Murder in the Devil's Cauldron (11 page)

While it had a great name, the Devil's
Cauldron wasn't as interesting as she had expected. But the way the
river split was, as was the way the river crashed and sprayed as it
went in. Starr moved back a little and studied it, figuring out how
to shoot it and make it look like something more than just a river
that was splitting.

First she looked at the light and then at the
sun. The light would be much better later in the afternoon, she
decided. It would give the rocks better definition and the color
would show in the water. But she still wouldn't get a great shot
from right in front of it. Standing further downstream wouldn't
work either. There wasn't a safe place to stand or put a tripod.
Plus, shooting from that low wouldn't show the Devil's Cauldron at
all.

Starr looked at the cliff on the other side
of the river. It was a lot higher than the rocks she was on and
just might work. After scouting around a little more near the
trail, she figured that the cliff might be her best bet. Now it was
just a matter of figuring out how to get there.

Returning to the trail, she sat on one of the
overlook benches and pulled out the map. It didn't show a trail on
the other side, but she noticed it didn't show any of the side
paths she had seen either. She considered going all the way down
and then trying to find a way up on the other side, but noticed
that the map showed a bridge further up. Maybe if she crossed the
river there, she'd find a path leading back down. Besides, her
stomach was beginning to remind her that she hadn't eaten in hours
and the map showed a picnic area near the bridge.

The trail on this part of the trail was a lot
steeper, so by the time Starr reached the bridge, she was not only
hungry, but hot and panting from the exertion. She had long since
tied her jacket around her waist, but her t-shirt was sticking to
her and all she really wanted to do by that time was sit down, put
her feet in the water and have some lunch. She noticed a bench near
the bridge, but it was in the sun and she looked around, hoping for
some shade.

As she looked upstream, she saw that the
river widened into what looked like a small lake. It looked
appealing and she climbed the rest of the way to what turned out to
be a small valley. Instead of a torrent, the river here was wide,
slow moving and, best of all, shallow. On top of that, there were
several picnic tables in the shade and Starr quickly commandeered
one.

The backpack went on the table, followed by
her shoes and socks. Then she was paddling about, letting the ice
cold water squish between her toes. The water meandered slowly
towards the gorge and Starr realized she could barely hear the roar
of the river from here. Instead of sand, though, the riverbed was
covered with smooth pebbles which hurt her feet, so she didn't stay
in the water long. Cooled off, she returned to the picnic table and
made quick work of the food she had packed this morning.

Her stomach finally full and feeling much
better, Starr packed up, filled her canteen from the river and
returned to the bridge. She stopped in the middle and looked down
at the winding gorge beneath her. The roar of the water as it
gushed through shut out the sound of everything else even though
right now the water was at the bottom of the rocky slit beneath
her. She could just imagine, though, what it was like after a storm
and the gorge was full. If anyone fell off the bridge, they'd never
be able to get out. She shivered slightly and hurried across the
bridge.

On the other side, she looked carefully for
some kind of path heading back down. At first she didn't see
anything, but she walked slowly and pretty soon she found a narrow
path heading into the woods. It was faint, but not too far from the
river. She tightened the straps on her backpack and started
down.

Instead of going across broad rocks like the
trail coming up, this path was simply packed dirt and wound around
and under the trees. There wasn't as much of a breeze, but it was
cooler in the shade. As she made her way down, every once in awhile
she came across a faint track that went towards the river. Each
time she saw one, she followed it, hoping to see the Devil's
Cauldron, but it wasn't until she tried the eighth track that she
finally found the right one.

It was hard to see, so she went slowly until
she came to the edge of the cliff high above the river. She knelt
near the edged and looked over. From here she could see where the
river split and where it fell into the Devil's Cauldron, as well as
the part that continued down to the lake. If she brought her camera
back late in the day, she'd be able to get a great shot from
here.

As she knelt on the cliff, several people
came out onto the rocks to look at the Devil's Cauldron, but no one
looked up. As Starr watched, she realized she was practically
invisible to the people below her. She grinned. She'd be able to
get her pictures and no one would interrupt and ask what she was
taking pictures of. It was the first question people asked and the
one hardest for her to explain. Plus, they always seemed to ask
when she was trying to concentrate the most and the idea of being
invisible for this shot was very appealing.

She checked her watch before leaving. She
wanted to see how long it would take to get back to the Lodge. That
way, she could stay until the last minute and still not be
late.

Fortunately, the rest of the path down was
easier to see and, although Starr had to watch for uneven tree
roots, she was at the bottom in no time at all. She checked the
time again and was pleased to see it hadn't taken nearly as long as
she'd expected. Even better, she'd be back at the Lodge with time
to spare.

Fowler finally managed to convince Diana that
she should keep the lunch date she had scheduled weeks earlier. She
had begun meandering aimlessly around the house after breakfast,
first convinced she should keep it and then determined to
reschedule it for after the honeymoon. It had taken acres of
patience and persuasion on his part to convince her to keep it. He
had had to hide his growing impatience as she blithered about, but
finally she made her reluctant way to the car.

Then, just as he thought she was finally
gone, Fowler heard the front door close, followed by the Diana's
heels clattering back up the front staircase. He had been halfway
to the closet, but now returned to the easy chair near the rear
window and sat down again, picking up the paper just as she burst
into the room.

"Forgot my glasses." She came over to the
table by the window that overlooked the back garden and picked up
the reading glasses she had left next to her coffee cup. She
stuffed them into her purse, kissed him quickly on the cheek and
headed back out of the room. She hesitated at the door, looking at
him uncertainly.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" she
asked.

"What I want isn't at the store," he said,
waggling his eyebrows in his best Groucho Marx impression.

She grinned. "If I didn't have that
appointment…." Her voice died away and her expression suggested she
was again thinking of canceling it.

He smiled and waved a hand at her. "Go. Go.
You'll have fun and I'll still be here when you get back."

She crossed the room quickly and kissed him
passionately. "I do love you, you know."

"I know. Love you, too," he said and patted
her behind.

She pulled away reluctantly and then was
gone, the sound of heels clacking on marble diminishing as she
went.

Fowler crossed to the window that overlooked
the front of the house and looked down, waiting. He felt, rather
than heard a pause and then the front door closed. He stood to one
side, watching impassively as Diana came out of the house and got
into her car. He waited for the car to pull away, but it didn't
move. It would be just like her to change her plans and screw up
his afternoon, he thought.

He crossed his fingers behind his back as he
waiting, standing perfectly still as he looked down at the car. He
didn't want even the slightest movement to give him away and make
her change her mind. This was probably the only chance he was going
to get to search the house before they left.

"Come on, dammit," he muttered as the car sat
on the circular driveway like a blob of bright red blood. It seemed
like forever, but finally the car rolled down the driveway, turned
onto the street and vanished under the canopy of old oak trees.

Even so, he continued to wait. Patience was a
big part of his trade. In this particular instance, it was critical
if he wanted everything to go smoothly. One eye on the clock,
Fowler waited at the window until Diana had been gone for over ten
minutes. Finally, when he was certain she wouldn't be back, he went
back to her closet.

As he looked through the clothes, he checked
the tags. Lots of Liz Claiborne. Size six.

Perfect.

That out of the way, he went through the
dresser. No telling what she might be hiding in there.
Disappointingly, there was nothing he could really use, but he knew
that when people had something they didn't want anyone else to see
or know about, they often tucked that certain something in the
dresser. As if the sight of underwear would keep anyone from
looking any further. It was the first place a burglar would look
and was first on the list of anyone looking for goodies of any
kind. And while Fowler prided himself on not being a burglar, he
was determined to ferret out everything there was to know about
Diana. Especially the things she either wasn't likely to tell him
or the things she didn't want him to know.

In this case, though, there was little to
find. He grimaced as he finished. Usually women had all kinds of
little secrets tucked away, but not Diana. It wasn’t a big deal as
far as the end result went, but he liked the knowing that came with
the finding. He liked knowing that she kept a certain something in
the bottom drawer. Or that she kept an extremely graphic diary
hidden under the fat jeans. Or maybe even that she hid racy
lingerie underneath the sensible white cotton panties.

It was such a rush talking to someone who had
no idea that he knew all their tasty little secrets. He loved
knowing who they really were when they were at home and thought
they were alone. And
that
gave him a handle on how to get
what he wanted. Especially since most people projected an image
that was nothing like the real person underneath. He had good
instincts, but when he knew what someone was hiding, it was as if
he now had a corkscrew to open the wine instead of a can
opener.

Fowler heard a thump and hurried back to the
window, half afraid Diana had decided to skip her appointment after
all. But when he looked down at the drive, there was no sign of her
red convertible and he allowed himself to breathe again. Even so,
he waited for a long couple of minutes just to be safe. When the
driveway remained clear, he went downstairs to Diana's office.

He had persuaded her to give her assistant a
couple of days off. Diana thought it was so they would have time
alone together. It hadn't been a hard sell. She was eager to
believe that sort of thing. That had been
her
payoff.
His
was that now he had the place all to himself.

The earlier search in the bedroom had given
him the necessary details and the hope for a few tasty little
secrets. The search of the office, though, was critical to making
everything work.

Fowler sat down and surveyed the desk. The
only items in plain view were the usual office accessories, so he
started with the drawers. After the desk came the files and little
by little the room gave up its secrets. The bank accounts,
important names, important numbers. The information that was going
to make his new life possible. The information he needed to
successfully pull off the con after the honeymoon.

Finally only the computer remained.

He checked the time and scowled. The search
had taken longer than he had planned and he realized Diana could
return at any moment now. The last thing he needed was for her to
find him going through her things before the ink was dry on their
marriage license.

On the other hand, he had what he needed to
make his plan work. If he had the chance to tackle the computer
before they left for the North Shore, he'd do it then. Otherwise,
he'd have to deal with it when he got back.

Fowler looked over the office, making sure he
had left everything as it was and then backed out, closing the door
softly. When he got to the living room, he peered out the window,
half expecting to see Diana's car pulling in. But the drive was
still clear and he mentally thanked the gods for small favors.

He went through the living room quickly and
then the rest of the house in case there was anything interesting
or useful. Especially since she hadn't hidden anything in the usual
places. He especially wanted to make sure he didn't have an
unwelcome surprise later on simply because he had gotten lazy and
overlooked something sitting in plain sight.

Fae pulled into the parking lot of the
Bide-A-Wee Motel and turned off the engine. The immediate silence
felt like heaven. Traffic on Highway 61 had been heavier than she
had expected. Worse, for some reason most of it had been big
18-wheelers blatting like a giant's raspberries as they rounded the
tight turns and blazed down the few straight-aways. That, plus the
constant drone that went along with driving had created a
background of non-stop noise that was turning into a dull headache.
The absence now was a huge relief.