Mount Misery

by Angelo Peluso

  “And I still love her.”

  “Would you like a little wine or some port?”

  “Port would be delightful. Ruby, tawny, or vintage?”

  “Who have you been hanging around with lately?”

  “My dad’s cellar was full of port. He’s got a special bottle of Wares 1977 Vintage that he says he’ll open on the night of my wedding. And he has another, a Taylor ‘77 that he’s saving for my sister. He said he’d need them when it comes time to pay the wedding bills.”

  “He’s probably right about that. But I do I like his approach.”

  “We’ve had good father-daughter talks sipping all that stuff. I learned all about wine from him. Actually, one of my favorite ports is a premium colheita tawny. Nice and velvety and it doesn’t put quite the dent in your bank account as a vintage port does.”

  “Well, sweet pea, vintage port is too rich for my wallet. Basic ruby good enough?”

  “It’s all about the company, right?”

  “Right. And maybe some day I just might get to taste some of that special Wares port too.” Rick smiled. The reference wasn’t at all lost on Katie; she winked at him and then quickly changed the subject.

  “So . . . Rick . . . what do you think about my killer creature theory?”

  Rick handed Katie her glass. “I could see thirty-pound, maybe even forty-pound fish if we really pushed the laws of nature, but seventy-five to a hundred pounds. You’d have to show me some hard evidence for that.”

  “You don’t think the bite marks are enough?”

  “Like I said, there are other ways for that to have happened and I wouldn’t trust your computer models if my life depended on them.”

  “Do you think you could take me out on the boat. We might see if we could chum some up. Would that be evidence enough?”

  “If they are big, aggressive fish, and if they are in the area, we just might get them to come into some chum and eat a piece of cut bait. And if we do, we just might catch one. If they are something else, who knows?”

  “I have another couple days’ work back at the lab with Nick to try and decipher the balance of evidence we have but maybe at the end of the week we could make a run and try to tempt one of these fish to take the bait. This ruby port is pretty good. Nice selection.”

  “Thank you. You know, I’d love nothing more than to have you with me out on the boat if that is really what you really want. I can call some of my guide buddies and see if we might set up a little trap for your mysterious and elusive killers.”

  “What kind of trap, Rick? If I’m right, these will be some dangerous fish.”

  “Tell me what you know so far about the incidents.”

  “I’ve told you what I know, Rick. There’s nothing else.”

  “There must be something else. I mean, are there any common threads tying the events together? Maybe some less obvious clues to all this?”

  “We know for sure that the two incidents with the dogs happened just before dusk and took place close to the beach. Those happened on the outgoing tide. My guess is that the first death also happened close to the beach, mostly likely at night. That was on the full moon with outgoing water as well. And based upon what the parents of the missing diver have said, he took his dive in the late afternoon, same relative tide. And one other thing, the events seem to be taking place within a triangle formed by Smith’s Bay, Plover Dunes, and the Middle Grounds.”

  “Jack said he saw those big fish at late afternoon with moving water. He was out off the Stratford Shoal lighthouse, right in the heart of the Middle Grounds. There’s definitely something up with the timing and locations of these incidents. Pretty fishy if you ask me,” Rick added.

  “Rick, don’t make light of this. We could have a very serious problem on our hands here. You know as well as I do that predatory fish become active late in the day and like to feed at dusk and throughout the night. Most of the fish species we have around here are predisposed to those feeding behaviors. Do you agree?”

  “Bass, bluefish, weakfish, sharks. We can rule out weakfish, and the bites are definitely not from sharks so that leaves bass and blues. But even huge striped bass don’t have teeth. If by some bizarre sequence of events a big bass did attack a human, the only traces it that would leave would be marks like someone got scraped by a belt sander. Here look at my thumb. See what I mean? Their mouths are like sandpaper. By process of elimination that leaves bluefish. Bluefish might be nasty, but the size you’re talking about? Totally impossible.”

  Kate reflected on this. “I’ll have some more port please.”

  “Here you go, kiddo.”

  Katie was finally starting to feel at ease. The more she listened to Rick’s voice, the more she felt amorous tingles build inside her.

  “Come over here and give me a hug. I need one.”

  When Katie made up her mind to do something she did it. And now she had that look in her eyes. She welcomed Rick with a tight embrace and a wanting sigh. She could recognize him with her eyes closed; the soft scent of his cologne was like a mild aphrodisiac.

  “When I’m with you, Rick, I can breathe again. I’ve missed you terribly and I’ve missed . . . this.”

  Rick held her close and rested his head against hers. “I’ve missed you too. It has been way too long. I’m sorry for that.”

  Katie turned her head, sliding her cheek against Rick’s until the corner of her mouth met his. She moved her lips over his and kissed him. She let out a seductive moan. Her lips parted and Rick responded. His mouth covered hers; they kissed deeply and passionately. Rick pulled Katie closer and held her tight, as if he never wanted to let her go. Her hand moved up to caress his face. Rick put his fingers through Katie’s hair and held her head with both hands as they kissed. Katie’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure Rick could hear it. He released his hand from her face and traced his fingers along her neck all the while looking into her green eyes. She took his hand and placed it on her right breast. Katie’s nipple was hard and erect.

  They both let their hands wander, touching and caressing as they kissed. Katie rotated her hips and pushed herself as close as she could possibly get. She moaned as her source of pleasure pressed against the ridge forming in Rick’s pants.

  “This is the most fun I have had in long time,” Katie whispered. “Fully clothed.”

  “We can change that in a heartbeat.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “What are you smiling about? You’ve got that glow about you, Katie. Were you doing naughty-naughty last night? Did you see Rick?”

  “Back off, Nick. It’s none of your damn business why I smile or why I don’t. We’ve got a lot of work to do today and no time to get it done. Anything new develop?”

  “Well, you’re not going to like this but we have a meeting three-thirty today with the head of regional Fish and Game, town officials, and a few members of Suffolk’s finest. It seems like one of Senator Howie Charles’s senior staff got wind of what has been going on and now they are snooping around for information. Everyone else wants to make sure their ducks are in a row so they can pass the problem to the next guy.”

  “Why in hell is a US senator interested in a few mysterious Long Island deaths?”

  “Got me, but our fearless leaders are shitting their underwear worrying about what Senator Howie is up to. You know him. He’s relentless when he sinks his teeth into something. Or maybe he’s just looking for more free television time.”

  “Maybe his handlers know something we don’t. Do we have a contact there?”

  “Yes we do. I know one of his Long Island aides very well. We’ve had dinner a few times. And on top of that, the media are starting to put two and two together: the first death, the diver, and the two dogs. They’re beginning to connect the dots. Each of the local weeklies has assigned one of their crime beat reporters to investigate connections between the incidents, and Channel 21 is hot on the trail as well. It’s only a matter of time before the major newspapers pick up on thi
s. And if Howie gets personally involved, this goes viral. We don’t have much time to figure this out. But it doesn’t end there. The local politicians are all over this, too. Seems a couple vineyard workers may have gone missing out by Plover Dunes. They can’t prove it is related to the investigation but there was an odd collection of clothing strewn about the beach. At first they thought nothing of it, but with subsequent events, they started asking questions. This could get ugly fast.”

  “Let’s lay out everything we have and go through this one more time. Rick is going to take me out on the water to see if we might find something. He is working out a plan with his captain friends.”

  “And when, pray tell, did you see Rick?”

  “None of your concern, Dr. Tanner. Just get all the files we have. We need to decide on a party line before the meeting and buy some time until we can get hard evidence.”

  Nick Tanner had worked with Katie for about four years. He moved downstate after spending the early part of his career up in the Lake Ontario area studying the breeding and the migratory behaviors of chinook and coho salmon, known locally as kings and silvers. With the collapse of the west coast salmon fishery, and with the exception of Alaska’s runs of Pacific salmon, some of the best remaining salmon fishing in the lower forty-eight occurred annually in the Salmon River and its tributaries in the Oswego New York area. Nick was the lead ichthyologist and headed a team that had done a considerable amount of work to document the spawning process. Nick got his master’s at Cornell and at the time was pursuing his PhD at State University. He was competent, if a bit quirky. It seemed Nick paid a little too much attention to a male subordinate who then lodged a sexual harassment complaint against him. While Tanner was fully exonerated, it seemed best for all involved to transfer Nick to the Long Island office. He’d been working with Katie and other team members without incident. Katie felt Nick was straight as an arrow.

  Rick was on cloud nine after his night with Katie. He had her back and he meant to make it work. The first thing he was going to do to seal the deal was get her out on the Sound with him and fulfill her request. Even if it proved nothing more than a wild goose chase he’d pull out all the stops and give her the best shot at proving or disproving her big creature theory. Rick spent the morning thinking through his idea and a strategy to put the plan in place. He needed to get five or six of his best guide friends to assist him. An armada of fishermen would be on the water during the bluefish tournament, and the extra chatter on the VHF channels could be valuable if anything unusual happened on the water. Many of the weekend warriors really got obnoxious when they got into fish and were very willing to broadcast their successes. The best fishermen Rick knew were secretive about their success and always kept their mouths shut. The rookies posted their catches on some social media site the moment the fish were landed, and Rick would count on it for leads.

  Rick placed a call to each of his friends and scheduled a meeting at Grumpies in one of the quieter back rooms to tell them Katie needed their help with a marine sciences project. After they’d agreed to meet at the end of the day following their fishing charters, he called Katie to tell her the news.

  “Hey Katie, how you doing today?”

  “Just peachy. I have a three-thirty powwow with a whole cast of characters who’ve found out bits and pieces of what’s going on. They want answers to questions they don’t even know to ask. Even Senator Howie is in the mix.”

  “Sounds like you are up to your eyeballs in political alligators.”

  “If I’m right, the shit’s gonna hit the fan. With the last big weekend of the summer right around the corner, nobody is going to want to hear about killer fish roaming Long Island beaches. I really need your help with this.”

  “That’s why I’m calling, Katie. I have a meeting with the guides at Grumpies later this evening to tell them about the plan. I was hoping you might join us to help fill in some of the gaps. The guys will need some time to clean their boats so I figure we should all meet up by six-thirty. How long do you think your meeting will last?”

  “I’m hoping it is over by five, the latest. I’ll come over as soon as it’s done and bring Nick along with me.”

  “Fine. He’s smart when it comes to fish.”

  “Care to share any details of your plan?”

  “About a half dozen captains chumming at key points in the triangle of incidents throughout the entire tide cycle. We’ll attract lots of normal bluefish and bass to the slicks and with a little luck they will be a calling card for your creatures. The goal is to get a positive ID, a video or, even better—catch one. Sound good?”

  “I really appreciate all you are doing to help.”

  “What do I get for it?”

  “I already paid you in advance last night. Don’t push your luck. See you later. I have to go rehearse my script with Nick. We need to buy some time at the meeting. Love ya.”

  “Love you too. Good luck.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Katie and Nick were the first to the meeting, followed by their manager, Marine Division Head Ted Gunther. Katie liked Ted. In all her dealings with him, he’d proven himself to be an excellent manager: decisive, fair, and smart. He ran interference for her on more than one occasion when Albany questioned some local positions on fisheries management and conservation issues. Ted was educated as a marine biologist and had spent time in the enforcement division. He was the right guy for the job.

  “Hi Katie, Nick. I hear we got some strange happenings going on in our neighborhood. Think any of it has to do with marine life?”

  “Unfortunately, Ted, that is where all indicators are pointing.”

  “Sharks?”

  “No. But believe it or not, it could be worse. I don’t plan on divulging any of that at this meeting since we don’t yet have any hard evidence.”

  “What could be worse than sharks in the Sound that have taken a liking to humans?”

  “How about schools of large killing machines?”

  “Come on, Katie. This is no joke. How about you Nick, what do you think?”

  “Perhaps some species of migratory fish is the main suspect but we need more proof.”

  “Do you two expect me to believe . . .”

  Ted Gunther stopped in mid-sentence as the door to the conference room opened and two county detectives walked in, introducing themselves as Detectives Dennis Haney and Sam Spinello.

  “So have you guys figured out this mess?” Detective Spinello said.

  “We were going to ask you the same question. This one’s a real puzzler,” Katie replied.

  “There are some rumblings out there that these incidents have all to do with real weird creatures swimming in the Long Island Sound. There any truth to that?” Detective Haney said.

  This time Nick grabbed the ball. “While there are certainly a number of fish species and marine creatures that have the ability to take out a human being, there is nothing indigenous to the marine environment of the Long Island Sound that would be either capable or inclined to do so.”

  “Not even sharks?” Haney shot back.

  “We should probably hold off on this discussion until the rest of the attendees get here. No need going through all this more than once,” Ted Gunther said.

  Three local county politicians arrived and introduced themselves.

  “Hello, I’m Roberta Lowery, councilwoman from Plover Dunes.”

  “And I’m Jim Delaney, from councilman Steve Leed’s office in Smithville.

  “And last but not least, I’m assemblyman Joe Zalette from Port Roosevelt. Do we now have a quorum to start this meeting?”

  “We do but let’s give it a few more minutes. Senator Charles’s office called and said one of the senior staff might stop by. Not sure why but we’ll give it five more.”

  “Hey, maybe whatever is going on with these cases has something to do with national security,” Assemblyman Zalette said. His sarcasm did not go unnoticed.

  The conference room phone rang and T
ed Gunther answered. It was the senator’s office.

  “Okay, thanks for letting us know. I will keep your office posted of developments.”

  Ted addressed the group. “We can begin. That was the senator’s office. They aren’t able to attend. Last minute press conference.”

  “You know what they say about the good senator,” Assemblyman Zalette interjected. “The most dangerous place to be on Long Island is between Senator Howie and a television camera. Must have been a better photo op someplace else.”

  Everyone in the room laughed a nervous laugh except Katie, who turned to Nick and whispered, “Thank God.”

  “This shouldn’t take more than an hour. I thought perhaps the PDs could bring us all up to speed on the status of the investigations and if there are any other leads that you are following.”

  Detective Haney from Smithville spoke first. “You guys probably know a hell of a lot more about this than we do. All we have are body parts and shredded waders from a Port Roosevelt resident named Jimmy McVee. He was reported missing by his family and girlfriend and one of the hands we recovered had a good enough print to pull. We got a positive ID but no clues as to what killed him. The M.E. reports odd and unidentifiable teeth marks on the body but apparently not enough evidence to identify cause of death.”

  Spinello followed. “We know he liked to fish. A guy we spoke to at the Port Roosevelt ramp was one of the last to see him and said he was going fishing that night. We followed up that lead and other fishing buddies told us he liked to fish Old Stoney Beach. We think he was on that beach the night he was killed. There’s a lot of scuttlebutt that some fish or other creature is the culprit. I’m thinking the most probable perp has two legs and walks upright. What do you marine biology gurus think?”

  “Well,” Katie said, “there is unquestionable evidence of bite marks on the first victim found in Smith’s Bay. I’m also not aware if the medical examiner has finally assigned a cause of death. I do know that he is unsure if the death is a result of the bites.”