The Murders at El Tovar

by Charles Williamson

  “We saw it happen even though we several hundred feet behind them,” I said. “Do you think the runner was part of the plot? You saw how rugged that slope was. Will said he slid down headfirst. He was probably unconscious from hitting a rock before he went into the water.”

  Margaret had a little smile when she looked at me; “Yes you’re right. It’s probably nothing but a fantasy. Maybe, I’m just hoping that he’s alive. But please note that external frame packs are not common like when we were young. However, only an external frame pack would have let him slide down the rocky slope on his pack without rolling over and over. It might have protected his head from the rocks. Also, only a heavy load would keep him below the surface while he put on something to use to breath underwater.”

  If Sam were the serial killer, what better way was there of getting away cleanly than to be thought dead? I was anxious to see the file on Sam’s mother; Amy Ziegler should have it later today. If his mother looked like the victims, I’d have to reassess my opinion of Sam Gilbert.

  “I haven’t met Jason McKinney, but from your description of his reaction this morning, I don’t think I’d like him. Why isn’t he on the top of your suspect list?” she asked. We were looking at one of the world’s best views on a clear blue morning surrounded by the smell of pine and the scurrying sounds of a squirrel. Why couldn’t we set aside the case for a few minutes and just enjoy things.

  “Jason was working when Jim Otto, Peggy Marshall and Rachel Stein died. Isn’t this a spectacular morning Sweetie,” I said changing the subject.

  “The Colter House is only a few steps away from the hotel. Both Peggy Marshall and Rachel Stein died near where we’re sitting. Only a fifteen or twenty minute walk from the hotel. Doesn’t Jason work the night shift alone?”

  She was right. Jason could have left the checkout desk, killed either of women, and returned before the next shift arrived at 5:00. It would be unlikely that his absence would be noticed that early in the morning. He could also have murdered Jim Otto during a short break from his job in the hotel. It would not have taken ten minutes. Maybe he got blood on his clothing and had to go to his room to change. That might be the door that Sam thought was closing. I said, “Yes, he’s certainly still a suspect.”

  “It will be interesting to learn what the profiler tells you tomorrow. There are actually three young men from broken families with absent mothers. Sam Gilbert’s mother is in some sort of cult. Jason McKinney’s mother took off when he was young and his father tossed him out of the house when Jason began to drink and skip school. Will Blake’s mother moved to California, and the family sent Will away to a boarding school soon afterwards.” She was relentless. We were going to continue talking about the case as long as we sat here.

  An investigation is often the process of eliminating suspects to find out who remains. I still couldn’t eliminate enough people. We walked back to the hotel for a hearty breakfast, and I found that I was watching for any unaccompanied women walking along the Rim Trail. I had the strong feeling that the murderer was nearby. I thought another death was imminent if I didn’t apprehend the bastard soon.

  CHAPTER 29

  I called Amy Zeigler on my cell phone as we walked back to the hotel. There was no new information about the fate of Sam Gilbert. She planned to pick up Sam’s father and sisters at 9:00 and take them to her office in the park’s administration building. I agreed to join them at 10:00 and learn the latest on the search.

  Billy Blackstone came to our table to greet us at the El Tovar dining room. He seemed cheerful considering what had happened to his former roommate the day before.

  “There’s still no news of Sam,” I said to Billy

  I was expecting a reaction. Billy replied, his voice not showing concern, “It’ll probably be hard to find the body.”

  Margaret looked at me to judge my reaction to Billy’s lack of anxiety. I said, “Sometimes the bodies are never found.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.” Billy said with a slight trace of a smile.

  Margaret and I exchanged another glance. Could her theory of Sam’s deliberate disappearance be correct? Did Billy know that Sam faked his own death?

  I said in my gruff detective tone, “His father and sisters are worried sick. If you know something, you’d better tell me now.”

  Billy’s smile disappeared when he heard my tone of voice. “I don’t know nothing about Sam’s accident.”

  He handed us menus, poured coffee, and walked away. A few minutes later a young woman came to take our breakfast orders. Billy was no longer working our table.

  I spoke quietly so that the elderly couple at the next table couldn’t overhear. “Margaret, I need to start eliminating suspects. There are still too damn many.”

  Margaret explained with an irritating certainty, “It wasn’t Billy Blackstone; he’s not the type. It wasn’t Sam Gilbert. If he’d killed Jim Otto, he wouldn’t have been so jumpy when Alan Markley entered the room they shared that first night. You told me he pounced on Alan thinking he was in danger.”

  I wasn’t ready to dismiss Billy based on not being the type, but she had a good point about Sam. He was afraid of someone. It wasn’t an act. “Who else would you eliminate?”

  She replied, “Anyone who has an ironclad alibi for the afternoon and evening when Helga Günter was killed. Some of the deaths near the hotel could have been done during a break but ambushing her took time.” Of course, I had realized that. It was one of my principal tools for narrowing the list.

  “I agree.”

  Margaret continued, “It could be Will Blake. I can’t read him very well. He hides his true self.”

  I nodded and she continued, “Could be Craig Callison? I’ve not met the man, but his actions are suspicious. He doesn’t sound like a hiker. Have you been able to determine if he knew Jim Otto or knew where he’d be sleeping?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “I think there’s an excellent chance that Jim Otto’s murderer was at the party for Garland Pickney. He would have seen how drunk Jim, Billy and Will were. If he were a friend, he’d know which bed was Jim’s. The murderer was willing to kill Jim with roommates sleeping nearby. Although Sam didn’t drink anything at the party, Jim was probably killed when he was out of the room. Deputy Callison isn’t a good murder suspect, just a corrupt cop.”

  “That’s all true, but he saw the body of Margo Jordan when he investigated her death. Do you still think that might have triggered the crimes?” she asked.

  “Good point, but no one fits all the facts.”

  Margaret continued, “Garland Pickney was back in England by the time Peggy Marshall died, but that leaves his roommate Jason McKinney as a suspect. He lived in the dorm and would have known where Jim Otto’s bunk was located. Jason had to work the night of the party, so he probably couldn’t have drunk as much as the other guys. He’s off every afternoon and evening until 10:00 pm, so he could have killed Mrs. Günter. He knew Jim Otto well and would certainly have been recognized if he had waited in ambush on the Bright Angel Trail for Mrs. Günter”

  I had reached the same conclusion. My top suspects were Jason McKinney and Will Blake. I had not ruled out either Sam Gilbert or Billy Blackstone, but they were now much lower on my list. Neither of them had alibis for the times of any of the deaths, but I didn’t really believe they were serial killers. Maybe the FBI profiler would help when she called.

  “I’m leaning toward Will Blake as my best suspect,” I said. “Will works evening meals at the El Tovar dining room, and all our victims had dinner there before they died.”

  “I’m leaning toward Jason McKinney,” Margaret said. “You haven’t learned much about him yet, but he lived in one of the rooms where Sam saw a door close on the night Jim Otto was murdered. Jason admits that he saw Peggy Marshall her final morning and he knew exactly where she was going since he suggested the location. On the other hand, Will has serious attachment and emotional problems, but he doesn’t actually scare me.”

 
After breakfast, Margaret decided to check out the gift shops while I went to Amy Ziegler’s office to hear the latest on the search for Sam Gilbert.

  I was surprised to find my prime suspect, Will Blake, in the room. Amy explained that Will had been with the Gilberts when she arrived at their motel and that Steven Gilbert had invited the young man to attend the briefing.

  “I went by to see if there was anything I could do to help Sam’s family in this trying time,” Will said.

  I noticed the same hollow tone to Will’s remarks that Margaret had mentioned. Also the phrase “trying time” seemed a little out of character. His voice said the correct things, but it sounded flat, without emotional content.

  Amy’s update on the search was brief. There was no news. The helicopter had resumed the search at first light. Sam was not found down river from the rapids. She mentioned that it was possible for the hydraulics at one of the three rapids to trap someone below the surface for days, forced by the water pressure against a boulder. That was as close as Amy came to saying that Sam Gilbert was dead. If he’d survived the rapids, he should be on one of the downstream sandbars waiting for rescue by a passing raft or by the helicopter.

  The short meeting ended on that pessimistic tone. Amy handed me a folder before I left. It was the file on Sam’s mother. I didn’t open it in front of the others. Will and I made casual conversation as we walked together back toward El Tovar. I asked, “Did you and Alan have a tough hike back out yesterday?”

  “It was hot as hell in the Inner Gorge, but I had an even hotter date for yesterday evening. I jogged back much of the way. I’ve been down there enough to get used to the heat a little.”

  I reassessed my judgment of how good a shape Will was in. “Your new roommate, Alan was a first timer in the Inner Gorge,” I said.

  “He made it out OK. I found him sound asleep in his bunk this morning when I went to the room to change clothes.”

  I changed the subject asking, “Do you think there’s a chance that Sam is alive, but doesn’t want to be found? He thought he was in danger because of something that happened in the Ukraine.”

  The silence before Will’s answer stretched on and on. I could hear the crunch of each step on the path. Finally after twenty-two footsteps Will replied. “Maybe we’ll never know for sure.”

  The same disappearance would be useful for a serial killer who wanted to take on a new identity and begin to kill women at some other location. I was anxious to open the folder I was carrying and see if Sam’s mother resembled the dead women.

  As we climbed up the steps from the area of the train station, I thought of something. I asked Will, “Did you leave your car at the Gilbert’s motel?”

  “No, a friend dropped me off in Tusayan. He wanted to borrow my car to go to Flagstaff. I figured I could hitch back here to the Colter House, but I got a ride from Amy Ziegler.”

  If I had a BMW roadster, I don’t think I’d be as generous with it. We parted when Will followed the path to the Colter House. I’d agreed to meet Margaret on the El Tovar verandah.

  I sat in a rustic rocking chair and read the file on LaVon Gilbert, now known as Cung Thri Son. The black and white eight by ten photo had been faxed. The blurry page showed a young mother holding a newborn baby. The two young girls on either side held on to her long striped skirt. A four-year-old boy stood a little apart from the mother. Young Sam had his eyes closed against the bright sunlight. Snow-covered mountains formed the backdrop. Mrs. Gilbert bore four children in four years. I knew that within a few years of this idyllic photo, she would abandon the family and join a cult. There was no sign of that future in this posed shot. She looked the perfect and contented young mother of four. One thing was clear from the photo; the young buxom blond did not resemble Peggy Marshall or the other women who had died at the Grand Canyon in the past six months. The rest of the file told the sad story of the disintegration of a marriage into a bitter feud. It added nothing to my search for a serial killer.

  Next, I called Sheriff Taylor. He was getting ready for church, but he had a minute to tell me that the Phoenix Police Department would have a woman officer check into theEl Tovar this afternoon. She would dine alone in the El Tovar dining room at 8:00. Tomorrow morning she would be up early to see the sun rise over the Grand Canyon. On Wednesday, a second woman officer would check in to replace the first and repeat the process. I promised that Chad and I would have every movement of our decoys covered.

  I called Chad Archer at home. He sounded cheerful. He was extremely pleased to work on the assignment at the Canyon. Chad needed to go by the Sedona Office and finish some things. He’d meet me at El Tovar at 4:00 with the photos and other information he’d gathered. Chad is both young and strong; he’s six two and two hundred and ten lean pounds. He was a star football player at the University of Northern Arizona not too many years ago. I’d be more confident with Chad present if it came to a showdown with the killer. Alan Markley is a fine young man, but yesterday’s hike left me with some doubts about his level of fitness if it came to serious trouble.

  Margaret joined me in the adjacent rocking chair. She showed me the small presents that she’d purchased for our granddaughters. I was pleased that Margaret had come for the weekend, but it was safer for her in Sedona until the serial killer was caught. I updated Margaret on the meeting with Amy Ziegler and the phone calls. Margaret was convinced that Will Blake had gone to see the Gilberts to reassure them about Sam’s plan to disappear. She was more certain than ever that Sam had deliberately dropped out of sight.

  We decided to take the bus to Hermit’s Rest a few miles west of the Hotel and walk back along that section of the Rim Trail. Hermit’s Rest is a wonderful Mary Colter designed natural stone building with an enormous fireplace and a nice gift shop. The trail is gravel. That far from the main section of the Grand Canyon Village, the Rim Trail wasn’t crowded even on a beautiful Sunday in June. This is an easy hike compared to the Bright Angel Trail, but Margaret and I were able to walk side by side and enjoy the scenery and seventy-degree weather. We planned to have lunch together before Margaret headed back to Sedona. As we hiked the spectacular trail, the women who had died along the Rim Trail were in my thoughts.

  CHAPTER 30

  We walked for over an hour along the peaceful trail with amazing Grand Canyon views at every turn. The fresh air and sunshine relaxed my muscles and cleared my mind. As we got closer to the Grand Canyon Village, I developed an acute feeling of impatience to make some progress on this case. There was no time to waste; another murder might occur soon. We stopped at a quiet bench, and I made some cell phone calls. First, I contacted Amy Ziegler to find the phone number that Garland Pickney had listed for his next of kin in his employment application with the Fred Harvey Company. I called that phone number in Manchester, England and spoke with Garland’s mother. She confirmed that he’d arrived back in England on the flight that Chad had reported was indicated by the airline records. She gave me his current phone number, and I called and found that he was in his apartment.

  I explained that I was investigating the murder of Jim Otto, and I had some questions. Garland had known and liked Jim Otto. He was very agreeable and very willing to help. We talked for twenty minutes, but I didn’t learn much new information from him. He confirmed that Jim had no enemies that he’d ever heard about. He also confirmed that there were no incidents at the party that might have led to a motive.

  Finally, changing the subject, I asked if he remembered who else was present when Margo Jordan’s body was found. That was the surprise. He explained that he sometimes paid another employee to substitute for him when he’d been partying too much the night before or had something important to do. The supervisor of the maintenance crew was pretty informal about the corporate procedures. If someone showed up and did the work, she didn’t make an issue of who actually punched the time card. Garland Pickney had not been present when the body was found. His roommate, Jason McKinney, had substituted for him that morning. He s
uggested that I contact Jason about finding the body. Garland explained that he’d actually gotten to work around noon.

  The pieces were falling together, and I mentally resorted my suspect list moving the young Australian desk clerk to the top spot. I felt an even greater sense of urgency. I repeated the conversation to Margaret as we sat on the bench with the great panorama of the Canyon in front of us, but my mind was no longer calm and my muscles were not relaxed.

  “Finally, one person fits all the facts. Unfortunately, there’s not much hard evidence to go on. What will you do next Mike?”

  “I’ve already told Jason not to leave the Grand Canyon Village until his work permit issue is resolved,” I said. “I don’t have the evidence to make an arrest. We’ll need to keep a very close surveillance of him until we have more proof. Maybe the police decoy can lure him into a mistake. If that strategy doesn’t work, Jason will make a mistake soon. I only hope it’s before there’s another death. If I can prove he has an immigration problem, we could hold him on that charge, maybe even deport him, but that would just transfer the problem to some other jurisdiction. Jason is unlikely to stop these crimes just because he returns to Australia.”

  “We need to catch him here in Arizona,” she agreed.

  “I should be able to reach the authorities in Sydney this afternoon. Maybe we can find a photo of his mother and have it faxed here. I’d hate to tip Jason off that he’s become our main suspect and then find we can’t actually hold him on the immigration charge.”

  “Be careful. Don’t ever meet with him alone. I think Jason is extremely dangerous, a wounded and cornered cougar.” I was certain that comment was correct.