by Louise Clark
“About nine-thirty.”
That was in a couple of hours. Patterson must have something she wanted to discuss. So Christy smiled and said, “Gives me plenty of time. Thanks for the invitation.”
Patterson looked relieved. “Great. See you then.”
“Something’s on her mind,” Roy remarked as Patterson disappeared down the road.
“Yeah,” Christy said. “And I don’t think it’s good news.”
Nothing was said while they were in Heather’s van on the way to the park, or as they piled out and headed to the signboard that included a map showing the walking trails. After perusing the options, they chose the path to the Lower Falls and set off.
Shaded by tall Douglas fir trees, the track followed the Loyal Scotsman River, a fast moving mountain stream that had carved a path through narrow crevices, along rocky flats, and down steep hillsides that looked eerily like the staircases of a race of giants. The kids took the lead, Dylan racing ahead, with the two girls following behind. Haley did her best to keep up to him, despite her much shorter legs, but the distance between them lengthened.
Noelle skipped along beside Hayley. She was as tall as Dylan, with long legs and graceful as a gazelle. She could have run ahead with Dylan, but she didn’t, Christy thought proudly. Instead, she was staying beside the littlest one in their party. Heather Farnsworth hustled along behind the three kids, while Christy and Patterson pulled up the rear, a little distance from both Heather and the kids. That didn’t stop Heather from spouting a stream of conversation aimed at both groups and listened to by neither, as far as Christy could tell.
“The path is getting steep, Dylan! Be careful of your footing,” was followed by, “Look at the size of that tree! It must be old growth, don’t you think?” Patterson grunted something that sounded like agreement and slowed her pace. Christy matched her stride.
The steep slope evened out as it twisted into a turn that followed the edge of the river and brought them an area where it widened into a large shallow pool. The scene was idyllic. The banks were dotted with arbutus, cottonwood, and tall Douglas fir, which shaded the shore, but the pool itself was in the open and the mid-morning sun put a sparkle into the clear water. Flat rocks and a gravel bottom provided footing for waders and swimmers, and young children laughed in the shallows, while older ones splashed about in the middle of the pool. A hundred meters away the pool narrowed, until it once more became the gushing, gurgling river.
The kids paused, looked enviously at those in the water. Dylan glanced back at his mother, not seeking permission, but more, Christy thought, to see if she’d notice if he rushed headlong into the pool.
She would. “Dylan, you’ve got running shoes and socks on. Think how icky you’ll feel if you have to wear wet shoes until we go back to the campsite.”
Dylan hovered, future discomfort weighing against immediate pleasure. Noelle shot a look at Christy, then she skipped on ahead, away from the clearing. Hayley hovered, clearly wanting to go with Noelle, but a faithful follower of her brother. She looked from Noelle to Dylan anxiously. Dylan caught the look, but it was Noelle, heading down the path, clearly taking the lead, who moved him. He galloped after her. Hayley ran behind, and the moment of confrontation was over.
“Dylan is such a sensible boy,” Heather said to Patterson and Christy as the kids skittered down the path. She lengthened her stride to keep them in sight.
Christy raised her brows. She wasn’t here to criticize another woman’s views or her parenting skills, but there were moments when Heather was completely oblivious.
They walked on. While Dylan was happy to race ahead, Noelle was careful to make sure she didn’t outdistance the adults. The path wound up and down, over tree roots and rocks. There were times when they had to walk single file and others when they could amble along together. Eventually, the path twisted again and widened. A bridge crossed the river. Christy and Patterson, still pulling up the rear, joined the kids and Heather who had paused to admire at the view. They’d reached Loyal Scotsman’s Falls.
Here the river fell from a height of about ten meters into a narrow ravine. The Falls were not one tall drop, but a series of short descents, like a giant’s staircase cutting through the rocks down to the river below, and awash with a flood of water. At the base was a pool, the water dark from shadows formed by the cliffs above and the depth of the water.
“See the way the falls rush down the slope?” Heather was saying to the children, who were staring down at the cascading water. “It’s called a fish ladder. The salmon jump from one level to the next on their way to their spawning places.”
Dylan shifted from foot to foot, clearly anxious to be on his way. The two girls stood more respectfully. Haley said, “Salmon always come back to the river where they were born to have their own babies.”
“Exactly!” Heather said, sounding pleased. “Remember in the spring when we released the young salmon smolts into the stream near your school? Why did we do that?”
“Because we were restocking the river,” Dylan said, sounding bored. “The baby salmon will stay in the river awhile, then they head out to the ocean. When it’s time to spawn, they’ll come back to our stream.” He pointed to a level spot near the far end of the bridge. The area was bare rock and open to the sun, but the path veered away from it, winding instead through the tree cover and away from the edge of the cliff. “What are those kids doing?”
There was a fence separating the path from the rocky outcropping and a sign saying “no entry beyond this point” but there were teenagers sunbathing on the rocks, while others stood on the edge. As they watched, a lanky teenaged boy, egged on by several others, leapt off the cliff, jumping into the deep pool at the bottom of the falls. He landed with a splash and came up sputtering to the cheers of his friends.
“Awesome,” Dylan said.
“Not awesome,” Patterson said firmly.
Dylan looked mutinous. Heather said, “Aunt Billie’s right. This is a dangerous spot. Your father used to jump here when he was the same age as these kids. One of his friends was badly injured and his life was ruined because of a stupid desire to impress the other kids.”
“What happened to him?” Noelle asked.
Heather hesitated. Hayley stared up at her mother with big wide eyes, waiting for the answer. Finally, Heather said, “He broke his back and was never able to walk again.”
“That’s a sad story,” Christy murmured.
Heather nodded. She said brightly, “Come on, kids. Let’s get moving.”
Dylan bounded away, followed by Hayley and Noelle, with Heather behind. Christy and Patterson lingered on the bridge, looking at the darkened pool and vista beyond it, as the river flowed through the trees in a relatively straight line to the ocean. Loyal Scotsman’s Bay was clearly visible, the high meadow on which the fish farm tank and information center was located hiding the narrow beach below the cliffs.
Patterson shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans said abruptly, “I found out more forensic details yesterday.”
“From Woodgate?” So far the local detective had been reluctant to provide Patterson with a lot of information.
“No. I pulled some strings.” Patterson’s jaw hardened. “Woodgate is closing in on Adam. He asked Adam to come down to the station to make a statement. He hasn’t arrested him yet, though I think he’s close. I admit, the evidence is stacked against Adam. But…” She stopped, hesitated, began again. “I don’t think he’s got it in him to kill, even someone as unpleasant as this Higginson apparently was.” She shrugged. “So I called in a favor.”
Christy believed Patterson’s instincts were good, but when family was concerned, instincts could be over ridden by emotion. She said cautiously, “The other day you said Higginson was killed by strangulation, with his tie. He was a big guy. It would take a lot of effort for someone to overpower him, even if the killer came at him from behind and caught him unawares.”
“Tests have come back that show
there were barbiturates in his system, as well as booze. There was a glass on his desk. The chemical analysis proved it contained the same booze and drugs that were in his system.”
“So he drank with someone before he died and that person spiked his drink.”
“There was only one glass, but yes, that’s my take. Whoever it was removed the bottle and the other glass, presumably after he or she killed him.”
Christy shot Patterson an enquiring look. “She?”
“From the amount of booze and drugs in his system, he would have been pretty much out of it. It wouldn’t have taken a lot to overpower him. Then once the tie tightened into a noose…” She pulled her hands from her pockets and shrugged. “He’d have fought, but he would have been uncoordinated. More flailing than anything else.” She nodded to herself and said firmly, “Yes, a woman could have been the killer.”
Putting the sex of the killer aside for a moment, Christy said, “So someone came back to the information site with a bottle and a couple of glasses and suggested they have a drink together. Higginson agrees, drinks the spiked booze, and is strangled.”
Patterson nodded. “That’s the speculation.”
“Then it could be anyone.”
Slapping her hand on the railing, Patterson said, “Yes! But Adam went out to pick up a bottle of wine for dinner that night, after we’d all returned to the campsite. Idiot man, he admitted going to the liquor store. Now Woodgate can place him there around the time of the murder. That’s why he’s so focused on Adam.”
“But if Adam was buying wine…?”
“The clerk in the store is a summer student. She remembers Adam—vaguely—but not what he bought. There was a rush and a guy she’s interested in was behind Adam in line. She was focused on him, not her other customers. She put the items through the scanner as quickly as she could and daydreamed about the guy. She did her job by rote.”
“What about credit card receipts?”
“He paid cash.” Patterson slapped the rail again, then began to walk, off the bridge and down the path behind the rapidly disappearing Heather and the kids.
“There would still be a record of his purchases in the cash register tape, wouldn’t there?”
“There were a series of cash transactions about the time Adam paid, one of which included a bottle of Scotch, exactly the same stuff that killed Higginson.”
“Why doesn’t Adam show Woodgate the cash register receipt?”
“The clerk put the receipt in the bag along with the bottle. We used the bag as fire starter when we made a fire that night. The receipt is gone.”
Patterson was looking very grim. Christy said lightly, “Trevor would say this is all circumstantial. What does Woodgate think is Adam’s motive?”
“Old animosities from high school adding fuel to an academic rivalry that Adam was losing. Norman Laing has apparently told Woodgate that Adam’s new process is speculative and years away from being commercially available—if ever. He says Adam was humiliated during their debate, and that he, Adam, hated being embarrassed in front of Higginson because Higginson would never let him forget it.”
Laing’s observation didn’t make any sense to Christy. “Then why would Higginson accept a drink from Adam later that day?” She wrinkled her nose in thought. “Unless… Was Higginson an alcoholic so desperate for a drink, he’d take it from anyone?”
“Not to my knowledge. It’s a thought worth pursuing, though. If I can prove he was a normal, social drinker, it weakens Laing’s theory. There’s also the barbiturates. Where would Adam have got them? Both are angles I can work with.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes, then Christy said, “If Woodgate thinks the person who killed Higginson came back after everyone was gone, then it doesn’t have to be Adam. It could’ve been any of the others. Or even someone who wasn’t involved in the argument.”
“And it could have been a man or a woman,” Patterson said, nodding.
“With that in mind, I had a couple of conversations you might be interested in.”
Patterson, who had been staring ahead, watching her sister-in-law and the children, turned her gaze to Christy, her eyebrows raised. “Who?”
“The mayor and the woman councilor.”
“Really? You actually got them to talk to you? How did you manage that?”
Christy laughed. “Sledge and I went to see the mayor. He wasn’t very helpful at first, but once he realized he had Sledge in his office, he became more accommodating.”
Patterson laughed. “So Kelloway’s a fan, is he?”
“Apparently. He claimed he wanted the fish farm to go forward while Higginson was involved, because he knew Higginson and trusted him. Now that he’s dead, Kelloway wants to back out, because of the controversy. He figures the province will nix it, which is fine with him.”
“So he might be worried about re-election. Doesn’t sound like a motive for murder to me.”
Christy shrugged. “It’s no lamer than academic embarrassment.”
“Hmm. You could be right.” Patterson flicked her a glance. “What about the councilor?”
“Quinn and I met Rhonda Hicks in the grocery store. She says that she left not long after Laing and the mayor. Adam and Shane were still hard at it, neither one of them willing to move an inch. She claims she hadn’t decided if she was pro or con, but she wasn’t willing to stay any longer, because the two of them were acting just like they did in high school—Shane trying to bully Adam into agreement, Adam fighting back and refusing to bend. Not only had she had enough, but she thought that if she left they might stop arguing and go their separate ways.”
“Why?” Patterson demanded.
Below them the path switch-backed and for a moment they lost sight of Heather and the kids. Christy increased her pace, anxious to keep them in sight. “Apparently, Rhonda dated Shane in high school. She says she’s long over him, but Shane was territorial. Once his, always his. She figured part of his bluster that day was to impress her.”
Patterson stared straight ahead, seemingly thinking about the information Christy had given her. “She admits she was Higginson’s girlfriend at one time. She describes him as possessive. How possessive? Now that he was back in the area, was he likely to be a pest… or worse?”
Christy wrinkled her brow, thinking about the woman she’d talked with in the grocery store. Rhonda had seemed more rueful than frightened. It didn’t fit. “I suppose. But why go the dangerous route of killing him?”
Patterson shrugged. “If she felt she was being stalked, she might be willing to do anything to get him out of her life.”
Below them, Heather rounded the switchback curve and waved. “Hey, you two! We’re way ahead. There’s another bridge just down the hill, then we’re almost at the parking lot. The kids want to head back to the beach.” Message delivered, she dashed off.
Patterson shot Christy a rueful look. “Time to hustle.” They increased their pace. “Thanks for the tips. They may not amount to anything, but it gives me something to work with.”
Chapter 14
The ocean was well on its way up the beach by the time they returned from Loyal Scotsman’s Falls Park. Of course, they’d stopped off for burgers and milkshakes on the way back, mainly because Dylan claimed he was starving and his requests for food quickly became demands that Heather gave into.
That added a couple of hours to the journey, so it was mid afternoon by the time Christy and Noelle made it down to the sand. There they found that Sledge and Quinn had set up the beach chairs and umbrella near one of the tidal pools, even though Noelle wasn’t with them at the time. That gave Christy a little jolt of pleasure, because she knew they’d been thinking of her daughter when they did it.
She hadn’t bothered with a chair today, so she spread out her towel by the umbrella where Ellen and Trevor sat. On their other side, Roy was stretched out on his back on a towel, apparently sleeping. Down in the water, she could see Quinn’s navy bathing suit and dark head, as
well as Sledge’s vivid orange suit and red ball cap. They were standing in the shallows throwing a Frisbee. Wearing a brilliant white suit, Tamara was standing in deeper water and made up the third point in their triangle.
The cat emerged from his little tent and stretched. Have fun, babe?
“Noelle enjoyed it. Heather hovered. Patterson and I talked.”
Noelle lifted her shovel and bucket and said, “I’m going to go over to the tidal pool and build a castle before the other kids get here.” They’d left the Farnsworth kids squabbling about something. On the way to the beach Noelle had admitted that Dylan bugged her and she hated how he treated his little sister, Haley.
I’ll come too. The fishing wasn’t very good this morning.
As Noelle and the cat trotted off, Roy stirred, proving he wasn’t asleep after all. “Find out anything interesting?”
“I did. Apparently, postmortem tests discovered Higginson had both booze and prescription sleeping pills in his system. Cause of death was strangulation, but the medication suggests he was drugged before hand, possibly by the pills being dissolved in the alcohol.”
Beside Ellen, Trevor grunted. “He’d be unlikely to drink with a stranger. That means the killer was probably someone he knew.”
“Narrows the field,” Roy commented, still on his back, eyes hidden behind sunglasses.
Her gaze on her daughter and the cat, Christy nodded. Stormy was already soaked from his first attempt to catch one of the tiny fish that darted through the glinting water. “The main suspects are those five people who stayed behind after the session.” She wrinkled her brow. “Patterson is worried, though. She says Woodgate is focused on her brother-in-law, because he was the last one to leave that afternoon and he had a bad relationship with the victim both in their past and the present.”
Roy sat up. He rummaged in the beach bag for a bottle of water, snapped the cap, and took a swig. “Drugging the guy using prescription pills suggests premeditation. Adam was there to participate in a public meeting. I don’t think it’s likely he’d have a bottle of meds in his pocket so he could drug an old enemy, then do him in—all while his brother and sister-in-law, the cop, waited in the parking lot.”
