Bury the Hatchet in Dead Mule Swamp

by Joan H. Young

  My first priority was to study the stairway that led down to the water. It was old and made of wood, sure to have splits and rough places, even though it was nicely painted. Maybe there would be some fibers caught in a crack. If I could show Detective Milford a thread from a rug or a tarp he’d have to investigate further. Any blood would have washed away in the rain we’d had the week before, but I knew there was a way to make blood evidence visible, if one knew where to begin looking.

  I’d also come prepared with my small digital camera. If I found anything I wouldn’t move it, but would take pictures, and document exactly where each item was. If someone drove in, I’d hear them long before they could see me, and it would be easy to quickly switch to taking pictures of the river scenery and forestall questions about what I was doing. Of course, a brighter day would have made that more believable, but I could always stick the camera in my pocket and pretend I was just checking out the river access.

  The large number of steps made my task daunting. First I walked all the way down to the river, counting as I went. There were one-hundred twenty-two treads, including the landings. With a sigh, I began working my way back up toward the top of the bluff looking carefully at each step, particularly the edges, scanning the dimly illuminated sides with the flashlight. I kept telling myself if it were easy it wouldn’t be worth doing.

  By the time I got to step twenty-five I was feeling stiff from bending over. By step fifty, I felt cross-eyed from looking at every swirl and sliver in the wood grain. On step fifty-seven I found something. Caught in a crack at the edge of the step was a scrap of undyed burlap, like from a grain sack. It looked neither very old nor very new, but there was no way to be sure. I took a close-up picture of the fabric, then backed off and took one of the step. I went down a few levels and took another shot to show exactly where that section of staircase was in relation to the bank and the various landings. With two more photos, I was certain I could show anyone exactly where the small fragment was located.

  Energized, I continued on to the top of the bluff, but I found nothing else of interest. Back at the parking area, I glanced around and realized there was a second set of steps to the narrow beach. Even though there were two other cottages, I only saw one other stairway. Perhaps the owners had agreed to share. But, I knew I had to look at all those surfaces too.

  This staircase was unpainted, almost new, and made of treated wood. There weren’t nearly so many cracks and places where something could catch, but the near-natural color made it harder to see anything that was a neutral tone.

  Underneath one of the landings, someone had stuffed a green plastic tarp. I wasn’t sure if I should move it, in case it turned out to be evidence, but if I didn’t look at it, how would I know? After debating with myself a few minutes, I returned to the car and pulled out a pair of jersey work gloves that I kept in the back and put them on. Then I took pictures of the wadded up tarp from every angle I could manage on the steep slope. Pulling gently, I worked it out from beneath the wood platform and carried it to the parking area.

  Very carefully, I unfolded the edges. As soon as I’d done so, I realized how foolish this was. I should have laid it on a piece of plastic to catch any flakes of—anything—that might fall off. I should have called Detective Milford. Too late now. And what would I have told him anyway? That I was looking for something that might not exist, on private property, without any good cause? He’d be sure to drive right out and help.

  In a few seconds the tarp was spread flat on the ground, and it contained nothing. It wasn’t even dirty. Folding it in half, then half again, I flipped it over, hopefully without dislodging anything stuck to the plastic, and opened it to view the other side. Still nothing. Although criss-crossed with fold lines from being wadded up, it appeared to be nothing but an extra tarp someone had stuck under the stairway for some unknown reason. Disappointed, I returned it to where I’d found it and began searching the rest of the treated steps.

  With only about ten steps to go, the wind suddenly gusted, throwing musty leaves into my face and momentarily destroying my sense of balance. I grabbed at the railing, and was pushing hair out of my eyes when the rain began. Large droplets pelted me, so forceful they hurt where they hit bare skin. The sudden noise of the rain rattling the dead leaves caused me to realize how quiet and still the air had been moments before. Within seconds the impact lessened, but the rain became a deluge, soaking me to the skin. I ran for the Jeep, opened the door and jumped in.

  Chapter 33

  Reaching for the key, I was about to start the engine, crank up the heater and head for home. Then I thought about it. It. The boathouse. What a perfect place to temporarily keep a body, if one had the key. I didn’t have a key, but I was already wet. What did I have to lose? However, I wanted to be more certain that I couldn’t be discovered. I’d had enough confrontations with dangerous people already this year. Who would be the best person to help me?

  It had to be someone who was already in town, which eliminated Cora, who would have been my first choice. Tracy? Nope. Couldn’t call in the law to help do something illegal. Jerry? Also a no. He’d probably try to talk me out of it, or feel that he had to come help. It was going to have to be Adele. I’d have to trust that she could keep her mouth shut if the secret were important enough.

  My cell phone was in my purse, and I fished it out and punched in the number for the grocery store.

  “Volger’s Grocery, Adele Volger speaking.”

  “Adele, this is Ana. Can you leave the store for a few minutes?”

  “Maybe. Suzi is here. What do you need?” Adele responded hesitantly.

  “I need you to see if Virginia Holiday is at her real estate office?”

  “Whatever for? Where are you?” Adele barked.

  “Adele! Keep your voice down,” I pleaded. “I’m out here at Chippewa Lodge and I want to look inside the boat house. But I don’t want to get caught, and she’s the most likely person to come out here unexpectedly. I got her to show me around yesterday, but she’s suspicious.

  “Suspicious of what?” Adele’s voice dropped and became conspiratorial. “What have you done?”

  “Nothing yet, but she knows I’m not really a potential buyer. Please,” I begged, “will you go watch her office and call me if she leaves?”

  “You don’t even know she’s there, do you?” Adele pointed out.

  “No, not really.”

  “OK,” Adele said quietly, “I’ve got my cell phone with me. I’ll go check her office and call you. Give me five minutes. Don’t do anything stupid until you hear from me.”

  “I won’t. I’ll start being stupid after you call.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Ana,” she groaned.

  “Shhh. Don’t say my name out loud.”

  “You’re giving me the creeps. I’ll call you as soon as I find Vir... her.”

  Adele hung up, and I sat in the car shivering. The air wasn’t cold at all, but I was still wet, and not moving enough to keep warm. I wrapped the blanket that was in the back around my shoulders and killed the time by eating a sandwich. Then I put my flashlight into the plastic zipper bag. Even though I expected the call, I jumped when the phone rang.

  “Ana. She’s at the office,” Adele said with suppressed excitement. “I’m in the drugstore. I can see the lights in her building, and I can see if she leaves in her car. It’s parked on Cherry Street, headed this way. She’ll be sure to come through this corner.”

  “Are you sure she’s there?”

  “Yes, yes. I walked around the block and looked in the window.”

  I groaned. Adele taking a walk in the middle of the day, in the rain, was probably fairly odd. “Did she see you?”

  “No. She was on the phone. I only glanced sideways from under my big umbrella. She didn’t even see me.”

  “Won’t it look strange for you to hang around at the drugstore?” I asked.

  “They won’t bother me for a while. I’m looking at paperback books. Rea
ding a little. The rack is right by the front window. I can pretend I’m waiting out the rain. I can see everything that happens on this corner. Mavis Fanning just drove past going east. She’s probably on her way to the Post Office.”

  “All right.” It sounded fishy as all get-out, but I didn’t have many choices. “I’m going down to the boathouse now. If Virginia goes anywhere in her car, call me. You have my cell number, right?”

  “Yes, I just called you, remember? You’re as nervous as a fly on a hot window.”

  I ignored the comparison, since flies on hot windows usually died. “Wish me luck. Maybe I’ll find something interesting.” I hung up before Adele had a chance to wish me that luck, or say anything else.

  I shrugged off the blanket and slipped out of my jacket. Then I added the cell phone to the plastic bag and made sure the zip closure was sealed tight. Finally, I opened the car door and stood in the rain while I switched from sneakers to the rubber sandals that were also still in the Jeep.

  Quickly, I ran down the stairs and into the river before I had time to think about changing my mind or how chilly I was. Hugging the shore, I worked my way left till I could touch the boathouse walls, then ventured into the deeper water. The current wasn’t bad, but the riverbed quickly dropped off and within three steps I was holding tight to one of the boathouse pilings, and my feet barely touched bottom. Taking a deep breath, and clutching the plastic bag holding my electronics, I ducked under the edge of the wall and came up on the inside.

  I hadn’t considered how I would get up onto the walkway around the edge, and it was really dark in the boathouse. The two small windows in the landward door only let in a small amount of light. I tread water for a few minutes while my eyes adjusted, and realized before long there was a ladder out at the far edge, by the river door. I swam out there and climbed onto the wooden platform.

  I was cold and didn’t waste any time getting to the reason for my prowling. The rain was drumming on the metal roof, making a huge racket, and that certainly didn’t help my nerves.

  The large hand wheel on the side of the hoist obviously raised and lowered the boat, but I didn’t know if there was a brake that had to be released. I set my plastic bag on the walkway, out of reach of a clumsy toe, and tentatively turned the wheel counterclockwise, the normal direction to loosen things. It moved easily, and soon the boat was descending slowly toward the water. When it was lowered far enough for me to see over the gunwales, I retrieved the baggie and removed my flashlight, replacing the bag on the walkway. I didn’t want to turn on the boathouse light. That would be obvious evidence of an intruder to anyone looking down from above.

  Switching on the narrow beam, I flashed it over the interior of the boat. There was nothing inside. More carefully, I began to move the beam across the edges and seats, places that would have been certain to catch dripping blood. Section by section I studied the boat, determined to look at every possible surface.

  Almost obscured by the sound of the rain, I suddenly heard footsteps on the wooden stairway. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I shivered involuntarily. Switching off the light, I jumped in the direction of the door and crouched beneath the small windows, hopefully out of sight. Peering through a crack, I saw long slim legs clad in black slacks, with the feet incongruously encased in lime green wellingtons imprinted with daisies. Probably a woman. I wondered if there was a matching raincoat covering her top half. The person was obviously already looking in a window.

  “Anastasia Raven, I know you’re in there.” The voice was Mavis Fanning’s. My only hope was to remain quiet.

  “What are you doing? Your car is in plain sight, you know?” she continued. “I see you’ve lowered the boat. Planning on taking a clandestine river cruise, are you? Tracy Jarvi may be very interested in that idea.”

  My heart sank at the prospect of facing Tracy, but I also wondered what Mavis was up to. She didn’t seem like a person who simply enjoyed hiking in the rain.

  From halfway down the walkway, my phone rang inside its plastic bag. Any chance of escaping detection had just been erased.

  Chapter 34

  Mavis pounded on the wooden door, as the phone continued to ring, ten times. Eleven. I'd always been glad that it rang enough times to give me a chance to answer before going to voicemail. Right at the moment, I cursed that setting.

  “You’re in trouble now, Ana,” she yelled. “I’m going to call the police."

  Over the jangle of the phone, I heard her steps receding as she began climbing toward the parking area. The rain had let up, allowing me to hear more sounds outside the boathouse. The phone stopped its ringing, but my nerves were still buzzing.

  I jumped to retrieve the phone, but before I called Adele back I wanted to get out of the boathouse. Fortunately, the lift mechanism was well greased, and the boat rose easily as I turned the wheel clockwise until it stopped at the maximum height. Jamming the flashlight back in the bag with the phone and hastily sealing it, I jumped in the water and ducked under the wall.

  Just as I emerged from the water I heard car doors slamming at the top of the bluff. Doors, plural. How had Tracy, or maybe a Sheriff’s Deputy, gotten here so quickly? I couldn’t see any way to get out of facing the music. I was soaking wet—wetter than the rain could explain, and very cold. Mavis had heard a phone ring inside the boathouse, and my car was parked up above. Slowly I climbed toward certain chastisement, if not worse. I’d forgotten all about returning Adele’s call.

  As soon as I was able to peer over the edge of the high bank I was surprised to see, not a police car, but Virginia Holiday’s sedan. She and Mavis were having a heated discussion. Mavis was red-faced and waving in the direction of the boathouse. Virginia stood, hands on hips, shaking her head. I was too chilled to care what they thought, and walked directly to my car, grabbing the blanket to wrap around my shoulders.

  “Ask her yourself,” Mavis insisted, now pointing at me. “She was in the boathouse. See if she denies it.”

  Virginia continued to shake her head. “So what?

  “So what?” Mavis was practically apoplectic. “She’s a trespasser. A troublemaker.”

  I used the towel I also kept in the car to dry my hair and didn’t say a word.

  I had no idea why, but Virginia was coming to my defense. “She’s been here before, with me, as a prospective buyer for this property. If she wants to look around, I don’t mind.”

  “But, but...” Mavis sputtered.

  Virginia glanced my way, as I continued to drip beside my Jeep. “Her methods may be unconventional, but there’s nothing in the boathouse she could possibly steal. No one can get the boat out without opening the river doors. And I know there’s nothing else of value inside.”

  Encouraged by Virginia’s attitude, I turned my pockets inside out and showed them I had nothing but the cell phone and flashlight. I grinned, hoping I looked apologetic.

  “I see no reason to call the police,” the realtor said. “If you’re interested in the property also, Ms. Fanning, I suggest we take a tour. I have the keys, though, so that will make it easier. Perhaps Ana just likes doing things the hard way.”

  Virginia took Mavis by the arm and forcefully marched her in the direction of the Lodge. She didn’t look back. But Mavis shot me a menacing look over her shoulder.

  I had no idea what had just happened, but it seemed good. I stepped into my Jeep and turned the heater to high as I pulled away from Chippewa Lodge.

  The phone was no worse than damp and lit up normally when I opened it. I punched in Adele’s number. She answered on the first ring.

  “Ana, where are you? Are you all right?” She sounded frantic.

  “I’m fine. I’m wet and cold. I have to go home and change. Then I’ll fill you in.”

  “Come to my house as soon as you’re done. I’ll heat some soup. I called someone to help Suzi at the store,” Adele said.

  “That sounds good. Give me a half hour.”

  “I’ll be waiting,”
I knew she was more than eager to hear all the juicy details.

  Chapter 35

  By Monday morning I’d decided I should tell Detective Milford about the remnant of fabric I’d found on the stairs at Chippewa Lodge. What’s the worst he could do, I thought, yell at me? I’d broken no laws. Well, not on the steps. Maybe I wouldn’t have to tell him the rest of the story.

  Once again, I was escorted to his office in the drab Sheriff’s building. I asked him if he had any ideas about where the body of Jared Canfield had been put in the river, but he was not about to be so easily steered in the direction I wanted to go.

  “It sounds to me as if you might have an idea of your own,” he said shrewdly.

  “I have been looking around,” I admitted, letting my voice trail off.

  Milford shifted his weight and sighed. “I assume you came here to tell me about it.”

  I pulled the small digital camera from my purse and turned it on. Pushing several buttons, I brought up on the small screen the macro picture of the rough fiber and handed it across the desk.

  “And what am I looking at?” he asked, sounding perturbed.

  “I was thinking about places one could get to the river without being detected. This is at a property that’s for sale, west of town, downriver toward Jalmari. This bit of thread is caught in the edge of a step on some stairs that lead to the water.”

  “Why do you think a body would be taken there? Why not to one of the public access points?” He sounded interested, but I felt as if I were being interrogated.

  “Public access sites are—well—public. Anyone dumping a body at one would be taking a chance on being seen, don’t you think?” I tried to keep my tone conversational.

  “True, but if there are a lot of steps, that wouldn’t be very handy,” he pointed out.

  “I know. But I decided to look anyway, and I did find this. I didn’t touch it,” I added quickly. “I don’t know what the body was wrapped in. Do you?”