Deadly Currents

by Beth Groundwater

  Mandy slumped into a vacant chair, then shifted her weight to keep from sinking through the hole left by one torn strand of webbing. David wordlessly handed her a can of beer. Mandy took a long, cool drink to soothe her parched throat.

  David poked his nose her way and gave a good sniff. “You don’t smell too good.”

  “Thanks for the compliment, bro. I’ve been chopping up a tree all day. What have you been doing?”

  “The cops came here this afternoon,” David said.

  “What did they want?”

  “Don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me. But they had a search warrant and carted away all the trash from the bin out back.”

  Mandy thought about this. “King was poisoned.” She turned to Gonzo. “Did you or any of the other guides bring food or drinks on the trip and give him any?”

  “Like I’m going to give away food,” Gonzo said. “You think manna rained down on my campsite or something?”

  Mandy stared at him, hard.

  Gonzo held up a hand. “I didn’t bring anything, and I don’t remember Dougie or Kendra or Ajax bringing any food either. Hey, we mooch off the customers whenever we can.”

  “Maybe someone else did,” David said.

  Mandy nodded and took another sip of beer. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to soak up a little warmth from the setting sun to ease her aching muscles. A fly buzzed around the opening to her beer can, but she could care less and didn’t have the energy to brush it away.

  “Okay, I can’t stand it anymore,” Gonzo said. “You can commence chewing me out again over the parking lot fight.”

  Mandy opened one eye to give him a baleful look.

  Gonzo gave a theatrical shudder. “She’s putting the evil eye on me.”

  “That’s not why I wanted to talk to you. I want to know about Jeff King.”

  “Any relation to Tom King, the man you tried to save?” David asked.

  “His son.” And another participant on that doomed rafting trip.

  David frowned. “What business is it of yours what his son is up to?”

  Mandy didn’t want to admit to her brother and Gonzo that she was ignoring Detective Quintana’s request to stay out of the investigation. “Humor me. Gonzo?”

  “I know Jeff from hanging out at the Salida boat ramp. He’s a kayaking nut. Most summer evenings, he’s there, taking his turn in the play queue. His father wanted him to get a business degree and go into real estate with him, but Jeff would have none of that. He’s too busy having fun on the water. He dropped out of college after his freshman year.”

  “What’s he doing now?” Mandy asked. “Is he a trustifarian, living off his father’s money?”

  “He wishes.” Gonzo took a swig of beer. “Tom King cut Jeff off, said he could fund his own damn kayaking obsession.”

  “So what’s Jeff do for money?”

  “Guides kayak trips, enters events trying to win prize money, mooches off his friends. In the summer, he camps out on forest land. He signed up for the Pine Creek Boater X race, hoping to take home the Wave Sport kayak that’s going to the winner. Says he’s tired of patching up his old boat.”

  “Is he making enough to get by?”

  “Not really. He’s maxed out on his credit card, owes money to just about everyone in town, and all his friends, including me, are getting tired of him sponging off us. He’s getting kind of desperate nowadays.”

  “And how did he feel about his old man cutting him off?”

  “How else? Hates his guts.”

  Gonzo crumpled up his empty beer can, tossed it in the trash, and stood. “If you’re not going to chew me out, am I free to go now?”

  _____

  “You gonna tell me what that was all about?” David asked after Gonzo left. “Is this related to what you said last night about making the killer pay?”

  “Don’t worry,” Mandy said. “I’m not out on any personal vendetta. I’m just trying to dig up leads that the Chaffee County Sheriff detectives can follow.” And that I can, too.

  The sun had slipped behind Mount Ouray, and the temperature dropped. Mandy rubbed her arms. “Tell me what you found out about Uncle Bill’s business.”

  David stood. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm first. I’ll heat up some stew. Uncle Bill left half a case of Dinty Moore in the kitchen. He seemed to live on that and Power Bars.”

  Mandy followed David inside. As she watched him open a couple of cans and dump them into a pot, she felt another twinge of guilt. “I kept telling him he should stop eating that stuff. It’s full of saturated fat. Why didn’t I throw those cans out and buy him some heart-healthy food?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, sis. He wouldn’t have eaten what you bought and would’ve restocked what he liked. You aren’t responsible for what he ate.” David turned on the stove burner. “Okay, here’s today’s bad news. When Gonzo pulled out the rafts for his trip today, one had a split seam between a side pontoon and the floor.”

  “Did he say whether he could repair it?”

  David shook his head. “The material was shredded on one side, and Gonzo showed me where two other seams were gapping. He said the boat was dangerous. Shouldn’t be out on the water.”

  Mandy sighed. “So it needs to be replaced.”

  “And that’s expensive.” David stirred the stew. “But there’s no need to order a new one. We don’t have enough customers scheduled in the next couple of weeks to run all the rafts anyway.”

  “More bad news.” Mandy rested her chin on her hands. “Any good news?”

  “Paula King dropped her lawsuit.”

  “Too late. The damage’s already been done.”

  “I talked to your friend, Rob Juarez, about whether he could recommend someone to manage the business through the summer. He’s quite the go-getter, you know. He used to put in long hours working construction at the same time as guiding in the summer and driving ski buses in the winter. He lived cheap and saved up a down payment on a business loan so he could buy his rafting business from the original owner. And to top it all off, he took business classes at the community college at night.”

  While he talked, David brought the stew pot to the table and scrounged up bowls and spoons, studying her all the while as if gauging how to break even more bad news to her.

  Mandy had never asked Rob how he’d been able to buy his company, and felt a little piqued at herself that her brother had found out before she had. “Sounds like you two got pretty chummy.”

  “You know me. Love to talk business.” David filled two bowls and passed one to her.

  Impatient, Mandy asked, “And did Rob recommend a manager?”

  “He said he might have a buyer for us, if we’re interested in selling.”

  “I’m not interested in selling.”

  David blew on a spoonful of stew. then chewed on it slowly. “This stuff’s not bad. Not good, either, but not bad.”

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes, I did. And this guy Rob seems to have you pegged pretty well. He said you’d say that, and that I should talk to you before we went any further with the idea.”

  Mandy pushed her bowl away. After a few bites, she suddenly couldn’t stomach the stew anymore. Suspicion was leaving a foul taste in her mouth. Suspicion that David and Rob had talked about more than this ridiculous idea of selling the business. Like how to handle her. And she didn’t want to be handled.

  “Well, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “We don’t have to talk about it tonight.,” David said. “I can see you’re bushed, but we’ll need to talk soon. In the meantime, we’ve got to start planning Uncle Bill’s memorial service.”

  Mandy’s eyes teared up.

  David covered her hand with his and gave a gentle
squeeze. “I know this won’t be easy, but I’m sure you want his life honored in the right way.”

  He pushed a lined pad of paper and a pen toward her. He had written across the top, “Memorial Program.”

  _____

  Mandy spent Wednesday morning sweating and grunting at a self-defense class in the parking lot of the ranger station. Only the full-time head rangers were certified to carry weapons. The seasonal land and river rangers had to rely on the self-preservation techniques taught in the annual class when their diplomacy skills and status as law enforcement officers weren’t enough to calm down agitated tourists.

  During her lunch break, Mandy rushed over to the Final Touch Day Spa for her manicure appointment. The unassuming red brick building sat behind the Super Bowl Lanes facing Highway 50. On the window by the front door was a drawing of a woman’s graceful hand holding a flower. When Mandy walked in the door, a wind chime tinkled in the breeze, announcing her presence. A white jarred candle glowing on the reception desk scented the room with vanilla, though it didn’t completely mask the underlying chemical odors of hair coloring and nail polish.

  Mandy signed in and refused the receptionist’s offer of coffee or chamomile tea. She sat on the edge of a waiting chair and scanned the labels on an arrangement of colorful hair and skin care products and aromatherapy jars on the shelves across from her. What is clear glossing gel used for? And what the heck is ylang ylang? Just as she was about to grab a jar and take a sniff, a manicurist with spiky black hair and heels to match sashayed out and called her name.

  The manicurist led her past the large pedicure chairs with their foot tubs to one of the three manicure stations in an airy, open room lit by plate glass windows facing west toward the highway and Methodist Mountain. Mandy mentally compared the young woman’s chic black capri pants and green silk lingerie top to her own smudged and wrinkled shorts and T-shirt. Trying to smooth her T-shirt, Mandy wished she had changed clothes before coming to the spa, but it was too late now.

  She spotted Evie Olson seated at the left station, wearing a yellow and pink print flowing skirt and a sleeveless pink top. Her wooden bracelets and necklace clattered as she tossed a hank of her unruly hair over her shoulder and leaned over to say something to her friend on her right. A woman brought them Styrofoam cups of tea, which they grasped gingerly with outspread fingers, their nails bright with drying polish.

  The manicurist steered Mandy to a chair at the station behind Evie’s friend and settled onto a stool across the white tabletop from Mandy. “You getting dolled up for a special event or treating yourself?”

  Great opening. “I’m going to the FIBArk kickoff tonight.”

  “Oh, just like these two.” The manicurist nodded toward Evie and her friend, who turned their heads.

  Mandy leaned out to look around the manicurist at the two women. “Since we’ll be at the same party, maybe I should introduce myself. I’m Amanda.”

  “I’m Shirley Logan,” the friend said, “and this is my friend, Evie Olson.”

  “Nice to meet you both.”

  “What color polish do you want?” the manicurist asked.

  “I have no idea.” Mandy turned to Shirley. “Any suggestions?”

  Evie examined the color of her own orange-pink nail polish at arm’s length and seemed to approve. “What’re you wearing?”

  Mandy only had one dress in her closet, a little black number that Uncle Bill had paid for when she ‘walked’ for her associate’s degree at Colorado Mountain College in Buena Vista. Before her eyes could start watering, she pushed the memory to the back of her mind.

  “A short black dress,” she answered.

  A discussion ensued between Evie, Shirley and the manicurist about which was the best color for the combination of the black dress, Mandy’s blond hair, and her green eyes. Intimidated, Mandy just listened.

  “What color are your accessories?” Shirley asked.

  “Ac-cessories?” Mandy stammered. She hadn’t given a thought to anything but the dress.

  “You know, shoes, purse, jewelry. Are you wearing something in your hair?”

  This getting gussied-up is too damn hard. “I have a pair of black pumps and a black purse, but I hadn’t thought about jewelry or anything else.” She remembered her graduation gift from her brother. “Oh, I do have a gold chain necklace and hoop earrings to match.”

  “Gold and black,” Evie said. “And are you going with a special someone?”

  Mandy blushed and nodded.

  “Okay, you should choose red, cherry red, and buy a lipstick to match.”

  The manicurist pulled out a bottle of polish and a tube of lipstick in a bright red color to show Mandy.

  Mandy had never put such a bright color on her lips before. Usually, she just wore lip balm, to prevent chapping when she was out on the river. She only owned one tube of lipstick, a pale, pink color for when she hung out at Victoria Tavern. But she wanted to get on Evie’s good side, so she nodded.

  The manicurist reached for Mandy’s hands and tsked over how short her nails were.

  “If they were any longer, I’d break them off at work.” Mandy was about to say what she did for work, but decided she shouldn’t reveal that to Evie yet. “Just do the best you can.”

  While the manicurist filed Mandy’s stubby nails, Mandy decided that since Evie had broached the subject of dates, her next question shouldn’t be too suspiciously forward. “You two going to the kickoff with anyone?”

  “My boring husband,” Shirley answered. “Who will probably find a couple of equally boring husbands to talk football with. I swear if I hear another word about the Denver Broncos, I’m going to stampede out the door myself.”

  “I don’t have anyone to go with now,” Evie said with a sniff.

  Shirley tsked. “Don’t say that. You’re coming with Mike and me. If he goes off to talk sports, we’ll prowl the room and scout up some new prospects for you. You’re too attractive to be without a man for long.”

  Mandy leaned forward. “Did you just break up with someone?”

  Shirley put her empty tea cup down. “The guy she was dating just passed away, poor thing.” She pointed her chin at Evie.

  “Oh, I guess condolences are in order,” Mandy said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Evie harrumphed. “I’d already lost him before he died. The bastard broke up with me a few days before, went back to his wife.” She put her empty cup on the side table next to her.

  Feigning ignorance, Mandy asked. “So he was separated?”

  Evie pursed her lips in disgust. “Yeah, the turncoat said he was divorcing his wife, but he moved back in with her three days before he died. I’ll never forgive him for lying to me.” Evie’s voice went soft and sentimental. “Even though he’s dead now.”

  Is she faking? “Wow, you sure got a raw deal out of that relationship.”

  “I agree, what a bummer.” The manicurist shook her head and started applying the first coat of polish to Mandy’s nails.

  Mandy almost winced at the bright red color.

  “Bummer indeed,” Shirley said. “So who’re you going with, Amanda?”

  Focusing on the implication that Paula likely no longer had a motive to kill her husband since she had accepted him back into her house, Mandy replied without thinking, “Rob Juarez.”

  “Rob Juarez?” Evie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I know him. Are you Mandy Tanner?”

  Caught, Mandy could do nothing but nod.

  Shirley stared wide-eyed at Mandy. “You’re the one who pulled Tom King out of the Arkansas.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  Shirley glanced at Evie, her mouth pursed in a small “oh.”

  “And you come in here all sweet and innocent and pretend you don’t know I was seeing him.” Evie’s ton
e was laced with hostility. “That was a dirty trick to pull.”

  Even the manicurist was frowning at Mandy now.

  Mandy had to lie and lie good. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know right away who I was and that I knew who you were,” she said to Evie. “I didn’t think it would come up. And I do have a legitimate reason to be here. I really am going to the kickoff tonight and my nails looked terrible.”

  “That’s for sure,” the manicurist said.

  “But you egged me on with your questions. Why are you so curious about Tom King’s love life?”

  Mandy feigned a casual shrug. “I feel a connection of some sort with him, I guess. Wish I could have saved him.”

  “How could you if he was poisoned?” Shirley asked.

  “I didn’t know that when I pulled him out of the river, and we still don’t know who poisoned him.”

  The manicurist gasped and looked pointedly at Evie.

  Evie stood and draped a large upholstery purse over her shoulder. “C’mon, Shirley. I don’t like this snoopy ranger’s questions.” She glared down her nose at Mandy. “It’s like she thinks I killed him.”

  _____

  Before going in the ranger station, Mandy used a tissue to wipe off all traces of the garish red lipstick the manicurist had liberally applied to her lips. She hid her nails in her fists while she went to her cubicle to check for messages. Rob had called while she was out.

  She returned his call, knowing he would be running a shuttle soon for an afternoon trip, if he wasn’t on the road already. When he answered, she could hear road noise and people talking in the background.

  “I can’t talk long, Mandy. I’ll be in a dead zone soon. But I called to check if you still wanted to go to the kickoff tonight, what with your uncle and all. I’ll understand if you back out, you know, and—”

  “Yes, I’m still going.” Rob was rambling, uncomfortable talking to her because of where they had left things, but Mandy wasn’t going to bail him out—yet. Not when he wasn’t in kissing range. “I’ll be ready at five.”