“Hey boy … looks like we’re pretty close to a good fresh water fishing lake. Maybe we should take my pole over there and wet a line? Loomis Lake … and go figure, there’s another state park. Loomis Lake State Park. That’s right across the street from the lake.”
Momentarily satisfied with what he’d learned from his map and tourist pamphlets, Ian slowly climbed out of bed and began attempting to loosen his neck, with no success. After also stretching his arthritic back a couple of times, he then did two deep knee-bends, straightened himself, and proceeded to shuffle his way over to the trailer’s semblance of a kitchen. Ian drew some water from the kitchen faucet, hoping to find it at least semi-potable. He filled his coffee mug of choice, the one with the picture of Big Foot on its front.
Ian scooped into his now two-thirds-filled mug of water his typical ration of too much out-of-date powdered grounds. He then placed his overfilled mug into his one fairly-new appliance: a shiny black Hamilton Beach microwave. In mere moments, he produced a steamy mug of instant sludge, which he generally referred affectionately to as a cup, or in this case mug, of “ole Joe.”
Ian said aloud as he grimaced while trying to endure his first sip. “Yeah boy. That’s the stuff!” He took another sip and nearly choked. “Okay. This is no good.” Ian laughed a small laugh then looked at Scout as he spoke while pouring the remainder of his mug down the sink. “It’s definitely time to pick up some new coffee, boy.”
Ian set his mug in the sink then proceeded to get dressed. Once dressed, he and Scout bounded out of the trailer.
He opened the driver side door of his Jeep. Without hesitation, Scout jumped in and moved over to the passenger seat where he set himself tall.
“So you’ve got your own seat, do you?” Ian couldn’t help grinning ear-to-ear as he noted how happy Scout was to be in the Jeep, to be heading out on the road. Ian loved the alertness, intelligence, and confidence Scout exuded in all the seemingly little things that he did. The truth was, he felt more secure himself having Scout along with him. Even though Ian hadn’t had Scout long, he loved everything about his dog.
Ian glanced over at Scout. “You must be on some kind of big-time growing spurt. You look to me like you’ve gained size and weight in just these last coupla days. You’re a big, tough guy, aren’t ya?” Scout barked loudly one time. He wagged his tail as he momentarily stood up on all fours before settling back down in a sitting position. He was beginning to wonder if his dog was some kind of a K-9 genius with the way Scout seemed to understand just about everything Ian said to him. Occasionally, it also seemed to Ian that all he needed to do was think about something, and Scout would act or react accordingly, as if there was some kind of psychic link between them.
Despite his restless night, Ian was becoming energized just anticipating the day ahead. He had disconnected his old Jeep Wagoneer from his even older Airstream trailer upon his arrival to Oscar’s on the Ocean yesterday. He really wanted to get a quick start the next day.
As Ian and Scout began driving out of the RV park heading south, back towards the town of Long Beach, Ian glanced down for a second at a time at his unfolded map of the peninsula that he’d laid on his lap. He and Scout were driving on Highway 103, the peninsula’s one main road – the one road that ran the entire twenty-six mile jaunt north to south, end to end. From the fishing town of Ilwaco, which was located on the extreme south-end of the peninsula at the mouth of the Columbia River, all the way north to the town of Ocean Park.
Ian noted that just above the town of Ocean Park was a housing community called Seaside Estates. It was the northernmost inhabitable area of the peninsula. He also made note that once they’d driven past downtown Long Beach, he could take a side road that would prevent them from having to drive into Ilwaco. As Ian plotted his course, he saw that he’d be going through a little town called Chinook. From Chinook, it looked like only another five or so miles east to the bridge that crossed over the Columbia River to Astoria, Oregon.
Ian pulled his Jeep over to the side of the road. He’d become enthralled with the map of the area and decided to take a good, long look at it. As Ian studied the map to better orient himself, he started taking mental stock of what he knew versus what he didn’t.
He knew that the Pacific Ocean was less than a few football fields west from the highway they were on. He also knew that if they were to head east on most any connected road, it would lead to Willapa Bay. Ian thought to himself that he’d love to take the time soon to drive the entire peninsula just to see what could be seen. Last night while he was perusing through some information pamphlets regarding the places to see and things to do, he’d been especially intrigued by a small pioneer township formed in the 1800’s. Oysterville was located on the northern Willapa Bay side of the peninsula. It was famous for its namesake: oysters. Ian prided himself on being a consummate consumer aficionado regarding devouring and subsequently evaluating a plate of fresh, lightly-battered and seasoned pan-fried oysters.
Ian put away his map and pulled out onto the road heading to the town of Long Beach. After less than ten minutes, he and Scout were driving through the main downtown area. As he drove, Ian admired the many different gift shops and clothing stores, restaurants, bakeries, candy shops and such that lined both sides of the main street for an area that spanned a couple of blocks.
Ian was somewhat startled as he noticed that many of the stores and shops were all decorated for Halloween as he mused, I’ve got to start paying attention to what’s going on in the world, beyond just my work.
Ian was especially intrigued by a store on his right called Marsh’s Free Museum.
“Scout, we’ve got to make time to check that place out. Looks strange from the outside. Imagine what might be inside.” Ian chuckled at that thought.
Moments later, just about a mile south down the road, Ian noticed from another glance at his map that he’d soon be making a turn to the left. It would be easy finding his way to the bridge that crossed the Columbia over to Astoria from there. He also noted that to the right was a sub-area of Long Beach called Seaview.
“I tell you, Scout, for a relatively small area, this peninsula sure is chock full of little townships.” Scout didn’t bark but glanced momentarily over at Ian, his head bobbing a bit up and down as his body swayed from side to side, primarily due to the Jeep’s worn-out shocks. It appeared to Ian as though Scout was nodding in agreement.
After leaving the Long Beach area and before reaching the little town of Chinook, Ian smiled as he spoke, “Look, boy. On your side, those red-colored swampy fields … Those are cranberry bogs. That’s something you don’t see every day. Well, unless you live here I guess. Funny, I didn’t notice them when we came through here yesterday.”
Ian prided himself on his keen powers of observation, a necessary trait in what had been his line of work. It was absolutely essential in his new endeavor as a private investigator of sorts.
“Another thing I bet ya don’t see often around here, especially this time of year anyway, is two straight days without rain.” Ian glanced through his windshield up at the sky. It was completely cloud-covered, but it didn’t look too ominous. The cloud cover was thick yet mostly light gray. There was very little wind, not much more than a breeze, but Ian noticed it was blowing from the south where there were some dark clouds beginning to form.
Ian guessed the darkening sky to be maybe thirty to fifty miles or so south of his position, across the Columbia over in Oregon. He glanced once again at the sky first through his windshield, then leaned to look further south out the passenger side window. His head nearly touched Scout’s, who leaned towards Ian and lightly licked his right cheek.
“Ah, thanks boy. I like … I love you too.” Ian glanced at his four-legged best friend and smiled. “Scout, this is what’s commonly referred to as the calm before the storm, and you can bank on that.” Ian nodded his head slightly up and down in agreement with himself. He meant what he said, both actually and metaphorically; he was famil
iar with coastal climate, having recently lived for a time in Winchester Bay on the Oregon coast. Ian was growing more nervous by the minute about what was coming next. His nervousness had little if anything to do with the weather.
CHAPTER 2
Introduction
As Ian and Scout drove through downtown Astoria, Ian decided that it would be best if he went to the Astoria Police Department. Maybe if I speak directly to someone about the recent string of apparent totally exsanguinated victims, victims of obvious foul play, and ease into their thoughts a connection to that guy, Salizzar, and his club for weirdos … If I can get any cooperation from the police at all, that would be a good place to start. Ian figured it would be best for him to find out quickly if the police were going to take kindly or otherwise to his nosing around about it.
“Scout, I sure hope Charlie called ahead and spoke to the cops about me like he said he would.” Scout paid little attention to Ian’s last words. He was busy looking out the passenger-side window at all the strange curiosities that new sights and sounds offered.
“Well, there it is, Scout. We’re here. The police station.” Ian took a deep gasp of air in a near-futile attempt to help alleviate some of his apprehension. Then he pulled his Jeep over to the curb and parked on the opposite side of the street from the police station.
“You stay here and be a good boy. I shouldn’t be long. I figure I’ll find out soon enough if they’re gonna roll out the red carpet for us or, more likely, try to run us out of town on a rail. Ha.” Ian let out a half-laugh, a sudden outburst of nervous tension.
Ian crossed in the middle of the street. Any remote possibility of getting ticketed for jay-walking right in front of the police department never crossed his mind.
As he stood at the front double-glass door of the station, Ian took another deep breath, then exhaled slowly as he proceeded through the doors. Once inside, he noticed immediately that the place appeared much larger and busier on the inside than it did from the outside. Ian thought to himself, this community’s really not all that small. And look. Halloween decorations.
Within moments of standing just inside the entranceway, Ian was greeted by a female officer-receptionist. He was instructed to remove his keys, wallet, and belt, and stow them in a tray the officer handed him. Ian was then told that he could leave his shoes on and that the x-ray archway that had to be passed through wasn’t set to be super-sensitive. Ian graciously complied, then, when instructed by the officer, stepped through the small x-ray arch. Once through, he was promptly handed back his personal belongings and quickly put them all back where they belonged.
Ian then stepped up to the information desk to another officer “Hi … uh …”
The female information officer cut him off. “Sir, please sign in here, then state your business.” The officer flashed Ian a slight smirk as she tapped on the desk right next to the clipboard that was holding a sign-in sheet.
“Oh, yeah right.” After Ian signed his name and the time on the sheet, the officer picked it up and glanced at it. Before Ian could say another word, she said, “So you’re Mister McDermott? I’m going to need to see some identification, Mister McDermott.” Ian quickly retrieved his driver’s license and handed it to the officer. She glanced at it, smiled slightly, and handed it back to Ian as she said, “Thank you, sir. The chief’s been expecting you.”
Ian was surprised and relieved to hear that. Charlie had come through, as hoped.
The officer pointed to a bench across the hallway from her desk. “Take a seat over there. I’ll let the chief know you’re here.”
Ian did just as he was instructed. He’d been waiting for about twenty minutes and had witnessed the beginnings of two separate bookings of arrestees before he heard another officer, this one male, walk towards him and call out louder than necessary, “Hey you, McDermott, come with me.” The sound seemed to echo up and down the tiled halls.
Ian followed the officer down a short hallway. The officer stopped at a closed door near the end of the hall, then lightly knocked on the door that bore a bronze name-plate that read, “Chief William Mooney.”
“Come in, come in.” Someone within the office yelled out. Ian’s escorting officer opened the door for him, then pointed for him to go on in. The officer then promptly went on his way back up the hallway.
Once inside the office of the police chief, Ian quickly handed Chief Mooney his business card. Police Chief Mooney didn’t say a word; he glanced at it, then stared Ian up and down for a moment. Then the chief pointed to a chair across from his desk and motioned for Ian to sit down.
“So … you’re Doctor Ian McDermott. A Ph.D., are you?” Ian smiled and began to stand back up to shake hands. “No. No need to get up,” Chief Mooney again motioned for Ian to stay put.
“I got a call from Harmony Falls’ finest that you’d probably be paying us a visit.” Chief Mooney then leaned way back in his chair and put both hands on his knees. He seemed to be less than thrilled about Ian being there.
“I tell ya, Mister McDermott, I generally don’t take kindly to private investigators of the normal kind – or the paranormal. Poking their noses around in police business. And I’m not so sure what we got going on here fits into the realm of paranormal. But what’s been going on sure as shit isn’t normal, that’s fer goddamn sure.”
Ian started to reply but was cut off before he could get a word in edgewise. “No, now just bear with me while I complete my little speech. Anyway, like I said, under normal circumstances, I don’t much like private investigators of any kind. Typically, my experience has been they’re not worth whatever anyone pays them. More often than not, they tend to get in our way and often obstruct investigations that are much better left to professionals. That said … I said typically. But unfortunately, what’s been going on here in my town lately has been anything but typical.”
Ian shifted in his chair just a bit and almost spoke but then realized it was still not the time for him to say anything.
“Anyway, Mister McDermott … Like I said, I got a call about you from the newly-appointed Sheriff of Harmony Falls. One Mister Charlie Redtail. Now, I don’t personally know Sheriff Redtail from Adam. But I do – or better said, I did know who he used to work for. Bud O’Brien. One of the finest lawmen … Well, just a damn fine man.” Ian bowed his head just a little as he nodded in agreement to that.
“I met Bud at a law enforcement convention held in Portland a few years back. We got to jawin’ and drinkin’ one night and well … Hell, he was just a good man, and that’s that. So when Sheriff Redtail told me of how you helped bring down Bud’s killer; the same one that killed all those poor people … Well, that speaks volumes to me if you get my drift.”
Suddenly, Chief Mooney stood up and extended his right hand. Ian nearly jumped up out of his chair in response to the gracious gesture. Both men shook hands and smiled at each other.
“I’m sure you can imagine we have to investigate murders now and again. Not too frequently, I’m glad to say. Mostly either domestic violence or a drug deal gone bad. A hooker gets done in, that sort of thing. Never any related string of murders like this. No serial killer types. Not here. Not ever before this anyway.”
The chief looked Ian square in his eyes before continuing, “That said, I’m gonna do for you what I ain’t never done for no private investigator before.” Chief Mooney bowed his head just slightly for a second, then lifted it back up and stood tall. He looked Ian directly in the eyes. “I’ve been Chief of Police here in Astoria for over twelve years. Mostly all good ones … that is till lately. Ian, I’m gonna assign a liaison officer to assist you with limited – and I mean limited – access to the hard copy case files that we have regarding the strange and unusual deaths that we believe are murders, which have occurred over the last several weeks. I can’t have anyone seeing you messing around with our computers or looking over the shoulder of anyone using one, or even hanging around the place. The fact you’re here now is a little unsafe, so I inte
nd to get you outta here fairly pronto. Now, most of the more gruesome details of the cases we’ve managed to keep out of the papers up till now. I expect that you will do me the courtesy of not speaking to any press person about any of this. And you will report anything that you might dig up directly to the liaison officer, who will then report directly to me. No one else. Understand? Have I made myself perfectly clear on this?”
Ian nodded and replied, “You bet. Perfectly! I understand.” He paused for a second, then cleared his throat. Ian didn’t know if what he was going to say next was going to be a huge mistake or not, but since the chief was being so openly cooperative, he too wanted all cards on the table.
“Um, Chief Mooney … one thing.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” the chief replied with a slight frown on his face.
“I … uh … I mean … I of course do private investigation, but I’m not actually officially licensed as such.”
“Mister McDermott. Can I call you Ian?” Chief Mooney said, smiling.
“Certainly.” Ian replied.
Chief Mooney continued, “I thought you were gonna start talking money. I don’t give gull-squat about anyone who waves a private investigator’s license around. Anyone can get one of them online for a couple hundred bucks or less. After I got that call from Sheriff Redtail, we did a little checking on you ourselves. You’re the guy who found that fish everyone thought was extinct, right?” Ian nodded, though he wasn’t sure where the chief was going with that little tidbit from his past. Ian was also growing very nervous regarding how he was going to demand, or rather ask, to be paid for his services. The chief was a large, intimidating man.
Red Tide: The Flavel House Horror / Vampires of the Morgue (The Ian McDermott, Ph.D., Paranormal Investigator Series Book 2) Page 3
