Murder in the Mist

by Loretta C. Rogers

  Louise adjusted the eyeglasses that had slipped down on her nose. “What is it, Mitch? What’s happened?”

  His voice brooked no nonsense. “In a minute, Louise. Right now, do as I’ve asked.”

  He punched auto-dial for Laura’s number and was relieved when she answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, Mitch, I’ve been meaning to call and thank you for telling me about Elio—”

  He didn’t have time for platitudes. He glanced at his watch. Eleven fifteen. “Friday, I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes. Bring your camera.”

  “Don’t tell me. Another peeping tom report from an overly excited woman who will probably change her story like the last two did?”

  She heard his impatient sigh. “Worse. We have a body.”

  “Oh, crap. I’ll meet you outside.”

  “Friday, keep this under wraps until we have more facts.”

  Mitch grabbed his cap and jacket from the coat rack. He stared hard at the secretary. He’d noted how she had hung onto the word body. He stood with his legs apart. “Louise, if you breathe one word of this before I’ve given clearance, I can guarantee you a place in the unemployment line. My report will state that you willingly and unlawfully breached the confidence of your position in this office and jeopardized the investigation of a possible murder case by spreading false information. Do you understand me?”

  She crossed her arms over her breasts. The cocked eyebrow added to her smugness. “Ayuh, sure. You don’t have to bite my head off. But you don’t have the authority to fire me. Only Roberta. Her father hired me, and I’ve known her since she was a child.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Sheriff Gilman’s influence doesn’t extend all the way to the State Attorney’s office.”

  He didn’t care about the surprised, pouty look on her face. He cared about how the effects of her premature and embellished gossip would affect this case, and the possible panic it might create in the town—and worse, what would happen if the killer was hanging around. He stepped closer to the desk and leaned forward with his hands splayed on the surface so he was eye level with her. The bane of her incessant, arrogant attitude had pushed him to the limit. “I’m not joking, Louise.”

  Snugging the cap on his head, he expelled a tense breath as he strode across the room and out the door.

  ****

  Laura tugged on the neckline of her V-cut lavender pullover. Jeans and a T-shirt would be more appropriate for this assignment. She worried about the climbing and how it would affect her bad leg. Flipping the strap of her camera over her head and shoulder, she walked outside and locked the door. Cool June air infused with the rich smells of salt air fanned Laura’s skin and hair as she stood in front of the newspaper office.

  Music floated from one of the outdoor cafés, mingling with the aroma of grilled onions. Laura’s mouth watered. A young couple with a small white dog on the end of a leash walked down the steps leading to the beach. The peaceful scene was a contrast to the phone call from Mitch.

  A body…male or female? She thought about the small tidbit of information Mitch had given her. Would he have called her if a mere accident was the cause of death? A shiver rippled over her.

  The ambulance drove past, its siren screaming. She stretched her neck to watch it moving cautiously through the narrow streets. People on the sidewalks and in the shops seemed to pay little attention to the red flashing lights and the whirring warning signal. Accidents inside the national park or on one of the islands was a common occurrence during tourist season.

  After Mitch phoned, she’d called her aunt.

  From experience, she knew to preserve the confidentiality of a story’s content until all the facts were verified. “Aunt Philly, I’m riding to the park with Mitch. I’ve got a lead on a story. Probably nothing real newsworthy. I might be a little late and wanted to let you know not to worry about supper. I’ll grab a sandwich later.”

  “Not to worry, dear. It’s our Friday Sisters Book Club night. Maudie has pestered the daylights out of me to discuss a historical romance.”

  “And you gave in?”

  “I have to admit, there was plenty of mystery in the one she chose. Bannon’s Brides was a real page turner. I’m looking forward to the discussion, and what the other ladies think of the book.”

  “I’m proud of you, Aunt Philly. It was nice of you to bend the rules a little.”

  “Ayuh, but next month we’ll read another mystery, Séance on a Wet Afternoon, in which an unstable medium convinces her husband to kidnap a child so she can help the police solve the crime and achieve renown for her abilities. Maybe we’ll hold another séance.”

  Laura imagined the excited grin on her aunt’s face at the prospect of calling forth another spirit. “Gotta go. Mitch is here.” She disconnected the call and slid the phone inside her pocket.

  She opened the patrol car door, climbed in, and buckled the seatbelt. She pulled out her notepad and pen. “Did Bryan give you any details about the body?”

  “He said it was too complicated to explain over the phone.”

  Laura closed her eyes and breathed deep. “Male or female?”

  Mitch kept his hands tight on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road. “Female.”

  As soon as he cleared town limits, he turned on the siren and increased the vehicle’s speed. She decided it best to let Mitch concentrate on maneuvering the hairpin curves along the skyline drive while she practiced the art of silence.

  Mitch glanced over, his eyebrows shifting with his amused smile. “Not scaring you, am I?”

  She hoped her face was a blank mask of calm. “No. I read somewhere that talking distracts the driver. I prefer you give the road your full attention.”

  “Uh-huh. There’s the ambulance.”

  She glanced forward to see the vehicle a distance ahead of them as it rounded an outside curve.

  Mitch said, “We should arrive in about fifteen minutes. And Friday, be prepared. I don’t know what condition the body is in. I’ll need you to take pictures for Dr. Musuyo while he performs his preliminary exam. We’ll also needs shots of the scene where the body was found.”

  She stared down at her hands as she tapped the pad with the tip of the pen. “You think I can handle all of this?”

  “You’re an investigative reporter. That’s what you do, remember?”

  She simply looked at him and blinked back the vision of Jolly and the helpless look on his face when he knew he was dying. She hoped a little bit of that gutsy fortitude she’d lost still lurked inside her.

  “I remember.”

  Mitch punched the accelerator. “Hold on.”

  She massaged her temples. She would not give in to self-pity.

  The squeal of tires turning into the parking lot drew her back to earth. Mitch parked the car behind the ambulance. Opening the door, Laura watched Ranger Dorsey waving them toward the 4x4. She moved toward the vehicle as quickly as her leg would allow. The muscles tended to seize up whenever she sat for more than fifteen minutes, and they hurt like the dickens when she first stretched the leg out afterwards.

  She hit that point where bending roiled her stomach when the sharp pain hit. She was thankful Mitch gripped her arm to keep her from collapsing. “I’m good. It just takes a couple of minutes to get going.”

  Nonetheless, she was keenly aware of his strong hands around her waist assisting her into the ATV.

  Ken Musuyo hefted his forensics kit into the back of the off-road vehicle. “We’ll need the gurney, Ranger.”

  Jane Dorsey nodded. She glanced at the EMT. “Follow me, and watch for my signal. I’ll wave when you can’t go any further.”

  Mitch climbed in next to Jane, with the doctor and Laura in the back seat. “Ranger Dorsey, who found the body?”

  Laura flipped open the pad she held, pen ready, and scribbled as the vehicle jostled along a gravel cut. “An elderly couple, with their son and daughter-in-law. The Yeomans from Vermont. They’re plenty shaken. Can’t say that
I blame them.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “With Senior Ranger Cole’s secretary, Carol Brennan. She put them in the conference room and is sitting with them.”

  “Good. Any other witnesses?”

  “None. I can’t believe that in this day and age not everyone owns a cell phone. The Yeomans didn’t, so the son raced all the way to the main building. He refused to talk to anyone except a senior ranger. Senior Ranger Cole called me and Ranger Tony Klopper. He and Cole are at the scene.”

  Ranger Dorsey stuck her arm out and waved to signal the EMT to pull over. She waited for him to approach. “Hang tight. As soon as I deliver these folks, I’ll come back to get you and the gurney.” She sped off.

  Within minutes, she said, “There’s Senior Ranger Cole.”

  The area had already been cordoned off, including a sign stating the area was temporarily closed.

  Mitch assisted Laura while Dr. Musuyo retrieved his kit. Together the group walked the short distance to the stone steps leading to Thunder Hole. Laura held the rail for balance. “Don’t wait on me. I’ll catch up.”

  Going down, she knew, would be easier on her muscles than the trip back to the top. At least these were gradual steps and not like the steep stairs in her aunt’s apartment.

  She watched Mitch and the doctor climb over the metal railing and jump to a rugged table of red clay stones where Bryan Cole and another park ranger stood. She lifted her camera and clicked.

  As she approached the same spot, Dr. Musuyo looked at her. “Don’t try to climb over. Use your zoom lens to get the preliminary shots I need.” He removed the voice-activated tape recorder and spoke into it, giving the date and time, before he stooped and lifted back the canvas covering.

  Laura gasped. Tiny bumps pebbled her skin. She hadn’t expected to see the body of a fully naked female corpse sprawled like a broken doll on a pile of rocks. She took a step forward to get closer. Not satisfied, she lifted her good leg to the bottom rail, pulled herself upright, and leaned forward. Laura lifted the camera and zoomed in. A mass of tangled brown hair covered the corpse’s face.

  Mitch drew on a pair of clear plastic gloves as he squatted. “This is where the body was found?”

  Ranger Cole huffed out his acknowledgment. “Ayuh. Except it wasn’t exactly found. According to the Yeomans, they were standing there”—he pointed—“at the end of the observation deck waiting to see if the water spout would happen today. It did. Water shot out of the hole, and the next thing they see is a body flying through the air to land where we’re standing.”

  Laura hastily scribbled down Bryan Cole’s statement. Startled and intrigued, she spoke over the din of waves crashing against the stone barriers. “How would such a thing happen?”

  Ranger Cole shrugged. “Not to get too technical, Thunder Hole is a small inlet, naturally carved out of the rocks, and the waves roll in. At the end of this inlet, down low, is a small cavern where, when the rush of the wave arrives, air and water is forced out like a clap of thunder. Water might spout as high as forty feet.”

  “Interesting. Like a geyser. Does this happen every day?” She shifted slightly to take pictures of a particularly large wave that crashed over the observation point.

  Cole shouted over the noise. “Depends on how the tides are running. It’s more apt to happen during high tide or after a storm.”

  Laura clicked away where Dr. Musuyo indicated, and all the while she kept an eye on Mitch’s expressions. He asked, “What do you think, Doc? Did the victim drown, and then possibly the body washed into the cavern, then got tossed out the blow hole?”

  Musuyo held up each of the victim’s hands for Laura to photograph before he placed bags over them to preserve possible DNA. He appeared to mull the question. “Not likely. Two critical questions require resolution: Was the victim alive or dead when she entered the water? And is the cause of death drowning, and if not, what is the cause of death?”

  “What’s your best guess?”

  “The body has taken quite a beating. Possibly from the wave action of slamming it against the walls of the cavern. Corpses in water always lie with the face down and with the head hanging. Buffeting in the water commonly produces post-mortem head injuries, which may be difficult to distinguish from injuries sustained during life. The presence of bleeding usually distinguishes ante-mortem from post-mortem injuries. However, the head-down position of a floating corpse causes passive congestion of the head with blood, so that post-mortem injuries tend to bleed, creating the diagnostic confusion.”

  “I’m just a country boy, Doc. Can you put that in simpler terms?”

  Musuyo rolled the body to its side. He lifted the hair from the base of the neck and used the end of his pen to point to a bruise. “Without a complete autopsy to confirm my suspicions, I’d say our victim died of a cervical fracture.”

  “A broken neck?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Okay, our victim decides to take a moonlight swim in the buff. She dives off one of the cliffs, hits her head, snaps her neck.”

  Musuyo studied the back of the victim’s shoulders, along the spine and buttocks. “Bruising at the base of the spine above the waistline, and on both buttocks. These may or may not be consistent with diving off a cliff or being slammed against rocks. She would have had to land in a sitting position, which does not explain a possible broken neck.”

  “How long do you think she’s been in the water?”

  Musuyo glanced up at Laura and instructed her to get close-ups of the eyes, nose, and lips. “The time it takes for a body to decompose in water varies depending on temperature. In cold water, it will take longer for the body to decompose because the body will fill with gas. However, there are no signs of bacterial growth, and there are minor signs of feeding from crabs and small fish around the eyes and lips. Thankfully, the sharks didn’t get to her.”

  Laura gasped. “Sharks feed on dead bodies?”

  Musuyo smiled up Laura. “Sharks, like any predator, are opportunistic feeders, and they’ll take advantage of any resource that’s given to them.”

  He redirected his attention to Mitch. “Again, without an autopsy, my best guess is death occurred approximately forty-eight to seventy-two hours ago.” He sighed. “I’ve done all I can do on location. Okay to release the body so I can take it to the lab?”

  Mitch nodded. He looked at Ranger Cole. “Any idea who she is?”

  Cole shrugged his shoulders. “With all the visitors who pass through, it’s impossible to recall faces. Most of the time, I’m not in direct contact with the people.”

  His walkie-talkie squawked. He lifted it from the case at his waist. “Cole. Go ahead.” He listened. “Do whatever is necessary to hold them there, Ranger Dorsey. Don’t let them out of your sight. We’re on our way.” He turned to the deputy. “Mitch, that was Jane. Some campers from the Blackwater site are at the office. They’re looking for a friend who disappeared four days ago.”

  Mitch’s smile was grim. “Four days? What kind of people wait four days to report a missing friend? This had better be good. Lead the way, Ranger Cole.”

  Mitch followed the senior ranger over the rail, while Laura snapped shots of the EMT helping to zip the cadaver inside the body bag. With the help of Ranger Klopper, the two men lifted the cadaver pouch onto the gurney. She photographed the entire process of hoisting the collapsed bed on wheels over the railing and up the stone steps to where the ATV waited, biting back the grunts of exertion as she labored behind the EMT. Dr. Musuyo brought up the rear in case she stumbled.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mitch followed Ranger Dorsey to an office where four people sat close together. Jane Dorsey said, “Excuse me, folks, I’d like you to meet Deputy Sheriff Mitch Carter. Deputy Carter, this is the Yeoman family. In a manner of speaking, they found the body.”

  He thanked the ranger and asked if she would stay. He observed the anxious faces—an elderly couple, perhaps in their late seventies, a
nd a younger couple, estimated in the late forties. Cameras around their necks. Sensible walking shoes. The older gentleman’s head bobbled, and his hands trembled as he gripped a metal cane. Mitch surmised the man might suffer from Parkinson’s Disease. That definitely ruled him out as a suspect. These were ordinary people whose happy day had turned into an unexpected nightmare.

  He pointed to Laura. “I’d like you to meet Laura Friday. She runs the Harbor Gazette and would like to take a photo of you.”

  She smiled as she stepped forward, clicked a couple of times, then stepped into the background to take a seat. “For the record, where are you staying?”

  The older man said, “At the Lighthouse B&B.”

  Mitch pulled two chairs closer and sat down. He placed a small tape recorder on the other chair. “I appreciate you folks waiting patiently. If you don’t mind, I’d like to record this session. It will save you a trip to my office. I imagine this has been a trying experience and you’d like to return to the B&B so you can relax.”

  All four of the people nodded. The younger Mr. Yeoman said, “Thanks, Deputy. You can count on our cooperation.”

  Mitch pushed the Record button and looked at the older man. “Beginning with you, sir, then going down the line, please state your full name, address, and relationship to each other.”

  “Richard Yeoman, Senior, 2453 Lone Pond Road, Island Pond, Vermont. This is my wife, Alaina.”

  The man’s son and daughter-in-law gave their information.

  “Were you at the scene together?”

  All nodded, and Mitch reminded them to speak their answers into the recorder.

  “I need one person to relate what you saw at the observation deck, and the approximate time.”

  The father looked at his son. “I don’t think I have the heart to speak of this dreadful thing, and your poor mama is too upset.”

  The son scooted to the edge of his seat. He cleared his throat as he patted his father on the shoulder. “We, the four of us, arrived at the Thunder Hole observation point about ten a.m. There were probably six other people there. About a half hour later, they left because the hole hadn’t erupted. We decided to wait another few minutes. I remember looking at my watch just as I heard the loud clap, like thunder. It was exactly ten forty-five. We didn’t expect the large gush of water. It was like a tidal wave rushing over us. We were laughing with excitement, and then we laughed harder, and we were all pointing. At first we thought it was a joke, that someone had thrown a mannequin, you know, like one of those store mannequins, down the hole, as a sick prank to scare the tourists when it spewed out. We all rushed to the other side of the railing to see where it would land.