Wicked Eddies Read online

  “Okay.” Quintana clicked his pen. “Now I want to hear Steve’s story. Then we’ll go over both of them again.”

  Mandy sighed. At this rate, they’d be at this campground all day, being grilled by both the detective and the broiling hot sun.

  _____

  Late that afternoon, after Quintana had released them, Mandy and Steve paddled their raft down to their take-out point on the Arkansas River and returned to the ranger district headquarters in Salida. From there, Mandy drove her dusty, blue, nine-year-old Subaru wagon to the rafting outfitter business now jointly owned by her boyfriend, Rob Juarez, and herself. Her beloved Uncle Bill had died in June, leaving his near-failing rafting business to her. Given the sorry state of his operation, Rob and her accountant brother, David, had convinced Mandy to merge with Rob’s rafting businesses.

  All of her uncle’s stock—rafts, paddles, wetsuits, lifejackets, vehicles, and more—had been moved to Rob’s larger business location. He’d hired on Uncle Bill’s rafting guides and transferred the trip reservations to his schedule, notifying customers of the change. David had combined the books of the two businesses, Rob continued as manager, and she kept her job as a seasonal river ranger and helped out when she could.

  Mandy had been surprised at how easy the merger was—easy for everyone but her, that is. She still drove to her uncle’s old house about once a week. She’d walk through the empty rooms and vacant equipment yard, yearning for a sense of his presence. She deeply missed being able to lay her troubles at his gouty feet, and gain comfort and unconditional love along with the down-to-earth advice only he could give her.

  Mandy parked in the gravel lot and got out to look at the large, freshly painted sign across the top of the building that read “RM Outdoor Adventures.” The initials stood for both of their names as well as for the Rocky Mountains. Rob had insisted on choosing a new name for the business, one that reflected their joint ownership. Mandy had balked at first at the cost of creating a new logo, revising Rob’s website and letterhead, and mailing out notices to the customers and suppliers for the two businesses. But, looking up now at the sign and feeling pride well up in her chest, she was glad they had.

  She walked up the steps to the wide wooden porch of the building Rob had repaired and painted himself when he bought it a few years back. She stepped aside to let a laughing, chattering group of tourists pass by on their way out. Obviously pleased with their rafting trip, they were passing photos around and commenting on them, barely aware they had almost mowed her down.

  Smiling, Mandy pushed through the swinging saloon doors that gave the place a Western feel, along with the kitschy rusted ranch tools and horse tack Rob had hung on the walls. He kept a battered and stained ten-gallon hat in his office, too, to don when he greeted customers.

  Standing behind the counter that ran along one side of the room, Gonzo Gordon pocketed his tip and waved at her. “Howdy, Mandy.”

  With his bushy blonde Rastafarian dreadlocks, sunburned face, baggy faded red shorts, and holey T-shirt, Gonzo epitomized the no-worries rafting guide. Though his voice was hearty, his eyes were still guarded. It had taken Mandy almost firing him to get him to finally start attending AA meetings for his drinking problem, and that still embarrassed him. But, he had stayed dry for the last couple of months, so Mandy had agreed with Rob to give Gonzo another chance.

  She approached Gonzo and shook his hand. “Good run today?” She poked her thumb over her shoulder. “The customers looked happy.”

  He slapped his shorts pocket. “And they tipped well, too, so I’m happy.”

  “I’m sure you earned it. You’re the best.” Mandy knew Gonzo would need lots of assurances that she trusted him and valued his work before their friendship would be completely healed, but she was determined to do her part. “Where’s Rob?”

  “Out back, stowing some gear.” Gonzo peered at her. “You don’t look so good. Bad day?”

  Before Mandy could reply, Rob walked in the back door, running a hand through his wavy black hair. When he spotted her, a grin split his face. “¡Mi querida!”

  Though well-muscled, he could move fast. He caught Mandy in an embrace, lifted her off her feet, and whirled her in a circle, making her ponytail fly out behind her as she released a giggle. He set her down, leaned over, and planted a big smacker on her lips.

  Mandy already felt a hundred percent better. She smiled up at him and ran her hands over the standing wave tattoos that danced when Rob flexed his biceps. “That’s the first time you’ve lifted me since you were shot in the shoulder.” Mandy still shuddered over the memory of how scared she’d been when Rob was shot in June, wondering if he would survive.

  Rob rolled his shoulders. “Still twinges some. I don’t have full mobility yet, but the physical therapist says I’m making good progress. She said today that I could start lifting heavier things than a bag of groceries, so I thought I’d begin with you.” He gave her another sloppy kiss.

  Even though they’d been dating almost five months, she still wasn’t a hundred percent comfortable with his public displays of affection. “Good thing the customers have left.”

  “Aw, who cares?” He searched her face and the smile left his lips. He took a step back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are my emotions written all over my face? Gonzo just finished asking if I had a bad day.” Mandy released her hold on Rob and hugged herself. “Yes, I’ve had a very bad day. I discovered a dead fisherman at the Vallie Bridge campground this morning.”

  Gonzo let out a low, long whistle. “In the river?”

  Mandy shook her head. “At a campsite. He’d been dead awhile and there were flies—” She stopped. “Let’s just say it was gross. I lost my breakfast.”

  “Natural causes?” Rob asked.

  “No, it was definitely murder. Quintana and his gang worked over the scene pretty thoroughly and kept Steve and me there the rest of the day, asking us questions over and over.”

  Gonzo came out from behind the counter. “They find any clues?”

  “Maybe,” Mandy replied. “Besides Steve’s trash bag and mine, they found another one that had beer cans in it.”

  Gonzo sucked in a breath. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, a woman’s gardening glove, which was odd. They’re going to check the glove and cans for fingerprints.”

  “Bummer.” Furrowing his brows, Gonzo pulled on one of his dreadlocks.

  Mandy put a hand on his arm. “What? What is it?”

  “I don’t know if I should tell you.” Gonzo gave her a worried glance then looked down, finding something very interesting all of a sudden on the bottom of one of his Teva sandals.

  Mandy’s grip tightened on Gonzo’s arm. “If you know something, you should tell me—or the police. Otherwise you could be charged with aiding and abetting the killer.”

  Gonzo pulled his arm away from her. “No way would Newt kill someone.”

  One of Rob’s eyebrows rose. “Newt?”

  “Cripes, now I’ve done it.” Gonzo shook his head.

  Mandy planted her hands on her hips. “Spill it, Gonzo.”

  He sighed. “My good buddy Newt Nowak told me Saturday that he was going to do one of his recycling collection runs yesterday, from Rincon to Cotopaxi.” His voice trailed off.

  “And?”

  Gonzo glanced up. “And he’s got this pair of large old lady gardening gloves that he wears when he goes. I’ve teased him about them, but he says he found them in the rag bin at Goodwill and they work just fine.”

  “Flowered?” Mandy asked.

  Gonzo frowned and nodded. “Flowered.”

  _____

  While Rob and Gonzo went out in the yard to finish hosing down and stowing the gear from the recent rafting trip, Mandy tried to call Quintana at his office. When he didn’t answer, she left a message that she had something important to tell him. Then she helped the men finish up. After confirming their pool-playing get-together with the gang the next night at the Vic—th
e Victoria Tavern—a dour-faced Gonzo left.

  Rob leaned back, resting his elbows on the counter, and cocked his head at Mandy. “You going to tell Quintana about Newt?”

  “I have to. I’ll stop by his office tomorrow morning.” She noticed that on the counter next to Rob rested not only the trip schedule book, but also the ledger. “Let’s change the subject.” She pointed her chin at the ledger. “You’ve been going over the books?”

  Rob tossed a glance over his shoulder at the books. “Yeah. I want to talk to you about that. You know, we’ve discussed expanding the business, adding adventure travel trips, so we could provide work for our best guides all year-round. I think we should start with climbing trips this fall and ice-climbing this winter. I’ve been pricing out the equipment and guide training, and we can almost swing it.”

  “Almost?”

  Rob nodded and gave her a thoughtful look. “A few thousand more would do the trick.”

  “Where would we get the money?”

  “There’s a way we could get that and more.” He pushed off the counter, came to her, and put his arms around her. “If you’re ready.”

  Mandy had no idea where he was headed with this. “Ready to do what?”

  “Ready to sell your uncle’s place.”

  A hot rush of panic poured over Mandy, flushing her skin and turning her knees to rubber. She sagged against Rob, but he held her firm. “S-s-sell?” she stammered.

  Rob led her to one of the waiting benches lining the wall, set her down, and clasped her hands. “I know you have a lot of attach-ment to Bill’s place, but it’s been sitting empty for a couple of months now. You’re not going to live there; you’ve got your own place. And we don’t need it for RM Outdoor Adventures.”

  He paused, as if evaluating her reaction. When she didn’t respond, he said, “We could sure use the cash from the sale, though. You know that making those unexpected repairs to your uncle’s bus ate into our reserves quite a bit.”

  Mandy finally regained use of her tongue. “Yeah, sorry about that. All his equipment was on its last legs. You’re probably sorry you ever suggested the merger by now.” She gave him a rueful smile.”

  He squeezed her hands. “Never, mi querida. I like being your partner.”

  That was a loaded statement.

  “Not all of the money from the sale needs to go into the business,” Rob continued. “You could use some of it to fix up your place. You could invest some of it, start a retirement account or whatever. It would give you financial security.” He paused, letting his words sink in.

  Being a self-made man, financial security was very important to Rob. His advice was sound, but Mandy shook her head. “I’m not ready, Rob.”

  He cupped her chin in one hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “Bill’s not there anymore, Mandy.”

  But I wish he was. Mandy leaned her face against Rob’s roughened palm. She inhaled his familiar scent of soap, leather, and the grassy outdoors. “Still, I need more time.”

  His eyes were sad, understanding, but his teeth gnawed his lip in frustration. He stood up and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Okay, take some time, but not too much. If RM Outdoor Adventures is going to survive long-term, it needs to expand—and soon. Your brother agrees.”

  “I’ll think about it, Rob. Really, I will.”

  “Okay, that’s all I’m asking.” He checked his watch. “I’m due at Mama’s house soon. Can you lock up?”

  “Sure.”

  He gave her a quick kiss, then walked out the back door toward the equipment yard where his truck was parked.

  Mandy knotted her fingers together in her lap. What should I do, Uncle Bill?

  Two

  If fishing is like religion, then fly-fishing is high church.

  —TOM BROKAW

  A wet lick on Mandy’s face awakened her the next morning. She rubbed her damp cheek against the shoulder of her lamb-print sleep shirt. “Cut it out, Lucky.”

  Her golden retriever was unrepentant. When Mandy peeked, the dog’s tail was violently swishing back and forth, carrying his whole back end with it. He stared intently at her, mouth open in a wide grin and panting in anticipation of some morning play time. She gave up pretending to be mad at him and reached a hand out of the covers to scratch his ears.

  The radio alarm clicked on.

  “How do you do that, dog?” Lucky’s timing was impeccable. He usually rose from his dog pillow at the foot of Mandy’s bed just before the alarm went off.

  She stretched and her hand hit the empty pillow next to her. Rob hadn’t come to her place last night because he’d had his regular Monday dinner in Pueblo with his mama and whoever else showed up from his large, extended Hispanic family. He had taken Mandy with him a few times. She had enjoyed meeting some of the clan, though she still had trouble keeping all of their names straight. From the welcome she’d received, Mandy knew Rob’s devoutly Catholic mama approved of her, though not of Rob sleeping with her before marriage.

  Mandy got out of bed. Frowning, she wondered if Rob’s mama had pressured him again last night about proposing. “I wouldn’t be surprised, given the hints she kept dropping last time I was there,” she said out loud.

  Lucky tilted his head and lifted his ears as if trying to figure out what she was talking about.

  Mandy laughed. “You know, the lady who gave me a large beef bone for you last time. She’s already got you on her side, and you haven’t even met her.”

  Lucky nosed her again with impatience. Morning sunlight was already streaming through the window, and he had business to conduct outside.

  Mandy went through her morning routine—letting Lucky out in the fenced-in yard and feeding him, watering the marigolds she’d planted alongside her concrete patio—in between spoonfuls of raisin bran and milk. She tied her shoulder-length hair into a ponytail and donned her off-the-water ranger uniform consisting of black jeans and a black shirt with the AHRA logo. During it all, she mulled over Rob’s suggestion to sell her uncle’s place. It made a lot of sense, and her head agreed with him.

  Her heart, however, was another matter.

  On the drive to the Chaffee County Sheriff’s Office, she popped in one of Pink’s CDs. She turned the female pop rocker’s music up loud so she wouldn’t have to think anymore about selling Uncle Bill’s home. She parked in front of the old blonde-brick Chaffee County Administration Building on Crestone Avenue that housed the whole county government. After entering the building, she climbed up the wide, worn stairs to the third floor where the detectives’ offices were located. She tapped on the frosted glass door of Detective Quintana’s office and entered after his “Come in” invitation.

  He rose from his gray metal desk under the window to clear a stack of case files off the guest chair placed within easy reach next to his own chair. After pushing the guest chair back a few inches, he waved for her to sit down. “What’s the ‘something important’ you need to tell me, Mandy?”

  “I’ve got some information on the fisherman case.” She told him about Gonzo’s friend, Newt Nowak.

  Being the first responder, Mandy was a member of the investigative team for this case, and she had a vested interest in getting it solved. She and Quintana would need to keep in touch until it was closed, so she could include whatever he found out in her incident report. Besides, the AHRA rangers and the Chaffee County Sheriff’s deputies were good buddies. They trained together, invited each other to summer barbecues, and jointly investigated serious crimes that occurred within the park boundaries.

  Quintana wrote down Newt’s name. “I’ll be sure to question him. Thanks for the lead.”

  “Did you find out who the fisherman was?” Mandy asked.

  Quintana leaned back in his office chair, making it creak. “Howie Abbott. You know his niece, I think. Cynthia?”

  “Yeah, yeah I do.” Mandy nibbled on her lip. How was her best friend going to take the news about her murdered uncle? “Does she know?”

&n
bsp; “I informed his closest relative, his sister Brenda Ellis, and her family yesterday. They may have called Cynthia after I left their house. It was not a good scene.”

  A memory of the grief that had totally incapacitated Mandy after her Uncle Bill’s death washed over her, rendering her momentarily speechless. She blinked back threatening tears and clenched her hands.

  As if sensing her need for a moment to compose herself, Quintana gazed at an email displayed on his computer monitor before giving her an appraising glance. “Do you know the Ellis family?”

  Mandy shook her head. “Cynthia told me when her aunt’s family moved back to Salida in the spring, but I only met Brenda’s husband, Lee, briefly, at an Arkansas River Outfitter Association function in May. They’ve been living in New Mexico the past few years.”

  Quintana nodded. “They never got used to it, Brenda said, and they moved back to the Arkansas River Valley to be near family, her brother Howie and niece Cynthia. It was Cynthia’s father who was related to Howie and Brenda, right?”

  “Cynthia’s dad was the oldest, Howie was in the middle, and Brenda was the youngest.”

  “And now she’s the only one left. As I recall, Cynthia’s dad passed away awhile ago.”

  “Yes, of lung cancer three years ago. Cynthia went back east for the funeral.” Mandy remembered trying to cheer up her friend back then and wondered how badly this second loss would affect her. “Cynthia’s parents were living in Connecticut. Her mom stayed there after the funeral, said she’d put down roots. Cynthia and her mom aren’t close.”

  “Well, apparently Brenda and Howie were close. She seemed pretty broken up by the news. Plus, this bad news was a second blow to them. Brenda’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Faith, ran away from home sometime Saturday night, and they haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

  “Bummer. Was she unhappy about the move?”

  “Seemed to be. Brenda said the girl became sullen and uncommunicative a few weeks after they moved here.” Quintana extracted a thin case folder on his desk out from under the thick one with Howie Abbott’s name on it. The thin folder was labeled with Faith Ellis’s name. “Since Faith had been gone almost forty-eight hours by yesterday, I said I’d open a missing person’s case file.”