the Inn, in which case you’d best keep the details out of the conversation. Just tell ‘em to be at the dock with their canoes at, say, zero six hundred. Sorry... six o’clock; sun’s up around five thirty.”
It took less than twenty minutes for the two men to line up their personnel and equipment over their phones. The police officers were given a sense of what was going on, and the interns – who were indeed still at the Spirit Inn – didn’t have a clue, but that was just as well. Anderson spent a little time finding a close-in satellite image of the whole search area and he colour-printed enough copies for all the expected search participants.
By the time they were done, the coffee pot was drained, the donuts had vanished and the men were tired. Arnold and the sergeant left for home, and Anderson rolled into bed with the latest copy of McLean’s. He got about three paragraphs into the lead article before he drifted off to sleep with the bedside light still on.
05:00 JULY 13
Anderson’s cellphone alarm went off at 0500. On days when he didn’t have early-morning plans he would just roll over and shut it off, but of course, not today. Dawn was breaking, still overcast but with pink sunrise streaks in the eastern sky. He rinsed out his thermos, travel mug and the coffee pot from last night and started another full pot. While coffee was brewing he made a quick breakfast out of a couple of pieces of toast with peanut butter, then filled his thermos and mug before heading out the door with the maps he had made last night for the team. This time he walked to the dock, assuming there would be lots of cop cars and other gear needing places to be parked close to the water.
As he stepped off the dock into the launch, he had a moment of thinking that he should have brought his little truck anyway, because it carried his diesel tank to re-fuel the boat. He unlocked the wheelhouse and grabbed the yard-stick from its hook on the bulkhead behind the operator’s seat and found a rag inside the engine room hatch. He opened the fuel pipe cover and dipped the tank; no worries about diesel: sixty percent full, and that would be lots for today’s adventures. He wiped and replaced the measuring stick and noted the reading in the log, then used the same rag to check oil in the main engine and the genset.
He decided to leave the engines off until after people started to gather. He stashed his thermos by his seat and took the maps and his mug to the little map table on the port side of the wheelhouse, to the left of the three steps down into the cabin. In the process, he slopped some coffee onto the maps. He mumbled to himself as he snapped open the elegant aluminum briefcase that sat on the map table: “one of these days I am going to have to start actually carrying this damn thing.” A couple of years earlier the folks who hung out at “The Zoo” had gotten together and given him the briefcase for Christmas, because he was legendary for always having his papers crumpled, greasy, and – covered in coffee. And he never had a pen. He had been touched by the gift, but somehow the case had never left the wheelhouse. “Maybe it’s time I grew up and pretended I’m a big corporate CEO,” he chuckled.
At that point, he remembered he had locked and chained the boat last night. As he was opening the lock and releasing the chain, a provincial police SUV pulled into the small parking area and swung around to place the trailer it was towing closer to the inner end of the dock. Two patrol officers got out and stepped around back to untie the two small inflatable boats that were rather haphazardly held on the trailer with small Canadian Tire ratchet straps. Anderson stepped off the boat onto the wharf: “Good mornin’, folks. I’m Anderson, and I’m the first one here. Maybe bring those things over to the boat and we’ll load ‘em on deck... they’re not the kind of outfit you want to row down the lake for half an hour before we even need ‘em.”
“Makes sense to me,” said one, and with Anderson’s help they quickly got the inflatables down and across the dock and into the well deck, making a third trip for oars, lifejackets, and personal gear. With that accomplished, all three stood together along the dock: “Hello sir, I’m Constable Andy Bathgate and this is Corporal Marie Beauchemin. She’ll be our lead with the small boats; Sergeant MacLeod is right behind us with an ATV. He told us he would be staying along the shore to assist from there – and deal with the public. All of us will have radio contact.”
Anderson shook hands with the officers and gave a brief outline of what was planned. He thought to himself that – in military or even police terms – this was hardly a carefully-planned exercise, but he hoped he came across as more-or-less organized.
If, so far, everyone seemed to know what they were doing, that illusion all fell apart in about a minute and a half when the PSP science interns arrived with the Program’s beat-up old Ford 150 and a canoe piled on back and roped down with quarter-inch yellow poly rope. They quickly stepped out and headed to join those already on the dock. The driver was very tall, athletic, and very black, dressed in slacks, expensive sport shoes, an open-necked shirt and a Greenpeace ball cap. His passenger was short and blond, dressed in jeans that fit everywhere they touched, a Spirit Inn sweatshirt and long hair gathered up and stuffed through the strap on her plain ball cap. “So, what’s all the excitement this morning?” she asked, eying the cops as though she had a joint stuck in her hatband.
Anderson, of course, knew them both. “Hi Cyndi, good morning Adumbi! Glad you could make it. Our uniformed friends here have a couple of inflatable rowboats with them, and together we have a bit of a search to do. Andy and Marie, please meet Cyndi Johansson and Adumbi Jakande. They are here as summer interns for the Protected Shorelines Program, so they are pretty familiar with observing the water from their canoe. Perhaps we can get that thing off the truck and tie it alongside the dock – on this side – and loaded up with the gear. Then we can gather back at the boat and go through the search plan together... I see that Sergeant John is just joining us, along with Arnold from the garage and all of you know him.”
The four younger folks headed for the old pick-up. Anderson chuckled to himself as he watched briefly; Constable Andy and Intern Cyndi were go get ‘em types, immediately busy untying the canoe, turning it over and carrying it down to the water, while Corporal Marie and Senior Intern Adumbi were obviously slated for management positions, basically being helpful without doing much. Anderson waved at Arnold and the sergeant as he headed for the launch, where he stepped into the wheelhouse, fired up the engines and turned on the instruments and radios.
It was almost full daylight by now. There was no sign of yesterday’s rain although there were still lingering clouds. And thankfully, no wind. “Morning guys,” Anderson greeted Arnold and John who had unloaded themselves from Arnold’s old pickup and joined him on the bo
at with – notably – a large Tim Hortons box. “Glad you live in Maple Falls and were able to pick up some breakfast rations for us troops.”
“Yeah, but they’re yesterday’s, I’m afraid. I picked ‘em up before closing last night ‘cause I thought Timmy’s might not be open so early this morning. Turns out I was wrong; I saw they were open when I drove up the highway but I already had these. Is what it is, I guess!”
“They’ll work for me,” said Arnold. “Thanks! Frank, have you had a chance to let everyone know what we’re gonna do?”
“Nope. Actually, we haven’t been here long enough, and in any case I kinda wanted you two here to remember whatever I left out. Which is mostly everything important except that it’s Zero-Dark-Thirty on Thursday and I have lots of fuel onboard.”
“Chicken-shit!” John teased him. “It was your idea, I seem to recall... Okay folks,” he spoke loudly down the dock, “let’s get together over here and make a plan.”
The OPS officers and the young interns joined Arnold, Anderson and John, standing in the boat’s well deck or perched on the wide gunwales. The sergeant continued:
“Folks, we’re going to spend a couple of hours – along the east shore over there – looking for what we believe may be a body – a human body. Yesterday afternoon, a lady was along there with her kayak, had her paddle catch on something which disappeared under the water. Not a big deal except – she thinks she saw a body and particularly a face as it went under.”
The lazily lighthearted mood suddenly went serious. In the case of the PSP interns, the mood became very serious; obviously this was not the kind of thing that had been written into their Program job descriptions – ever. The ever-polite and well-spoken Adumbi was the first to respond: “Sir, of course we are willing to help in any way, but for myself – and I am sure the same is true for Cyndi – I have absolutely no training to prepare me for this. The first time I was even out in a canoe was in May when we came here. How is such a thing done?”
“It’s not a big deal,” threw in Constable Andy. “you just paddle along and keep you eyes open.”
The sergeant shot the young constable a hard look. “Actually, it is a big deal, in many important ways. You are right, it’s all about keeping your eyes open, but there’s more: things like this are upsetting for all of us, even for those of us who have done it before.” Turning to the interns, he continued, “we are grateful you are here to help, and I assure you that not one of us will forget this morning, whether we find anything or not. It can be upsetting, and you will continue to experience the adrenaline rush that you feel right now. But it is, after all, just a process, and I’m going to ask Mr. Anderson to lay it out for us because – although three of us are police professionals, Mr. Anderson is the water guy and fully understands what we have to do for the next few hours.” He smiled kindly to the interns, and then nodded to Anderson.
“Time to talk about things we can understand,” Anderson thought to himself. “Hang on folks, let me get out some maps we printed off last night.” He quickly stepped into the wheelhouse, scooped up the maps and most importantly the box of donuts John had brought. He passed the box to the Corporal to distribute, and the maps to Arnold. “I have some hot coffee inside if anyone wants. Now, Arnold will give you each a map – nothing fancy but it gives you an idea where we are going. The location starts along the shore to the east and Cyndi and Adumbi can get there in about 20 minutes; I have seen them paddle and they do it well – and if the donuts are any help – fast. Arnold and I will be in this boat, and will carry Marie and Andy and their inflatables (which are slow) until we get to the general area where we will put them in the water and begin a search pattern, three little boats about ten feet apart starting very close to the beach. When we get to the end of the search area, you’ll simply turn around and go back the other way, but a little further out from shore. And so on – we just repeat that process several times. Paddle slowly, eyes wide open like Andy says. The Sergeant will keep pace along the beach, and Arnold and I will stay well off away from you, but ready to help. John – I am hoping you brought enough handhelds for the three boats, for you, and for us – that’s five? I can’t pick up OPS radio signals from this old tub.”
“Glad to hear it!” chuckled the Sergeant. “Yes, I have the radios... here...” and he unloaded the contents of a backpack he had brought and handed each person a small portable radio. “Mr. Anderson has pretty well covered it all, but there is one important thing I need to say: do not (I repeat, do not) touch anything you see. Stop paddling immediately, hold your position, wave your hands and call in on the radio.”
“Okay,” said Anderson. “If there are no questions, then it’s time to get going as the sun is well above the horizon now. It’s still nice and calm, but we want to finish before that changes. Adumbi and Cyndi – you start down the shore with your canoe first, then I’ll get us off the dock and catch up. John, I assume you will drive down the shore road and unload that ATV somewhere?”
“No, I’ll just unload it here and drive it down; it’ll be quicker.”
“Okay everyone, let’s get at it. Take care and don’t hesitate to call on that radio if you need anything.” Anderson turned to clear his spring lines and asked Andy and Marie to get ready to cast off the bow and stern lines. He waited for Arnold to get back onboard after helping the Sergeant unload the ATV from his truck, looked to make sure the canoe was well out of the way, and called for the lines to be cast off. He pulled the launch away from the wharf and headed out of the harbour and along the shore behind the canoe. The OPS officers stood outside the wheelhouse gazing into the water as if already searching, while Arnold joined him in the wheelhouse.
***
Once well out of the harbour, he punched a course into the autopilot that would take the boat to the last waypoint he had set last night, well on the village side of what he supposed to be a search area, and set the throttle at a little less than half, moving them at about five knots toward the waypoint. “Arnold, got a smoke?”
“Early in the day for you ain’t it?”
“Yeah, well, it’s feeling like one of those days... thanks.” He lit the cigarette thoughtfully, then asked, “I had been thinking I should let Marjorie – the lady from last night – know what we were up to, but I didn’t want to involve her in this morning’s adventure. Waddyathink... should I give her a call?”
“Hmm. Yeah, probably. And in any case, John’s going to want to interview her, one way or the other, and he’ll probably want to do that this morning, after this little search is over. I’d go ahead.”
Anderson took out his cellphone and found the number she had given him last night. It rang twice: “Hello, Marjorie? It’s Frank Anderson, the guy who gave you a lift home last night... yes, I did – and I hope you managed to get some sleep too. Mmm, ya, I can imagine it wasn’t a great night. I’m calling because I wanted to keep you up to date. Right now, we’re out with the OPS from Maple Falls, and three small boats covering the shoreline where you showed me last night. They thought that was the best way to start, and I know they will want to interview you, sooner than later. The boss’ name is Sergeant John MacLeod, and he’s a really good guy – Arnold and I have known him a long time. He even brought us donuts this morning! What? No, not to worry. We can do this preliminary look without getting you involved but – like I said – he will want to interview you. When I find out his timing, do you want me to give you another call and then bring him out to your place, or do you want to run in here with your outboard?”
There was a brief pause, then, “Okay, that’d be fine. I’ll call you with a time and you and Wendy can run in and meet him at the village. At the dock, or at my place, or? Okay, my place it will be. I’ll give you a shout.”
He clicked off the phone and checked out the GPS chart. He punched off the autohelm and reduced speed a little; the canoe crew must be tiring because he was gaining on them. They were over half way there anyway. He turned to the police officers (who had joi
ned Arnold and him in the wheelhouse) and explained, “That was the lady who started this whole thing by thinking her paddle had made contact with what might be a body. Your Sergeant has a whole bunch of notes from me, but as I told the woman, he’ll probably want to visit with her himself, and pretty soon.”
The Corporal had pulled out her notebook, but thought better of it and tucked it back into her uniform jacket. “Oh yes, I am sure he will, sooner than later is usually how that happens. I’m surprised he didn’t go out and find her last night!”
“Well, I’m pretty sure he realized she wasn’t going anywhere from her island in a fog in the middle of the night,” Anderson said with a lopsided grin, which the Corporal did not see. Arnold did, and laughed out loud.
06:25 JULY 12
In less than ten minutes the waypoint appeared on the screen and Anderson throttled back and told the officers to get their boats ready. Like all well-brought-up police personnel, they already had their lifejackets on. Anderson knew that was the proper thing to do, but hardly ever wore his own unless he was in a smaller boat, or alone in cold or rough weather, or when going back and forth to his barge. He also knew that statistics prove that his attitude was stupid, but he pretty much always ignored anything he considered to be bureaucratic crap. He remembered telling a Coast Guard boating safety meeting that the only reason they wanted everyone wearing brightly coloured lifejackets was to make corpses easier to find and save on search and recovery costs. It was not one of his shining moments; he did not make any friends with that one.
Sunset at [20 47] Page 3