Deadly Currents (23 page)

The only movement was a log slapping against the rocks beside the bank.

A log?

Mandy crawled toward it, her elbows sinking into the mud. The log was Lenny, lying face down in the water. The motion of his body was caused by the eddy swirling around him, rocking his arms and legs.

My punches must have collapsed his throat.

Good. Leave him there to die.

A siren wailed in the distance.

I can’t leave him. I’m a whitewater river ranger.

He tried to kill me.

The sirens came closer, approaching the Steamplant Theater.

I’m supposed to rescue people.

I’m half-dead myself. I don’t have the energy.

Car doors slammed and people began shouting. Flashlight beams pierced the night sky.

Do it, Mandy. You won’t be able to live with yourself if you don’t.

She crawled down to the bank, braced her feet against the rocks, and grabbed hold of Lenny’s arms. Leaning back, she pulled. His body moved a few inches.

Mandy bent her knees and grabbed him under his armpits. She pulled, and pulled, and pulled. A massive groan escaped her lips as she fell back, Lenny’s body flopping onto her legs. She slid out from under him, pushed on a shoulder and rolled him onto his back.

She placed a couple of fingers against his neck and felt a weak pulse. But no air escaped his lips.

Mandy shuddered.
No, I can’t do it. And what if he revives? He’ll try to kill me again.

The people with flashlights were down at the river, crossing the F Street bridge. Mandy could make out some of their shouts now. They were men. They were calling her name.

“Here.” The word came out as a strangled bark. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Here!”

Someone shouted in reply.

While dark shapes ran toward her, she pulled on Lenny’s chin to open his airway. She bent her head to breathe life into his mouth, to do what she was trained to do.

Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees.
—May 10, 1863, Last Words Of
Thomas Jonathan (Stonewall) Jackson

Seated in the front
pew of the First Baptist Church, Mandy mumbled, “Amen,” after the pastor’s prayer, along with the rest of the memorial service attendees. Uncle Bill hadn’t been a regular churchgoer, but he was a registered Baptist, so Mandy had arranged for his service to be held here. This was the public tribute, where her uncle’s friends, employees, and business associates could say their goodbyes and speak a few words in his honor if they wished. The private ceremony would be later.

She shifted her weight, trying to ease the aches from the myriad bruises and scrapes she had collected during her fight with Lenny Preble in the Arkansas River two days before. In response, David and Rob, the two men left in her life after Uncle Bill’s deathseated on either side of her, bent their heads to check on her. David looked perfectly at ease in his gray pinstriped suit, but Rob tugged again at the collar of the crisp light-blue shirt he had taken out of the package along with its matching tie that morning.

She gave her protectors a quick nod to show she was okay and sat up straighter. She had had a chance to dry her tears after David’s eulogy. As the recessional music started, she fortified herself for the next heart-rending task—shaking everyone’s hand and accepting their murmured condolences.

With a hand on her elbow, David helped her stand, and the three of them moved toward the aisle. She stumbled while exiting the pew.

With his good arm, Rob caught her. “Are you up to standing in the receiving line?”

“I’m just stiff. And I’m not used to these heels.” Like Rob, she rarely needed to dress formally, and here this was the third time in a week she’d worn a skirt, starting with Tom King’s funeral. She squeezed Rob’s left hand, which poked out of his shoulder sling, and turned to follow her brother up the aisle.

_____

Two hours later, she sat on Rob’s sofa with a plate of potato salad and ham that someone had fixed for her. She couldn’t bring herself to eat any of it, or of the multitude of casseroles, salads, and plates of cookies crowded on the dining room table, the kitchen counter, and all the other horizontal surfaces in the house. They’d need to borrow space in friends’ freezers and refrigerators to store all the leftovers.

Lucky was in dog heaven, slurping up dropped crumbs and offerings from the soft-hearted. Mandy spotted Cynthia slipping him a cube of cheese and casting a guilty look in her direction. Mandy waved her hand to show it was all right.

Savoring a brief moment of solitude, she leaned her head against the back cushion. Most of the guests had already come around to give her a pat or a hug and now stood eating and talking and drinking in every room of Rob’s home.

Detective Quintana sat next to her on the sofa. “Here, give me that plate. You weren’t going to eat that food anyway, were you?” He set it on the end table.

“I can’t stomach anything now. Maybe later, after the river ceremony.”

“The river ceremony?”

“Gonzo and Kendra volunteered to paddle a raft so Rob, David, and I could throw Uncle Bill’s ashes in the Arkansas. That’s where he wanted to be.”

Where he already is.
She thought back on her battle with Lenny and the surge of strength that seemed to come from nowhere, the admonition to live.

Quintana nodded. “Makes sense. Bill spent most of his life on the Arkansas.”

Mandy cast a worried glance at him. “I’m not doing anything illegal, am I?”

“Not if I don’t know about it.” He winked. “There’s so much noise in here. What was it you said?”

Mandy smiled. “Oh, nothing.”

“How’re you doing? Frankly, you looked terrible when I saw you Saturday night.”

“I feel like I’ve gone seven rounds with a boxing kangaroo, but I’ll recover.”

“Good.” He looked around to see if anyone was listening, then bent his head to speak softly to Mandy. “We found a mortar and pestle with aconite powder on them in a trashcan in Lenny’s workshop. And the plants you spotted in his garden were monkshood.”

“So you’ve pegged him for Tom King’s murder. What about for shooting Rob?”

“Also in the workshop was a box of bullets that matched the shape and caliber of the one in Rob’s shoulder. We found some used bullets and shells in his back yard.”

“Why were they in his back yard?”

“Target practice. One of his pine trees was missing some big chunks of bark, and we dug two bullets out of the trunk. I’m confident the rifling marks on them will match those on the bullet we took from Rob and the barrel of the rifle we found stashed in Nate Fowler’s garage. With that evidence and your testimony that he knew the rifle was there, the attempted murder charge for shooting Rob will stick. Then, there’s the attempt on your life. Lenny knows his goose is cooked.”

“Did he confess to poisoning Tom King?”

Quintana nodded. “Said he rode in the same raft with King, right behind him, so he could watch for when he got woozy enough to not be able to save himself. Then Lenny planned to push King out of the raft when they hit a turbulent spot.”

“But the Number Four rapid did that for him.”

“That it did.”

Nate Fowler approached the sofa and held out his hand to Mandy. “I owe you my profound thanks. Without you, I might still be sitting in jail accused of Tom King’s murder.”

Mandy shook his hand. “I’m sure Detective Quintana would have figured out you weren’t the killer.”

“I’m not so sure of that.” Quintana stood and put a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “I hope you know how bad I feel about locking you up. My gut was telling me you weren’t capable of murder, but all the evidence pointed to you.”

“That was Lenny Preble’s doing, not yours.” Nate stuck his hand out. “Apology accepted. The food’s not half bad in your jail, either. I haven’t eaten beans and wieners since I was a kid.”

Quintana threw back his head and laughed. He grabbed Nate’s hand and shook it vigorously. “Sometimes I sneak a plate of those myself.”

“And now Lenny’s eating them.” Nate turned to Mandy. “I want you to know that when I get my mitts on those water rights, I’ll be donating some for recreational use in your uncle’s name.”

“He’d like that.” Mandy swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thanks. And speaking of apologies, I owe you and your wife one for trespassing in your yard.”

With a wave of his hand, Nate said, “Water under the dam, so to speak. We had a good laugh over it. At least you two weren’t Peeping Toms.” He winked. “Hey, can I get you some food?”

Mandy pointed at the full plate Quintana had taken from her. “Thanks, but I’ve got plenty.”

She spied Rob leaning up against a door jamb watching her and signaled for him to come over. “Do you mind?” she asked the two men.

They turned and saw Rob’s approach. “I could use a refill on my beer,” Nate said to Quintana. “Care to join me?”

“I’m drinking iced tea, myself. There’s some great lemon pie out in the kitchen, though.”

After they moved away, Rob settled next to her on the sofa and put his good arm around her. “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m bushed. I’d like to get all of this over with, and go out on the river with Uncle Bill’s ashes.”

“David and I thought so. He’s going around giving folks the ‘thanks so much for coming’ signal. The crowd should clear out soon. But there’s something I need to tell you before we leave for the river.”

Mandy’s heart skipped a beat. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

“Something good. Gonzo asked me to talk to you.” Rob grinned. “I think he’s a little intimidated by his boss lady. Anyway, when he stopped by the hospital and I saw how he reacted to you, I asked him what was up. He told me about quitting after you threatened to fire him. He tried to boast that he could find another outfitter to work for easily, but I squelched that. I told him he had a reputation for being a drunk, that if he wanted to find guiding work, he had to dry himself out.”

“How did he react? Is he pissed off at you, too, now?”

“No, I scared him good. We had a serious talk, and I suggested he join AA.”

“Did he?”

“He’s attended two meetings so far. He has a long way to go, but he asked me to let you know what he’s doing. He’s hoping for a second chance, but what he really wants is to be your friend again.”

“He’s always been my friend, Rob. When your friend is screwing up his life, you tell him.” Mandy leaned her head on Rob’s shoulder. It felt good, like she belonged there. “And I’ll support him in this as much as I can. If he can stay sober for the next two or three weeks, I’ll rehire him on a provisional basis. But I’ll keep a close eye on him.”

Rob hooked a finger around a tendril of her hair that had worked loose from her ponytail. While tucking it behind her ear, he ran his finger along the rim of her earlobe, sending tingles down her neck. “And I’m going to be keeping a close watch over you in the next few days,
mi querida
.”

Mandy smiled up at him. “But I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“I’ve gotten pretty good at doing things one-handed. In fact, you and I are going to head over to your place with my toolbox tomorrow to fix your broken window and that overzealous toaster.”

“And the ghost-flushing toilet. But I want to fix them myself.”

Rob opened his mouth, then closed it and pursed his lips. “Okay, but I’ll lend you my tools—and my expertise.”

“And my hands will do the work, so you don’t strain your shoulder.”

“Hey, about all I need help with is driving—and taking off my pants.”

“Rob!”

Rob leered then the grin faded. “You gave me quite a fright you know, when Detective Quintana woke me up pounding on the door and asked where you’d gone. Thank God you wrote that note so I could tell him. I was sure Tom King’s killer had finally gotten to you. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“I felt the same way taking you to the hospital.”

Rob pulled her toward him and kissed her on the tip of her nose. He aimed for her lips, but she drew back.

“Not in front of everyone,” Mandy whispered.

“Who?”

She looked around. While they were talking, the room had emptied. The sound of some folks saying goodbye to David at the front door filtered in, but otherwise the house was quiet. So when Rob turned his attention to her lips, she responded willingly.

David walked in rubbing his hands. “Now that’s what I like to see. My little sis getting kissed good and proper. Ready to get this show on the road?”

_____

After running a shuttle, the five of them slipped a raft into the riffles under Stone Bridge north of Salida. After negotiating the tame Squaw Creek rapid, Gonzo and Kendra paddled silently, befitting the mood of the solemn occasion, while Mandy cradled the small box of ashes on her lap. She sat in the front of the raft, facing David and Rob in the middle.

In this section of the Arkansas, the river took a rest from its mad plunge down five thousand feet of elevation in its first 125 miles and meandered around Big Bend. Cobble bars had formed where the slowing river, no long able to transport rocks and pebbles, dropped its load. The gentle, gurgling current allowed cottonwood trees and large bushes of alder and red-tipped willow to flourish and droop their heavily laden branches in the water. A red squirrel chittered at them as they drifted by. With a gentle plunk, a muskrat slid into the water.

David leaned back and tilted his face toward the sun. “I can see why Uncle Bill loved being on the river. It drains the tension right out of you.”

“Why don’t you move out here?” Rob asked.

David shook his head. “Too entrenched in the firm back home. I’ll have to come visit Mandy more often, though. Plus there’s an added attraction.”

This statement piqued Mandy’s interest. “Oh?”

“Your friend Cynthia’s a sweet little number. Lotta fun, too. She told me this great blonde joke. You should hear it, Mandy.”

Mandy laughed. “Are you her proxy now? Since she couldn’t come with us, she gave you a joke to plague me with?”

A look of disappointment crossed David’s face. “You don’t want to hear it?”

With a smile, Mandy said, “No, go ahead.”