Murder Mysteries # 2
by Robert C Waggoner
Copyright 2014 Robert C Waggoner
Smashwords Edition
Table of Contents
1. Murder at the Lighthouse [novella]
2. Murder in the Pasture [novella]
3. Murder at the Cranberry Bogs [novella]
4. Murder by Stalk [novel]
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Murder at the Lighthouse
At the time of this writing, Fred J. Turner is the keeper of the Bandon lighthouse. It's an icon of the town, Bandon by the Sea. Tourists by the thousands have snapped pictures of the lighthouse on the North Jetty. Fred J. Turner is a fountain of historic information to all who care to listen to him seven days a week from 9 am till 5 pm during tourist season. It's a volunteer position that he cherishes and protects like any person the site as if he owns it.
On Monday morning, at two minutes short of 9 am, in early June, Fred drove his old International pickup truck to its usual parking place where tourists are supposed to obey the parking rules. After removing his back pack with his thermos of coffee and other things to keep him going throughout the day, he walked to the lighthouse with a limp from worn out knees.
The door is locked to prevent any more vandalism or young people spoiling the area with empty beer cans or bottles. After opening the door, Fred's next job was to inspect the entire lighthouse to see if any dead rats or seagulls might be around to scare the tourists. He sat his pack on the sign-in table looking around seeing all was as it should be. He turned to go up the stairs to the solar light itself area that was guarded by a wire protection fence. This was where a gull sometimes got caught in the wire or the area needed cleaning of gull droppings.
Fred opened the door and went out to a small walkway around the top of the lighthouse. Halfway around he froze seeing a human body draped over the railing. At first he didn't know what he saw as his eyes, at eighty years old, weren't the best. As he shuffled closer he saw it was indeed a person on his lighthouse. Fred saw it was a male, but the head hung down between two arms blocking his view of the face. The shirt he wore was hiked up revealing white skin that when he touched it felt like ice. Its dead, he thought. "I must call the police," he said out loud to the wind.
Smiling Sam, who was fast becoming a cohort to the Bandon police in general, and to detective Stacy Foreham in particular, was focusing his binoculars towards the lighthouse. From his house on the hill overlooking the jetty that protected the harbor where the Coquille River flowed into the Pacific Ocean, it was perhaps three quarters of a mile as the crow flies away. It wasn't that Sam was a snoopy guy, but he liked to keep an eye on things. His hobby was jetty fishing when the weather permitted.
Before leaving his house, he'd sit on his covered wooden porch looking the jetty over and watching the sea gulls diving for breakfast. It was also his habit to see Fred drive in at the lighthouse for his summer activity. He had seen before Fred arrived, a dark object on the railing outside the top of the lighthouse. Sam wondered what it was and then he saw Fred raise his arms and dash back inside, it piqued his interest. Sam held off going fishing to witness what developed across the jetty at the lighthouse. He looked at his watch. It was twenty minutes past nine.
Almost twenty minutes had passed when Sam saw the flashing lights of a Bandon police car. One the one hand, Sam was happy about the possibility of another homicide and on the other hand, sad knowing a fellow human had ended their life premature. He focused on the police car knowing it was probably Dan Swollow and he was convinced a crime had been committed when he saw Detective Stacy Foreham's SUV with its lights flashing arriving not far behind the first car. He leaned back knowing she'd be visiting him soon.
Mystery Guest at the Lighthouse
Dan Swollow met Stacy at the door saying, "I didn't go up the stairs, but went around seeing the body hanging over the railing. I'll tape off the door way and around the lighthouse."
"I'll take a look with my binoculars and then call Dr. Stone and Rory," said Stacy. With binoculars in hand, Stacy looked up at the face or head of the person hanging over the railing. From what she could see, open eyes staring at nothing, the slight built man was indeed dead. Stacy paned the entire body looking for blood or anything to indicate cause of death; nothing was seen.
She called Rory Caltex of the Oregon State Police. He and Ben Razor were detectives responsible for any homicides in two counties. Their office was near the North Bend Airport next door to Coos Bay.
Rory answered on the second ring. "Good morning Super Sleuth. It looks like a quiet summer coming on. What's up this fine June morning," he asked.
"Murder at the Lighthouse Tall Man. Get Ben, call Dr. Stone and meet me at the lighthouse."
"You're serious. Well, here we go again with this being our seventh homicide. We're on our way."
Stacy smiled thinking how fortunate she was being able to have the special ability to solve homicides. She gave credit where credit was due: the University of Chicago where she received her degree in criminology. She never mentioned to anyone that she graduated with honors. That would be boasting and her parents wouldn't approve of that at all. Especially her father, who was the Chief of Police and her boss. Unfortunately her mother didn't live long enough to see the fruits of her labor passing on from scourge of the cell eating major disease common to many families.
Because of that and other reasons, Stacy turned down employment with major bureaucratic law enforcement agencies to be with her father. She was young and felt many years ahead of her so why not spend a few years with her lonely father. Stacy raised her binoculars and zoomed in on Smiling Sam's house. Both were shocked to see they were focused on each other. Stacy smiled and waved. Sam returned the salute.
By now Fred Olsen had calmed down quietly chatting with Dan. Stacy walked over and asked to hear the story one more time. Fred, with rheumy eyes looked up from his chair on the lee side of lighthouse and said, "I arrived as usual Stacy. I looked around seeing all was fine. I went up the stairs to make sure no gulls had made a mess when the tourists went up for a look-see. That's when I saw the man hanging over the railing. I touched his back discovering a very cold body. I called you guys. That's it."
"How do you think the body got up there, Mr. Olsen," asked Stacy.
"Now you got me Stacy. The downstairs pad lock was still locked when I arrived here. The only thing I can think of someone has a key, or had a key. The Bullards State Park caretaker has one key and me the other."
"Where do you keep your key to the lighthouse door, Mr. Olsen?"
"Where I always do Stacy. I hang them on the nail by my sign in desk," said a quietly spoken Fred realizing how easy it might be for someone to make an impression of the key.
Stacy heard a vehicle coming and then the doors close. Rory must be here, she thought.
She thanked Fred and went to meet Rory and Ben. She saw Rory with a big grin on his face looking at her while walking with long strides to share her personal space. Ben Razor the elder of the two detectives, immediately had his eyes to ground like a blood hound searching for a scent of its prey.
Ben was a thinking man's detective with an eye for clues at a crime site. Ben was the silent type and always held back waiting for the CSI team to do their jobs. After wards he'd see if any crumbs were left. More time than not, he'd find something that was important to the case.
"Around this way Tall Man. He's hanging over the railing. The caretaker here is Fred Olsen an old guy who volunteers his time every summer to tell the tourists the history of the lighthouse. Someone, maybe, made an impression of his key to the lock. There're only two people with a key and the other one is th
e State Park manager. Can't see much from down here," she said while both stood looking up at the male hanging over the railing.
"Dr. Stone is on her way. We'll know more after they arrive. Meanwhile, it's a fairly nice morning here on the North Jetty. I should have brought my fishing pole," said Rory.
"I didn’t know you liked to fish. You've never talked about it before," said Stacy with a perplexed look.
"I don't fish much, but I do have a pole. My father thought I should have a fishing pole living so close to the ocean. It's still in the carrying case along with the reel. Someday I'll go with Smiling Sam and see what the big deal is all about. I think they're a rather smelly animal. I prefer a steak anytime. Speaking of that, I missed breakfast. Oh, here come Dr. Stone now."
Potato Head
Dr. Marsha Stone, resident pathologist of the county morgue, stepped out then stretched her arms to the sky looking around. Stacy could tell she was thinking about what a nice day on the coast it was. She saw Stacy and waved with a rare smile. Stacy thought, it takes a special person to deal everyday with dead bodies that are often times greatly damaged or deformed. Fire would be the worst, she thought shuddering.
"Morning Stacy and Rory. It's a lovely day. I've nothing pressing so I'll take my time this morning. I seldom get to enjoy the outdoors. After I do my job here with the body, I'll chat awhile with you about a job offer I've received. I'd like your feed back; the both of you of course and Ben."
Stacy and Rory both were a little shocked upon the news they just heard. However, working as a coroner in a dismal workplace, would make anyone want a nice workplace.
The CSI team went first and the photographer next. It was difficult for the photographer as the body hung over the railing face point to the ground. Stacy and Rory both smiled watching him contort to shoot straight up at the dead man. In no time he gave up. Dr. Stone did a quick look over and then had the body removed. The staff used a stretcher which was exchanged for a gurney for the ride back to Coos Bay. But first Dr. Stone did a cursory examination with the three detectives and policeman Dan watching.
The first thing seen was a metal binder clip on the victim's nose. Stacy guessed his age around late twenties. He wasn't particularly good looking, but not bad either. The clip was puzzling until Marsha prised open the mouth. It appeared and was later confirmed a potato had been suck into his mouth. It was obvious he was suffocated.
"It's evident he was suffocated," said Dr. Stone. Of course that will be confirmed at the autopsy. I'd say he died around midnight Saturday. If you'll notice his hands were tied together as I see marks on the wrists." She moved down to the feet and pulled up his sweat pants. He wore tennis shoes with ankle socks. His ankles had been tied together same as the wrists. "Well, take him away guys. I'll be up later to do the autopsy."
The three detectives and Marsha stood around chatting for awhile. Marsha said, "I'd like your feedback friends of mine. I've been offered a teaching position at the University of Oregon. It comes with a full tenure. I'm both flattered and scared; if you know what I mean."
Stacy saw her friend for the first time not in complete control of her emotions. This, she well knew, is a major career move. However, as Rory seemed reluctant to speak and Dan was simply too shy, she said, "Marsha, are you sick and tired of doing autopsies all the time?"
"Well, it does seem like I'm in a rut these days. I don't hate my job that's for sure. I could use some stimulation with students asking questions. I think it would be a nice challenge. However, where I am now, nobody bothers me. I'm my own boss, so to speak. Well, I don't have to make a snap decision," she said.
"I think you've answered your own question Marsha. So far what I've heard is all the good things about changing careers. When you said a challenge is what told me it's time for you to move on," said Stacy.
"Let me buy you lunch," said Rory. Stacy rolled her eyes and Marsha broke out laughing which was catching. Smiling Sam was peering through his binoculars seeing the four of them bending over and waving their arms. He wondered what the hell was going on!
"Let's go Rory," said Marsha.
Motive Missing
After lunch, Rory and Ben took Dr. Stone back to Coos Bay while Stacy went to interview the state park caretaker. Stacy had called ahead to make sure Jonas Hopkins was available as this was a busy time for state parks as tourist season was just beginning to receive school vacation related campers.
Stacy was warmly greeted by Jonas in his office. With the emergency vehicles and police cars going by, he realized something major had happened down towards the jetty. With an anxious look he asked Stacy to sit down and he said, "What can I do for you detective this fine morning?"
A quick look revealed a row of keys on a myrtle wood key rack. Stacy said, "We've a possible homicide at the lighthouse Mr. Hopkins. There're two things I'd like to ask you about. One, are you missing any guests or has anyone reported someone missing?"
"Not that I'm aware of is anyone missing. However, last evening I had to ask some vacationing school teachers to keep the noise level down. I see they decided to leave before their scheduled time of today Monday."
"Can you describe the party of school teachers Mr. Hopkins?"
"There were five of them. All were young and I'd say mid twenties. All were clean cut, but for the first time they arrived, it was party time for all. From the first night I had to remind them of keeping the noise down. I noticed they moved their party down to the lighthouse area of the beach."
"Did you suspect any drugs, or was it just alcohol?"
"I didn't smell any pot and I only saw beer cans and whiskey bottles. A couple times the one who seemed the leader came here to apologize on three occasions."
"The second thing is the key to the lighthouse main door. There're only two and you and Fred Olsen have both of them. Are you missing the lighthouse key," asked Stacy.
Jonas looked behind him at the key board and said, "Funny thing detective. A couple days ago I thought or saw it missing, but then I got busy forgetting about it. I think it was the next day when I remembered and when I looked, there it was where it belonged. I thought I was going a little crazy, but I guess not."
"How were they dressed, the party teachers?"
"Mostly in sweats and hoodys like the kids where today. They at first seemed nice and friendly, but man could they party hard. I was happy when they moved the party to the lighthouse area and then even happier when they left."
"Would you have names and address for the party of teachers," asked Stacy.
"I sure do. Nowadays we require ID with a picture. Just a minute and I'll make a copy for you." Stacy watched as he went into his file system, laid his hands on what she wanted, went to his copy machine and was back in a flash.
Stacy stood up and thanked him for his help. Outside she felt the nice windless day as the park was protected from the onshore wind by the forest of pine trees and a row of sand dunes running along the shoreline. Once inside her vehicle, she looked at the document. There were five names with picture ID next to each one. All were from Brookings, Oregon.
Brookings was the last town on the southern coast before entering California. Brooking had a rather special climate for a coastal town on the coast. It was less windy and warmer than its cousin two hours to the north in Bandon.
Stacy thought, as she looked at one picture ID of Steve Fisher, age twenty six of Brookings, why someone would kill a nice looking young man. If he was indeed a school teacher, ten his career and life had just started. Now he was lying on a cold stainless steel table in the Coos Bay Morgue.
She backed out of the parking lot, and then stopped to call Rory. He answered right away. "Hey, you got something we can sink our teeth into besides a potato," he joked.
"Very funny Tall Man. The victims name is Steve Fisher from Brookings. He and four other school teachers were partying hardy since last Friday. Apparently they stole the parks caretakers' key to the lighthouse for kicks and grins. It mysteriously disappeared and the
n reappeared. They left Sunday sometime without saying good bye. All are from Brookings."
"Marsha said an autopsy is scheduled for 3 pm. Coming up?"
"On my way now. See you at the morgue."
Uncommon Death
Dr. Stone had just started when Stacy walked in with her autopsy dress on. Rory and Ben were already on hand. After an examination of the head, Marsha extracted the potato with her forceps. She placed it on a tray after carefully looking at it. Stacy could see part of the potato had broken off and wondered why.
The pubic area showed signs of ejaculation and that was duly noted. Eyebrows rose seeing the victim's largeness, but no snide comments were heard. The rest or remainder of the autopsy showed no unusual signs or disease. Blood samples were taken and a drug test was ordered.
Later in Dr. Stone's office she said, "I'm almost positive his death occurred from erotic asphyxiation. It's not uncommon these days. The estimates are around 1,000 deaths a year from this bizarre event." Stacy saw the potato sitting on a steel tray nestled in a white towel so it wouldn't fall off. Marsha continued saying, "If you look at the broken part on the end you'll see where a hole had been made going through the potato. I'm suggesting that a string or cord or something was used as a loop to withdraw the potato at the moment of ejaculation.
However, a couple of things could have happened. One might be that when the person pulling the string pulled too hard, the potato stuck and the victim died. The other one might be it was pulled too forcefully on purpose. You'll have to take it from there. Regardless, if this victim was a teacher in good standing, then risking one's life with a thrill at the time of orgasm is not of a reasonable mind. This hypoxia can be traced back hundreds of years. Most recently with the movie star David Carradine in Thailand found hanging in a closet made the international news. Time of death is what I told you earlier"
Murder Mysteries # 2 Page 1
