by Gale Borger
Gale Borger
Totally Fishy
A Miller Sisters Mystery
Book Two
Disclaimer:
Any references in this "fish tale" to real persons or places
are used in a totally "fish-titious" manner, or a whale of a tail.
Totally Fishy
A Miller Sisters Mystery
Book Two
An Echelon Press Book
All rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2011 by Gale Borger
Cover Art © Nathalie Moore
Echelon Press
9055 G Thamesmeade Road
Laurel, MD 20723
www.echelonpress.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address Echelon Press LLC.
eBook: 978-1-59080-747-7
To my rock, my favorite fish guy, and my husband, (Captain) Bob, and to Shannon, wonderful daughter and always in my corner, I love you both.
I'd like to thank the multitudes of fish keepers and hobbyists who have touched my life. Your expertise and willingness to share knows no bounds. Special thanks to Steve Schindler of Tropical Oasis Exotic Pets for getting us started in the fish hobby and to Frank Falcone, who inspired my love of Cory catfish.
Thanks also to Karen, Sean, Nathalie, and all of Echelon Press for their wealth of knowledge and never ending support. If not for you, I'd still be treading water.
1
Somewhere in the jungles of Venezuela
Slogging his way over soggy ground, tripping over tree roots the size of his thigh, and hacking his way through an endless wall of vegetation was not what Dr. Evo Castillo would call a fun-filled afternoon. Sizzling heat, accompanied by outrageous humidity, made him the main course for everything that bit, stung, or sucked blood. Hot, dirty, and pissed-off, he trudged on, thinking about air-conditioned offices and a cold American beer.
Evo hacked his way forward, muttering to himself as his temper gained momentum. "It's not like anyone is dead or anything. I really don't see what the big rush is."
He stumbled over something that was wise enough to move out of his way quickly. "Seventeen years working for Maldonado Oil and where am I?" Grumbling, Evo hacked another ten feet and stopped to wipe his brow with a soggy, gloved hand. Breathing hard, he consulted his compass and looked around, as if he could see through the thick stand of foliage in front of him. "Almost there."
His sweaty assistant, Luis gave him a hopeful grin. "Really?"
Evo looked again. "Well, sort of."
Luis sagged and shifted his backpack "Do you know where you are, Dr. Evo?"
"I'll tell you where I am." Hefting the large machete, Evo once again began the slow process of hacking his way closer to Maldonado Oil Site 151. "I'm slogging my way through five miles of Venezuelan rainforest to check out another damn anti-oil complaint."
Temper flaring, Evo grunted as he dodged another flying branch, and slashed his way forward. "Dr. E. M. Castillo–" Hack, pull, toss, grunt. "Renowned scientist–" Hack, grunt, pull, toss. "Environmental Liaison and mosquito fodder extraordinaire–Hah–oof."
He stumbled and fell to the ground. Kicking out, Evo tried to dislodge his foot from the stump he'd tripped over and met soft tissue instead of wood. "Damn stump!" He looked at his caught foot. "What the–"
"Dr. Evo, are you okay?"
Sitting up, Evo stared at his feet as the bile rose in his throat. "Oh, crap, I spoke too soon. Luis. Come quick!"
Crashing through the brush, Luis almost fell over Evo. He skidded to a stop and stared at the scene in front of him. "Hoo boy, Dr. Evo, that's quite a stump, all right."
Scooting backward, Evo dislodged his foot and Luis grabbed the camera. Lying in a heap on the jungle floor was a human thigh and part of a lower leg, encased in olive drab and relatively fresh.
"My God, where the heck did that come from?"
"I would think, Dr. Evo, it came from some poor dead guy, but I think the bigger question is who is he?"
"Not to mention why is his leg lying here in the jungle? Maybe the back pocket is still attached to the, uh, rest of him here. How about if you take a picture to show how we found him, call Alfredo so he can alert the authorities and I'll look for an I.D. and mark where we found his leg."
"Okay, boss." Luis pulled out the camera and snapped several pictures of the leg and the surrounding jungle. He called his brother Alfredo, who waited at the Land Rover where Evo and Luis had entered the jungle.
Alfredo sounded chipper when he answered. "Luis, good to hear your voice. Are we still on schedule?"
"Alfredo, my brother, a small glitch in our plans."
"Is there not always a glitch?" Alfredo chuckled. "What is it this time, Luis?"
"A stump."
"You call me about a stump?"
"No, no. Not a tree stump, a leg. Well, part of a human leg."
Alfredo sat up at full alert. "A leg?"
"Yup. Just his leg."
"His? You know it is a man?"
Luis lifted his hat with his free hand and scratched his head. "I think so. It looks like a manly leg to me."
"I will tell the police."
"Yes. Dr. Castillo wants you to call the authorities. We will clear the area. Tell them we have pictures and will mark the site with our emergency flags. They will be able to spot the site from the air."
"Where's the rest of the body?"
"Don't know, but Dr. Evo and I have to move on before the dark sets in, so get going."
"Okay, okay. Tell the good doctor I am on it. Give me the coordinates."
Luis recited the location of the body part and clicked off the cell phone. He wandered to where Evo stood over the leg, his hands on his hips, jaw tight. "All taken care of, Dr. Evo. Alfredo will handle it from here."
Shaking his head, Evo squinted into the sun as it began its descent to the western horizon. "Damn. We need more time. That leg could disappear any time out here. "
"We can recon the area, but a wild animal must have eaten the rest of him. I do not see a trail anywhere, so what was he doing way out here anyway?"
"I don't know, Luis, but there was no identification on the body, so we may never know. I set the flags and I have a smoke pot lit, so if the wind holds steady, they'll find the area easily. Come on, we need to get moving before dusk or we'll be jungle fodder ourselves."
Cramming his old ball cap on his head, Evo hefted his backpack and machete.
Taking his foul mood out on the plant material blocking his way, Evo wondered for the hundredth time what the heck he was doing out here. Fieldwork like this was for younger guys, fresh out of the university. Evo remembered his days newly out of school, broke, driven, and willing to do just about anything to jump-start his career and make a name for himself. He thought nothing of spending weeks under the worst conditions known to man just to spend hundreds of hours compiling research no one cared about to write a report few read, on the environmental impact of drilling in a particular area.
These days, Evo had a corner office in a beautiful high-rise in Lima that he never saw, a membership to the most posh health club in the city he never used, and a plush condominium few could afford, in which he never slept.
His little brother Tony was working on his final research project before graduating with a doctorate specializing in fisheries and soil and water management. He'd currently partnered with Dr. Samón Fernandini, a brilliant-but-bitchy tree-hugging ichthyologist with the Peruvian Environmental Agency. Tony thought she was a goddess. Evo saw her as a ti
ght-assed, wicked-mouthed, pain in the ass–but with great tits.
Evo stopped again to catch his breath and slap a monster mosquito as he fantasized about Sam's excellent pectoral muscles. Slamming the machete into a log, he uncapped his canteen and took a long pull. Though he kept in great shape, he realized his breathing came harder than usual and he sweated like there was no tomorrow. Must be a coincidence that I'm breathing hard and thinking about Sam's bra size. Geez, Castillo, you need to get a life.
Letting his assistant take the lead, Evo ran a wet cloth over the back of his neck. "Damn this humidity."
Watching his assistant move rhythmically through the rainforest, chopping and pulling without complaint, Evo once again thanked his lucky stars he had hired Luis and his brother Alfredo all those years ago. I need to be more like Luis. He never complains about anything. He's got to be as sore as I am, but look at him. Chop, pull, toss, chop, pull toss. Evo raised his sore right arm and halted in mid-swing. A sudden muscle cramp shot pain through his shoulder and he dropped the huge blade.
Evo grabbed his shoulder and howled. "Ow, ow–damn! Shit. Shit!"
Mother Nature must have heard Evo cussing, because at that moment she set out to drown one environmental scientist in the Venezuelan jungle. The skies opened up and all thoughts of Samón Fernameanie, the bitch-thyologist from Peru, washed out of his mind. It poured as if Heaven itself turned on the holy water spigot full force.
Instantly drenched, Luis looked back to see the boss jumping around in the downpour, holding his shoulder and dancing in what looked like some wild ancient ritual. Luis opened his mouth to enquire, but thought better of it and waited for Evo to vent his temper to the sky.
Shaking his arm, Evo ranted to the jungle, "Nothing has gone right since we left Peru the day before yesterday!" Cramp easing, Evo slowed to a stop. He lifted his face to the sky, and slowly turned in a circle.
Water cascading off his body, he yelled to the tops of the trees. "Well happy horse hockey, can this day get worse?" He closed his mouth a millisecond before the bird poop fell from the tree and landed on his forehead with a resounding splat. Luis stood and watched in horror, waiting for the explosion he knew was coming.
Evo stood rooted to the ground and closed his eyes in resignation. "Thank you, I'll remember not to ask that again."
The torrents of rain beat down on his head. The bird poop slid over one ear and plopped onto his shoulder, leaving a gooey white trail quickly washed away by the monsoon. That corked it. Evo tore off his favorite baseball cap and spiked it into the muck at his feet. Swearing and stomping, Evo railed at the world and sent Luis diving for cover.
Several wet minutes later, anger spent, Evo stared at the muddy mess at his feet. He realized too late that he would need his favorite hat later. Sighing, he dug it out of the muck and held it in front of him, rinsing it off the best he could in the rain. He slapped the filthy hat on his head.
Evo peered through the underbrush and sighed. "You can come out, Luis. I'm done now."
Luis peeked from under a banana frond and grinned. "That was a good one, Dr. Evo. You sure told off Mother Nature, no?"
"Yeah, but the bitch wins again. That's what I get for tempting the 'Yes, things can get worse' theory."
Grabbing the machete, Evo resumed his trek through the muddy jungle. Taking out his frustration on the jungle flora, and trying to avoid the fauna, Evo muttered to himself, "Yep, that's what I get–nothing but water down my shirt, mud up my ass, and crapped on by Birdzilla the shit monster." He winced and grabbed his burning stomach, "Not to mention a mother of a bleeding ulcer."
Not realizing he'd stopped, Evo had become so wrapped up in self-pity he jumped and yelped when Luis tapped his shoulder. Huge, round chocolate eyes gazed up from under a dripping pith helmet. "Senór Evo, uh, I have been thinking. It is raining like the cats and the dogs. Can we go home now? Maybe we could try again tomorrow. Alfredo will wonder if we drowned."
Sighing, Evo checked his watch and looked at their coordinates on his GPS. His foul mood vanished. Evo pulled a slicker out of his pack and draped it over Luis. "Not on your life, my friend. We are not doing this trip again. We are going to finish here today if it kills us. It's been raining like this for almost a month, and Maldonado wanted that report on his desk last week. I'll call Alfredo on the cell and get an update on Peg Leg back there."
Luis sagged and Evo patted his shoulder. He flashed Luis a bright smile and tapped the GPS. "Look on the bright side, we're almost there."
"Wonderful." Luis tried to smile.
Evo hiked his collar and stared wide-eyed as a chunk of mud fell off his nose and slid down a front tooth. He spit out the offending mud (at least he hoped it was mud and not leftovers from Birdzilla) and tied the slicker under Luis' chin. Evo turned and tromped onward, content with the thought that his assistant must think him totally bonkers.
Fifteen minutes later, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun and the bugs swarmed in like it was bargain day in the human flesh department. Slapping another mosquito, Evo's good humor took another nosedive. He swore a blue streak. This is not funny anymore. Damn wanna-be environmentalists. Why can't they just stay home?
"Fun and adventure, eh, Luis? Dragging our equipment through miles of rain forest, muck, and bugs–again."
"Si, Senõr Evo. Alfredo and I are happy to slog anywhere you go."
Evo sigh. "I know my friend, what would I do without you two?"
"Don't know, Dr. Evo, probably not have so much fun like we are now? Speaking of fun." He swatted yet another mosquito. "Why the long hike through the jungle? Are we sneaking in the back door?"
"Yes, and I'd rather not alert anyone to our coming."
Luis knew the tedious routine by heart. They'd interview a couple of locals, take a few pictures, and write another report to another special interest group who claimed their goats were dying because the sound of the drilling gave them brain cancer or something equally stupid.
Evo passed the bug repellent to Luis, who gratefully covered every exposed area of skin before handing the bottle back.
Tucking it back into a side pocket, Evo zipped the backpack and hoisted it over his shoulder, checked the GPS, and started forward. "We should be within a quarter mile."
"Oh, boy." Poor waterlogged Luis gave a world-weary sigh and moved ahead.
Evo made to follow, but found his rubber boot stuck in the mud. He grabbed the top and pulled as he lifted his foot. The boot made a sucking sound as he finally pulled it free. Good thing I have a decent boots and hip waders. I'd be dead in the water without them. I even got 'em on clearance.
Evo thanked God for online shopping or he'd be traipsing through the jungle naked. Talk about interesting public relations. Evo shopped a plethora of wilderness outfitter stores, but considered himself a loyal Gander Mountain junkie. He sure would like to see that store in person some time. Maybe he would just take off and go to the States–Wisconsin it was. The weather would surely be better than here this time of year.
The thought of trading his present fate for millions of stars, roaring campfires, and a new Carhart jacket lightened his nasty mood considerably. Evo could almost smell the steak sizzling.
Hearing a shout, his thoughts crash-landed him back in the hundred-degree heat of the jungle. Luis stood up ahead waving frantically. It looked like more black mangrove slop ahead, so they must be nearing the site. He couldn't hear the drilling from here, but one could never tell by the noise in the jungle. It could echo through the rainforest for miles, or the canopies could buffer noise and make it come from a different direction all together. His mission was supposed to be a secret–allegedly it came directly from Maldonado-Nunez himself.
His immediate boss, Hector Chavez, was the only guy between Evo and Nunez. Many higher-ups thought Evo should have received that promotion six months ago, but it had gone to Chavez, and Evo had to live with it. Funny, he'd been relatively content with his job before then.
Maldonado-Nunez had bee
n accused by various individuals and special interest groups of being a polluter and burner of rainforests. Some declared Nunez guilty of irresponsible mining practices, dumping mining refuse, oil and chemicals, a polluter of small lakes, rivers, and streams, and probably kicking puppies and pinching small children as well.
Evo's job was to investigate those charges and make any adjustments at the site or in personnel needed to rectify the situation. He was a troubleshooter and a master at conflict resolution. He worked with environmental agencies to assure compliance, as well as being a liaison between Maldonado Oil and the media, and handling problems with subcontractors and other companies on site.
Evo, however, considered himself, first and foremost, a scientist. Narrow-minded people like Fernameanie thought him a traitor to work for an oil company, but Evo had endless compassion for the preservation of all life forms and for the environments in which they exist. Working for "the enemy" allowed him the freedom to do what he did best for the natural world while keeping a finger on the pulse of a huge conglomerate, which had the power of destruction and devastation of the natural world at its fingertips.
Evo would then report back to Chavez on the situation, what steps he'd taken, and what still needed to be done to make things right. All this for six digits, no time off, perpetually soggy clothes, and a bleeding ulcer. Oh boy, I'm livin' the dream. He grunted as he hoisted his equipment over the last fallen tree into the clearing. He stopped dead as he took in the scene before him.
"Whoa, what the heck?" He scanned the shoreline of the lagoon. Thousands of dead fish lined the narrow vegetation-strewn beach, their silver bellies shimmering in the waning sun.
Evo neared the beach and the smell of rotting fish almost knocked him over. "Whew-wee. Did I say thousands? This looks more like hundreds of thousands."
He stepped close enough to get a good look at the dead fish. At first he couldn't believe his eyes. He picked up one tiny body and examined it. "Luis, look at this! I gotta call Tony and Sam."