"Got Mandrel." Mike shook salt water from his dark curly hair. "Chuck's still out there." He climbed onto the railing again, ready to jump.
"Trenton, don't be a fool." Adam grabbed him and pulled him back. "We'll find him. Last thing we need is a dead hero."
Mike jerked away and dove back into the water.
"Stupid..." Adam yelled to his crew to fish Trenton out of the water. A Coast Guard helicopter from the base across the river hovered above them, adding to the confusion and the wind.
Helen shared Adam's frustration. Trenton should know better. Going in once maybe, but twice, not in water this cold. He'd be hypothermic by now.
Helen divided her attention between Scott Mandrel, who was being checked over by the paramedics, and the gray swells carrying their skipper farther and farther away. She and the others breathed a collective sigh of relief when rescuers fished him out of the water and pulled him into the helicopter.
The rescue team working with Mandrel immobilized his neck and back, then settled him on the body board and transported him over to the Coast Guard vessel, where they could better care for him. He had a head wound and still hadn't regained consciousness. Once Mandrel had been taken inside the cabin, Adam boarded the Merry Maid again.
"Any sign of Chuck?" Helen asked.
"Not yet. We'll keep looking. The fifty-two will take Trenton and Mandrel in. I'll transfer over to the thirty-seven and stay out until..."
The ship-to-shore radio crackled. "We found Frazier."
Adam scrambled for the handheld. "What's the status?"
There was a pause, then more static. "He's dead, sir."
Adam replaced the mike and covered his eyes with his hand, dragging it down his face. His shoulders rose and fell. Silence stole over them like a heavy fog. Water lapped against the side of the boat. They seemed to be stranded in eternity. Helen closed her eyes. Oh, God, please don't let this be happening.
She felt numb and somehow detached. Swells lifted them several feet up, then dropped them again, but none of Helen's earlier signs of seasickness remained. She opened her eyes again feeling helpless, and at the same time wanting to do something.
"I suppose this means we won't be going fishing," one of Earl's companions mumbled. "Paid good money for this."
"Put a sock in it, Kendall." Earl shook his head, his apologetic gaze falling to Helen. "Sorry about that."
"I'll have one of my officers pilot you back to the port." Adam paused and looked at Helen. "You okay?"
Helen nodded. "I'm fine."
He looked as if he didn't believe her. "I'll see you back at the docks then, or at the Coast Guard station."
"Do you want me to pilot the boat in?" Helen asked, eager for something to do.
"Not unless you're a licensed operator."
Helen waited for Adam to leave, then settled onto one of the cushioned seats. A young coxswain climbed up to the flybridge and they were soon under way. He steered away from the Coast Guard boats, giving them wide berth as crews dealt with the burning boat and raced back to the station with their victims.
A number of boats still dotted the water around Buoy Ten. Fishing for salmon, no doubt. Helen and J.B. had talked about taking his boat out salmon fishing, but they hadn't gotten around to it. Helen wished J.B. were with her now. She could have used his skill, his encouragement, and his comforting arm around her shoulder. The coxswain opened the throttle and headed back to port. The engine obliterated the voices of her fellow passengers. They'd been speculating about the explosion. How could it have happened? Had someone planted a bomb? Maybe the engines caught fire. Had it been an accident?
That was the big question, wasn't it? Accident or murder?
"Mrs. Bradley?" Earl sat down beside her and handed her a fresh can of ginger ale. "Thought maybe you could use this."
"Thanks." She popped the top and took a long drink, then settled the can between her legs.
"Do you do a lot of boating?"
"Off and on."
"You mentioned earlier you were working on some kind of guidebook."
She briefly told him about her project.
"I always thought it would be interesting to write, but I don't think I could sit still long enough."
"What do you do?"
"Work for the EPA."
"The Environmental Protection Agency? Are you here in an official capacity?"
"Partly. I've been talking to a few of the fishermen and doing some random checks on their catches."
"Is there a problem with pollution out here?"
"No more than usual as far as I can tell. We've been seeing some mutations in fish in some of the rivers in Oregon and Washington, and I'm checking out fish in different areas. We caught up with one firm in Longview last week. They were dumping toxic waste into the Columbia River. Levied a stiff fine." He smiled. "Tough job, but somebody has to do it."
"What about your friends? Are they with the EPA as well?"
"Nope. Just friends. We usually charter a boat twice, maybe three times a year. Steve Kendall, the one who was mouthing off about not being able to fish, works at a mill in Longview. He's not usually such a grouch. His wife, um... my sister, is divorcing him. Ron and Ed Pritchett run a foundry in Oregon City. They're the two guys with matching bowling jackets. And the tall skinny guy eating his sandwich is Nate Hirsch. He's an pilot for Alaska Airlines."
Helen listened while Earl rambled on. She wasn't especially interested in learning more about the men at the moment, but she was glad for the distraction. Maybe Earl needed some diversion as well.
Helen swallowed back the lump in her throat as she checked her watch. On an ordinary day she'd just be rising. But today was anything but ordinary. In the twinkling of an eye, less time than it took to tie a shoe, the world had changed for all of them.
The craft slowed in compliance with the "no wake" sign as they entered the channel. Off to her left they could see the Coast Guard station. The boat carrying Scott Mandrel had docked, and an ambulance with sirens wailing was already making its way to the Peninsula's only hospital in Ilwaco. She saw no sign of the helicopter. Chances are they'd taken Mike straight to the hospital's landing pad.
Another rescue boat had docked as well, and another ambulance stood waiting to receive Chuck's body. There would be no hurry for this one. She wondered where they'd take him. Did the hospital have a morgue? Was a medical examiner close by, or would they have to wait for one to come from one of the larger towns like Longview or South Bend? Helen tucked the morbid thoughts away as the Merry Maid neared the docks.
Helen helped tie up, then waited while the men gathered their gear and disembarked. The coxswain questioned each of them about the explosion, getting their names, addresses, and phone numbers in case they'd need to be contacted later. Having completed his task, the young man left.
Earl lingered behind. "Can I give you a hand?"
"No. I can manage," Helen told him. "I'd like to sit here a few minutes before I go up."
"I'll be on my way, then. We'll be staying at the Edgewater Inn for a couple more days in case you want to get in touch."
Helen thanked him and said good-bye. Long after he'd gone she sat on the bow staring into the oil-slickened water. "What now?" She sighed. Part of her wanted to stay on the boat now tucked safely in the harbor. Another wanted to race over to the Coast Guard station to...to do what? Stand around and get in the way? Ask questions no one could answer?
If anything, they'd be asking her questions. She'd witnessed the explosion. Yet she had no idea what had caused it. It could have been an engine problem, but Helen doubted that. More than likely someone had planted an explosive device. The only reason she could come up with was that someone, possibly the same person who'd killed Isabelle, wanted to silence Chuck.
The Merry Maid shifted and rocked when someone boarded. Helen twisted around. A young man in a Coast Guard uniform stood on deck, hat in hand. "Are you Mrs. Bradley?"
"Yes." Helen rose and made her Way to th
e rear of the boat. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Petty Officer Nixon. Lieutenant Jorgenson asked me to make sure you were okay and ask you to come up to the base."
"I suppose he wants to question me."
"Yes, ma'am. I can drive you if you want."
"No, thank you. I'll drive. My car is here."
He nodded, "Can I carry anything for you?"
Helen started to decline his offer but stopped herself. "Sure." Nixon followed her below deck where she picked up her backpack and handed him the cooler.
Walking up the ramp, Helen felt dizzy and weak. She stopped and grabbed the railing. Nixon dropped the cooler and caught her before she could hit the ground. "You okay, ma'am?" He lowered her to the ramp.
"Not exactly. Just let me sit here for a minute."
After several minutes the nausea passed. "I think I'll be okay now. Probably a mixture of an empty stomach and shock."
"That'll do it. Maybe you should let me drive you. Wait here and I'll bring the jeep closer so you won't have to walk all the way out to the parking lot."
When he left, Helen opened the cooler and extracted a bottle of apple juice and a sandwich. She peeled away the plastic wrap and groaned. Tuna fish. Rummaging through the cooler she found a bag of crackers. That she could handle.
With something in her stomach she felt well enough to drive and did.
When she arrived at the base, Adam was in his office talking, or rather, arguing with Sheriff Merritt.
"You can go in, Mrs. Bradley. Lieutenant Jorgenson said he wanted to see you right away."
"I'd better wait. Has the sheriff been in there long?"
"About five minutes."
Helen nodded and took a seat next to the door, where she could hear them all too clearly.
"It wasn't your fault or mine," Dan shouted. "Brooding about what we should have done isn't going to change things."
"No, but we knew Chuck was looking to get the goods on somebody. He was onto something. Just like Isabelle."
"Isabelle's death was an accident."
"I don't believe that now. I'm not sure I ever did."
"You're saying Chuck's death and Isabelle's are linked?"
"It's a possibility. They both had evidence of some kind."
"And you think someone wanted to shut them up?" The door opened, and Dan's lean frame nearly filled the doorway.
"From what you just told me about last night, I'd say yes." Adam waved Helen in. "Oh good. You're here."
Helen stepped into the small office, made even smaller by the two men. "How is Mike?"
"He'll live." Adam's wooden chair creaked when he leaned back.
"And Scott?"
"He's still unconscious."
Dan's frown deepened. He closed the door again, eyeing her suspiciously. "What happened to you?"
"I was on the Merry Maid this morning and witnessed the explosion. The Mariner III was right behind us."
"I see." Dan gave her a wry look. "The restaurant last night, the burglary at the B and B, and this morning a bombing. Interesting coincidence, don't you think?"
Helen ignored his innuendo.
Dan leveled a hard, penetrating gaze on her. "You ever heard of chloral hydrate, Mrs. Bradley?"
"Oh, come on, Dan." Adam frowned. "You can't possibly believe Helen had anything to do with that."
Helen glanced from one to the other. "Do with what?"
Adam shifted uneasily. "Last night at the restaurant. We thought Chuck had taken his pain-killers and had too much to drink. Turns out it wasn't that at all. His doctor called this morning."
"He had chloral hydrate in his bloodstream," Dan said. "Somebody slipped him a Mickey."
Chapter Nine
Chloral hydrate? You're sure?" Helen asked.
"Puts a whole new light on things, doesn't it?" Dan glowered. "Just wish Chuck had told us what he was up to last night. We might have been able to stop it."
"Maybe." Adam rubbed his chin. "I have a hunch he didn't have enough information to even name names. He was blowing smoke and letting someone think he knew more than he did."
"And he underestimated his opponent," Helen added.
Dan gave her a sidelong glance that clearly questioned her authority to comment, then focused back on Adam. "You suppose he told Shells anything?"
"He might have. He mentioned talking to her." With a worried look, Adam returned to the chair behind his desk. "I took him over there last night to sleep it off."
"Which means Shells could be in danger as well." Helen rubbed at a stiff muscle in her neck. "Have you told her about Chuck?"
"Not yet." Adam's rosy cheeks had turned an angry red. "Haven't been able to get away and I didn't want to send just anybody."
"I'll tell her," Dan volunteered. "It's on my way."
Clearly, the idea did not appeal to Adam, but he let it pass.
Helen was beginning to feel woozy again, only this time it wasn't lack of food or seasickness. She slipped off her jacket and sweat shirt and draped them over the back of her chair. "I'm either having a hot flash or it is unbearably warm in here."
"It isn't you. Adam's trying to emulate Florida." Dan stepped over to the window, opened it, then leaned back against it, resting his hips on the sill.
"Sorry." Adam reached over and flipped off a space heater. "When I get chilled it takes me forever to warm up."
"You and Sam McGee." Helen retrieved a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at the moisture on her forehead and upper lip and joined the sheriff at the window. 'You're hogging all the cool air. Didn't your mother ever teach you to share?"
He chuckled. "Sorry about that." He shifted over a few inches. "I'll be out of here in a minute and you can have all the fresh air you want.
"Before I take off," Dan continued, speaking now to Adam, "we better clarify something. The chloral hydrate business is my jurisdiction, but the explosion is yours. How do you want to handle the investigation?"
"We'll have to work with Marine Safety and probably the Feds. Since Chuck was a friend, neither one of us should be involved in the investigation."
"You have a point."
A determined look that passed between the two men indicated they would both be very much involved, if only in an unofficial capacity. "Since no one else is here yet, it wouldn't hurt to start asking questions," Adam said. "We'll have to contact everyone who might have been a witness." He handed a list of names to Dan. "The passengers on the Merry Maid are staying at the Edgewater, with the exception of Helen here." He glanced at Helen. "Guess we could start with you. You were the closest vessel, weren't you?"
'Yes. About two hundred feet away. The Klipspringer was ahead of us and to the south. I remember seeing them just before the explosion and right after. They'd turned around too. I lost track of them after that."
Adam nodded. "Bill called in about the same time as Mike, but our lookout had already seen the explosion and alerted us. Unlike your bullheaded skipper, Bill and Hank followed orders and stayed out of the way during the rescue efforts. They stuck around and helped pick up debris from the boat, then headed back out to get some fishing in. I'll talk to them this afternoon when they get back."
"Mrs. Bradley, can you remember anything about the explosion itself?" Dan asked.
"Chuck was at the helm and Mandrel ... as I recall, he was standing on the portside in front of the cabin, hanging on to the rail. I heard the boom and the whole boat went up in flames. Trenton radioed for help, then jumped in and managed to save Mandrel. I know it's sketchy, but it's the best I can do for now. I may remember more later."
"What do you mean, later? You either remember or you don't," Dan huffed.
"The mind is a tricky thing Sheriff. The details of what we see, especially in something as traumatic as an explosion, don't always fully register. It can take hours or even weeks to re-create the event and assimilate the information. Some people never take the time to draw these memories to the surface. Some don't want to."
"But you do.
" Dan crossed his arms.
"Helen," Adam mused, "you saw Mandrel just before the explosion. Did he look like he was about to jump?"
She rubbed the lines between her brows, trying to bring back the image. "I don't know."
Dan leaned forward. "You're thinking he might have set the charge, detonated it, and jumped clear?"
"It's a possibility. Probably didn't figure on a concussion, but he knew with all the boats around he'd have a good chance of being rescued." Adam leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. "With Trenton going into the water the way he did, they might have been in on it together."
"I doubt Trenton had anything to do with the explosion. He was Chuck's best friend." Dan shifted his gaze back to Helen. "Don't suppose anyone was taking pictures."
"I should have been, but I wasn't feeling well at the time Wait, there was someone. The airline pilot... um ..." Helen searched her memory for a name. "Nate Hirsch. He was taking pictures of the men in matching jackets just prior to the explosion."
"Anything else?" Adam asked.
Helen unzipped her backpack and pulled out a pad and pen.
She wrote each name, trying to place their positions prior to the explosion.
She listed Nate, the pilot, then the brothers, Ed and Ron, P something. All three had been standing to her right on the boat, the brothers against the railing posing for Nate.
"Earl Wilson and I were sitting aft, to the left of the engines." Helen hesitated, trying to picture the fifth man. "There was one more passenger, a man named Steve Kendall. The man was downright rude about our having to go back in. Wanted to stay out and fish."
"Without a skipper?"
"Earl said he was going through a divorce. There's something else about him. He was wearing headphones and had a radio or cassette player hooked to his belt." She closed her eyes. "I remember now. When I came up from the cabin, he was sitting on the stool at the console fiddling with the cassette." Helen hesitated as the possibility sank in. "If it was a cassette."
Red Sky In Mourning: A Helen Bradley Mystery (Helen Bradley Mysteries Book 3) Page 7