Murder by Misadventure

by B. T. Lord

  Doc looked down at the corpse. “Hmmmm. He does look as though he saw the boogyman, doesn’t he?” He turned to Cammie. “Before you say anything, I’ll make sure to do a toxicology report on him.”

  “What do you think on time of death?” Cammie asked, ignoring his remark. “He must have died not too long ago. The predators haven’t had time to snack on him.”

  “It’s hard to tell exact time of death right now because of the cold, but I concur with your assumption. No more than two hours at the most.” Doc signaled to Rick. “Could use your help getting him bagged and tied onto the sled. I may look younger than my years, but I’m not about to risk my back hauling a 250 pound ice cube.”

  After helping Doc wrap up the body in a body bag, they hoisted Todd onto the sled and helped secure it with bungee cords.

  “You coming?” Doc asked Cammie as he mounted his snowmobile.

  “Not yet. I want to check out Todd’s cabin. Rick says it’s only about a half a mile from here.”

  “Don’t overdo it,” he snapped. “I know I okayed you going back part-time, but you’re still recuperating. You don’t want to set your progress back by taking on too much too soon.”

  Cammie bit her tongue and wisely kept silent. Doc arched his eyebrow for added effect. Firing up the snowmobile, he was soon roaring away through the woods, what was left of Todd bouncing on the sled behind him.

  When he was gone, Cammie caught Rick glancing at her.

  “I know, I know,” she said. “He means well, but he’s worse than a smothering mother hen. When this investigation is over, you need to help me find him someone.”

  “He’s pretty particular, you know.”

  “He’s pretty lonely too. Don’t any of your thousand and one girlfriends have a gay brother? Gay friend? Gay cousin twice removed?”

  “I’ll work on it.”

  “Good. Let’s get over to Todd’s cabin before I join him in the human ice cube department.”

  The two climbed onto their snowmobiles, and were soon slowly riding along the trail Todd had left in the snow. At one point Cammie stopped the snowmobile, and leaving it idling, climbed off to take a closer look at the path Todd had created.

  She looked up and down the path, silently pondering what she was seeing. Or, in this case, what she wasn’t seeing. Which made the situation more peculiar.

  “What’s up?” Rick asked, coming up beside her.

  “Doc surmises Todd was drunk when he ventured outside last night. He smelled alcohol on him. So did I when I got close to the body.”

  “I did too.”

  “Tell me, have you ever gotten drunk?”

  Rick eyed her dubiously. “I’m not sure I should answer that. You are, after all, my boss.”

  Cammie chuckled. “As long as you don’t drink while on duty. Seriously, have you ever gotten plastered? I mean, really tied one on?”

  “Yeah. Once or twice.”

  “Did you try to walk anywhere when you were so drunk?”

  Rick met her gaze before comprehension spread over his face. “Damn. You’re right!” He looked back to the footprints. “If Todd was so drunk he became disoriented, his tracks should have been erratic.”

  “Exactly. These prints however, are pretty straight. Nor do I see anywhere where he stumbled or fell over. I have yet to meet an intoxicated person who can walk or run straight without tripping or swaying. Looks like he practically bulldozed his way through this deep snow. Could he really have been so disoriented that he didn’t realize he was trying to walk through at least 4 feet of snow?” She looked back towards the clearing where Todd died. “Just what the hell were you running away from, Todd?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Parking their snowmobiles in front of Todd’s cabin, Cammie noted that it was crudely built yet sturdy, easily able to withstand the harsh storms that swept down from Canada. There was a tiny porch, most of it taken up with neatly piled cords of wood covered by a gray tarp. On the other side of the porch stood a beat up Chevy truck, with an attached plow that looked as though it was being held together by chewing gum. It was covered in frost, but the snow from a storm that had passed through the area two days before had been brushed off. However, what passed for a driveway was still knee deep in snow, telling her Todd had stayed put until he’d made his mad dash through the snow early that morning. At least, before killing himself, he’d shoveled a pathway between the truck and his cabin, and it was here that Cammie parked so she wouldn’t have to deplete her energy wading through the high snowdrifts.

  She slowly made her way down the path, looking back and forth across the snow. She saw where Todd had veered off the footpath and into the high snow. She also saw a single set of boot prints leading from the house to the truck and back. Todd had been alone at least since the storm.

  Drawing closer to the cabin, she immediately noticed the door standing partly open. A metal cylinder attached to the frame of the door caught her eye. It was odd to see – she hadn’t seen one of those since living in Boston. She filed the image away as she rapped on the door.

  “Hello?” she called out. As expected, there was no reply. “Rick, why don’t you check out the truck while I check out the cabin?”

  “Will do.”

  She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  It was unnaturally dark when Cammie entered the chilly one room building. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture – just the barest of necessities – but one sweep of her eyes through the gloom and she could see Todd had been a fastidiously tidy individual.

  A wood stove stood in the corner, next to a cot covered neatly with a thick blue and white quilt that was tucked in at the corners. On the floor next to the stove was a small pile of precisely cut wood.

  Straining to see through the murkiness, Cammie knew she needed light or she’d go blind. Looking about her, she noticed a wool blanket covering the lone window to her left. Pulling it down, the light from the sun broke through the gloominess. On a hunch, she took off her glove and put her hand up to the glass.

  “Interesting…” she mused aloud to herself before turning back to the cot where another surprise awaited her.

  A Winchester 30.06 rifle lay across the neatly made cot. Putting her glove back on to avoid getting her fingerprints on it, Cammie carefully lifted the rifle and checked the chamber. It was loaded. The rifle was one commonly used for taking down big game. It didn’t alarm her to find that Todd owned one. Living out in these isolated woods, he would have needed protection against bears and moose. However, why hadn’t Todd taken the rifle with him when he left the cabin? Had he been too drunk to hold it? Why was it laying across the bed in the first place? Was it possible he actually slept with it next to him in case something came knocking at his door? Had he picked it up, but in his drunken state forgot all about it when he went outside?

  With questions piling up in her mind, Cammie started to place the rifle back on the cot when the toe of her boot hit something under the bed. Stepping back, she bent down and saw three beer bottles on their sides. Two were empty, but one had its spilled contents frozen on the roughhewn floor.

  She next opened the stove door, and saw a pile of ashes where a fire had once burned. The stove and ashes were ice cold. There was no way to tell when he’d last filled the stove with wood, yet with the evening temperatures habitually falling below zero, it was probably safe to say he at least filled it the night before.

  Continuing her examination, she noticed a piece of planking held up over the cot by braces which acted as a bookshelf. It was filled with books, but before looking at them, on a hunch she quickly crouched down and looked under the cot again.

  Okay, this guy is definitely scary. Not even a friggin’ dust bunny under here.

  Determined not to think about the convention of dust bunnies congregating in her own cabin, Cammie straightened and turned back towards the front door. That’s when she saw it.

  She whistled lowly under her breath as she approached the door.
r />   At that moment, Rick came up onto the porch. She had enough time to jump back before he entered the room.

  “Nothing in the truck except his registration, some old maps of Maine and New Hampshire and a 38 Ruger in the glove compartment. I bagged it just in case.”

  Cammie nodded, but said nothing. Instead, she remained silent as she continued to take in the cabin. Rick politely waited a few moments before commenting.

  “Something’s bothering you. I can tell by that look on your face. It’s the same look Gran’s cat gets when she ready to tear apart a field mouse.”

  “Tearing apart a field mouse would be easier than trying to figure this whole thing out.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Some of what I’m seeing doesn’t make sense.”

  “Like what?”

  “When I came in here, there was a blanket covering the window.”

  “So?”

  “I can understand putting up a wool blanket to keep any cold air from seeping in. It’s hard enough work cutting wood without wasting heat because cold air is leaking in through cracks. But there is none. That window is sealed tight. In fact, this whole place is sealed up pretty well. With that part of the cabin facing east, he’d be guaranteed a good amount of sunlight. It’s obviously not as strong as it would be in summer, but it would still throw off a bit of heat. Yet, he completely covered it up. Why? He didn’t have to worry about neighbors peering in the window. Maybe a squirrel or two, but was that enough to shut himself up in darkness?”

  Rick smiled. “Maybe he was a vampire.”

  She groaned. “You’ve been watching Chiller Theatre again, haven’t you?”

  “No time. Jasmine has been keeping me pretty busy.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Jasmine?”

  “And her twin sister, Lavender.”

  “Lavender? You are kidding me, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Their mother is an avid gardener.”

  “Save me,” she muttered under her breath. “The second thing that bothers me is his rifle lying across the bed. It’s fully loaded. Why didn’t he take it with him? Why did he have it out in the first place? Did he make it a habit of sitting on his cot with his rifle across his knees?”

  “I would if I lived out here. I like the woods and all, don’t get me wrong. But being this far out, away from everything and everyone…” Rick shivered. “Way too Robinson Crusoe for me.”

  “Third, we all smelled alcohol on him. I found three bottles under his cot. Two are empty. It looks like he spilled the other. Now I’ve known some pretty heavy drinkers in my day. Two beers to them is like a glass of water to you and me. It would take way more than two beers to get them drunk. Am I to believe it took two bottles of beer to get him so drunk that he stumbled outside and got disoriented enough to walk away from his cabin in 4 foot drifts of snow?”

  “Maybe he’d been drinking all day. He threw the other bottles outside, but for whatever reason, shoved these three under his bed.”

  “Check it out, will you? And while you’re at it, take a look inside his garbage bin. I saw one on the side of the cabin.”

  Cammie doubted Todd would do such a thing. The man had obviously been a neat freak. It would have offended his sensibilities to throw anything outside unless it was in his garbage bin. Her instincts were right when Rick returned, shaking his head. “Nothing outside. And his garbage bin has just a couple of empty baked bean cans and a few paper plates. I did notice he has a fire pit out back. It’s full of ashes, so I’ll bet you he burned his garbage. No way he’s gonna get garbage pickup this far out. And with bears around in the warmer weather, safer to burn any leftovers. So what else has you all concerned?”

  “Take a look at the back of the front door.”

  He gave her a quizzical look, but did as she asked. His jaw immediately dropped in astonishment.

  “Holy shit!” he exclaimed.

  “Exactly. One, two even three locks are understandable when you live out in the wilderness. But twelve? That’s a bit obsessive, even if you think a 1,000 pound moose is on the other side of your door.” Cammie shook her head to herself. “What the heck happened to make him leave the safety of this cabin? Why did he leave his rifle behind? Why did he run half a mile through the deep snow? And why did he have twelve heavy duty locks on his door? What in heaven’s name was he afraid of?”

  Rick spun on his heel, and spread his arms out in a dramatic gesture. “Okay. Maybe this is what happened. The guy is sitting here all alone on a dark winter’s night. He’s lonely. He’s getting more and more depressed. He doesn’t have his own Jasmine and Lavender to keep him warm. So what does he do? He starts to drink his sorrows away.” Rick suddenly whirled around and hurried to a small cabinet Todd kept on the other side of the cabin. He opened it up and exclaimed, “Aha! You see? He’s got a couple of bottles of whiskey. Maybe he popped a few back.”

  “Then why aren’t there any glasses out?”

  “The guy was obviously a neat freak. I mean look at the two coffee mugs, and the three glasses on this shelf. They’re perfectly placed side by side. I bet you he washed out the glass and put it away and used the beers as a chaser. Or maybe he drank directly from the bottle. This one here is half empty. By this time, he’s feeling no pain. Suddenly, he hears something outside. Or better yet, after all that alcohol he’s drunk, he has to pee. Real bad. By the time he unlocks all those friggin’ locks, he’s close to bursting. He stumbles outside, leaving the door wide open. Somehow he becomes disoriented. He gets scared and starts to run.”

  “Last night was clear with a full moon. Could he really have become that disoriented that he wouldn’t be able to find his front door?”

  Rick shrugged. “Depends on how drunk he was.”

  Cammie shook her head. “Sorry Rick, but it doesn’t make sense. Here’s a man who has lived in the wilderness for five years. My cabin isn’t as isolated, and even I know that if I had to go outside at night for anything, I always take a weapon with me. From what you tell me, Todd was no stranger to booze. So what was different about last night? Did it have anything to do with him going doomsday prepper?”

  “Only Todd can answer that, and he ain’t doing much talking anymore.” Rick thought for a moment, then brightened. “You know, maybe he really did have to pee bad. He stepped outside, heard something in the woods, thought he was heading back to his cabin, but got confused enough that he took off in the opposite direction. By the time he realized, it was too late.”

  “You think that was enough to leave that grotesque look on his face?”

  “You ever become disoriented? I did once, during a snow storm. Now I know Twin Ponds like the back of my hand. But that night, I couldn’t tell which way was right or left. Scared the piss out of me.”

  “How far is his outhouse from here?”

  “About 30 yards. Tell you what. I’ll check around the cabin. Maybe he didn’t get to the outhouse. Maybe he just stepped outside and did his thing.”

  Cammie nodded. “See what you can find. If there are animal tracks, that might be enough to make someone run for their lives. By the way, bunny tracks don’t count.”

  “When you’re three sheets to the wind, a fluffy bunny might look like Jaws.”

  As Rick stepped outside, Cammie approached the bookshelf. She was still studying the bindings when Rick returned.

  “Well, if he didn’t pee in his outhouse, it wasn’t anywhere around his cabin either. I looked all over, even went into the trees a bit, but nothing. As for tracks, not so much as a bird. So we’re back to square one. Who knows? Maybe he went outside, thought he heard something and got spooked. Easy to do when you’re plastered. You know what I--” Rick stopped talking when he saw Cammie wasn’t listening. “You’ve got that look on your face again. What now?”

  “Not sure.” She pointed to the books. “Take a look at those.”

  Leaning over the bookcase, he scanned the titles, then took a long, deliberate step back. “Whoa. That
’s spooky. No, screw that. It’s downright creepy.”

  “An understatement if I ever heard one.”

  Cammie and Rick grew silent as the titles of the books stared back at them. Protection Against Black Magick, Witchcraft Explained, How to Counteract Evil Spells, How to Escape Negative Energy and People. And the most notorious book of all – The Malleus Maleficarum, a treatise written in the 15th century which led to the horrific persecution of innocent people, most of them women, accused of witchcraft throughout the 15, 16 and 17th centuries. Cammie had heard about the book; anyone with even a mild curiosity about the ‘burning times’ would have heard of this nefarious volume. Yet she’d never seen an actual copy. Just the sight of it sent chills down her spine. After a moment, she turned and met Rick’s eyes. “Todd was terrified of something, Rick. And it had nothing to do with wild animals.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “You thinking Todd was afraid of witches, or evil spells cast on him?”

  “Check out the top of the door.”

  Rick looked to where Cammie was pointing. “Hey, what do you know? He’s got two horseshoes nailed above the doorway.”

  “Did you notice the metal cylinder attached to the door frame outside?”

  “Now that you mention it, I did.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “A cool decoration?”

  “It’s more than that. It’s called a mezuzah. I used to see them in Massachusetts. According to Jewish mysticism, placing a mezuzah outside your front door keeps evil spirits from entering your house. Same with the horseshoes. They’re protection against disruptive or dark entities invading your home. As crazy as it sounds, all the evidence so far points to the fact that Todd was afraid of something from the other side attacking him. It explains all these books, the overkill on locks, the protection charms, even the blanket covering the window. It would even explain why he ran out of here like a bat out of hell. Egged on by the liquor, his fears grew and grew until they were completely over the top. The only thing he could do was try and escape them the only way he knew how.”