Beech Mountain Breeze

by Ed Robinson

  The hermit was sitting on a bucket, reading a book. He had not detected me. He was going about his business in what he thought was complete privacy. I took a quick look around. He’d created a nice homestead down in the bowl, complete with shelter, tools, and supplies. I was looking for a weapon but didn’t see one. I was fairly convinced that this fellow was non-violent. The question was whether or not to interrupt him. I had located him at a most inconvenient moment for him. I had the drop on him, so to speak. It’s tough to run with your pants down around your ankles, but he had no place to run anyway. He was boxed in.

  “Good morning, mister,” I said, without showing myself.

  “You the man that found my camp the other day?” he asked. “You seem to have me over a barrel, or at least over a bucket.”

  “I am,” I said. “Sorry to interrupt. The name’s Breeze.”

  “How did you manage to sneak up on me like this?”

  “I know a bit about the woods,” I told him. “You want to finish up what you’re doing? Maybe we can have a conversation.”

  “Some things can’t be rushed,” he responded. “Say your piece. What the hell are you doing hunting me down?”

  “I’d rather wait,” I said. “I’d like to come down and look you in the eye. I’ll pass on shaking your hand for the moment.”

  “Other side of the rim,” he said. “There’s a rope ladder. Holds my weight.”

  I hadn’t seen it. It blended in so well with the background that I’d missed it.

  “Working my way around slowly,” I said. “I mean no harm.”

  “Not much I could do about it if you did,” he said.

  I lost sight of him for a few seconds on my way around to the other side. When I saw him again, he had his pants pulled up. He set his bucket off in a corner and looked up for me. I found the ladder and hesitated before climbing down. He would have me in a vulnerable spot as I descended.

  “Okay, for me to come down?” I asked.

  “It’s what you came here for, isn’t it?” he responded. “You went through all this trouble to find me; I may as well give you an audience.”

  His language and speech pattern was not that of a meth head or hillbilly. He was educated and intelligent. I’d seen no weapons or evidence that he’d try to hurt me. I had to trust that my gut was right. I climbed down the rope ladder to meet the Beech Mountain Hermit.

  “Interesting attire,” he said. “Part Davy Crockett and part I don’t know what.”

  “Earth clothing,” I said. “Smells like dirt, doesn’t make noise.”

  “I never heard you coming,” he said. “I’ll give you that. When you had the dog and a lady with you, I heard from over a mile away. Didn’t think you’d present a threat. Certainly didn’t expect you to find me here.”

  “I need to ask you some questions if you don’t mind.”

  “You some kind of reporter or something?” he asked. “Not interested in telling my story.”

  “About a girl’s murder,” I said. “She was found when the lake was drained. You were down there near the park at the time as far as I can tell.”

  “What are you?” he asked. “Some kind of Indian tracker? How would you know that?”

  “I found your temporary layovers,” I said. “My dog got onto you, but you disappeared into what would have been the lake.”

  “I take precautions,” he said. “But here you are, to my surprise. I’d be curious as to how you did it, but I guess I’m more curious about your intentions now that you’ve cornered me.”

  “The girl,” I said. “I’m trying to figure out who killed her.”

  “And I’m a suspect?”

  “To some, maybe,” I said. “My fault, I guess. I determined that you’d been in the area during the right time frame.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “But I didn’t kill the girl.”

  “What did you see?”

  I saw a change in his eyes. He knew something, but getting involved would mean jeopardizing his anonymity, and ultimately his lifestyle. He didn’t want to tell me, but he knew it was the right thing to do. I let him wrestle with himself for several minutes.

  “I’ll make this as easy for you as I can,” I said. “I’m not here to drag you back to society. I only want to find the girl’s killer. If you can help in any small way, I’ll do my best to leave you to your life.”

  “If it were only that simple,” he said. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, after all these years. I didn’t want to see what I saw. Now it’s all going to fall to pieces.”

  “What did you see?”

  “I haven’t decided if I want to tell you,” he said. “I’m afraid of what the future holds if I tell you anything at all.”

  “Which means that you know something,” I said. “Let’s talk about this. Maybe together we can figure out a way to catch the killer, without ruining your life.”

  “If I’m a witness, that ends it all for me,” he said. “I’ll be publicly identified. My mystique will be lost and I’ll become a petty criminal. There’s no romance in breaking and entering, my friend. Someone will want to put me in jail. I’d rather die as you might guess.”

  “What brought you out here in the first place?” I asked.

  “No offense, but that’s none of your business.”

  “I dropped out once,” I told him. “Still not really a member of polite society. Look at me. You think I’m a stockbroker or a banker?”

  “More like me than not,” he said. “Finding me was an impressive feat. You’re a man of the mountains.”

  “Wasn’t always that way,” I said. “I was a boat bum on the wrong side of the law most of the time. I had my reasons for shunning civil life, as I’m sure you do. I empathize with what you’re doing out here. I’m not trying to end it. I’m trying to bring a killer to justice.”

  I tried to look beyond the beard and the dirt on the man. He was slightly smaller than me, but it was hard to determine his age. I thought he probably looked older than he was. Hard living does that to a man. If forced to guess, I’d say he was in his young sixties. He was fit and agile, still had his teeth, and showed no frailties. I felt bad for attempting to involve him in the case now. I had put his back up against a wall, almost literally. So far though, I was the only one who knew where he was. I still didn’t know who he was.

  I came right out and asked him.

  “Who are you?” I said. “What drove you to this life?”

  “That’s a discussion for another day,” he said. “If you care to have it.”

  “I’d be happy to come back if you’ll have me,” I said. “I think we may have a lot in common.”

  “I haven’t carried on a conversation in many years,” he said. “Can’t really recall the last time.”

  “I’m sorry that it’s under these circumstances,” I said. “If I leave you today with no helpful information, you can disappear as easily as you’ve done before. I’ve no desire to hunt you to the ends of the Earth.”

  “Tell me how I can help you without destroying my life,” he said. “If you can do that, we’ll talk some more.”

  Now it was my turn to wrestle with myself. I didn’t have a good solution for him. In my zeal to find him, I’d dehumanized the man. I had a sense that this would end it for him, but I’d suppressed that in my mind. I’d been hell-bent on hunting him down to prove myself. It had been a selfish pursuit in that sense, but there was still the unsolved murder to consider. I had to weigh this man’s freedom against bringing a killer to justice. My freedom was the most important aspect of my existence. Betraying him would be betraying my most basic instincts. I guess I hadn’t thought this thing through.

  “I’m no lawyer,” I said. “But I want to be on your side. Can I have some time? Will you talk to me again? Give me a chance to think of something.”

  “I don’t owe you a damn thing,” he said. “But the fact that you tracked me down is worth something. Giving me a fair shake is worth something too
. If you mean me no harm, I’ll go back to my main camp. You can find me there most days. I’m good on provisions for now.”

  “Will you tell me your name?” I asked.

  “If I’m right about you,” he said. “You’ll figure it out for yourself. Now I need to go dump my bucket if you don’t mind.”

  “Meet you at the other camp?”

  “Don’t come if you can’t solve the riddle,” he said. “I’m not too old to disappear again, but I’ll give you a chance.”

  “I can’t ask for more than that,” I said. “I’ll be back in a few days. You think about what you want to do. I’ll see if I can protect you, but if I can’t, I’ll still want your cooperation.”

  “Can’t say you’ll get it,” he said. “See you in a couple of days.”

  Thirteen

  I had looked the man directly in the eye. When he said that he hadn’t killed the girl, I believed him. I was convinced though, that he’d seen something, either the murder itself or the dumping of her body. I understood his hesitation. Now I had to figure out a way to use what he’d seen without disclosing his identity. I didn’t think that was possible. I’d bring a picture of the Chief’s son back with me and let him decide how much he wanted to tell me.

  I hoped to learn more about the hermit through the DNA and fingerprints that we’d collected. Maybe I could use that as leverage. I wondered how the investigation was coming along, relative to the Chief’s son as well. I hoped that Rominger could help with both. I started the long walk back, checking the GPS and taking note of landmarks. I wouldn’t have to sneak up on the hermit the next time unless he decided to run.

  Now that I’d successfully completed my great quest to find him, and therefore validated my sense of worth as a mountain man, an anti-climactic feeling set in. He hadn’t been that hard to find, and I was able to walk right up to the man without him detecting me. I had expected the hunt to be more challenging.

  I turned my attention to other aspects of the case during the hike back to my car. I needed more information to put the pieces together. I needed to talk to Rominger, and most likely to Angelina as well. Dealing with humans was often much more difficult than dealing with nature. I didn’t always express myself in ways that endeared me to others. Somehow I’d managed to become friends with Rominger, and Angelina seemed to like me well enough. I needed to suck it up and deal with both of them the best I could. I needed them if I was to be a part of solving the murder. They needed me if the hermit could, or would, help.

  I ran it all past Brody after I got home. She helped me to take a step back and look at all sides of the situation. She was good at focusing on the big picture, whereas I tended to concentrate on the small details. Together we could analyze the problem and work towards a solution.

  “You caught him while he was taking a shit?” she asked, chuckling.

  “Couldn’t mistake that smell,” I said. “I would have picked up on it from a mile away.”

  “Then you just sat and had a chat?”

  “He said he didn’t kill the girl,” I said. “I believed him. I think he saw enough that he can help us solve the crime, but he’s holding back.”

  “Because he doesn’t want to be revealed,” she said.

  “Right,” I said. “So how can we get his testimony without exposing him?”

  “Written depositions are sometimes used in court,” she said. “But he’d have to sign his true name to it. The defense would have to know his identity. You know, facing your accuser and all that.”

  “How credible will the word of a vagrant be in court?” I asked.

  “They will attempt to use his status against him,” she said. “They’ll threaten him with charges on any number of offenses. They’ll plaster his picture all over local media.”

  “We can’t have that,” I said. “That will be the end of him.”

  “I’ll have to give it some thought,” she said. “You don’t think appealing to his sense of justice is enough?”

  “I try to put myself in his shoes,” I said. “Back when I was on the boat alone, and the law was after me, I probably wouldn’t have come forward. It would have cost me my freedom.”

  “Not even to help catch a killer?”

  “I didn’t have a high opinion of law enforcement at the time,” I said. “I was involved in too much bad shit to cooperate with the cops. I avoided them at all costs.”

  “What about our hermit?” she asked. “Other than petty theft, we have no reason to believe he’s deeply criminal.”

  “We don’t know,” I said. “Maybe Rominger can fill in the blanks for us.”

  “You want to use the SAT phone to call him?”

  “I assumed he’d call us as soon as he found out anything,” I said.

  “We’ll check with him tomorrow then,” she said. “Take another look at things once we’re brought up to speed.”

  “You know that the pretty lady cop is working the Zack angle,” I said.

  “I trust you,” she said. “I take it she has some investigative skills.”

  “I don’t know if Rominger will be up to date on what she’s been doing,” I said. “I may have to talk to her. You’re welcome to participate.”

  “We’ll see,” she said. “One step at a time.”

  We drove to Boone to visit the North Carolina Highway Patrol the next day. We were in no rush. We’d shared a nice breakfast and took care of a few chores before leaving for the day. There was no telling where our inquiries would lead us. We were greeted with gusto as soon as we entered the building. Several officers surrounded a table looking at pictures and newspaper clippings. Rominger saw me and waved me in.

  “I was about to call you,” he said. “We’re still trying to put it all together, but we know the identity of the Beech Mountain Hermit.”

  “I met the man in person yesterday,” I said. “But I still don’t know who he is.”

  “Tyler Scott,” he said. “Former CFO and Executive Vice President of Highlands Union Bank.”

  “Holy shit,” I said. “How’d you hit on him?”

  “Banner Elk PD picked him up for DUI after his wife’s death,” he said. “Fingerprints on file, not to mention an outstanding warrant.”

  “For what?”

  “Failure to appear on the DUI charge,” he said. “That’s when he disappeared.”

  “What happened to his wife?”

  “Car accident,” he said.

  “When was this?” asked Brody.

  “2010,” he said. “Mr. Scott took care of her affairs, attended the funeral, and vanished soon after.”

  “Left his money and properties behind?” I asked.

  “His daughter had him declared dead last year sometime,” he said. “She was the primary beneficiary of his estate.”

  “Was there ever any suspicion that he was the hermit?” Brody asked.

  “None whatsoever,” he said. “Bank executives don’t tend to be wilderness types.”

  “No kidding,” I said. “Where’s the daughter now?”

  “Here,” he said. “Well, in Banner Elk. Living in a mansion in Linville Ridge.”

  “Her father’s mansion?” Brody asked.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Have you told her that you think her dad is alive?” Brody asked.

  “Not yet,” he said. “This is just an hour old. We’re still processing it.”

  “Heard anything from Angelina?” I asked.

  “She located Zack,” he said. “Brought him in for questioning and got nowhere.”

  “He’s a free man?”

  “Nothing to hold him on,” he said. “He was on surveillance film from the resort, but not with the girl. Swears he never saw her. I don’t have all the details.”

  “Do you have a picture of him?” Brody asked.

  “Old mugshot is all we have here,” he said. “Angelina is the one to ask.”

  “Can I ask you a favor?” I said to Rominger.

  “Sure, shoot,” he sa
id.

  “Can we keep this quiet for now?” I asked. “I think I can get the hermit to cooperate. I think he saw something. If we go plastering his story all over papers, he’ll go silent. Most likely disappear forever.”

  “You do know this is the biggest story to break around here in a decade?”

  “I realize that,” I said. “But if this Zack kid is the killer, and Tyler Scott can identify him, then we can solve the girl’s murder.”

  “Good point,” he admitted. “I’ll withhold it from the press, but some of these guys will talk about it to family and friends.”

  “Buy us some time,” I said. “We’ll go talk to Angelina and see what we can do.”

  “You can get in touch with the hermit again?” he asked. “How?”

  “We have an agreement,” I said. “I’ll be visiting him again soon, but first I need all the information I can gather.”

  “We may need some kind of agreement not to hold him accountable for that warrant,” Brody chimed in. “This can’t be a setup to bring him in. Not if we want him to cooperate.”

  “The old warrant was returned to the Clerk of the Court years ago,” he said. “I’m sure it still exists, but no one is actively working it. A decent lawyer could take care of it for him.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “Think we can get the Beech Mountain PD to ignore the illegal entries?”

  “As far as I know there is no evidence connecting him to the break-ins,” he said. “No charges have ever been filed.”

  “We’ve got to learn more about the Chief’s son,” I said. “I’ll get back to you on the rest.”

  “She’s down in Newland today,” he said. “At the Sheriff’s office.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “And thanks for the info.”

  “Least I could do,” he said. “You gave us the evidence.”

  Brody and I discussed what we’d learned during the drive to Newland. The comparison between Tyler Scott and me was obvious. When my wife died suddenly, I’d snapped and dropped out of society. I chose a boat in Florida instead of the mountainous wilderness, but the motivation was the same.