Wicked Eddies (12 page)

Mandy took a deep breath and plunged in. “There was evidence of rape. We won't know until Monday or Tuesday whether the semen they found inside her matches Howie Abbott's DNA.”

Cynthia pounded her fist into her thigh. “Damn him, damn that man! He deserved to die.”

_____

While Mandy ladled brownie batter into a pan Sunday evening for Rob's dinner, she felt deep sadness as the conversation with Cynthia ran over and over in her mind. She'd never seen her best friend so miserable and upset. Mandy had no idea how to help Cynthia recover from her present—and past—traumas and grief. She'd always thought of Cynthia as a happy-go-lucky gal, with her blonde jokes and willingness to listen to other people's problems at the bar. But now she couldn't help but think of her friend as a wounded victim. Maybe that's what made Cynthia so understanding of other people's woes.

Mandy pushed the pan into the oven and leaned back against the sink to lick the spoon while she pondered what to do. Lucky sat directly in front of her, his tail whapping against the floor, and stared at the spoon. Finally, Mandy scraped a bit of batter out of the bowl and held out the spoon to him. He started licking madly.

“It's easy to make you happy, isn't it Lucky?” She sighed. “If only people were so easy.”

After knocking at the door, Rob opened it and stuck his head in. “How's my favorite river ranger?”

Lucky beat Mandy to the living room, but she got Rob's arms and mouth while the dog had to be content with rubbing against Rob's legs. After a thorough smooch, Mandy leaned against Rob's chest, reveling in the warmth and comfort of his strong arms around her.

Rob rested his head on top of hers. “Rough day? I didn't see you in Brown's Canyon this afternoon.”

Mandy lifted her head to look into his worried eyes. “I patrolled Bighorn Sheep Canyon and Royal Gorge today. It was the usual stuff. Pulled some private rafters out of the water who were in over their head in more ways than one. Dealt with one mild hypothermia case. Even had the pleasure of unplugging a stopped-up toilet in the ladies' room at Parkdale.”

She pulled back and took Rob's hand to lead him into the kitchen. “It wasn't my day that was rough. It was my night, early morning actually. I didn't get much sleep after Cynthia came by after the bar closed. I'll tell you all about it while I finish cooking. You can set the table.”

While she fried the bison burgers, tossing in sliced mushrooms at the end to sauté them in the meat drippings, Rob set the table. He took the tossed salad and Italian dressing out of the refrigerator, along with bottles of beer for the two of them. And he listened quietly while Mandy first swore him to secrecy, then told him about her conversation with Cynthia.

He sat heavily while she carried the plates holding the burgers on toasted onion rolls to the table. “Damn. I never dreamed Cynthia was carrying around such a terrible secret.”

“No one did.”

“You'd think I would have picked up on it, though, given my sister's experience and what I went through with her.”

Mandy stopped pouring steak sauce on her burger. “Your sister? Which one?”

“Nina, the youngest.” Rob took a big bite of his burger. While he chewed, a smile spread across his face. “This is delicious.”

“What happened with Nina?”

“You know she's divorced, right?” Rob gulped his beer.

“Yes. The marriage must not have lasted long, given that she's only twenty-three now. Your mother couldn't have been happy about it.”

Rob frowned. “Mama doesn't approve of divorce, but this time she agreed that Nina should never have married that bum and she's much better off without him. He was abusing her.”

“You're kidding.”

“I should have seen the signs. They started coming less often to the Monday dinners at Mama's house. Nina kept thinking up one excuse after another. And when they did come, he spent most of his time drinking outside on the porch while she helped in the kitchen. She was quieter, too, didn't speak or laugh as much at the meals, and kept glancing at her husband when we sat down to eat. I thought it was because she was so in love with him. But she was trying to gauge his mood because she was so scared of his temper.”

Mandy took a forkful of her salad. “How did you find out about the abuse?”

“Nina came to Mama one day, crying and hurting. He'd finally hit her where it showed, and she had a black eye and bruises on her arms. She told Mama that not only was he beating her, he was forcing himself on her. Mama called me, afraid that once Papa found out, he'd do something stupid and get himself hurt. I called Tomas and we confronted the bastard instead.”

“Good for you guys! But Tomas. He's only twenty now. How old was he then?”

“Eighteen, and itching to avenge his sister.” Rob stood to get another beer out of the refrigerator. “Frankly, so was I. We went over to their apartment, found the scumbag sitting on the sofa and watching TV like nothing had happened. We kicked him out. Literally. Threw in some good punches, too. We dumped his stuff on the sidewalk and told him that if he came anywhere Nina again, he was a dead man.”

Looking at Rob's grim face, she was sure he meant to carry out the threat, if need be. “What happened next?”

“The coward slunk off with his tail between his legs. Nina moved back in with Mama and Papa and filed for divorce. Took her awhile to recover, but she's working now, has her own apartment that she shares with a girlfriend. She's even starting to date again.”

Rob folded his arms and a pensive look overtook his face. “Looking back on it, I realized I should have known something was wrong when Nina stopped smiling. She has a beautiful smile, really lights up her face. But Cynthia still laughs, and cracks all those blonde jokes.”

“Cynthia's abuse happened a long time ago. She's had more time to deal with it.” A realization suddenly hit Mandy. “But she's not joking anymore. Not since she heard about Faith's death.”

“You know, my sister's ex was scum, but Howie Abbott was worse, much worse. How could the family let him prey on his nieces like that?”

“I don't think they knew. There's no evidence that Faith told anyone, and Cynthia didn't either. That's what she's beating herself up about. She said that maybe if she'd told them, Howie wouldn't have gotten to Faith.”

Rob finished his last bite of burger and picked up the salad bowl. While he scooped salad onto his plate, he said, “Someone got to Howie, though.”

“Yeah.” Mandy suddenly wasn't hungry anymore and pushed her plate away. “And I'm afraid someone in the family did it.”

“If I was Lee or Craig and found out that Howie had raped my daughter or sister, I would have lit into him, just like I did with Nina's husband. A man takes care of his family.”

Here was Rob's
machismo
speaking again, his belief that the man should be in charge that Mandy wasn't sure she agreed with. “But murder, Rob? With an ax? Could you really have done that?”

He silently drank his beer and lifted his hand, palm-up, as if considering wielding an ax with it. Then he sniffed the air. “When are those brownies going to be done? The smell is driving me nuts.”

Mandy leapt up from the table. “Oh, damn. I never set the timer.” She grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the pan out of the oven. The outside edges of the brownies had turned into a blackened crust. She tossed the pan on the stovetop. “They're ruined.”

Rob stood and looked over her shoulder. “The middle still looks edible.” He turned her in his arms and kissed her on the nose. “Thanks for making them for me. And for the delicious dinner, especially after staying up most of the night with Cynthia.”

Exhaustion and worry finally caught up with Mandy, and she sagged against him. “I'm bushed.”

“You go relax on the sofa. I'll clean up and bring in the brownies, the ones we can eat.” Rob grinned. “They say chocolate is an aphrodisiac.”

Mandy stumbled into the living room, with Lucky following behind. The idea of making love after their talk about abuse and rape felt weird, gave her the willies. She lay down and put her feet up. How was she going to break it to Rob that no matter how big a brownie he cut for her, she wasn't in the mood? Not in the least.

Ten

I never drink water because of the disgusting
things that fish do in it.

—W. C. FIELDS

Trapped in her cubicle
doing paperwork in the AHRA Headquarters building on Monday, Mandy kept getting up to refill her coffee cup. Then she'd go to the restroom and flush out the coffee. Each time, she would pass by the window so she could at least get a glimpse of the lovely late summer day outside. Maybe this was how zoo animals felt while pacing circles in their cages.

She envied the three river rangers who shared her office space and who weren't there. One had the day off, and the other two had gone out on patrol. It was a busy day on the upper Arkansas River for a Monday, because the fishing tournament controllers were out being trained and the organizing committee was staking river sections.

Thankfully Rob had understood how tired she was the night before, though he wasn't happy about it, and let her sleep long and deeply. She had made it up to him in the morning, so he left with a smile on his face. She smiled herself while she resumed work on an incident report. How would she describe the incident in her shower that morning? A swift water floundering, with two bodies rescued?

Oh, yeah.

Her pleasant reverie was interrupted by her phone ringing. It was Detective Quintana.

“I called for two reasons,” he said. “First, I followed up on your Jesse Lopez lead. Questioned him yesterday. Yes, he was a long-term rival of Howie Abbott's, and yes, he was pretty upset about Howie cheating. But, he's got an alibi for Sunday a week ago. He was working at his gas station, same as he was yesterday. He manages the station on Sundays so most of his workers can have the day off; says he's not a church-goer himself.”

“Can any witnesses back him up?”

“I've got a list of names from him, either folks who stopped by that he remembered or who paid with a credit card. We'll follow-up, but if any of them remember they were at the station when he says they were and remember seeing him there, his alibi is solid.”

While Quintana was talking, Steve poked his head into Mandy's office, but she pointed at the phone, then mouthed to him, “Quintana.” He nodded, pointed to his office, and left.

To Quintana, she said, “So Newt Nowak, Ira Porter, and Jesse Lopez have all come up with good stories for where they were on Sunday afternoon.”

“Yep, anywhere but at Vallie Bridge. I'm hoping we find a hole in one of their stories.”

“What about the family who had a reservation at another site?” Mandy asked. “Did your patrol officer get hold of them and did they have anything helpful to say?”

“They saw Howie and Ira on Saturday evening but just said hi in passing, like Ira said. They packed up and left Sunday morning about nine-thirty and said Howie was the only one they saw that morning.”

“That backs up Ira's story that he left at eight.”

“Or he could have just been somewhere else, fishing or taking a walk—or a piss.”

True,
Mandy thought. “What was Howie doing?”

“He had gotten up and was eating breakfast when they left, but they said he seemed to be in a foul mood, frowning and not saying much. They waved and said goodbye but he just gave a nod, and that was it.”

“So they may very well have been the last ones to see him alive. Besides the killer.”

“Unless Ira came back later. Or someone else.” Quintana exhaled. “The pressure's on, with Faith Ellis's death hitting the news wires, too.”

“Are the local press hounding you?”

“Them, the state press, and the Sheriff himself. I need a lead soon, on at least one of these two deaths. Though Faith's could very well have just been a sad case of accidental drowning or suicide. She certainly had good reason to be depressed.”

Uh oh. That doesn't sound good.
Mandy's stomach turned, and suddenly all of that coffee she drank during the day didn't seem like a good idea. “Does that reason have something to do with the second reason you called me?”

“Yep. I just got back from the Ellis home. We got the DNA results, and the semen in Faith Ellis's vagina came from Howie Abbott. I had to tell her family that her uncle had sex with her shortly before she died and we're pretty sure it was forced.” He paused. “It was not a pleasant scene.”

“I'm sure it wasn't.” Mandy tried to imagine the horror and anger that Lee, Brenda, and Craig must have felt. To have confirmed the palpable fears she had felt when she visited them.

“The worst part was when I asked them all to come to the office to be fingerprinted.”

Mandy remembered Rob's comment the night before about what he would have done if he had been in Lee's or Craig's shoes. “So you think one of them already knew about the rape and killed Howie on Sunday.”

“That's why I watched their reactions carefully when I gave them Faith's autopsy and lab results. If any of them did know, they masked it well.” He paused again, cleared his throat. “Speaking of family reactions, did you speak to Cynthia over the weekend?”

Mandy's stomach lurched again. “Yes.”

“Well?”

“Remember I said I wasn't comfortable snitching on my friend?”

“And remember that I said the only people you'd be snitching on are both already dead.”

“That's no longer true.” Mandy shifted in her seat. “Cynthia told me something about Howie that I'm not sure I should share.”

“Given what he did to Faith, I can already guess what she told
you. I'm going to question her eventually, along with all of the
members of the Ellis and Abbott families and their friends. I'll be fingerprinting her, too—already asked her to stop by the office. And,” he added in a sterner voice, “if you know something relevant to these cases and you hold that information back, you could be obstructing justice.”

“Shit.” Mandy knew what that meant. She looked around. Her office mates were gone, but Steve or any of the other office staff could walk by or stop in at any moment. She got up and shut the door. “Okay, but if someone comes into my office, I'll have to finish later. I'm sure Cynthia doesn't want this news getting out.”

“I'll keep what you have to say to myself,” Quintana said solemnly.

Mandy took a deep breath then told him about Howie's sexual abuse of Cynthia and her fears that Faith had become his next victim.

After asking a few questions about the duration and frequency of Howie's abuse of Cynthia, which Mandy couldn't answer, Quintana asked, “How did Cynthia seem to you? Was she sad or angry about her uncle raping Faith?”

“Both. But probably more angry.” Mandy hesitated, hating to incriminate her friend further, but Quintana had to know Cynthia's reaction. “Even though I told her we didn't know whose semen was inside Faith, Cynthia said, ‘Damn him, damn that man! He deserved to die.'”

Mandy cringed as she had when she'd first heard the declaration. “But there's no way Cynthia would kill anyone. I know her. She'd never do that.”

“Did you know she'd been abused by Howie before she told you Saturday night?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you don't know Cynthia Abbott as well as you think you do.”

_____

Mandy was pacing the small river ranger cubicle space, debating whether or not to call Cynthia and what to say to her, when her phone rang again. She picked it up and said, “Hi again,” thinking it was Detective Quintana calling back.

It wasn't. A woman's voice asked, “Is this Mandy Tanner?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Hi, Mandy. This is Bridget Murphy calling.”

The real estate agent was the last person Mandy wanted to talk to just then. “Oh hi, sorry, I thought you were someone else at first. What are you calling about?”

“Is this a bad time for you?” The woman sounded a little put off.

Mandy rubbed her forehead, where a doozy of a headache was building up. “I'm sorry. I'm not having a very good day.”

“Well, then, I'll make it better for you! I have great news. We have an offer on your uncle's house.”

Mandy sank into her chair. Her head began to throb. “Already? Didn't you just list it today?”

“Yes, and I invited a dozen real estate agents over for coffee and cookies and a tour this morning. One said she thought the house was a perfect fit for some clients of hers. They have a small gardening supply business and could use the equipment shed in the back
for that. They're renting a storage space now. She showed her
clients your uncle's home a couple of hours ago and they love it. Isn't that wonderful?”

“Sure, yeah.”
Hell, no. How can I delay this?

“There's only one minor issue to resolve. Because of the down economy, the couple is offering twenty-five thousand less than the asking price. Are you okay with that?”

Mandy sat up straighter. She had an idea. “Did the appraiser finish today, too?”

“Oh, yes, let me find the report.” The sound of papers shuffling on a desk came over the phone. “Here it is. The appraisal came in at ten thousand less than your asking price, so this bid is only fifteen thousand less than that. You can feel real good accepting it, especially given this soft market.”

This woman is just too eager.
“Maybe. But I want to counter with the appraisal price. Let's see what the bidders do with that.”

“Oh, well, if that's what you really want.” Disappointment was evident in Bridget's diminished tone. “I'll contact the buyer agent and make the counter-offer. Are you sure you don't want to just accept, or maybe come down a bit on the counter, to halfway at least?”

“I'm sure.” Then to appease Bridget, Mandy added, “Thanks for everything you've done. You've made this whole selling process very easy for me.”
Too easy.
“Let me know what you hear from the buyers.”

Mandy hung up the phone then sent a silent plea to the river gods that maybe the buyers would just walk away or find another property. She dug in her desk drawer for the aspirin bottle and swallowed two with the rest of her mug of coffee. She grimaced. The coffee had gone cold while she was on the phone.

After debating whether or not to refill her mug and deciding no way, that she was already stressed out enough, Mandy checked the clock and saw it was after five. She went to Steve's office, but he had already left for the day. Wondering what he had wanted, she spent a few minutes finishing her last incident report and tidying her desk. She decided to stop by Cynthia's place on her way home, see what her friend's reaction was to Detective Quintana's request to come in for fingerprinting.

_____

When Mandy drove into Cynthia's driveway, she saw a man's mountain bike leaning against the wooden stairs leading up to the deck. A large riding helmet dangled from the handlebars, and the metal gleamed in the low rays of the sun dipping toward the horizon.
I should have called first.
Thinking Cynthia was entertaining a male visitor, Mandy considered turning around and going home.

But then Cynthia's door creaked open and her head poked out. “I heard your car drive up.” She waved Mandy up the stairs. “C'mon up. Craig is here.”

While Mandy ascended the stairs, she asked, “I'm not intruding?”

“ 'Course not!” When Mandy reached her, Cynthia whispered in her ear, “I'm glad you're here. He's in a foul mood. And he's drinking too much. Help me get him to stop.”

Mandy walked into Cynthia's living room. Craig lay sprawled on her sofa, drinking from a can of beer. Three crumpled empties sat on the floor nearby.

Mandy raised an eyebrow at Cynthia then turned to Craig. “Hi, Craig, what's up?”

He sat up and rotated, taking his long legs off the sofa, and waved for Mandy to sit in the space he'd freed up. He tugged at his black stretch bike shorts, which didn't leave much to the imagination.

“I've just been fingerprinted is what's up. So were Mom and Dad.” He showed her his fingers, which still had black ink around the nails. He rubbed the stains, as if trying to scrub them off. “After we got back from the county building, I had to get out of the house. Forgot my water bottle, so I stopped by here. Figured Cynthia would have some liquid refreshment.” He gave her a wink and took another gulp of beer.

“Do you want something to drink, Mandy?” Cynthia turned to her kitchen.

“No thanks. Don't worry about me. Please sit.” Mandy sure didn't want to encourage Craig to have any more beer by joining in with him. She waved Cynthia back toward her side chair, where Mittens waited expectantly for her mistress's lap.

When Mandy sank down on the sofa beside Craig, he added with a sneer, “So now the crack detectives at the Chaffee County Sheriff's Office think the whole Ellis clan are murderers, fingerprinting every God damn one of us. Hell, we're related to Uncle Howie, the sleazy rapist and committer of incest. We must have the stain of criminal behavior in our blood.” He gulped the last of his beer and crumpled the can, letting it drop from his fingers onto the floor next to its brothers.

He turned to Cynthia. “Got another one?”

“How about a glass of water first, Craig?” Mandy said with a nod to Cynthia. “You probably need to be rehydrated before you drink another beer.”

Cynthia dropped a miffed Mittens onto the floor and rushed into the kitchen to pour Craig a glass of water.

Craig didn't look too happy about the women's end run around his request.

“The sheriff's detectives are just doing their job, Craig,” Mandy said. “I'm sure they don't think there's some family defect or anything. I mean, with this evidence that Howie … forced himself on Faith, you all could have had a motive for killing him.”

Cynthia's hand shook as she put the glass of water on the end table next Craig.