Hold On (Margret Malone Book 1)

by Nancy Cupp

  36

  Breakthrough

  With most of their field work done, Greg studied steroid use, and checked out Paul Wilson’s Facebook page. Paul’s page didn’t tell him much, but he checked friend connections too. Most of them didn’t lead anywhere, but one guy, Fred Beloit, was selling all kinds of stuff.

  The captain left for the day to deliver samples to the lab, and to talk with Dr. Crandal if he could. Greg, done with his computer work, was getting bored. Wondering if Margret had gotten home okay, he gave her a call.

  “Hello Margret? This is Deputy Smith—Greg.”

  “Greg! Nice to hear from you—I didn’t think you’d call.”

  “So you must have gotten home okay?”

  “Yes,—it was nice to fly instead of taking the bus! How are things going there?”

  Greg told Margret what he could. “I think we’ll have enough to arrest Lance, but it’s up to a jury to convict him. Paul’s up to something I’m sure, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to make anything stick.”

  “Sounds like they had a melt-down—glad I missed it,” said Margret. “So—how are you? You sound more relaxed than the first time we talked.”

  “I’ve lightened up a bunch, thanks for pointing out the flaw in my character!”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your character—you’re just trying too hard.”

  “Maybe I’m still doing that. I’m stuck right now on a little shred of information that doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh—it’s something about a broken stalactite.”

  “Like in a cave?”

  “Yeah, you know the things that hang down from the ceiling.”

  “What does the shred of information say?”

  “A double stalactite with one side broken off. Stand under the broken side and sight across the stalagmites,” recited Paul, “it might make some sense if I knew where it was, but I don’t have a clue. I need an expert, but there isn’t one—there could be a million caves around here.”

  “I know a place like that.”

  “What?”

  “Remember when I said I got chased by a bear and fell in a cave?”

  “Yeah—crazy story.”

  “Well, there was a broken stalactite in there, near where we got out.”

  “Margret—really?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know if it’s what you’re looking for though.”

  “There can’t be too many broken ones. Where is it?”

  “Oh—Um, I was lost at the time.”

  “Aaaggh! Do you have any idea where you were?”

  “No, I don’t. But Joseph Parks could probably find it again.”

  “Margret, you’re amazing!”

  “I am?”

  “Yes! You may have found what we need to solve this thing.”

  “Huh—just by being a klutz and falling into a cave,” said Margret.

  “Margret, just be yourself. You’re perfect,” laughed Greg.

  ☙

  The next day when the captain and Greg were discussing their findings, Greg told him what Margret said.

  “That girl is full of surprises. Go up to Lake Tenaya and talk to Joseph. Ask him if he’ll help you find the cave. His grandfather is being released. I think we can drop all the charges there,—so he’ll be more apt to help us out.”

  “What did you find out from Dr. Crandal?”

  “He wasn’t in when I was there. But that may have been a stroke of luck, because I talked to the receptionist. She said Dr. Crandal practiced sports medicine, and he had several clients that were bodybuilders.”

  “No surprise there.”

  “I asked her where the doctor lived. She said he had this big beautiful mansion. Then she said it was just like a museum, full of art and antiques. He especially likes things from the local area.”

  “That would mean the good doctor might be a collector of stolen property,” said Greg.

  “It looks that way—so it’s best I didn’t tip him off by asking questions. I’ll ask for a search warrant as soon as I have enough information on him.”

  “From what I found on the internet, prolonged use of steroids can have a lot of side effects. One of them is change of behavior—aggression. Psychotic episodes and physical sexual changes too. So steroids could have contributed to Lance’s involvement,” said Greg.

  “I think we’re building a good case. Go see what you can find out from Joseph.”

  Deputy Smith stopped outside the Parks’ residence. Mrs. Parks was in the yard feeding her chickens when he pulled up. When she saw him she went inside. Before Deputy Smith could get to the door Joseph emerged. Joseph stood in the doorway with his arms crossed against his chest, he said nothing.

  “Hello Joseph. I’m Deputy Smith, remember from a couple days ago?” Greg said, holding his hat in his hands.

  Joseph nodded.

  “I’d like to ask you a favor. Margret Malone told me about a cave that you and she had been in. I was wondering if you remember where it is.”

  “I do,” said Joseph without moving.

  “Well, she said she saw a formation—a stalactite that was broken. Do you recall seeing that?”

  “Yes, I saw it.”

  “Would you consider taking me there?”

  “Why do you want to see this place?”

  “We recovered a map—a clue that directs us to the cave. We think it may lead to more information that would help us to solve our case.”

  “Can I see this map?”

  Greg handed the copy of the map to him.

  Joseph looked at it and said, “This looks like it fits the place. It’s a long walk from here, can you ride a horse?”

  “It’s been a long time, but yes, I can ride a horse.”

  “It’ll take me a few minutes to get my things together. We can borrow horses from my neighbor. I hope you have other clothes with you.” Joseph turned and went into the house.

  Greg went to his car and got a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, Joseph met him at the door and let him in to change his clothes.

  ☙

  Joseph and Greg headed across the wide grassy meadow that led back to the cave. Joseph rode at a canter, and almost looked like he was part of the horse.

  The first twenty minutes or so were a challenge for Greg as he bounced along. But soon his body relaxed into the familiar rhythm he remembered from his boyhood.

  Joseph noticed when Greg started to relax. “You’re starting to understand how the horse moves,” he said, smiling.

  The land started to get rocky as it rose out of the grassy plain. Trees dotting the landscape became thicker as they entered the forest. The men had to ride slower, winding around trees and avoiding rocks. Joseph pointed to a rocky ledge. “I think that’s on your map,” he said.

  Greg unfolded the paper in his pocket and held it up against the silhouette of the rock ledge. “I think you’re right.” Random squiggles on the paper now started to make sense. “So the cave opening should be over there somewhere?”

  “Yes, that’s where we came out. There were big rocks on each side of it. They show on your map as crooked circles. It’s through that small grove of trees.”

  When they spotted the mouth of the cave, they tied their horses to trees and took out the powerful flashlights they brought along. Joseph led the way, cautioning Greg that the floor of the cave sloped steeply downward.

  They shimmied inside, but had to slide down the steep incline before they could find a place to stand and look around. Greg scanned the top of the cave with his flashlight. He could see bats hanging on the rough rock of the ceiling.

  “I think the broken stalactite is near where we came in—to the right,” said Joseph.

  Greg shined his light in that direction and the beam glinted off the square end of a broken stalactite. He moved the light to the floor far below, to see the corresponding stalagmite.

  Unfortunately, there was a wide gap between where they stood and where th
ey needed to be in order to stand under the broken part. He slowly moved his light back and forth to find a path they could follow to get there.

  “It looks like we could get down there okay, but I’m not sure we can climb back up—it looks pretty slick. Did you bring a rope?”

  “I have a hundred feet of climbing rope in my saddle bag. I think we could tie it off on that boulder if it’s as solid as it looks.” Joseph indicated a rock near the edge of the slope they’d slid down.

  “Great, let’s get set up.”

  The men scrambled out, sliding as they climbed. Joseph got the rope out of his saddle bag, and they headed back in. Greg tied off the rope and held the light while Joseph slid backwards down the slope using the rope to slow and control his decent. Then he shined his light back up at Greg as he slid down the incline.

  “I’m glad you had this rope,” said Greg.

  “I didn’t have it the last time I was here. I could’ve used it then.”

  The floor of the cave was soft under their feet. They carefully chose their steps as they wound their way to the spot. Greg shined his light up to find his bearings, then shined his beam across the opposite side of the pair. At first he saw nothing but more cave and more rock.

  Joseph stood behind him and also looked across, shining his light along with Greg’s. As they swept their lights side to side they realized that they were looking at something unnatural and square. It was covered with the same dirt and bat guano as the rest of the cave, blending it into the back ground.

  “Do you think we can get over there?” Greg said, trying to find a way with his light.

  “That ledge must be ten feet from the floor. I don’t think we can reach it from there.” He swept his light along the ledge toward the cave’s entrance but the drop was higher. When he followed it the other direction he saw a gradual slope angled toward the floor. “I think we can get on the ledge if we start back there,” he said, motioning with his flashlight.

  They made their way to the lower part of the ledge, winding around scattered rocks and debris. Once on the ledge, they had to shimmy sideways with their backs to the wall. It was impossible to stand up straight. They had to move in a half-bent, awkward way.

  “Ouch,” said Joseph, as his head banged against a low protrusion.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just watch your head here.”

  The ledge got wider, but they had to stoop because the ceiling clearance was lower near the box. By the time they reached it they were crawling. Greg ran his hands along the square shape brushing off dust and guano. “It’s a chest all right.” His fingers ran along the edge and found a latch.

  He got a grip on the latch and pulled open the lid. Rusty hinges creaked, echoing from chamber walls. When Greg shined his light inside he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. It looked old, but it didn’t make any sense to him. Joseph peered over his shoulder.

  “Oh my God!” he said, immediately knowing what they’d found.

  “Do you know what this is? I don’t.”

  “These are artifacts. My people, who lived here thousands of years ago, made these things.”

  “They might be from the museum,” said Greg.

  “We thought they’d been lost—sold on the black market. If these are authentic—from the cultural center, this is an important find.”

  “It’s the connection we need. We can leave it here until we can send someone to recover it.”

  “Do you think that woman was murdered because she was involved?”

  “We don’t know what her part in it was, but there’s a link. We never would’ve found this without your help.”

  “Let’s get going, or we’ll be riding home in the moonlight,” said Joseph.

  They crept back to the rope and with some difficulty slipping and sliding, managed to climb back toward the entrance. Greg stepped out into the cool evening air, and breathed in the delicate pine fragrance. He stretched and bent his back, glad to be able to stand upright again. Joseph joined him while coiling up his rope.

  “It could snow again soon, and we won’t be able to get back in there until spring. Who ever put it there must have carried it up one piece at a time,” said Joseph, stuffing the rope into his saddle bag.

  “Is it shorter to get to the cave from the valley?”

  “Yes, shorter—but a much more difficult route. You’ll need horses or an ATV to recover that stuff.”

  “Can I count on you for help getting back here?”

  “It’d be an honor to bring this back. My grandmother will be happy to know it’s been found.”

  “We might be able to get a helicopter close enough to make a quicker recovery. I’d like to look around the cave a little more, for more evidence. We may not have seen everything.”

  They mounted their horses, and started back. This time Greg was sore, it took him a while longer to relax, and quit bouncing. Joseph was excited to get home with his news, but he saw Greg struggling to ride, so he slowed his horse to a walk.

  “Will the artifacts be safe, until they can be recovered?” asked Joseph.

  “As long as no one knows where they are. I know you’re excited to tell what you found, but it would be best kept quiet for now.”

  “They belong to all our people, but some think they’re more valuable as cash. I won’t tell anyone about it until I know they’re safe.”

  “It would be interesting to know more about the cave. Did you know about it before Margret fell in there?”

  “I’d never been in there before, but my grandfather might know more about the history of caves around here. I know some caves were used for shelter and storage in the old days.”

  It was almost dark by the time the horses were put away. Greg drove the long Tioga Road back to the valley thinking about the case. I wonder if Patty was involved with the break-in. She was keeping a file on caves, and she wrote on that map. Weather she was part of it or not, she must have known something that got her killed.

  37

  Joyce Calls In

  Interstate fifteen, from Salt Lake City to LasVegas, was a myriad of beautiful desert color. Red cliffs, layered on mauve, grey and white volcanic ash gave way to plunging canyons. Joyce marveled at building sized boulders of yellow cap rock that tumbled from high mesas ages ago.

  Near Cedar City just outside of Zion national park, Joyce entered one of the few rest areas along her route. She was about to climb out when the familiar green car, with the hanging bumper, parked nearby.

  The guy she saw at Reno opened the trunk to dig in his cooler for a cold drink. From her high perch in the cab of the semi, Joyce could see his merchandise. There were baskets, pottery, a bunch of rocks, and flat boxes mixed in with an assortment of modern hand tools, saws and drills.

  Joyce climbed down and crossed the parking lot to the primitive restroom. A slight odor rushed out of the depths of the composting toilet. She crinkled her nose, quickly finishing her business to get back into fresh air.

  She rubbed her hands with sanitizer on the way back to the truck, trying to avoid eye contact with the guy trying to do business out of his trunk. “Ma’am could I interest you in some fine gold jewelry? I have chains, how about a genuine Indian basket from the 1800’s or a painting.”

  “I told you before, no thanks.” She kept walking to the truck, and wasted no time getting back to work.

  The highway meandered through a deep narrow canyon, and crossed the Virgin River flowing into Zion National Park. The truck’s radio blasted out the last of an overplayed song, and announced top of the hour news.

  “The Mariposa County Sheriff’s office has announced a break in the ongoing investigation involving a murdered park ranger. The victim, Patricia Waters, was found beheaded in the Merced River. There have been two more arrests made in connection with the murder. Investigation turned up a possible connection with the robbery, more than a year ago, of the Yosemite Valley museum. In other news across the nation……”

  Mariposa County She
riff thought Joyce. I bet they’d be someone to call about that creep selling stuff. Joyce spoke into her smart phone and it found the number she needed. She gave the command, and she was connected.

  “Mariposa County Sheriff’s office, this is Deputy Sandra Saunders.”

  “Ah, hi—um this is Joyce Hart. I’m a truck driver, and I want to report a guy that I think may be selling stolen art, and a bunch of stuff. I’m on I-15 heading south. I just left Cedar City…”

  “That’s out of our jurisdiction ma’am.”

  “Yes, well, I suppose it is—but I think you could use the information, and I don’t know who else to call.”

  “Did you contact the local Sheriff in that county?”

  “Ah—no ma’am I didn’t, but I’ve seen this guy several times, in several states. I think he may have stuff from the museum in Yosemite…”

  “What makes you think it’s from there?”

  “Well, he showed me a picture—a drawing. He said it was by Moran, Tom or Thomas, something like that. It looked real old.”

  “There are a lot of reproductions that are made to look old.”

  “I’m sure there are. Could you just take the information I have, and make a report so I can forget about it?”

  “Okay ma’am, I’ll make a report. What do you have?”

  Joyce gave the description of the car, and the license plate number she had written down. She told the deputy she’d seen the guy in Reno selling baskets and pictures, and again just outside of Cedar City, Utah where he tried to sell her a gold chain. He seemed to be traveling toward Las Vegas, like she was. She left her phone number in case anyone had more questions.

  “Thank You ma’am, I’ll file the report.”

  When Joyce disconnected, she had mixed feelings. I did what I could, but I doubt it’ll ever go anywhere. With a shrug, she turned the radio back up and continued to enjoy the scenery. It’ll probably get filed in a drawer somewhere, she thought.

  38

  Crossroads

  Sam Parker was sitting outside the Police station, on the heavy stone steps, waiting for Joseph to pick him up. He let the warm sun shine on his face. The breeze, flowing down from the mountains, brought the scent of Incense Cedar and thoughts of home. He hadn’t been in jail for very long, but his freedom and his home were precious.