The River Waits for Murder

by C. Ruth Daly

  Her soft, silky hair flowed down her back and Rita Brennan, the live-in nanny for Rhonda’s younger sisters and Rhonda’s personal tutor, smiled down at the girl—the girl with whom she filled stories of her past.

  “Okay, Rhonda, I’ll tell you again,” and she sits down beside the little girl, recalls a story from not long ago when she dated a rich man in a little Indiana town. “Yes, he had a big, fancy house and I lived in a tiny apartment across the street; it was above this sweet, old woman who crocheted doilies. My apartment was very simple compared to Ned’s house with its plush carpet, rich mahogany furniture, and exercise room in the basement—his house was three stories high with four bathrooms for one person. The treasure?” In her dream the woman, Rita, laughs, “Oh, there’s a treasure with a map. It’s supposed to be hidden in the woods along the river. Gold it was, at least what Ned said, and he showed me pictures of the coins once. That was all but he said there were more, and all buried along the river.” Rita laughs a sweet laugh and pats the little girl Rhonda on the head, then tucks her into the misty yellow bed, and gives her a goodnight kiss.

  The younger Rhonda asks in her child’s voice, “What about the map?” Rita turns and says, “The treasure map—of course. It was hidden behind a picture I gave to a Donna McNally,” and walks out of the room. In the dream, little girl Rhonda awakens the next morning to learn her tutor and housemate, Rita, is gone—never to be seen or heard from again—and left behind in the mind of Rhonda Davis a greedy image of hidden treasure and a secret map.

  Rhonda stirs in in her sleep and the Scotch spills out of the glass and onto her arm, trickling down the sleeve of her blouse—jolting the woman to consciousness. Flinging her feet to the floor, she yells, “Steven!” who comes running from the bedroom to his lover’s side.

  “Yes, darling?”

  “We’re going to look for a treasure. Are you willing to go with me?” and she places her delicate hand on his broad palm, grabbing it so softly. “Are you, darling?” Her lips press gently against his in a playful kiss.

  At the Jameson residence, Trevor Morrelli sits on the queen size canopy bed in the master bedroom, head in hands. His soon-to-be wife by his side, “Trevor, we can’t just leave? What are you thinking?” Lori screeches at her longtime beau, and leaves his side to the other end of the room. “Are you crazy? Where are we going to go? All of our cash is tied up in that damn resort—your dream—it’s what is supposed to make us filthy rich so then we can leave. What’s gotten into you? We have a big wedding planned and set for a month from yesterday!”

  Head out of hands, Trevor’s empty gaze falls on Lori, “The sheriffs. They—they suspect me of murdering Rob—I think—I think that’s what they’re thinking, Lori. I didn’t kill him. You know that Lori. I—I don’t know why they think I did it—guess ‘cause he was on my property. You believe me, don’t you Lori Bell?” His eyes fell on her with desperation. “They want to know about the money and the resort and the investors…they said not to leave. Huh, they think they know me, Lori Bell,” he shrugs, “What else can I do? I’m scared, Lori. But don’t you think they’ll believe me?” Trevor pulled at his hair, “But we’ve got to escape. I’ve heard it’s cheap to live in Mexico. It might not be as nice as here, Lori—we can be together—and I can make it rich again—maybe. His voice trails off to a mumble, “Maybe—I hope.”

  “Stop it, Trevor! The sheriffs can’t suspect you—what motive do they have. Get ahold of yourself. They are probably only interested in the investors. After all, they’ve already suspected and questioned—I think they took him in, too—Douglas. He was the last one to talk to Rob, not you. The sheriffs know you, Trevor. They know your dad and family. There’s no way they suspect you.”

  He shook his head, “I don’t know Lori Bell. I don’t have a good feeling about this—the way they talked to me. They meant business. I—I don’t know what to do. I feel like we have to run—but then they’d think I did it for sure. You know I wouldn’t kill anyone? I can barely clip a pig’s ear without making it and me feel bad. I wouldn’t kill Rob. I really respected him.” He drops his head into his hands.

  With hands on hips, his fiancée glares at him, then jerks around to head down the back stairs to the garage. Trevor flops back on the bed with his eyes directed to the recessed ceiling and the rich crown molding; he sighs and realizes he must stay and suffer whatever fate comes to him—and Lori Bell, who is now in the garage, rummages through the oil cans to find her stash. She does. A bottle of malt whiskey and a roll of hundreds all tucked neatly into an empty can.

  Back at the Laundromat, Evan and Donna sit cramped in the office with Glynda. The three face each other and discuss the day’s events: Thelma’s possible abduction, Cucumber’s murder; the encounter with Trevor and the sheriffs. Donna mentioned her meeting with Professor Lucero and his twisted relationship. She sighs, “And I wonder how that Rhonda knows Rita Brennan. I never did hear from her after she sent that letter to me—that was a long time ago.” Another sigh, “Glynda, what do you think happened to Thelma? When did you last talk to her?”

  “I don’t know, Donna. It’s been a bit. I usually call her first but today I just booked it out there to see her. Wish I had called first—might have stopped whatever was happening in her house.” She stared sadly at the floor, “Guys, I’m afraid Thelma is just like Cucumber. I’m afraid whoever killed Cucumber killed her. Where could someone take her? She don’t got much of anything, and she only has some money from Hollis—she donated a lot of it to the church—bless her heart.”

  Evan broke his silence, “Think we can head out to her place? The sheriffs are most likely gone. Maybe there’s something—heck, I don’t know. That’s a crazy idea,” he shook his head.

  Glynda looked over at Evan, her mouth dropped and eyebrows raised, “Evan, that’s not such a bad idea,” she shook her head.

  “Wait guys,” Donna interrupted, “I don’t know about that—look, we’re not kids anymore and if we are caught, well, it’s not going to be good. We just can’t trespass and cross a crime scene.”

  Glynda smiled, “We’re not trespassing if I have a key.”

  “We are, Glynda. We can’t go to the house because it is a crime scene. We can’t do that.” Donna pleaded, “It’s just not right.”

  “Donna McNally. When ‘ave you cared about doin’ things right? We drove cross country with a revolver under the seat of the truck. You mess with that professor to get information—hell Donna. Why start now, huh?” Evan squinted at his friend, a smirk on his face.

  Their eyes focused on Donna, as she relented, “We have to be very careful and if there’s any sign of the police or sheriffs out there—and if we even start to go where we shouldn’t, then we turn back. Agreed?”

  Evan smiled, “Sure, Donna. Whatever you say.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The crickets serenaded the couple as they crept into the edge of the woods closest to the resort. Lightning bugs darted between trees and danced overhead as Steven and Rhonda made their way through the maples and sycamores, weaving and ducking under branches. They carried only a shovel Rhonda had purchased at the hardware store in town, and their shoes were designed for business rather than trekking in an Indiana forest on a hot July night. After about one hundred yards, Steven turned to Rhonda, “Well, my dear, what is the plan? Do you know where we are headed and do you have an exact location? We’re not going to spend the night wandering out here. I don’t know what’s out here, but I do know bears live in these parts.”

  “Bears, Steven? Really? Really Professor? I don’t think so. Maybe we’d run into a bobcat but that’s unlikely. There’s nothing like that in these parts. Stop making excuses, Steven. If you want to turn around—go ahead. I’ll look on my own.”

  “I’m not really making excuses—although I do have a right to complain about this wild goose chase you’ve taken us on. How can any gold be hidden in these woods? It’s so populated around here. Wouldn’t someone have discovered it—if it is
even true?” He stopped and turned to her, “Rhonda? Haven’t you taken this a bit far? We’ve been here for nearly three weeks and our time here is almost over —thank God,” he muttered under his breath then continued, “Maybe we should just turn around and go back to our cabin—enjoy our last days here and put that Dan Stanley Green on a bus to Georgia. Then we are done with this and we can return to our lives. My quiet life at the university. Your travels with your job and visits to see me—just like we have always done.” In the darkness with the faintness of the flashlight she could see him smiling at her.

  Rhonda was exasperated and close to tears, “Steven. This is my dream. Ever since Rita told me about the gold it has consumed my life. Steven, if you don’t help me I’ll get Dan Stanley to. After all, I’m paying him.”

  “We are paying him,” Steven reminded her.

  “Whatever! I’m going to make sure we get our money’s worth.” She stood firmly in her tracks, shovel in hand, and directed her eyes in all directions. They were in the woods and the image was similar to what Rita had described. He took her there once, she remembered from the stories, but Rita said it was daytime and there wasn’t anything to mark it other than rocks with growth on top of them. And Rita hadn’t actually seen the gold, but the map. The map did exist and when she found it in his room, she stuck it behind the photo he took of her—knowing the picture was for her. Surely if the treasure was still there, it’s now hidden and it would be impossible to find at night. “Yeah, you’re right, Steven. Let’s go back. I will get ahold of Stanley tomorrow and see if he can help with this. I—I didn’t really give him much of a chance when I talked to him. I was so angry. Maybe he did find something out.”

  The couple turned and Steven reached over to grab Rhonda’s hand as they headed back toward the resort. They walked silently toward the cabins with the soft sound of the underbrush rustling against their legs. Not far behind them and close to the river a pair of eyes watched them as they made their way back. The man’s face smiled slightly and he turned to the fortress he had created among a grove of oaks, having used fallen branches to create an overhang, he was safely hidden from civilization. He squatted on his haunches and continued to munch on an open can of beans.

  Out of the thicket of trees, the couple entered the lanterns of twilight with mosquitoes buzzing about overhead. The resort was quiet and not as active as it had been the night Steven and Rhonda had first checked in. Steven had overheard the wait staff at breakfast remark how the murder caused some cancellations and worries about hours being cut among the workers.

  “It looks like we have the place to ourselves,” he smiled at Rhonda, “Shall we return to our quarters and relax a little, darling?” His arm reached around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

  Rhonda rejected his advances, and retorted, “Business, Steven. Business. Let’s head into Burgenton and pay Dan a visit.” She pushed his arm away as they neared their cabin. “I left the car keys on the table in the bedroom. Let me go in and get them.” The woman pushed open the door and closed it on her boyfriend, who stood in the dimness of the moonlight, hands on hips and eyes directed downward; turning around to the redwood steps, he sighed, sat down on the top one, and waited for the woman to return. Around him few cabin windows were lit and most were dark with vacancy, he noted, and the nightly activities that had been expeditiously planned had not come to fruition this week.

  The door behind him opened and Rhonda pranced down the steps and past Steven. “Well, are we going?” she asked.

  In silence he followed, and deep in thought, contemplated the few days left at the resort and how he longed to return to Arizona and the university—sans Rhonda. He smiled quietly in the darkness, not wanting his lover to see his demeanor—after all, ‘This is business,’ he mused.

  Rhonda caught a glimpse of Steven’s smirk and growled, “We have to mean business, Steve. We need to let Dan know what is expected of him.” She tossed the keys in his direction, and over the hood he deftly caught them, then went back around the car to the driver’s side.

  They backed out and headed out the wrought iron gates with Rhonda’s eyes peering ahead at the darkness lit only by security lights outside the resort entrance and along the road down to the river and over the bridge to Burgenton. They rode in silence with only a soft whistle from Steven now and then breaking the silence in the automobile.

  It was a quick jaunt into town and the car dipped and jolted over the railroad tracks and up the little hill into the heart of the city. The town was alit with the nightlife of Burgenton with a few bars emitting the soft glow of lights and the corner liquor store with its bright lights behind dual glass windows shone onto the street, showing off the goods inside. They stopped at the single traffic light and patiently waited for the semi headed toward Hamilton City to turn south in front of them, barely missing the front bumper of their rental. The light turned green, and Steven drove forward to the next block where on the corner rested the rentals Dan Stanley Green had occupied for the past two months.

  There was an open spot in front and Steven pulled up to the curb. The couple headed up the cement walk uprooted by the foundation of the neighboring maple. The interior of the apartment building smelled of mustiness and Steven wrinkled his nose at the filth while Rhonda directed him to the back staircase with its heavy oak banister. Landing at Dan’s door, Rhonda rapped a few times on the door and waited. No response. She knocked again but with more force this time, which brought the landlady from down the hall to their request.

  “Can I help you?” the spry little woman in the floral terrycloth bathrobe asked. Then, “Oh, it’s you again. Who’s your friend here? We don’t have many Mexicans in town, where’d ya get him?”

  Steven was taken aback by the woman’s remark and stumbled over his words—before he could get them out, Rhonda answered.

  “This is Dr. Lucero—Professor Lucero. We’re here to see Mr. Green.”

  “Well, good luck, then,” the woman snorted. “He ain’t here no more. Moved out today and handed over his key. Didn’t leave no forwardin’ address. So I can’t help ya.” She waved her hand at the couple, then stuck both hands in the pockets of her bathrobe and with head down, whipped back down the hall to her apartment.

  “Moved out? Moved out? I didn’t tell him to move out,” Rhonda retorted, as Steven sighed and headed in the direction of the back staircase. She ran and quickly caught up with him, “Steve, can you believe this? He—he hasn’t done shit, and now he took off and who knows where.”

  They were outside the apartment and at the car before a weary Steven Lucero spoke, “Rhonda, this has got to stop. You are chasing a little girl’s fantasy, my dear; let’s just go back to the resort and enjoy—or try to enjoy the rest of our time here. After all, we have paid in full and it’s too late to get a refund. We have to stick it out,” he grumbled.

  She slid into the passenger’s seat as Steven turned the ignition and glided the car down toward Coyote Creek and then back around the block to head south then east toward the resorts by the river. As they neared the bridge before the hill before the resorts, Rhonda thought she spotted the outline of a station wagon parked on the riverbank below the bridge. She reached over and grabbed Steven’s arm, “Steven, stop!”

  The car was over the bridge by now, “What? Stop? What do you mean, stop? He pulled the sedan into a dirt lot for fishermen and put it in park, “What’s going on?”

  “Turn the lights, off Steve,” Rhonda nudged his arm, “We need to get out and go down and see if that’s our Dan by the river. I could swear it looks just like his car.”

  The man sighed, “Don’t you think this has to end? The professor shook his head, “Rhonda, we’ve trapesed through the woods; went into town where I am insulted by a scrawny, shriveled woman with few teeth; I thought you’d give this up?”

  “I can’t Steven—I just can’t. This is my chance. This is the time I’ve waited for. You know how valuable it would be? Right Professor?” Rhonda’s voice
rose with hysteria, “If you want to go back. Fine! I will go down myself. The resort is only a mile or two up the hill—I can find my way back!” The passenger door flew open and Rhonda bolted from the car to the edge of the trees that lined the slope above the river.

  Another deep sigh, and he cut the ignition; turned off the lights and go out. “Wait, Rhonda,” he whispered as loudly as he could.

  She anticipated his reaction and had stopped at the edge of the tree-lined drop. The man spared no urgency in his walk as he sauntered over to Rhonda, who was antsy with anticipation.

  “Well, so if this is Dan, then what, Rhonda? Do we know him well at all? He was only at the university a few times and I thought he seemed fine. How often did you talk to him?”

  In the darkness her eyes met his, “Steven, I only spoke with him by phone and when he was at the university that one time—I thought you knew him better than I did—I trusted your judgment. I don’t care, though. I’m going down anyway,” and toes pointed downward, her tiny smooth soled shoes slid between the sycamores as Rhonda grabbed them to steady her descent.

  Steven followed in his heavy soled shoes and quickly caught up with her. They were a few yards from the car and silence fell upon them. The view below them was dark and the only light came from the few cars passing over the bridge. Ripples from the river and crickets filled the night as the pair moved closer to the car. It appeared abandoned and as they inch forward, they realized they were ill prepared without light to guide them. Steven ventured to the driver’s door closest to the riverbank, and peered inside. No one occupied the vehicle and any belongings of Dan Stanley Green could not be seen through the darkness of the windows. Wondering how the car got there, Steven peered up and down the riverbank for any sign of a road or path. Rhonda remained at the base of the slope and held on tightly to a tree as if a tidal wave was about to come forth from the shallow water. Steven abandoned hope of running into Dan Stanley and with a sigh of relief, returned to Rhonda’s side to give her the news of the somewhat perplexing situation.