The Death of Alan Chandler (The Red Lake Series Book 1)

by Rich Foster

  Maddox turned on his heel and walked away to cool off. This case was making him nervous. He wanted to find the body as much as anyone else. Though after three weeks it would take a forensic pathologist to tell them what had happened.

  *

  That night Charles arrived at the station promptly at eight. He identified himself and asked for Sergeant Maddox. The Duty Officer told him that the Sergeant had been called away. He had left word that he would speak with Mr. Blain the next day. The truth of the matter was that Ray Maddox was at home drinking a beer. He had let Blain come in solely as in irritating inconvenience. It seemed that Blain was far too cool and Maddox sought to rile him. He worked through most of a six-pack as he considered the case. If it were not for Lilly’s lies and her obvious affair with Charles Blain, he would probably accept Alan’s disappearance as an accident. But when he factored in the unexplained blood on the floor, it still added up to murder.

  He pondered on why the District Attorney had run with the case. At first he thought it was because Chandler was connected somehow, but Delaney had not found a shred of evidence that Alan Chandler’s name carried clout anywhere in the state. No one had come riding to rescue Lilly from jail that evening and there were no inquires concerning Alan Chandler from interested parties. He finally concluded that the prosecution was being driven by the fall election. The D.A.’s ambitions were widely rumored. He tried to not be involved in politics but then again he was careful not to offend the powers that be.

  When a reporter contacted him late that night he had simply said the investigation was ongoing. When asked about the charges against Lilly Chandler he said that to his knowledge they had not been dropped but to contact the District Attorney for comment.

  He watched the news at eleven. The blond reporter looked very breathy and vivacious on film. The piece ran a great deal of footage, including his order for Lilly’s arrest. There was a close shot of her being placed in the patrol car. It seemed he had won the battle for spin. The piece focused more on Lilly and her finding the body, than her innocence. The story played up the unanswered questions about the crime, including the blood-splattered kitchen. They reported that the District Attorney was out of town and unavailable for comment. The piece ended with a long shot of Charles Blain and the reporter asking: “How does Ms. Chandler’s friend fit into this? The police say they are investigating. This is Kimmy Anderson for Channel Thirteen News.”

  Maddox flipped the station off in disgust. He hated his small part in creating “trial by television,” but he needed time to find the truth. If the story became one of questioning police competence it might derail the investigation. He went to bed. When he found sleep it was only to dream of bodies floating past in the river. One by one he would roll them over in the water, but it was never the face he was looking for.

  *

  On the other side of town at his estate, Charles Blain sipped scotch, smoked his Dunhill cigarettes and wondered if perhaps he should be calling his attorney. The pleasure of the game had slipped away and this had become very much cops and robbers. If it were not for his strong desire to have Lilly, he well might have simply left town. He considered hiring a high-powered attorney to help Lilly. But that could wait; it would not go to trial for a while. Besides, he was not sure that he wanted his name linked too close to Lilly’s in the press. Already reporters had hit his house with questions on the story. A long cruise at sea could put these problems far behind him. He had no fear that he might go to jail. His wealth had sheltered him from the reality that innocent people often languish in jail.

  However, he was genuinely concerned for Lilly. It frustrated him that she had been picked up. The half-a-million dollar bond did not worry him. If it were lost, the harm to his net worth would be small, besides he never believed the court would uphold its forfeiture. But he had come to realize how fragile she was. He had seen a portion of Lilly that Alan had never discovered. Alan had mistaken denial for composure. He had seen self-containment, wherein truth, she was a frightened girl who had never fit in. Perhaps Charles complete acceptance of Lilly was because initially he never thought to have her stay around. Passions had led him to the mental edge of matrimony, but the reality of relationships had given pause to that idea. But despite such an ingenuous start his feelings had evolved to a genuine desire to continue the relationship. The only difficulty was Charles had a weak record in relational tenacity.

  *

  In her cell in Canaan County, Lilly was being carried awash on her anger. She paced and fumed about being wrongfully accused of killing Alan, and when she went out and did the police’s job she was re-arrested! Her serenity was being decimated by her outrage of the injustice inflicted on her. Gaines had put her in a holding cell at the station rather than booking her into the County Jail. He expected to see her go tomorrow. Whenever a Deputy came near, she vilified his profession and competence. So when the Sheriff checked on her before he left for home she began to abuse him too. He had heard it all before and it was like water on a duck’s back. But he felt compelled to give her some advice.

  “I don’t know much about what’s going on Ms. Chandler but trying to butt heads against the cops isn’t going to get you anywhere. Sergeant Maddox said you had several different stories. If that is so, you better come clean sooner rather than later, unless you’ve got something to hide. Meanwhile, we’ll do our best to find your husband’s body. That should help settle this one way or another. Good night, ma’am.”

  The thought of finding Alan’s body worried her. She still had no idea why there was blood in her kitchen. What if Alan had been hurt and that led to the accident? She still might go to prison. This thought nagged at her for the rest of the night.

  *

  District Attorney Joyce Denison was in her office working on a press release She had cut her trip short and returned to Beaumont. That afternoon, she had been at the capitol indirectly lobbying for herself with the party power brokers. Frequently, she had dropped comments about a murder trial that was looming and the difficulties of prosecuting without a body, but she would add, “One’s duty required one to seek justice!” She was pursuing this line of thought over cocktails with the Republican State Party Chairman and the minority leader in the Legislature. They were in the hotel bar comfortably spread out in a corner booth. Thus it was a shock when past their shoulders she saw a short piece on the television monitor across the room. She couldn’t hear a word but she could make out the caption,

  “MISSING MAN’S CAR FOUND”.

  She was also able to see Lilly Chandler, but what was perplexing was the fact she was in handcuffs. It would seem likely they had recovered a body and she was taken in, perhaps as a flight risk. Yet no one had contacted her about requesting a revocation of bail.

  She struggled to follow the conversation she was having. At last, unable to ignore the distraction she gave up and pulled her cell phone out.

  “Excuse me, I think I just received a message.” She glanced at her phone and realized that the battery case had popped opened in her purse. She snapped it shut and almost immediately the phone began to chime that she had voice mail.

  “I have an overly dependent assistant D.A., she said with a smile.” Somehow she managed to stay focused through the rest of the meeting, however when at last it broke up, she was on her phone before the elevator doors closed behind her. There were several messages from Calvin Boil, the first asked her to call A.S.A.P., the next said, Alan Chandler’s car was found by his wife, but the car had not yet been recovered. Furthermore they did not have a body. Then he called to say that Lilly Chandler was under arrest in Canaan County, for violating bail and what did she want to do about it. The last was Calvin asking why she wasn’t returning his calls and that the press was beating on the door for comments.

  In her room Joyce began to pack. She called the hotel desk to say she was checking out. She canceled several appointments for the next day, and repeatedly tried to call Calvin Boil who, unknown to her, was busy fielding
questions from the press.

  On the drive back to Beaumont she listened to the radio to find out what had happened but the one time she heard something, she missed all but the last bit and that revealed nothing to her. She had difficulty coming up with a scenario that fit what she had seen. If Lilly had confessed then Calvin would have said so. If somehow she found the car then why was she under arrest again on a bail charge? If the Chandler woman confessed Joyce lost her high profile trial, on the other hand she did not want to look grossly incompetent. She decided to play up words like “prudence” and “precautionary action for public safety.” If Lilly Chandler walked, it had to be in a way that was not messy, but from what she had seen on television, it seemed anything but that.

  Joyce burned up the airwaves trying to reach Calvin. She even called the Police Chief but he wasn’t in. Calvin Boil called her back as soon as the press left. After mutual recriminations about not being able to reach the other, Joyce and Calvin settled into discussing the facts. He assured her that he had deflected all questions by saying the District Attorney’s office would comment as soon as the D.A. returned to town. Calvin gave her the facts about the car and that Sergeant Maddox had asked that Lilly be held on bail violation. Her initial instinct was anger directed at Maddox. If Lilly was innocent, her being dragged away in cuffs was not an image Joyce wanted to be tied to. Then she realized she had the best of both worlds. Lilly still appeared guilty and if she wasn’t, she could blame overly zealous policemen for “the grief stricken widow” being re-arrested.

  In her press release she stressed the “law and order” angle. Lilly Chandler was taken in simply because she was outside of the county. She continued that this had no bearing on her guilt or innocence but was rather a simple fact of law. She stressed complexities and conflicting information, which made it a hard case. Finally, after doing her best to make Lilly’s case a water cooler topic, she urged people not to try the case in the field of public opinion. It would be best if everyone awaited developments as the investigation continued, she had concluded.

  CHAPTER TWNETY-FIVE

  As his ankle healed, Alan began to work gathering food, hauling water, and preparing food. He was limited in his activities by the cast on his arm. Karl mended Alan’s clothes for him because the ones Alan had borrowed were too big. And as he worked, he learned to not only live in the woods, but how he was a part of them. In Karl, Alan found a mentor and perhaps the father figure who he had lost. Karl’s knowledge of edible plants was vast, but his insight into living flowed even deeper.

  If he had met Karl on the street Alan would have passed him by. Karl’s grammatical lapses would have put Alan off. He would have felt the superiority of those who are only academically educated. Alan realized his bias when Karl observed,

  “It’s easy to think a man is stupid because he don’t know the same things as you. Only a fool would think there isn’t a living thing that you could learn from.”

  “Now I do right well here in my own neck of the woods, but put me in the desert and I’d be as helpless as you son. Yet Indians lived out there for years!”

  Two weeks passed quickly as Alan and Karl fell into a life together. Conversations evolved from events of the day. In the evening they would start a conversation and it would roam widely across the fields of thought. Alan was often struck by Karl’s joy in living.

  “Life’s a river, son. We get to go along and see just a part of it. It’s been flowing a long time before we showed up and it will keep sliding along long after we’re gone. Some say it’ll keep on flowing, others say it will just dry up. I sure don’t know, but folks seem to make it difficult.“

  I’ve seen people spend all their days trying to swim back upstream, like salmon at spawning season, but the only thing back there is death. Others are treading water trying to hold onto where they’re at and feeling bad the current’s making it slip away. Some folks are so busy wonderin’ or worrying about what’s around the bend that they can’t enjoy the ride. Seems to me that’s where you’re at boy. But, once you get the hang of floating along, life is easy!”

  As days passed and Alan felt stronger, he became increasingly inquisitive about their location and how to get out. The thought that he should move on dogged his steps. How was Lilly coping with his disappearance? How much would she really care? Perhaps it was a relief. Small guilt stirred as he noted his contentment to be free from his job, the past due bills and the failings that had seemed to surround him.

  “But where are we?” he asked.

  Karl pulled out a sectional aeronautical chart. A neat “x” marked the location of the crash site. He pointed out two peaks on the chart.

  “You can see these two mountains through the trees,” he said pointing. “The stream over yonder don’t show up on this chart, I just spotted it on the way down and aimed for it.” He poked the map with his index finger, “Now over here’s Highway 218 ‘tween Red Lake and Beaumont. I reckon you went in somewhere about here along Alder Gorge.

  “That’s one hell of a trek you made son. The devil tossed that land all topsy-turvy and the brush hasn’t burned in over sixty years.”

  But Alan knew where he had been. He was more interested in where he had to go. Karl traced out a route that led eastward.

  “The Snake Back Trail runs along these hills. Once you meet the trail you could follow it blind drunk, it’s getting there that’s difficult. Two days and you would reach the Anasett River. It’s broad and shallow so it shouldn’t be hard to find a place to cross. Another day heading east and you would hit the Snake Back. It’s well used and would be hard to miss when you cross it. The trail angles southeast. After a day or two on the trail, fifteen or so miles, it turns into an overgrown fire road. Soon after you would hit the interstate near Silver Leaf State Park. From there you could catch a ride into town.”

  “I could use the compass from your plane!” Alan said.

  “That compass only tells one direction now and that’s the way I was aiming when I crashed. Of course there’s other methods to find which way is north.”

  “What about moss on trees? Doesn’t that tell you north?”

  “Well, in theory it would because the moss tends to be thicker on the shady side of the tree, but trees can be tricky. It’s easier to use your wristwatch.

  Karl held his wrist and took off his watch. “First you push a stick in the ground. Then you lay the watch down so the sticks shadow runs along the hour hand and through the middle of the watch. Lastly, you find the halfway point between the twelve and the hour hand. From the rim of the watch toward the middle is north!”

  “Great,” said Alan, “but I have a digital watch.”

  “That’s no problem! All you need to do is check the time and draw a watch on the ground for that time with the hour hand along the shadow again! Another way is poke a three-foot stick in the ground. Then you put a small stone at the end of the shadow, about twenty minutes later you mark the end of the shadow again. Then you put your left foot on the first stone and you’re right on the second and you’ll be aiming north.

  It took Alan a bit of time thinking about the movement of the sun before this made sense to him. Karl interrupted his thoughts.

  “Course, if you’re in a hurry just aim the hour hand in the direction of the sun and look for half-ways between it and the twelve and you’ll be close. That’s a good way to hold your direction on the move without losing too much time.”

  Karl taught Alan. It helped to pass the time and some of the skills were necessary to augment their food source.

  It was a wilderness survival course. He learned how to make drag noose, locking, hanging and treadle snares. He made a small dead fall trap. He carved trigger sticks for the snares. Karl showed him how to fashion fishing hooks, create a gill net and a gig line. He learned how to peel bark strips or rodent skins to make line. And daily Alan learned more about the plants around him. It occurred to him that all these skills would have been familiar to any farm boy two hundred years a
go. In some ways knowledge was continuously being lost with each new gain. He could program a computer, but in the woods he was barely able to feed himself.

  It was in the woods that Alan came to terms with his brother’s death. Previously, his life had been defined by Eric’s death. It was the event that had poisoned his family’s relationships and finally destroyed the family. This had left a shadow across Alan’s character. His formative days were spent with the nagging guilt of being the “one” that survived. His father’s rejection had left him feeling vaguely responsible for all that was wrong in the world. He realized he had been attracted to Lilly by her complete acceptance that had been the antithesis of his father’s disdain. However, despite their being married, his native reticence kept him from ever telling Lilly about Eric. She only knew Alan had a brother. He never told her that Eric was dead!

  Now, away from his wife and the routine of normal life he was emotionally able to allow himself to come near to the subject of Eric’s death. And he found that Eric was dead! Nothing more! It wasn’t his fault! It was in knowing this that he found the first steps of freedom. He had almost died. Was it someone’s fault? No! Alan realized that death was real and that it existed without “shoulds.” The rule was simple: If certain things happened to your body, you would die!

  He suddenly saw his family revealed by Kubler-Ross’s book, anger, denial, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. His mother became stymied at the denial stage. She had never been able to accept the fact that children died. Perhaps she was disadvantaged by the low child mortality rate in the West. She lacked experience with children dying. It was easier to die than to accept her child’s death.

  His father had lived stuck at the anger stage. He wanted someone to blame. How can a child die and there be no one to blame? Alan had suffered rejection because of his father’s anger with accepting death!