Tahoe Blowup

by Todd Borg

  Spot had met the shepherd before and he ran toward her with enthusiasm. For a moment I worried that they were going to have a head-on collision which could cause serious injury to Natasha considering that Spot out-weighs her by 110 pounds. But they slowed in time and Spot veered off. Natasha, quick as a cat, reversed direction and caught up with him in seconds.

  Ellie approached me as the dogs disappeared behind her immaculate house. “Owen, I’m so glad you called again.”

  Ellie was a tiny woman in her eighties, but energetic as a 50-year-old marathon runner. She reached up and shook my hand with both of hers, squeezing my fingers as if the obvious arthritis in her knuckles was nonexistent. “You said you’d give me a kiss.” She grinned and turned her cheek up toward me.

  I bent down to her four and a half feet and pecked skin as thin and soft as flower petals. Her wispy white hair felt like goose down brushing my cheek, and she smelled of lilacs.

  “I was thinking of you,” Ellie said, “because I got a call from your young friend Jennifer Salazar.” Ellie was referring to the girl from a murder case I handled the previous spring. Jennifer Salazar had hired me to find the murderer of her twin sister. It was one of Ellie’s dogs that had located the body on the rock slide above Emerald Bay.

  “I thought Jennifer was off at Harvard,” I said.

  “She is. She’s doing an independent study project on animal intelligence for her psyche requirement. She called me for an expert testimonial. Her words, not mine. I told her I’m just a dog trainer, but she insisted. She is going to fly out here to interview me! Can you believe the extravagance! I worry I won’t give her her money’s worth.”

  “Don’t worry. You’re obviously important to her project. Anyway, she has lots of money.” I pictured the French Renaissance mansion on the East Shore of Tahoe, all hers now by court decree.

  “So I gathered, but I still hope I won’t disappoint the girl.”

  “You won’t, Ellie. It’s not possible.”

  Ellie picked a small bag up off the front steps and then called the dogs. Spot and Natasha came at full speed. Again I worried that Spot might cause an injury, this time to Ellie. But the woman was a master and had my giant dog heeling at her side in a moment. They marched off to the Jeep, Ellie’s arm held up high to rest on Spot’s back.

  We all piled in and headed back up into the mountains while I told Ellie about the forest fire that had nearly burned up my little cabin.

  “The motor fuel that runs our cars,” Ellie said. “I don’t say the G-word in front of my dog as she would recognize it. We call it petrol when we don’t want them to know what we’re talking about.” She glanced in back toward the dogs who were each hanging their heads out opposite windows. “You think petrol is what started the forest fire?”

  “I have no idea. The firemen found a burned kitchen match, nothing more. The meadow was so dry, possibly a single match was all it took. But I want to find out if petrol or something similar was used. It seems worthwhile to see if a dog would turn up something. No matter how hot the fire, petrol leaves traces, doesn’t it, traces a dog can smell?”

  “Yes. In buildings, it seeps into floors and under the walls. Outside, it seeps into the ground. Rarely does it burn up completely. Even in hot fires.” She reached into her little bag and handed me a small vial with an eye-dropper cap. Her movements were casual in a way that was meant to escape notice by the dogs. “I need to ask you to arrange to put some petrol in this vial. Of course it needs to be done out of sight of the dogs. Then you must wash the outside of the vial and your hands thoroughly. A strong detergent is a good way to erase the smell on the vial.”

  “What if the firestarter used an accelerant other than petrol?” I asked. “Turpentine or lighter fluid or alcohol are all available in most peoples’ homes. We’re scenting your dog on petrol. Will she find any of those other fluids?”

  “Yes,” Ellie said. “They are all volatile organic compounds. Sensitizing the dog to any of them will work. Think of perfume. There are hundreds of them. But let’s say I asked you to smell a typical perfume. Then I sent you to the opera to sniff the ladies and find out if any of them were wearing perfume. You would alert, so to speak, on all standard perfumes, ignoring only those strange scents like musk and such.”

  I thought about where I could get gas as I drove up into the Sierra. Getting gas in a vial was not so easy as it would appear. A gas can was rarely full enough that one could touch the surface of the liquid with an eye-dropper. I decided to stop at the fire station when we got back to Tahoe and see if they could help.

  Terry Drier was out so I explained my problem to one of the firemen and showed him the vial.

  He looked at it with skepticism and then glanced toward the Jeep where Ellie and the two dogs waited in the parking lot.

  “The dog handler needs gas to pre-scent the dog,” I said. “I thought maybe you would have a can. Or maybe we could get some from out of your snowblower.”

  “That old woman is a dog handler?”

  “The best Search and Rescue trainer in California.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Give me a break.”

  “Remember the avalanche in the back country near Kirkwood last year?” I said. “When the Kirkwood Search and Rescue dog ran up the mountain and immediately started digging where that ten-year-old skier was buried?”

  “Of course,” he said. “It was little Jimmy Jackson that dog saved.”

  I looked over toward Ellie in my Jeep. “She trained that dog.”

  The fireman looked at Ellie, then at me. “Follow me,” he said. “We’ve got gas in the garage.”

  We poured some gas into a coffee cup and then used the eye-dropper to transfer it to the vial. “Any chance you’ve got some detergent to wash this with?” I asked.

  “There’s liquid hand soap in the bathroom. Will that work?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Thanks much. I’ll tell Terry how helpful you were.”

  Back in the Jeep I showed Ellie the vial which smelled like perfumed soap.

  “Perfect,” she said. “Now we’ll go catch an arsonist!”

  SIX

  “Do you need a rest stop?” I asked Ellie. “Food or coffee? We’ve been driving a long time.” I didn’t know how much stamina I could expect from a woman in her eighties.

  “No, I’m ready to go. I’ll rest later. Where is the fire?”

  “Just ahead.” I drove another two miles and pulled off where the burn started its long swath up the mountain.

  We let the dogs out, and they ran around in the burned-out meadow while Ellie explained the procedure.

  “I’ll stay here by your car and talk to the dogs while you walk out of sight over beyond that rise.” She pointed toward the forest. “Put one drop of petrol on the ground in a spot that you’ll remember. Then come back to us in a different way so the dogs have not seen where you’ve been. Be careful not to get petrol on you or on the outside of the vial.”

  “Will Spot be in the way? He’s never done a search for accelerants.”

  Ellie’s eyes brightened with enthusiasm. “No, not at all. He’ll learn from following Natasha.” Ellie looked up at the dogs across the meadow, then put four fingers in her mouth and whistled loud enough to hurt my ears. Natasha came running fast, followed by Spot. The impression was of a streaking fighter jet with a big transport plane lumbering behind. “Okay,” Ellie said to me. “I’ll wait for you to come back.”

  I hiked off across the blackened meadow while Ellie held both dogs with nothing more than her kind voice for a leash. When I was well out of sight I came upon a burned fallen tree trunk that would be easy to find again. Twisting trails of smoke issued from one end. Near the other end I put a single drop of gasoline on the ground and then carefully re-inserted the eye-dropper into the bottle so as not to get any gas on the outside of the vial or on myself.

  “Everything go okay?” Ellie said when I returned.

  I nodded.

  “Let me take your
arm,” she said. “The ground looks uneven. Let’s walk this way. The dogs will follow. My dog will find the petrol drop. It is a reinforcement technique.”

  We set off across the meadow in a new direction, the dogs bounded this way and that. Eventually, we circled around toward where I’d put the drop of gasoline. Natasha was trotting some distance away, a stick in her mouth, when she stopped. She dropped the stick, sniffed the air and then started a search pattern, her nose to the ground. In seconds, her nose was where I’d put the drop of gas.

  “Gasoline!” Ellie said to Natasha. “Natasha, find the gasoline!”

  Natasha immediately changed from a dog at play to a working dog with an intense focus on the task at hand. The transformation was so impressive and complete, it was as if she were a different animal. She kept her nose to the ground and started off at a trot.

  At first, I didn’t perceive a pattern to what looked like a random search. But after a minute, it was clear that she had a method. She went in a zigzag fashion away from where I’d put the drop. Then she made a gradual circle, larger and larger so that she described a rough spiral of sorts.

  Spot sensed that she had a purpose but the befuddled look on his face showed that he had no clue what it was.

  “Spot!” Ellie called out. He came running while Natasha kept up her widening search. “Smell here.” She pointed to the ground where I’d put the drop of gas.

  I was amazed again as Spot did what she said, demonstrating that this woman had magic with these animals. He stuck his nose in the dirt, inhaled, pushed dirt around with his nose and inhaled again.

  “Gasoline, Spot! Gasoline! Find the gasoline!” Ellie gave him a little smack on his butt and Spot ran off, joining Natasha in her search. Although I’d never worked him on any search training except humans, it seemed clear that he understood that this was the same process. But his constant looks toward Natasha suggested that he realized that the fastest way to find gasoline smells was to follow her rather than strike out on his own. The sight of the Great Dane trying to mimic the dedicated movements of the small German Shepherd was a little like watching a Disney movie.

  It was only a minute before Natasha alerted. Ellie pulled on my arm and pointed.

  “Look. She’s found something.”

  I watched as Natasha ran to where Terry Drier had said the fire started. She stuck her nose in the ground, pushing ashes and dirt. The dog became nearly frantic as she moved away, nosed more dirt, then moved away again.

  “A trail!” Ellie said, her voice quivering with excitement. “She’s found an accelerant trail!”

  Natasha trotted along with her nose to the burned ground. She jerked to stop, reversed, turned, ran off again. Not far from where the fire started was a large blackened tree trunk. Natasha rushed around it and stopped. Spot joined her. We could see their tails held high and wagging with excitement.

  Ellie and I hurried toward them. When we came around the tree we saw the reason for their excitement. A small gas can, its finish burned to a blackened crisp, lay on its side in the ashes. I walked over to an unburned area and found a stick. I poked it through the handle of the can so I could lift it up without marring it.

  The small can was circular in shape with rounded edges and looked like it would hold no more than one gallon. Being so small it was the type one would use for filling a weed eater or a similarly small engine with a tiny gas tank. I couldn’t think of any other practical use for it. Unless one wanted to start a forest fire?

  I set the can back down. “We can retrieve this later,” I said. “Can you ask your dog to look for more petrol?”

  Ellie turned to the dog, held out her arm and pointed her finger toward the burned forest. “Natasha! Find more gasoline!”

  Natasha immediately understood. She put her nose to the ash-covered ground and resumed her search pattern.

  We picked up our pace as Natasha, followed by Spot, headed out of the meadow and into the burned landscape that used to be forest.

  The dogs went over a rise, through a maze of charred, smoldering tree trunks, then down a slope. Natasha repeatedly jammed her nose in the dirt and wiggled it around. Then she ran forward and pounced on the next spot of scent as if seizing a mouse. Spot was less focused but he followed directly behind.

  “Are you okay with this hiking?” I asked Ellie as we tried to keep up. “I can run after them and then come back and get you.”

  “No way,” Ellie said in a voice more like a teenager’s than an octogenarian’s. “I want to see what she’s tracking!” Ellie tugged on my arm and clambered even faster over the uneven, rocky landscape.

  We followed the dogs down an increasingly steep slope that was littered with fallen smoldering logs. The air was thick with the stink of wet smoke. At one point, Ellie’s foot slipped and rolled off a stick. She gasped and I thought she had sprained her ankle or worse. But after a moment she insisted on continuing.

  Natasha and Spot got ahead of us and disappeared among the blackened trees. But a minute later we saw them at a distance. Their noses were to the ground, tails held up, their excitement undiminished.

  Ellie and I did our best getting down the long slope. I realized we were heading into the ravine where Highland Creek flowed, the same ravine that went up the mountain and ended just below my cabin. Why anyone would bring gasoline into the ravine was beyond my imagination, but I didn’t question the fact, so focused was Ellie’s dog.

  At the bottom of the ravine, Highland Creek flowed lightly from the melting snow on the mountain above. But I had no doubt that it was dry prior to the storm as evidenced by the complete burn of all the dogwood near and in the creek bed. Ellie and I paused to catch our breath. The dogs were out of our sight around a turn in the ravine.

  “Listen,” Ellie said. “Natasha’s whining. She’s found something. Something bad.”

  We hustled upstream and around the bend. Both dogs came into sight. Spot was standing still, looking back toward us. Natasha was moving back and forth near a large black object on the ground.

  Neither Ellie nor I knew what we were looking at until we got much closer. Then Ellie stopped with a sharp intake of breath. I finally realized what it was.

  Contorted in a grotesque position, seemingly wrapped in black peeling layers of what must have once been skin, was a body. The only parts that weren’t burned black were its teeth. They were darkened brown by the smoke, and exposed in a hideous final grimace.

  SEVEN

  We didn’t spend more than a few moments at the macabre scene. It was unsettling for Ellie and me as well as the dogs. Ellie called Natasha and Spot over and pet both of them extravagantly, telling them how smart they were. The dogs showed little enthusiasm, and, although I’d never witnessed a dead find before, I understood that it was a very depressing experience for dogs. While Spot seemed to mope, Natasha, in particular, hung her head and whined as if she’d been physically hurt.

  “We need to do a live find as soon as possible,” Ellie said. “This poor creature will be a wreck until then.”

  “Let’s go back to the Jeep, first, so I can report this body on my phone. Then I can go hide. Will that work?”

  Ellie looked up at me and nodded. It was only then that I saw the tears in her eyes. As a search and rescue handler, she’d no doubt seen sights as bad many times. But that didn’t lessen her sensitivity.

  We made our way back up the steep incline of the ravine, Ellie holding my arm tight and letting me lift her up the steepest sections. The dogs followed behind us without veering or running around. There was no more play in them and no more searching. They understood that their job was over.

  We made it back through the woods and across the meadow to the Jeep. I helped Ellie up into the passenger seat so that she could rest. Despite her incredible energy level, she wasn’t used to the low oxygen of high altitude. The dogs stood unmoving outside her open door, literally hanging their heads. A periodic whine issued from Natasha’s throat.

  I got through to Diamond on
my phone.

  “The search dog found a gasoline trail,” I told him. “There is a gas can not far from where the fire started and down in the bottom of the Highland Creek ravine there is a body.”

  “Do you recognize the victim?” Diamond asked.

  “It is in an area thoroughly burned. Identification will no doubt require dental records.”

  “That bad, huh?” Diamond said. “Can you stick around until we get a unit over there?”

  “Certainly.”

  I hung up and turned to Ellie who was leaning back in her seat and suddenly looking nearly as old as she was. “How should we work the live find?” I asked.

  Ellie rallied somewhat as we shifted our attentions to a new task. “Do you have an article of your clothing we can use? Gloves in the back of the Jeep or something?”

  I dug under my seat and pulled out a baseball cap.

  “Put it on a moment to freshen up your scent,” Ellie said.

  I did as told, rotated it on my head and then handed it to her.

  “I’ll keep the dogs with me,” she said. “You hike out of sight and hide. Tell me how high to count before I send the dogs looking.”

  I thought about it a moment. “Let’s see. How about one hundred. That should give me enough time to go back over the rise, then double back and hide in a different direction.”

  “Okay. At one hundred I’ll scent them on your hat and send them off.” She got out of the Jeep and turned to the dogs. “Natasha, Spot. Come here. Sit-stay.”

  The dogs moved slow, but did as told, depression heavy on their faces. I went back into the burned forest and, once out of sight, found a large depression under a rock where I curled up, invisible to anyone who didn’t have a damn good nose. Sooner than I imagined possible, Natasha ran around the corner at full speed as if she’d known all along where I was going to hide. She lightly bit my arm, tugging at my sleeve, trying to pull me into the open. Her tail wagged furiously. Spot was less graceful as he followed on her heels. He leaped onto me. His mass knocked me out of Natasha’s grasp and onto my back. I grabbed him and we rolled around in the dirt and ash. Natasha wanted to get in on the act and tentatively pawed at us while her tail wagged like windshield wiper on high, but her good sense no doubt told her to be careful before jumping into a four hundred pound wrestling match.