by Nancy Cupp
“Nothing yet, should be here this afternoon.”
“I can’t figure out how there isn’t a huge trail of blood. And how did her body and…and her…well, how did they get so far apart?”
“I don’t know, Karen. I’ve seen lots of stuff, and this is one of the tough ones. You and Bo did a great job, go on home and get some rest.”
31
Forensics
Captain Sheffield and Deputy Smith were finishing their lunch when Paul Wilson came in. “Hi Paul, I haven’t seen you in a while. You’re not going to open the office, are you?” Captain Sheffield asked.
“No, I took some time off. Finding her—you know, like that, was kinda hard on me. I just came in to do some paperwork,” said Paul.
“Yeah, it’s been hard on everyone.” The fax machine started to hum, and was soon spitting out papers. “This looks like my forensics report, excuse me guys.” The captain sat down to read his report.
He didn’t expect to find anything unusual, given the circumstances, but two things caught his attention. Her body was almost drained of blood, and clutched in her left hand was an object made of black leather. The report also stated there were slash marks on her left arm.
“Hey Greg, come in here a minute.” When the deputy stuck his head around the corner, the captain read him the report.
“That case must have been very important to her, for her to hold on to it that tight.”
“So, if she held the briefcase in her left hand, and someone attacked her, she could’ve held up the case to protect herself. The attacker would’ve cut her arm, the briefcase, and the handle,” theorized the captain, demonstrating with his arm.
“Sounds plausible.”
“If we can match the blade Margret brought in to the slashes in the briefcase and her arm, we’ll have a positive ID on the murder weapon.”
“But why haven’t we found a lot of blood—and signs of a body being dragged? How would her body get all the way to the top of the cliff without showing any drag-marks,” asked Greg, “did she walk up there before she was killed, but after the assault?”
A body being dragged, thought Captain Sheffield. “Unless she was carried.”
“It would have to be somebody strong, and physically fit, like a climber.”
“We have evidence of climbers near Indian Canyon, but that’s not all that unusual.”
“Her head was found near their camp too,” said Smith.
“True—but nothing points to anyone there specifically.”
“And why would they allow her head to be found nearby if they were involved—I think it rules them out.”
“It rules out Sam Parks. I don’t think he’s strong enough to carry her that far. Though we have him placed at the crime scene, with robbery as a motive. Margret certainly couldn’t carry her, but she could be an accomplice, taking the weapon away,” said the captain.
“Sam would benefit from the briefcase getting where Patty was taking it, why would he steal it?”
“I think we need to take a closer look at Lance Larson,” said the captain.
“Does he have motive?”
“Not that I can see, maybe a love-interest?”
“And why is there no blood trail, except for the few smudges on the door?”
“That’s a good question.”
Paul came in from the front room, “Can I interest either of you in some fresh coffee?”
32
Run!
Margret was sipping coffee in the lobby of the Ahawahnee Hotel. She’d bought a new book, John Muir, In His Own Words, by Peter Browning. Muir was a naturalist that lived and wrote in the park more than a hundred years ago.
She was engrossed in the musical quality of Muir’s descriptions, when the sound of heavy, rhythmic breathing broke into her thoughts. She peered over the frame of her glasses to see a huge dog staring at her.
When his handler realized that he’d disturbed her, she apologized, making an effort to get up. “I’m sorry—sometimes I forget how loud he can be.”
“Oh, don’t go,” said Margret. “They let dogs stay in the hotel too?”
“Not usually, but Bo is a service dog. He gets a few special perks.”
“Really—I saw you and him get off a helicopter last night. That’s pretty special.”
Karen chuckled, “Yeah I guess that is pretty special.” She extended her hand to Margret, “I’m Karen Johnson and this is Bo.”
“Nice to meet you—both. So what does Bo do? Is he a seeing eye dog?”
“No, he’s a sniffing kind of dog. He follows a scent trail and helps us to search and find people.”
“Cool, a doggie detective. So he’s here because of that ranger?”
“Yes, but we’ll be going home today. His work is done for now.”
“Oh—did he find something?”
“Um…yes, but I can’t really talk about it.”
“I see. I’ve met so many interesting, um—people here. I guess my grandpa was right, I need to get out more.”
They chatted a while longer and when Karen and Bo had to leave, Margret decided to put her book away to go enjoy the park’s beauty. She’d been impressed by a passage written by John Muir in April 1898.
“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.”[1]
☙
The park was getting back to normal routines. Shops and museums were open, and vacationers crowded around the best sites for photos. There were a few areas blocked off by park police, but the cultural center and museum were open. The shuttle was running again, so it was much easier for Margret to get around.
She took in a short movie about the park, with photography so breathtaking, it brought tears to her eyes. Then Margret found her way to the cultural center, and walked through the exhibits Julie had told her about. She saw examples of clothing, tools, and basketry, old and modern.
Informational kiosks told the story of Native American life in the park. Margret was disappointed that Julie wasn’t giving her demonstration, but there was plenty to see anyway.
The Art Gallery was a welcome surprise. Margret had no idea that great works of art from the early history of the park were on display. She saw paintings by William Keith, Thomas Moran and other famous works from the 1800’s.
Leaving the museum, a small framed article caught her eye. The date was a year old. It was about the theft Julie had been talking about. Before she could read all the details, she was gently pushed along by other tourists wanting to see everything possible on their short vacation.
Margret stepped out into the fresh mountain air and let herself be surrounded with Yosemite’s magic. Even the crowds didn’t diminish the energy and serenity of the park.
Margret caught a shuttle to El Capitan, then Bridal Veil Falls. As the breeze funneled through the valley, it caught delicate tendrils of water falling from a hanging valley. Water swayed and waved in the windy alcove, a long bridal veil trailing over the cliff.
Back on the shuttle, Margret realized it would take her past Camp Curry. She still needed to check out of the yurt, so she got off at Camp Curry.
Standing on the steps of the office, Margret heard two men arguing. She stepped toward the back entrance, wondering if she should knock on Lance’s door. Through the partially open window, Margret heard enough to cause her to freeze in her tracks.
“…but did you have to cut her head off?”
“You needed her quiet—so I took care of it.”
“I didn’t say to maim her. And why—how did you get her up there?”
“I carried her, after I knocked her out. Did it in the water so it would be clean—cut a little too deep, and the current caught…”
“Shut-up—I don’t need details.”
“Do you have my steroids? I need it—now.”
“How could you be stupid enough to let them find your knife?”
“I planted it, takes the heat off—where’s my stuff?”<
br />
“If you hadn’t chopped up my briefcase, we could get that painting sold.”
“I did my part, Paul—now I get paid.”
“You’ll get your…”
The conversation was cut short when Margret decided to get out of there. She backed away, but her heel caught on a stone that jutted up through the ground. She fell hard on her butt, then scrambled to get up when she saw the curtain move.
“…That damn woman!” was all she heard. Margret ran as hard as she could. She had no idea where to go to be safe. Her heart pounding, she tried to cut through an area of tall grass, only to find it was a swamp.
Her shoes filled with mud as she pulled herself back out in a panic. Mud sucked her left shoe off. She half-ran, half-hobbled trying to get it back on.
Through the trees, she could see a campground with lots of people. Some kids were buzzing around, making pretend mini bike noises. With a glance behind, she caught a glimpse of Lance and a ranger running down the road, pointing and gesturing.
Margret saw a sign for restrooms and made a bee line for the yellow-painted, block building. Diving inside, she tried to compose herself, her breath coming in ragged gulps.
She strained her ears to hear anything telling her where the men were. Margret paced, her feet crunching the collection of bugs that lay dead or dying on the cement floor. Her mind raced to think of a plan.
A mother and her two kids clattered into the bathroom. Margret was startled until she saw the kids. “I don’t know why the ranger was running, Justin. Cathy, wash your hands,” directed the mother.
“I think there was a bank robber,” Justin said.
“You’re stupid! There aren’t any banks here—It was a bear.”
“Was not!”
“Was too!”
“Don’t call your brother stupid,” said the mother. “Excuse us,” she said to Margret, as she herded the kids back toward the door.
“Which way did they go?” Margret asked.
“They ran down by the river, across the bridge,” said Cathy.
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Quiet—get going or we won’t do s’mores tonight,” said the mother, giving Margret a weary look.
Margret took her clue, and slipped out of the bathroom. She walked back the way she came, glancing behind. Hurrying, but trying to look casual, she mingled in with a group of people heading to the shuttle stop. “I hope there isn’t a long wait,” said a man in the group.
Yeah, me too, thought Margret, adjusting her eyewear. She fidgeted, wondering if she should run or wait for the shuttle. Fortunately, it showed up before she had to run. Taking her seat, she was able to relax enough to think about what to do with the information she’d heard.
I could just leave tomorrow, the bus goes at eight o’clock, but they told me not to. I can stay in my room and I’ll be safe, she thought. Scanning outside, she saw Lance and the ranger, walking alongside the road. Margret sank down to hide, but not soon enough. Lance saw her, and both men ran to catch the shuttle at the next stop.
Margret prayed they wouldn’t get to the stop in time, but when the doors opened Lance got on. She tried to leave by the back doors, but the throng of tourists getting on pushed her back.
She avoided eye contact, but could feel his stare. Margret wiggled through the standing passengers until she was as close to the back doors as possible, ready to leap and run at the next stop. Lance moved close to the front doors, ready to get off as well.
The shuttle bus screeched to a halt. The stop was a popular one, and most of the passengers wanted to get off. Margret stepped off, and noticed Lance do the same. She saw him pushing through the crowd toward her.
“Wait—I forgot my purse,” she yelled. The driver opened the back doors again and she jumped back on.
“You getting back off?” yelled the driver.
“No,—I’ll stay on. Go!” The doors banged shut, and the bus lumbered off. Margret saw Lance standing on the sidewalk, watching the shuttle leave. She found an empty seat and sat down hard, breathing like she’d just ran to the top of Half Dome.
Margret decided to ride the shuttle to the office where she’d talked to Captain Sheffield. Park Rangers worked there, and she wasn’t sure who she could trust, but she needed help. So far, the captain seemed to be the best choice.
She ran to the back door of the office. It was locked. In desperation, she pounded harder than she needed to, looked behind her, then pounded again.
Deputy Smith opened the door a crack, “We’re just closing up. The office hours are eight AM to…”
“I have to see Captain Sheffield right away!”
“The captain is busy doing investigative…”
“I need to see him—I have information,” pleaded Margret.
Deputy Smith, in an official stance, barred the door, until Captain Sheffield came to see what the commotion was about. “Margret—can I help you with something?”
She breathed a sigh of relief, “Captain, I heard some stuff, and I ran, and they—they…”
“I think you better come in and sit down—tell me what’s going on.”
Deputy Smith stepped aside and stood in the back of the room, while Margret gushed everything she’d heard to the captain. He noticed Deputy Smith’s formal posture and said, “For crying out loud, Greg—will you relax. Sit down and help us to sort this thing out.” The deputy pulled up a chair.
“So can you describe what this ranger looked like?”
“Um…Young, tall, kind of—red hair.”
“Sounds like Paul,” said Deputy Smith.
“Yes, Paul—I heard Lance call him that!”
“Okay, and you heard them say, what, exactly? Just slow down and take your time. Try to remember the exact words. Deputy, take notes please.”
Margret relayed the information, and bit by bit, they pieced the story together.
“So he said, my briefcase.”
“Yes.”
“The initials could be Paul Wilson, not Patty Waters,” said Deputy Smith, “maybe she borrowed it.”
“I think we need to take a closer look at the case, it seems more important than the contents.”
“He,—He said, he did it in the water. That he cut—too deep and it—came off!” Margret was hyperventilating between sobs. “Captain did he…is that how you found her?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you any information that would jeopardize the case. But what you’re telling us fits together.”
“Does it mean I carried—that knife?”
“We’ll be doing some lab work to see if it matches the evidence we have.”
Margret was feeling queasy, “I read something in the art museum—and they were talking about some painting—like, is that what it’s about?”
The captain and deputy looked at each other. “Could it be tied in?” Greg asked.
“It’s starting to look that way,” replied George.
Margret squirmed a little in her chair. “Am I safe here? Can I catch the bus in the morning?”
“No, don’t get on the bus. I’ve verified that you were still on the way here at the time of the murder, so you’re cleared to leave. Greg, check to see when we can get her a flight out of here. I’ll have you take her to the airport as soon as we can get her on a plane.”
Margret was relieved she’d be flying out in the morning. Deputy Smith gave her a ride to the hotel, and walked her to the door. “Call room service for supper tonight. Once we get out of the park tomorrow, we’ll stop for breakfast. Stay in your room. I’ll come to get you at five.”
33
The Fight
The captain sent men to watch Lance’s and Paul’s residences. He also assigned a man to the lobby of the Ahawahnee. Officers were instructed to maintain a low profile and find a phone to call in, since Paul could monitor the radio.
Deputy Smith returned to the office after dropping Margret off. “I’d like to stay and help with the arrest sir,” he said.
“So far I don’t think they’re aware we’re watching. I want to see if they’ll try to leave the park.”
“They seem to be at odds with each other. One of them will make a mistake. Is the information Margret gave us enough to arrest on?”
“Unfortunately no, what she told us convinces me we have our men, but it’s hearsay.”
“Were there prints on the knife?”
“It was wiped clean.”
“She mentioned the briefcase. They seem worried about it.”
“I asked the lab to take a closer look.”
“Suppose there’s something about it that’s incriminating. The briefcase was left behind, so theft wasn’t a motive. Maybe we were supposed to find the case. Does that mean they were trying to pin something on Patty?”
“That’s a good theory, so if…” The desk phone rang, and the captain answered. “Follow him please. If he attempts to leave the park, arrest him—tell him it’s erratic driving or something,” he hung up the phone. “Lance is on the move. He’s driving toward Paul’s.”
“Either he’s picking him up—or he’s done with him.”
“Do you think he’d try to kill Paul?”
“Lance is into bodybuilding and from the information we got from Margret, I’d say he’s involved in this to supply his habit. Where would Paul get drugs from?”
“We’ll check into his background, his jobs, people he associates with.” The police radio crackled to life.
“We have a report of a break-in at the apartment complex. Possible assault in progress,” the voice on the radio reported.
“Lance?”
“Let’s find out.” They ran to the sheriff’s car. As Deputy Smith drove, he flipped on the lights, but not the siren. A radio report told them shots were fired.
A small crowd of people, many of them park employees, gathered in the parking lot. Red and blue lights flashed, illuminating hundred-year-old trees, and cliff-tops beyond the tree line reflected the light in colorful lightning flashes.
Captain Sheffield got the report from officers on the scene. One man was assaulted, the other suffered a minor gunshot wound. Both would be transported to the hospital in Merced when they were stable. Deputy Smith went in to get a positive ID on the parties involved.