River Bones

by Mary Deal

  The next day a backhoe arrived from Eldon's Crane and Rigging. It had turned out that Eldon was the same Eldon with whom she went to school and Sara wished to support those whom she knew.

  No alternative existed to salvage or transport the concrete pad. The front loader bucket of the backhoe was used to haul a heavy boulder-sized rock from the backfield. The rock was lifted high as possible and dropped onto the concrete floor in several places, rendering the pad full of spider cracks. One by one, the pieces were moved to a growing rubbish pile in the field beside the garage. As the concrete was lifted, sunlight gleamed off the exposed fool's gold rocks that Orson playfully laid down.

  “I would have liked him,” Sara said to the worker who knew the Talbots. She felt more than a twinge of sadness. “I'm glad Esmerelda chose to stay away.”

  Sara went to retrieve one of the rocks and turned it over in her hands as it sparkled. A deep sadness for this missing man, who surely had a laudable sense of humor, crept over her. She seemed connected in ways she only now began to understand.

  “Pile all the pyrite over there,” Sara said, yelling to the backhoe operator and pointing to an open area. To the others standing nearby she said, “If a guy name Isidoro shows up, let him have it all.” Isidoro would need more than a pickup for that load.

  The grader dug deep and lifted a scoop from near what had been the front wall. The woman demolitionist went to pick up stray rocks dropped from the backhoe load. She bent down and then jumped back quickly. “Stop!” she said, yelling, her feminine voice barely audible over the sound of the equipment. She shouted and waved her arms and stooped down again and threw a couple more rocks aside, then straightened, shaking her head. “Hey!” she yelled to the foreman. She motioned for him to come quickly and then pointed to the area at her feet. She turned and motioned with a finger swipe across her throat for the backhoe operator to kill the engine.

  The contractor bent down and pulled at the edge of a dirty polythene sheet. Pieces of the black plastic flaked off in his hands. He straightened and his hand went to his forehead in a gesture that Sara read as disbelief. He turned and motioned. “Get back, everyone,” he said, yelling. He shook his head and kept motioning for everyone to clear the area. “We're done here for a while.”

  “Done?” Sara asked as she moved closer to see. The grader had torn the sheet of plastic and disturbed what it was wrapped around. Uncovered were remnants of bug-eaten clothing, a human skull, and other bones.

  Chapter 44

  Sara's cell phone rang and took her attention from the gruesome scene.

  “You'll never guess what just happened,” Esmerelda said through the phone.

  Sara could barely hear above the excited voices of the others and the backhoe again segregating chunks of concrete off the rubbish pile for the detectives who were sure to appear again. “And I've got something to tell—”

  “I just can't believe this,” Esmerelda said. “That young couple brought the pups back.”

  Sara quickly switched her focus. “But why?” She walked out into the field to get away from the voices of the others so Esmerelda might not hear what was happening.

  “Someone found an ordinance prohibiting pit bulls and Rottweilers in that neighborhood in Sacramento. The kids' parents were going to take the dogs to the Humane Society.”

  “No, not to a shelter,” Sara said. “Who knows what their fate might be from there?”

  “The pups are changed already. They pace a lot and don't like being indoors.” Esmerelda sighed heavily through the phone.

  Sara didn't have the heart to tell her at that moment about the newly discovered remains. The killer took advantage of finding a convenient site. Another skeleton showing up on the property the Talbots owned suggested that the perpetrator was aware of Orson and Esmerelda's habits and schedules.

  “I'm glad you have the dogs back,” Sara said.

  “How so?”

  Esmerelda had good protection with pit bulls. Sara had to think a moment. “I didn't like them being passed around,” she said finally.

  “So what were you about to tell me?”

  “I'm coming over,” Sara said. “Be there soon.”

  As she walked to her SUV, she stopped the contractor. “I want new top of the line locks installed on all exterior doors,” she said. “Deadbolts too.”

  #

  Sara was glad that Fredrik returned from vacation because Esmerelda didn't need to be bothered with hospice detail. Fredrik was out in the parking lot and seemed totally preoccupied. He looked right through her and didn't even wave. His stare penetrated as if he were preoccupied with something he didn't wish to share. So what had he been up to?

  News of the skeletal remains rattled Esmerelda's nerves.

  “That's all they know right now,” Sara said. “Another body wrapped in plastic.”

  “Did you see it?”

  “Just the plastic and some bones sticking up.”

  “That killer had to know that neither of us were home that weekend.”

  “But wait. This doesn't look like the work of the same person,” Sara said. “Remember, the serial killer buried near streams and rivers, and he didn't wrap his victims.”

  “To think we've all lived with that body right there.” Esmerelda paced, kept her hand flat against her heart.

  Choco had a new habit. He growled. It came out more in a huff, a short burst like coughing. He seemed angry. Latte simply lay with her head between her front paws, but jumped to her feet every time she heard a noise.

  Esmerelda's cell phone rang and though the conversation was brief and about the dogs, her expression hinted at more discouraging news. She tapped her phone to end the call. “It was that couple,” she said, acting as if she didn't know what to do next. “They said that when they got back to Sacramento, they received news that their escrow fell through.”

  “Wha-at?”

  “They won't be taking Choco and Latte. They'll stop paying for their care.”

  Choco and Latte heard their names spoken and both sets of ears perked.

  “Just a little more time,” Sara said. “Please. I promise. We'll place them.”

  “I doubt their owner would take them back. She's got two more litters on the way.” Esmerelda chewed on her lip and seemed cornered. “Those new pups are already spoken for when born. These two are considered old now.”

  “I wonder what being away has done to their training.”

  “Well, take a look,” Esmerelda said as Choco paced. Then she smiled suddenly. “Oh, I know what to do. I'll keep the dogs to guard my property. That killer is still out there. Demetrio likes the pups so he can manage them.” Esmerelda just solved her problem.

  “Yes, that's a great idea. I can help Demetrio learn how.”

  All the tenseness drained out of Esmerelda's face. “Why, yes. You could teach him well in Spanish.”

  “What about Tripp?”

  “You know, I'm tired of hearing that old man whine. If he doesn't like the pups, he can go flower someone else's yard. The Mexican laborers would appreciate the work.” Esmerelda seemed to be letting off a little steam. It was odd behavior. She never spoke ill of anyone.

  #

  Sara saw more yellow tape during her time at Talbot House than during the rest of her life combined, and this was her property. She invited two of the regular workmen to bunk down in the house each night. House rules were established: No drugs or parties, and keep the beer drinking under control.

  One of them, Beni Noa, had been sleeping in his truck, expressed deep gratitude. His full Hawaiian name was Benimakemae Nahenahenoa. He sported a busted nose and a couple of scars across his face from who knew what. His looks caused others to steal fearful glances. He had colorful Polynesian tattoos emblazoned on his shoulders, legs and arms. Other workers carried small digital cell phones on their construction belts. Beni's phone seemed older because it was much larger. He might have carried it only for the sake of appearances among his peers.

  Pete
Carswell was just an ordinary fun-loving American hulk. His hands and fingers had grown thick and strong from a lifetime of swinging a hammer. Sara now looked at every man's hands wondering if they were strong enough to snap a hyoid bone.

  Sara felt safer, but the men's laughter drifted downstairs well into the night distracting her from work. Beni liked to talk story. That's what they called it in Hawaii. He told so many tales that a person didn't need to go to Hawaii to know the place. Other times, he played ukulele and Sara drifted to sleep hearing him sing Hawaiian ballads in falsetto.

  Until the investigators finished work and removed the yellow tape, she was allowed to park in the driveway. She could come and go from the house through the sitting room or front doorways. The many construction vehicles had to park on the shoulder of the levee.

  Ever since purchasing the .38 Police Special, she occasionally lifted her underwear and peered at the gun in the drawer. Now she wondered if she was being overly cautious. Having two men around, or anyone, for that matter, offered a lot of security. She had to stop looking at that weapon just to feel safe.

  Working in her office two days later, Sara heard gravel crunch and glanced toward the sitting room doorway. Johanna bounded up the side steps and knocked. Her expression was grim. Seeing the construction workers, she let herself in. “I figured you'd better be around when they break the news,” she said.

  “What news?” Sara asked. “To whom?”

  “The media's already got the story. Esmerelda will need all the support she can get.”

  “What about Esmerelda?” Sara asked. What news would be so stunning as to make that pillar of strength need support?

  Johanna paused momentarily. Surely what she had to reveal was not good. “The body,” she said after swallowing hard. “In the workshop floor?” She looked away and sighed. She turned back and ran her fingers through her short hair. “It's Orson Talbot.”

  Sara screamed.

  The laborers restoring the fireplace floor stood. They were alert to everything that had happened on the property. “The dental records, right?” one woman asked after a moment of silence among them.

  “It's the first set they did a comparison with,” Johanna said as she paced. “I'm so sorry.” She continued to run fingers through her hair and shake her head. “Sara, you need to go be with Esmerelda. Detectives from Sacramento are already on the way.” She glanced at her watch. “Could be there in about half an hour.”

  “He went missing in Placerville,” Sara said. “How could he—”

  “They don't know,” Johanna said. “They've got to talk to Esmerelda before they can connect the dots.”

  Sara yanked her cell phone off her waistband and punched the number two. She hurried to retrieve her purse and car keys. Daphine's gallery voice mail kicked in. “Daph,” she said. “Meet me at Esmerelda's. It's an emergency. Please hurry.” Sara punched the number three, and heard Daphine's home voice mail and left the same message as she ran out the door.

  Chapter 45

  Sara drove as quickly as she dared. She worried if she should be the one to break the news. As she parked, Daphine pulled in beside her.

  “What's happened?” Daphine asked, hurrying around the rear of her van. “Your messages were frantic.” Since childhood, she and Sara had shared thoughts without speaking. Daphine stared at her a moment, then her expression sobered. “No!” she said.

  “Yes.”

  A nondescript, white four-door sedan equipped with official-looking spotlights on both sides of the windshield turned down the embankment. A man and a woman climbed out.

  Daphine ran toward the patient facility. “I'll get Fredrik.”

  Before anyone climbed the stairs, Sara introduced herself to the two young detectives, Vance and de Giorgio, and told them who she was. Esmerelda must have seen or heard the commotion and stepped out onto her sun porch.

  Once indoors, Choco and Latte jumped to attention. Esmerelda lifted a hand and they quieted. Sara felt tears erupting. The pups and Mimie, and the hospice, represented how much love and patience overflowed from Esmerelda's big heart. She did not deserve the news she was about to receive.

  Esmerelda saw her trying to hide her emotions even though Sara turned away momentarily. Esmerelda refused to sit. Questions showed in her eyes, maybe the answers too. She called Mimie close and both simply stood, proud. Mimie couldn't stay still though. She leaped toward the window and began to howl. It was strange seeing a poodle act like that, howling, like a death wail. Choco and Latte joined in. Sara tried to calm them all but ended up taking Choco and Latte out to the sun porch and fastening their leashes to a post.

  Det. Vance put her arm around Esmerelda's shoulders. After they broke the news, Esmerelda collapsed just as Fredrik rushed in. The detectives caught her and laid her on the sofa. Fredrik worked to revive her while Mimie paced and whined.

  Someone appeared at the door. The man put his hands up to block the sun as he tried to peer through the screen. “Por favor, I take the dogs?” he asked. Sara rushed outside and spoke to Demetrio in Spanish and sent him on his way with Choco and Latte and a promise that he would not say anything to other employees. Not that she had told him anything.

  Daphine, too, had jumped to help and came out of the kitchen with several bottles of cold water and drinking glasses on a TV tray.

  Esmerelda opened her eyes. Mimie licked her face. Det. Vance helped Esmerelda to sit up. She weakly pointed to the floor and Mimie obeyed and curled up. Esmerelda didn't say anything but looked to them for answers. Daphine handed her a glass. Esmerelda's hand shook so severely that she needed help to get the water to her mouth. Det. de Giorgio stepped back while Fredrik sat down and listened to Esmerelda's heart and checked her vitals.

  “It's finally over,” Esmerelda said softly.

  “At least now, you know,” Det. de Giorgio said. “Now we need to learn how, why.”

  The detectives sat and opened briefcases and prepared to take notes. Det. de Giorgio put on a pair of glasses that slipped down his nose.

  “Please,” Sara said. “We can stay, can't we?”

  “Of course,” Esmerelda said.

  “That should be okay,” Det. de Giorgio said. He turned to Esmerelda. “We need to search your memory of that weekend.”

  Daphine poured water for everyone. “Did they find a cat or dog?” she asked.

  “No animal,” Det. Vance said. “He was wrapped in plastic. No other items.”

  “Sounds similar to that case in San Jose,” Fredrik said.

  Sara glanced quickly at Fredrik and then stared at the floor momentarily. Events of the past months made her overly suspicious. It was curious how the Fair Oaks man went missing along the American River at the same time Fredrik just happened to be camping there too.

  “You know about that?” Det. Vance asked, sounding all too cool.

  “Doesn't everyone?” Fredrik asked.

  “The San Jose victim was found wrapped in plastic, without animal remains,” Daphine said. “Now Orson's found the same way.”

  “Was the plastic the same type in both cases?” Fredrik asked.

  “Don't know yet,” Det. Vance said.

  Sara had a hunch that Det. Vance was not about to give out information. Her job was to collect the facts. Det. Vance's nonchalance to Fredrik's questions said she'd like to interrogate him as well.

  “We need to ask you some questions, Mrs. Talbot,” Det. de Giorgio said. “Do you feel up to it?”

  Somewhere between Sara watching the reactions of everyone in the room, especially Fredrik, Esmerelda had regained some strength. “First of all, call me Esmerelda,” she said. “I'll always be Orson's wife, but call me Esmerelda.”

  “We've been through this cold case file many times over the years,” Det. Vance said. “Somewhere, somehow, we'll find the missing link.”

  “So you've studied these cases?” Fredrik asked. “What about Orson's hyoid bone?”

  “Yes, what about his throat?” Esmerelda asked.


  Det. Vance looked up from her papers. “Yes,” she said in response to Fredrik's first question. “Broken,” she said of Orson's throat.

  Esmerelda's tears spilled over. “So, ask your questions.” Her lips tightened momentarily. “We've got to find this madman.”

  Det. de Giorgio leaned forward. “Walk us through that weekend. Maybe you can remember something you haven't already told everyone.” He paused momentarily. “You were staying at your friend's house to cater her party.”

  “Yes,” Fredrik said. “Her name was Margot.”

  The detectives seemed irritated that Fredrik answered for Esmerelda. Maybe he tried to do what he could to help but it made him more of an intrusion.

  Sara and Daphine pulled up chairs from the dining table.

  Esmerelda smoothed things over. “That's right,” she said, taking Fredrik's hand. “I wasn't at the house that weekend. The delivery of rocks was late—was due on a Wednesday, the 10th—”

  “That would be the 10th of November 1995, right?” Det. Vance asked.

  Someone knocked. When Sara answered the door, Fredrik was being called away. He started for the door but hesitated, like he might refuse to go. Esmerelda assured him she was okay. He left looking like a banished child who needed to be present to cover for himself.

  Esmerelda tried to stand and Det. de Giorgio helped her. She went into the dining area, opened a cabinet, and brought back a fist-sized rock with both rough and smooth facets that shined like gold. It was a sample of the very rocks Orson hurried to spread in the hole he dug for the flooring and then covered with a tarp. “He left for Placerville right afterwards, so he could get up there before dark. She handed the rock to Det. Vance.