Chapter 7
"I never got to ride on a helicopter," Aisha said. "Not in my whole life." She put a tofuburger in front of me.
It was just what I needed. Like I needed an ingrown toenail. I lifted the upper part of the corn bun when she had her back turned, making tea out of some weed that someone decided was a herb. There was a slice of zucchini on top of the slab of tofu.
In the spring I'd tried pouring gasoline on the zucchini plants as they came up. Only one survived, so we had zucchini only twenty-eight times a week at the end of the season. I sighed; the green slice was bound to taste better than the tofu. I added some hot chili sauce and ate. I was right; the zucchini was the best part.
There are helicopter rides, " I said. "And there are, I suppose, helicopter rides. You wouldn't have wanted this one.”
"No? Why not?" She poured the tea. It smelled like dead weeds. "I'd think you'd get a nice view of the forest."
"In the first place," I noted, "the view isn't worth much. The helicopter flew so low that all I could see was a blur of treetops going by. Most of the time I had no idea where we were. In the second place, the pilot got drunk and scared the bejeezus out of me."
"They're not supposed to drink on the job! Aren't there police regulations?"
"Well, this was air force, not police. And both the regular rescue helicopters were out saving people. At least the pilot was air force. The diver was a civilian volunteer, I think. And, technically, they didn't drink anything."
Aisha waited for me to explain.
"Just as we were getting ready to take off, Pica ran out with a gallon jar in her hands. She said it was pickled plums, and we could eat them on the way there.
"Well, the diver opened the jar as soon as we got away from the lodge. I think he was going to dump them into the lake.
"That's when he discovered they were pickled in overstrength vodka. So they set the jar between them, and proceeded to suck down plums all the way to Thomson Lake.
"It was only a fifteen minute ride, including the time I took to locate the lake, which wasn't easy with the hills and trees whipping by in a blur. By the time we got there, they were halfway through the jar."
Aisha sat down at the kitchen table, facing me. I continued, "There wasn't any place to land nearby, so the diver just jumped out of the helicopter over the water. He yelled 'Geronimo!' as he jumped, and had two of the plums in his pockets and one in his cheek.
"He found the body, just where I pointed, and strapped it to an aluminum sled. Then we went right down to the water, and the diver and I got George's body into the helicopter." I paused to decide whether I should try another cup of weed-water.
"I pulled the body in, while the diver, Glen, pushed."
"I should think," said my wife, serving me some zucchini bread, "that you'd have had enough of wrestling with George by that time." She wrapped her purple housecoat around her, and got up to pour herself another cup of tea. I drained mine into the cat's dish, which was under the table.
"You haven't heard the half of it," I said. "Glen, the diver, didn't want to come back into the helicopter. He said he was going to swim across the lake and that the pilot, named Harry, was a goddam weenie for not joining him.
"Harry, in turn, yelled that Glen was going to be court-martialed if he didn't get back in, and he had a good mind to leave him in the lake."
I thought you couldn’t court-martial a civilian," Aisha said. She poured me another tea. The cat looked at his dish and backed away.
"Harry," I said, "wasn't running on all cylinders by this time. Next thing I knew, he took the copter up and around the nearest hill. There I was, in the back, trying to keep George and myself from falling out the door.
"He went once around the hill, then back to the lake and tried to kill Glen. At least that's what it looked like. He kept trying to smack him with the wheel. Maybe he'd decided to rescue him after all.
"Sometime in there, when a few hundred gallons of water sloshed into the copter, Glen got back on board, took off the wet suit and tried to strangle Harry with it. I had to offer him the jar of plums before we all ended up in the trees. Then they decided to make up and got all weepy.
"I'm surprised they got you back to your car," Aisha said, patting my hand and pouring me some more tea. It went into the cat's dish as soon as her back was turned. The cat hissed, and tried to claw me. I made a vow to get a dog sometime soon.
"Oh, they didn't want to! They were going to take me and George back to the air base, but I told them I was going to push George out over the back woods and they could damn well find him again themselves.
"They told me they didn't give a shit and to go ahead. Harry was buzzing a boat with a blonde in it on Stoney Lake, and Glen, who was stark naked, was mooning the world. About that time I grabbed the jar of plums, which was mostly empty, and told them I'd throw it out the door if they didn't get me to McFriggit Lake. So they did."
Aisha eyed me. "How many plums did you eat?"
"Four. But by that time I needed them."
"I'm surprised you made it home." Aisha said. "And by the way, the cat's drinking out of the toilet. I don't think he likes herbal tea."
"I had to go back up to Hawk Lake to get my camera and camping stuff and canoe, "I said. "It was almost dark by the time I got there. Belinda asked me if I'd seen Bob. I guess he hadn't come back yet."
"Welcome home," Aisha said.
"What?"
"Welcome home."
"Why thank you, light of my life," I said. "It's been a long day."
Aisha reached into the fridge and hauled out a cold beer. She twisted off the lid and chucked it over her shoulder, where it bounced off the stove and scared the cat into running for the basement. Then she slapped it onto the table in front of me.
I raised it to my mouth, swallowed about a third of it, and burped loudly.
"Good?" Aisha asked.
"Goddam right. Glad to be home."
There was a long pause while the darkness gathered around outside. Aisha lit a candle, and poured herself some zucchini-apple wine she'd made the year before.
"You think somebody killed him?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said. "I just don't feel comfortable with the whole thing."
"You find the accident unlikely?"
"Oh hell, no. Easy as pie to fall out of a canoe, especially when you're fishing. He had a lure in his back." Aisha was about to say something, but I continued, after another swig of beer. "Picture this; you're fishing and you catch a branch down there. You give a good yank - here, I'll demonstrate."
I pulled up a footstool and sat down, with my feet out, canoeing style. "You yank on your rod, and the lure lets go, suddenly. Your canoe rolls backward, and you haven't the time to avoid the lure, which comes out of the water, swings around on your pole, and snags you in the back."
I stood up. "'Youch,' you say. 'Gosh darn!' or words to that effect. Then you jump up in the canoe to reach behind you. The canoe rocks..." - I wobbled onto my feet and tilted sideways.
"Careful!" Aisha said, reaching for my arm.
"And suddenly you're falling backwards. Stupidly, you hang onto your paddle and your rod..." I flailed my arms and almost got the remnants of the tofuburger.
"Then you smack the back of your head on the gunnel, and kerplop, you're in the water, face down." By this time I was face down on the floor.
There was a long pause as I got myself up. Aisha started to pour me a tea, then decided against it. "You," she said, "would never stand up in a canoe. You wouldn't even think of it."
She didn't put it as a question, so I didn't answer it. "I've seen it done," I said. "People make mistakes."
"But you're not sure about this one," Aisha observed. "Why?"
I squirmed. "I don't really know. Maybe it's just that there were suddenly so many people around who might be happy if he died."
"Murder." She said it with finality.
"No,"
I said. "On second thought, it just couldn't be possible. Things just don't happen that way."
The phone rang.
Aisha looked at me. I looked at her. "I want to go to bed. With you. Now," I said.
"Fool," she said, picking up the phone. Then she handed it to me.
"Win here," I said.
"This is Sergeant Seth Daily."
"I'm out of French fries," I said.
"Tough. I’m wondering if George Aden was murdered."
"I didn't do it," I said.
"That's what I figured. But you're the only one home. That sounds suspicious to me."
"What," I asked, “do you mean when you say I'm the only one home?"
"I can't find Kele Martin. His canoe's gone. So's Bob Tucker and his canoe. And Patrick and DeVincent never showed up at their places with our without their damn canoe."
"Probably out drinking somewhere," I said. Or, I thought, in bed with their women and not answering the phone.
"Probably," he said, flatly.
"You're sure it was murder? I asked.
"I'm not sure of anything, but I asked the coroner to take a preliminary peek, and she's willing to bet Mr. Aden was dead when his lungs filled with water. She says he may have been held underwater after he was dead to get water in the lungs."
"Does she know what killed him?"
"She'll know for sure tomorrow, but it looks like a blow to the back of his head."
I sighed, "Are you going to arrest me?"
"Should I?"
"I heard the guy who finds a body is the main suspect."
"That's right. But I don't want to arrest anybody. Not yet. How about we talk."
"Can't this wait till tomorrow?"
"It's only nine."
"That's my bedtime after a day of paddling. You're going to ruin my sex life."
“I'll be over to your place in a hour. I need to get a meal somewhere anyway."
He arrived at ten. Aisha made him a tofuburger with zucchini relish.
He was still in uniform. We sat in the living room and talked. I did the whole story again, in more detail. Aisha and Seth drank herbal tea, and I had a glass of ice water.
"Why'd you do it?" Seth asked, when I was done.
"He was catching more fish than me," I said. "I hate people who interrupt my contemplation of solitude. I've killed every tall person I've ever met. I'd just dug up a chest full of doubloons and he claimed them. He questioned my love of humanity. He insulted my zucchini pemmican."
"The two geology types," said Aisha.
"Why them?" I asked.
"They hired a guide. Why? Did they look like they needed one?"
"Actually, no," I said. "They knew what they were doing camping and paddling."
"Very suspicious," Aisha said.
"And you?" Seth said.
"Bob," I answered. "He reminds me of kids that used to pound the crap out of me when I was in high school. He threatened George, and he was probably close enough to do it."
"I'm going to try to find Kele first," the policeman said. "Did you know he was having an affair? With George's wife? And I want to ask him what he was doing there."
"You think he and George decided to settle accounts out in some remote lake? I asked.
"As good a theory as any, to start with. Or was, till I heard about the zucchini pemmican. You really carry that stuff?"
"It's good for him," Aisha said. "I make it for him in my food drier. Our food drier."
"Well," said Seth. "I doubt if any of them are going to skip country. I'd like to take a look at the site. Would you take me there?"
"Me?"
"You'd spot a clue faster than I could. I'm a city boy. Grew up in Toronto. Been in a canoe maybe twice in my life. I could keep an eye on you. Wouldn't have to lock you up. We could bring George's canoe back."
"Maybe I'll push you into a bog and chuck rocks at you," I said.
"Civilian brutality," he said. "Rampant nowadays."
"You want to take my light canoe?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
I hesitated. Aisha broke in. "It's tippy," she said. "You've got to keep perfectly balanced all the time. Blink both eyes at the same time. Wiggle both feet at the same time."
"It's not quite that bad," I said. "You've just had a couple of bad experiences in it."
"What's its advantages?"
"It's light," I said, "And fast."
"If you have a safer one, I’d prefer it. I’ll paddle a little harder," Seth said. I'll meet you at Hawk Lake at eight."
"Make that six," I said. "It'll give us enough time to look around there."
"You're the captain," he said. "Six o'clock at the lodge."
Death on a Small, Dark Lake Page 8