Murders of a Feather, page 3
Once we approached the tree line, I used the imprints in the snow as a map. We went as far as we could before I turned around, parking with the hood facing the road below. Once the police arrived, space for parking would get crowded. I could hear Mari snapping pictures all the way up the hill.
“Okay,” I told the guy, who’d said his name was Bruce, taking a moment to secure my muffler around my neck. “Show us where you found the body.”
We jumped down into the two-foot-high snow. I made sure to lock the truck behind us. You never knew if someone might be after the veterinary tranquilizers and other drugs we carried, and I wasn’t about to find out. While Bruce scrambled out the passenger side door, I slipped the pepper spray my Gramps insisted I carry out of my backpack and placed it in my coat pocket. An icy gust of wind forced me to jam my knitted hat over my forehead. Something about Bruce felt off.
“It’s over there,” he said, pointing to an obvious trail that led into the woods. Mari went ahead with Bruce in the middle, while I lingered at the back of the line. An imprint in the snow led past a dirty splatter, witness that someone had lost the contents of their stomach.
“This yours?” I yelled to Bruce.
He turned his face to me and nodded.
After taking more photos for the police, I trudged along behind him until we reached a plateau and the trail entrance.
“Hey, I don’t want to see that again,” he said, stopping dead under a blackened pine. The heavy canopy of trees here meant the ground leading into the woods had only a sprinkling of snow over a thick mat of leaves and pine needles.
“Okay. You can wait for the police. Did you check for any signs of life?” I asked.
“Hell, no,” he said. “The guy looked frozen solid.”
Before I could ask any more questions, I heard Mari call, “Dr. Kate. Over here.”
Bruce’s face turned a gray patchy color, which I hoped didn’t mean a repeat vomit performance.
“Alright. Stay here,” I told him. “When the police arrive, explain that we went down the trail to the body. Even with a low charge, your phone should be able to call 911 if you need to.”
“Okay.” He’d pulled out his cell and lifted his gloved hand up searching for a signal. His curses at his cell phone carrier and the general world faded behind me as I headed into the woods.
Riddled with hidden tree roots, the path required concentration. Walking became slow and deliberate. Parts of this makeshift trail felt more like moving through a twisted tunnel than a pleasant stroll in the woods. Why would anyone voluntarily be traveling on this in winter?
I caught a glimpse of the bright blue of Mari’s coat in the distance. She seemed to be bending over something. Mari had EMT training and knew from experience not to contaminate a crime scene—if this was a crime scene. I stopped to catch my breath. More likely the person succumbed to a heart attack or stroke. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had underestimated the stress to the body of trudging through the snow.
Eventually the rough pathway opened, and I saw Mari in a small clearing. Here the snow looked undisturbed. I quickly noticed only one set of tracks other than Mari’s. Those must have been left by Bruce. To document what I saw, I took more photos.
“Hey,” I said, not going any closer. A person in bright ski clothes lay facedown in the snow. There were no indications that they tried to get up or move once they fell.
“He’s gone,” Mari said. “The body is stiff from cold or rigor mortis. No pulse. A case for the coroner now.” It was impossible to tell who the victim was, but I guessed from the colors and cut of the outdoor wear that the body was male.
She carefully walked back in her boot tracks. We both turned our heads as sirens sounded in the far distance.
“In the summertime, this is a popular area to picnic and hang out,” Mari said. She gestured off to the left. “There’s a small lake just behind that cluster of trees whose water stays pretty cool, even in August. We locals have been known to go skinny-dipping there.”
Following her gaze, I saw only more snow. Sunlight broke through the clouds, glaring off the relentless white landscape. Then, a sharp jolt of electric pink caught my eye. “Mari, there’s something on the ground, just past the broken limb way over there.”
“I see it,” she said and began making her way through the virgin snow.
“Wait,” I called to her, trying to catch up. Mari wore high, heavy boots. My shorter rubber boots couldn’t compete. I trudged behind her, trying to walk in her tracks as snow slipped over the tops of my boots then melted from body heat. Icy droplets trickled down my legs and into my socks.
She strode way ahead of me. Mari had a lifetime of winter experiences on her side. Suddenly she disappeared into another pine grove, only visible as brief flashes of bright color among the dark branches.
Trying to keep out of the deep snow, I detoured through piles of debris and rotting leaves collecting under a large stand of pines. Caught under a dead tree limb lay a half-buried neon-pink hair scrunchie. After documenting it with another photo, I left it for the forensic team.
I’d reached Mari when I heard her cry out, “Oh, no!”
We met at the edge of a frozen pond. Spiky remnants of reeds stood stiff and brown, icy droplets glistening up and down the brown leaves like tiny silver beads. The wind had swept most of the lake’s smooth surface clear of snow.
Mari pointed to the frozen water below.
Under the ice, a lovely face peered up at us, blank eyes clouded by the cold. Pale blond hair had floated around her head in long strands before freezing in place. Both hands were splayed out flat against the hard ice, as though trying to escape. Her blue lips were parted. Bubbles, captured under the icy surface, held her last breath or cry for help.
When I glanced at Mari, I saw hot tears winding a pathway down her cheeks.
When the Oak Falls Police Department arrived, they found Bruce and us waiting together next to the tree line. This would be a recovery operation, not a rescue. I replayed in my mind Mari’s and my movements, so we could account for our footsteps in the snow. Did the woman fall into the pond first, leaving her companion to panic and perish in the snow?
My assistant leaned against a tree trunk, uncharacteristically silent.
We watched as emergency vehicles and several police cars left the main road and detoured one by one to avoid Bruce’s SUV and our truck tire tracks in the snow. One officer remained parked at the bottom of the hill to discourage onlookers. Another officer set up caution light markers and detour signs. The EMT crew parked close to our truck, making an informal line, their brightly colored lights reflected in the snow.
Things escalated rapidly after Chief of Police Bobby Garcia came on the scene. Another detective interrogated Bruce separately, while the chief spoke briefly to us. He persuaded the argumentative Bruce to hand over the keys to his stranded SUV, which would be towed to the police station. From experience, I figured at the police station this Good Samaritan would endure another lengthy conversation with more detectives.
Someone walked past carrying a chain saw. Mari turned her head away.
EMTs trudged behind with stretchers. Each of the locals nodded at Mari. A medical examiner carrying a black bag, his title boldly printed on his work vest, walked by, cell phone to his ear. Just another body for him in a workday filled with bodies.
When Chief Garcia returned he said, “We’ve verified your house call at Maple Hill Farm and the time you left. Mari, when you made your 911 call, were you still on the main road?” His voice sounded gentler than usual.
“Yes,” she answered. “I even took a picture of Bruce standing on the shoulder of the road hailing us down. After he got into the truck, I documented our trip up the hill past his SUV.”
It came as no surprise to me that Mari and I both recorded everything with our phone cameras. We often did the same thing at work. The time stamp and date proved handy while working a case.
She scrolled through her photos and videos and handed the chief her phone. The shadowy patches under Bobby’s eyes made him look tired and older than he was. Anyone who underestimated him, however, made a big mistake.
“It’s clear from this snapshot that when you arrived only one pair of tire tracks was visible.”
Thinking back, I agreed with him. “The ground underneath our tires felt pretty compacted, as if other people had driven up the hill before the last snowstorm.”
He made an indeterminate sound then asked, “Mari, you left Bruce standing at the tree line, then continued up the path. Dr. Kate followed. Correct?”
“Correct,” she said. “There were obvious footprints leading up to the first body, most likely from Bruce, but none going toward the lake.”
Replaying that short walk in the woods, I realized I wasn’t sure if the body lying on the ground in the red jacket was a man or a woman.
“And what made you continue to Lover’s Lake? There was no indication anyone else was still here.” He pulled a small notebook from his jacket pocket.
Mari stayed silent.
“I saw something pink in the distance,” I explained, “and pointed it out to Mari. It turned out to be a hair scrunchie. Someone either lost it or tossed it into that grove of trees.”
The chief jotted something down in his notebook. Did that hair tie belong to the victim? The memory of long, flowing hair frozen in the ice made me wonder.
“I didn’t see it until Dr. Kate pointed it out to me,” Mari added. “That made me wonder if there might be another victim out there. The lake…”
Her voice faded.
“Did anyone take pictures?” The chief asked.
I opened my phone to recent photos. “I’ve got a photo of the scrunchie.”
Mari looked at the police chief. For the first time I heard a note of stress in her voice. “I took one from the oak trees pointing out to the lake. Bobby, there were no prints on the ground, no animal tracks, no anything.”
He shifted his weight before he asked, “What made you look in the lake?”
“You know why. It’s a lake. Accidents happen all the time.”
I’d rarely seen my assistant this agitated, but the chief simply nodded and said, “Okay. You two can leave, but expect a call in the next few days. Someone from my office will need official copies of those photos from both of you.”
As I turned to go, I noticed Mari tug on the chief’s sleeve and say quietly, “Thanks, Bobby. This brought back bad memories.”
Their eyes locked briefly, and the chief muttered, “Yeah. Bad memories for both of us.”
With her head down, Mari traced her own footsteps walking in the direction of our truck, quickly passing me without a word. In silence we stood on either side of the hospital truck, surrounded by movement and flashing lights. I unlocked the doors using the remote and Mari climbed inside.
When I glanced over my shoulder, Chief Garcia stared back at me, a frown on his face.
Chapter Four
We sat together in the front seat of the truck, but for all intents and purposes, Mari wasn’t there. After receiving only one-word answers to my questions, I decided to concentrate on the road. These were the last days Cindy was working before her vacation began, and despite this excitement, I was sure she had plenty to go over with us.
As soon as I turned into the Oak Falls Animal Hospital parking lot, Cindy opened the front door. She gestured for me to stop, something quite unusual since I normally parked at the back entrance of the hospital. To my surprise, Mari jumped out of the passenger side seat, slammed the door, and ran over to Cindy—who gave her a big hug and ushered her inside.
Something was up.
Assuming I was on my own for now, I parked the truck and hauled our equipment in through the back door. A trio of crows, perched near the hospital dumpster, cawed away at me. They must have figured they’d found a good place to forage while waiting for spring. Once inside the hospital, I assumed someone would tell me what was going on. After stowing all our gear, I made my way toward the employee lounge.
“We’re in here,” Cindy’s voice called out from behind the door.
As soon as I entered, she said, “I made you some hot chocolate. Come, join us.”
Mari sat at the far end of the employee lunch table, an identical hot chocolate in front of her. “Hey,” she said.
“I rescheduled that last appointment, so you’re both finished for today.” Cindy indicated that I should sit opposite Mari. On the table lay a file folder full of papers. I knew that on Sunday she and her husband and their kids were driving down to Newark Airport for their early morning flight to Miami. She’d made these reservations over six months ago.
“We can finish closing up if you have to leave,” I told her. Cindy liked to do things her way, acknowledging she was a bit of a control freak. Personally, I enjoyed her organizational skills. It made work so much easier to have someone else obsessing over every detail.
“Kate,” Mari said, barely looking at me, “I need to explain something.”
Midsip, I braced for hearing something I maybe didn’t want to know.
Cindy walked over and put a protective arm around my assistant’s shoulder. “Do you want me to tell her?” Our receptionist’s face read concern.
“No, I can do this.” Mari turned to face me, Cindy close by, supporting her by her very presence.
I hadn’t a clue what was going on.
“When I was ten years old,” Mari began, “my older sister and I snuck out to a lake near our house to go ice skating. We’d received new skates for Christmas. It was a perfect winter day, bright and sunny for a change. We left our stuff onshore and started skating toward the middle of the lake. That’s when it happened. The ice cracked and my sister fell in. I tried to grab her hand and pull her out, but I wasn’t strong enough. As she went under she pulled me in too.”
Mari’s voice shook as she explained what happened next. Their screams were heard by a man onshore walking his dog. A local, he rushed out to help. By carefully sprawling across the ice, he pulled Mari out.
“It was so cold,” she said. “Colder than anything you can imagine. Colder than the moon. He kept yelling for help, but no one came.”
“The stranger was Bobby Garcia,” Cindy added.
Surprised, I looked up at Cindy, a question in my eyes. Things began to fall into place. Mari and now Chief of Police Bobby Garcia. Mari and Bobby.
“Bobby called 911, gave Mari his coat, then went back to help Mari’s sister, Marjorie. The ice continued to splinter underneath his weight. He took his belt off and tossed it to Marjorie, but it kept skittering away from her sliding across the ice.”
Cindy paused, allowing Mari to finish the story.
“He threw it again and again, but my sister couldn’t hold on. I can still see her fingertips, trying to grasp on to the jagged edge of the ice. By the time the police and EMTs arrived. Marjorie had slipped under.”
My friend looked terribly sad. Today she relived a horrific trauma.
“The emergency crew brought me a blanket and a hot drink. I refused to leave my sister,” Mari said. “I watched when they finally pulled her out of the water. They tried CPR but it was too late.”
Mari stared straight ahead.
“Seeing that poor woman today brought all of it back to me.”
“Take a sip of hot chocolate,” Cindy advised her. “It happened a long time ago.”
There was nothing left to say. Cindy and Mari sat huddled together while my hot chocolate turned cold.
Chapter Five
While we talked about hospital schedules, Cindy’s temporary replacement, and the Florida tan we insisted Cindy come back with, Mari had slowly returned to her normal self, even laughing before walking out the front door with our receptionist. After they left, I locked up the hospital, checking all the windows before turning on the alarm system.
Getting to my apartment from the animal hospital was easy. I lived in the converted garage attached to the building. All I had to do was walk through the connecting door by the laundry room. It wasn’t much. One large room with a bathroom and kitchen, but my place came free with the job.
Necessity had landed me in the Hudson Valley from New York City. When I answered Doc Anderson’s ad for a relief vet, it was the prospect of free housing that interested me the most. Paying down my student loans faster would give me more freedom. After this, I wouldn’t have to take just any job offered to me.
The position here in Oak Falls was quite different from the ones my vet school classmates had. Doc Anderson, who’d been practicing for over forty years, had decided at the last moment to join his sister, a breast cancer survivor, on a world cruise. They’d be gone a year, and I’d be running the medical side of the practice. He ran an old-fashioned one-person show, combining office visits and house calls, something I’d rarely experienced. I enjoyed it and counted my coworkers, Cindy and Mari, as friends.
Which is why today had such an effect on me. How well do you really know the people around you? How can you know the sorrow hidden under a carefree surface?
That night, I tossed and twisted under the covers, half in and half out of a horrible dream. I stood at the lake’s edge looking down. Trapped under the ice was a person whose blond hair cascaded around her shoulders. She was alive! Slim hands beat against the ice. I tried to help, picking up a heavy stick and beating the ice as hard as I could. A thin layer of snowflakes hid her face from view.
On my hands and knees, I wiped the light dusting of snow away, then woke up, heart pounding. The person under the ice trying to escape was me.
The next morning, I dragged myself into the animal hospital, groggy from lack of sleep. Mari was already there, sitting in the employee lounge. She appeared happy and upbeat and definitely more awake than I was.
“Sorry about yesterday,” she said. “I’m not sure why it affected me so strongly.”
“Completely understandable,” I said as I spilled coffee and bent down to mop it up with a paper towel.
