by Nancy Cupp
“I didn’t know you were riding around with a murder suspect!”
“A murd—what?”
“Are you resisting an officer?” Deputy Smith asked.
“Of course not.”
“Where’s your backpack?” Lance asked with a sneer.
“I left it in my yurt—why do you…”
“Come with me please, we’ll need to stop and get your backpack too,” said the deputy.
Margret thought it best not to say anything more and followed the deputy to his car. They stopped at the yurt, where Margret rolled up her sleeping bag and stuffed everything inside her backpack. Deputy Smith was silent during the entire drive, and Margret had a feeling things were about to implode.
Her mind was reeling, and that’s when she remembered what she found in her pack at the Parks’. Her face turned bright red, and the pit of her stomach contracted into a hard knot. This can’t be happening, she thought.
When they arrived at the Ranger’s compound, Deputy Smith directed Margret inside. Margret reached for her pack, but the deputy commanded her to leave it where it was. Frustrated and confused by all the unfamiliar insinuations, Margret exhaled long and slow.
Once inside, Deputy Smith stood at the door with his posture straight, chin up and eyes staring straight ahead. His hands were folded behind his back, his stance wide. Margret glanced back at him, feeling like a prisoner, as she stumbled forward to stand before Captain Sheffield.
The captain looked up with a wry grin, almost chuckling, “Who do we have here, deputy?”
“This is Margret Malone—sir!” Deputy Smith barked.
“Um—okay, deputy. That will be all for now.”
“Should I bring in her backpack sir?”
“Um, yes deputy that would be fine,” said Captain Sheffield, raising one eyebrow.
“Yes, sir,” he replied, turning on his heel and striding out the door.
The captain stifled a smile, rubbing his forehead. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Ms. Malone?”
“Yes, sir?” Margret said, in a tiny voice.
“Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. We want to ask you some questions—and you need to call your father. He’s been worried about you.”
“My father?”
“Yes, now—your name has come up several times in the course of this investigation. I’d like to find out what you know. And—sorry about Deputy Smith, He—ah, up for promotion I guess,” laughed the captain.
Margret relaxed a little. Deputy Smith brought in the backpack and put it on the floor beside the captain’s desk. He snapped to attention and saluted the captain, did an about face, and walked out of the room. Margret and the captain’s eyes both followed him until the door closed behind him. A little giggle escaped Margret’s lips and the captain smiled.
“Okay, let’s get down to business. Where have you been for the last couple of days?”
Margret told the captain about finding the necklace, and then about hiking and getting lost on the way to Half Dome. She explained how Joseph had helped her, and about the encounter with the bear. She also explained how Lance found them, and how all three managed to get trapped in the cave.
When the captain asked if she knew Sam Parks her eyes lit up. She told him about staying with the Parks’ and getting a ride back to the valley with Sam. With amusement, the captain asked if there was anything else he should know.
Margret started to say no, until her eyes fell on the rumpled purple backpack that sat next to the captain’s desk. Her eyes grew wide, “Oh—yeah. I swear I don’t know how that thing got in there. But—but,” her voice was trembling, “there’s something in my pack that I didn’t put there. It’s zipped in that side pocket. I found it when I was looking for my under…my clothes, after I took a shower at the Parks’.”
“Can I take a look?”
“Yes—please take it out of there! I didn’t know what to do with it. I asked Joseph if he put anything in my pack—but he said he didn’t. I believe him. I don’t know how…” her voice trailed off as the captain turned over the pack to unzip the pocket.
Putting on a pair of blue latex gloves, Captain Sheffield drew out a six-inch, curved blade. It had a leather covered handle, and looked very old, kind of primitive. Turning it over in his hands he thought it looked home made, but the inscription carved into the blade was foreign. He placed the weapon in a plastic bag, and picked up his radio. “Deputy Smith, could you come back to the office please?”
Margret shifted in her chair, pushed her bent glasses back up, brushed her unruly hair back out of her eyes. She waited, tense, while the captain was busy filling out reports. When Deputy Smith walked back into the room she cringed.
“Deputy, I want you to take Ms. Malone to the Ahawahnee and check her into a room there. They should be pretty empty now.”
“Yes, sir,” barked the Deputy.
“Then I need you to head up to Lake Tenaya to pick up Joseph Parks for questioning. Tomorrow morning is soon enough.”
He turned to Margret, “Young lady, when you get settled, please call your father. But don’t give him the details of this case. He’s worried enough. Tell him you’ll be staying for a few more days, we need to sort this thing out some more before you leave.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not yet—just stick around for a few days, and don’t disappear into the back country, okay? I’ll let you know when you can leave. Don’t go until I tell you you’re cleared—understand?”
“Uh—yes, sir.”
Deputy Smith carried Margret’s pack out to the car and she got in. She watched a commotion as a helicopter landed and off loaded a woman and her big floppy dog. Margret rode thinking about the day’s events, and her empty stomach. She hoped there’d be restaurant or something open at the hotel.
Once Margret checked into her room and got a sandwich from the coffee shop, she called her father. “Hi Daddy—it’s Margret,” she wanted to pour out all the things that she was worried about, but knew she better not.
“Margret! Honey! I was so worried about you. Robin said you went camping, or some such non-sense. I’m glad you didn’t. Where have you been?”
“Ah…well—I did go, um, camping—sort of.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“Well,—you know Gramps said I should look around a little—explore and do stuff. He said how I needed to do some stuff to be a writer, and—I don’t know, Dad. But I’m here, at Yosemite, and it’s beautiful! Mountains and waterfalls and…”
“Yosemite! There was some kind of a kidnapping, or something, wasn’t there?”
“Um—something like that. But I’m staying at the Ahawahnee hotel now—it’s wonderful! It’s a big old building with great views of the park. And the weather’s great again, there was some snow, but that’s all gone now.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Are you going home soon?”
“Um no, I can’t—there isn’t a bus going back for a couple of days, but I still have some vacation time left.”
“You can come and visit me sometime.”
“I know Daddy, I will. I love you!”
“I love you too honey—good night.”
29
Questions
The next day, when reports came in with details of where Patty’s body was found, Captain Sheffield had Curt Coleson picked up. He was reluctant to arrest one of his own men, but until DNA evidence came back, and proved otherwise, Curt was a suspect.
He’d been near the top of the falls, where she was found, and he didn’t have anyone to verify his whereabouts after he was seen picking up his permit. Curt had motive, he was an ex-lover, and he stood to inherit millions of dollars from Coleson Mineral.
Then the captain started an investigation on Margret Malone. She seemed too naive to be involved, but somehow she kept popping into the investigation. She’d had the dead woman’s necklace, and if that blade proved to be the murder weapon there had to be a tie-in. Things don’
t just appear in your luggage. Was she involved with Coleson, or a climber? Were there other incidents in her past?
Each question he had, and every piece of information that came back on Margret Malone led nowhere. Either she hadn’t lived much, or she was very good at hiding it. She didn’t even have traffic violations. Why then, was she in the middle of his investigation?
According to her story, she didn’t know the blade was in her backpack. If someone else put it there, the bag had to be unattended. Who would have had access? If she murdered Patty, why would she turn in the weapon?
Captain Sheffield sat back looking at his notes, it didn’t make sense. Margret Malone didn’t look like she was strong enough to overpower anybody, much less kill in such a brutal way.
☙
Joyce Hart was enjoying an easy drive across I-80. This time she was carrying a heavy load, so there was little worry of a wind problem, I-80 had a reputation for tipping light trucks. A few steep grades required her to down shift, but soon she’d be crossing the Salt Flats into Salt Lake City.
The Salt Flats were interesting, but so flat and featureless that Joyce always had trouble staying awake when she crossed there. About half way across, she passed a weird sculpture, placed, no doubt, to break up the monotony.
She stopped to get out and stretch. The sun reflected off the flat ground, causing her to squint despite dark sunglasses. As she walked around, she thought about early settlers crossing there. It must’ve been hard not to lose your way. I guess you’d keep your eye on a distant mountain peak, and keep heading for it.
The dry air parched her lips, and fine gritty salt blew in the wind, irritating her skin. She walked on the hard crust of salt and tried to shake off her sleepiness.
In the parking area, she noticed the green Chevy she’d seen near Sparks, Nevada. What—is this guy following me? She shuddered despite the heat, wanting to put some distance between her and that guy.
Somewhat revived, and safe back in her rig, she pulled back onto the highway. Tuning the radio, she caught some news.
“….National park. Two men were arrested in connection to the murder that happened in one of the most popular parks in America. The men are being held for questioning pending an investigation. This is not the first time Yosemite has been in the news. Investigation into last year’s break-in and robbery, at the park’s museum, has still not recovered millions of dollars of stolen art…”
Good, they caught them. Joyce changed the channel. How about something more cheerful, she thought, punching the button again until she found an oldies rock ‘n roll station. “That’s more like it,” she said, drumming on the steering wheel. She rocked along, singing at the top of her lungs, bouncing a little as she drove. What did they do before radio?
☙
Joseph Parks was brought in for questioning by Deputy Smith in the morning. “Mr. Parks, do you know why we brought you in for questioning?” Captain Sheffield asked.
“Well,—you have my grandfather in custody. I suppose you want information that will convict him of something.”
“I need to verify some things he told us. Did your grandfather give you anything to carry home Monday night?”
“Yes, sir—It was a brief case.”
“Can you describe it?”
“Black leather, with slash marks, like someone was trying to cut it open, or was beating on it, the handle’s missing. Something’s tooled into the leather, but I didn’t pay attention to what it was.”
“Did you open it—do you know what’s in it?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you what it was for, why he wanted you to carry it?”
“He just said to bring it home, through the back country, and do it right away. He needed it by the next day.”
“Did you do what he asked?”
“Yes sir, but I didn’t get there until Wednesday—late afternoon.”
“Why?”
Joseph told the story of meeting Margret, her falling into the cave, and Lance following them. He explained how they all ended up in the cave, and how they got out.
“Are you involved with Margret?”
“Involved—no, I just met her, out on the trail.”
“Did Lance stay with you for the whole trip?”
“No, sir, he went back to the valley.”
“Why was he out there?”
“I don’t know, he said he was worried about Margret, that she’d wandered off unprepared.”
“Did you buy that?”
“I wasn’t sure, I don’t trust him. He didn’t take her back to the valley, he sent her with me.”
“Did you know him before you met on the trail?”
“No, I didn’t,—but Margret did.”
“Is she Lance’s girlfriend?”
“No,—I think they just met.”
“Did you give Margret anything to carry? Add anything to her pack?”
Joseph puzzled at this, Margret had asked him the same thing. “Ah—no sir, she could hardly carry it as it was.”
“Have you ever been out of the country, armed forces, on vacation?”
“No, sir, why?”
“Okay, thank you Mr. Parks. That’s all we need for now,” said Captain Sheffield, extending his hand to shake Joseph’s. “The deputy will give you a ride back home.”
30
The Bodybuilder
When Joseph had gone, the captain picked up the phone and called Camp Curry. “I need to speak to Mr. Lance Larson please.”
“This is Lance.”
“Mr. Larson, this is Captain George Sheffield. I’m doing the investigation concerning Patty Waters, I need you to come to the Permit Office for some questions.”
Lance grumbled, “I’m right in the middle of a workout. I’ll be busy for another two hours.”
“I need you in here in an hour.”
The captain hung up the phone. He’d been up late the night before, and had done his home-work. His research on the origin of the blade Margret gave him led him to Afghanistan. It was an antique style, used to slaughter sheep. Of all the people he’d checked out, Lance Larson was the only one who’d been out of the country.
It was military duty. Lance had been in Special Forces. He was an expert in tracking and field work, and had seen heavy combat. But his discharge carried some questionable information. A Veterans Administration counselor was assigned to his case. Captain Sheffield picked up the phone, and got in touch with the VA.
After a lot of hold time, and shuffling from one department to another, he was put in touch with the person assigned to Lance’s case. Dr. Anderson, a psychiatrist, could give him little information due to client-patient confidentiality. But he did say he’d helped Lance find employment on several occasions. Lance had trouble finding a spot where he could get along with other employees.
Two and a half-hours later, Lance showed up at Captain Sheffield’s desk.
“What do you need? I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Sit down. You’re Lance Larson?”
“Yeah.”
“Were you in the park Monday?”
“Of course! I live here. I’m in charge of Camp Curry.”
“Have you been hiking lately?”
“Up by Vernal Falls and the back country a little.”
“Any place else?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know Margret Malone?”
Lance groaned, “That chick is driving me nuts! Her and her Indian buddy.”
“Who would that be?”
“Some Joseph dude, he got me trapped in a cave. He had me out in a snow storm tracking down that Margret chick, then he takes off with her. I had to get out of the cave on my own.”
“Did you give Margret anything to take with her?”
“No, but I saw the Indian stuffing things in her back-pack. He made her carry it too.”
“Tell me about your Military service.”
“My military…I was Special Forces. Best tracker they ever had. Served
in Afghanistan and Iraq. I tracked ‘em down and carried ‘em in.”
“You carried them?”
“Yeah, dead-man carry. I’m strong enough to carry ‘em for miles.”
“Are you a body builder?”
Lance struck a pose and flexed his muscles, “What do you think?” He grinned.
They talked for a while about Lance’s experiences in the service. “Those dudes are brutal! They’d cut your throat without even a thought,” Lance made a gesture across his throat and then fell silent.
“Did you know Patty Waters—go out with her?”
“Sure, everybody in the park knows her, cute little chick.”
“Did you ever date her?”
“I don’t know what she ever saw in Coleson—except his money. Too bad they killed her.”
“They?”
“Well, yeah—the Indians had her in some kind of thing about mining. They want to keep all the gold around here for themselves.”
“Okay, thanks Lance, that’s all for now. And don’t go anywhere, we may have more questions later.”
Lance shrugged his shoulders, got up and walked out.
☙
Karen Johnson was making her way over to talk with Captain Sheffield about her findings in Indian Canyon. Bo walked at her side, his tail wagging, drool dripping from his muzzle.
Karen knelt down beside her dog when she felt him stop and tense up. A rumbling growl was in his throat. What’s wrong with you today Bo? You’re off duty. She gave him an affectionate pet and tugged on his leash to get him to move on.
The big dog planted his feet and refused to move, the hair on his back bristling. Karen looked up to see a short man with blonde hair step out of the back door of the Permit Office. He was walking toward them with a swagger in his step. Bo stared at him and continued to growl.
“Who was the guy that just left here? My dog had a hit on him,” Karen said, when they got to Captain Sheffield’s office. Bo was still bristling.
“That was one of our suspects,” said the captain.
“And you let him go?”
“He won’t go anywhere. He doesn’t think he’s a suspect.”
“I turned in the DNA sample, and scat, to the lab. Have they given you a report on the body yet?”