Chapter 10
The Martin's Way River was about thirty-five miles long. It started about ten miles above the mill as a tributary of the Mississippi. As it flowed down toward the mill, it gathered strength and expanded to about twenty feet wide and approximately eight feet deep. There were places here and there along the river where water swirled, and the undercurrents were powerful. It was in one of these places that the Rev. John Buford Harper had gone missing, presumed drowned while fishing. His boat was found, full of bass and crappie and various tackle, but JB and his fishing pole were never located.
The children of Harper's Landing were forbidden to swim in the Martins Way, and after Gary Miller’s younger brother Sam drowned while on a family picnic they needed no further warning to stay away.
The river had several twists and turns, and at many of these turns pools had formed and been dug out larger by the town’s residents to create attractive bank fishing spots. Big Bass Pool was the most popular because it was large, deep, and quiet. Those who used this pool regularly had created a packed dirt path down from the parking area just off the county road. Harry Randle sat in his F150 blocking access to the parking area, just as Jim had requested. He moved his truck but before the other vehicles pulled in, Helen Green had jumped out with camera in hand and started photographing all tire tracks going in and out of the area. She also took multiple pictures of Zak’s tire tracks. She continued to photograph both sides of the access road for several minutes and then waved them all in.
Zak showed them where the path led down to the pool. On the steeper parts, railings had been installed, and at the bottom near the pool someone had placed a couple of picnic tables and a fire pit. There was a fish cleaning station built close to the edge of the pool, with a small grassy area around it where fishermen threw entrails and heads for the scavenging birds and forest critters. It was there, in the gut bucket as the guys called it, that Zak made his grizzly find. Helen doubted that any useful fingerprints could be obtained from the railings, but she nevertheless attempted to lift some starting at the top on one side while Mike Moriarty worked the other.
"I was about to clean the bass I caught. They’re still in the bucket back there," he said pointing at his truck. "I saw the boot first and got curious. Then when I went over to look at it I saw the head."
"I’m sorry," he said, addressing Helen, "but I couldn’t help myself. I’m afraid my lunch is over there too."
"Why did you move them?" asked Whiteman.
Helen and Michael were already busy roping off the area and setting up the spotlights. They discovered the generator in Jim’s truck and started it up.
"I don’t know," said Zak. "I just didn’t want some animal coming along and chewing on it. I don’t have a cell when I come out here. I lost one worth near a grand once, and Mollie, my wife, makes me leave it at home now. Otherwise I would have called the sheriff to come out."
Helen was quite obviously pissed.
"Now we gotta deal with puke, with two and three-day old fish guts, and footprints. And hunt for the rest of that poor bastard. Is this place always so clean? There’s no trash, and I don’t see any kind of trash barrel or burn barrel."
"We like to keep things clean here," said Zak. "Most of us take our trash out with us. Sometimes we’ll find a beer can or two, but mostly it’s always this clean."
Meadows and Murdoch had their large flashlights out and were carefully examining the area between the gut bucket and the pool, looking for footprints. Whiteman was photographing everything, while Moriarty and Green began walking the grid, mapping everything. Green took multiple pictures with her cell and the digital camera, of everything from leaves to raccoon prints. At one point, Whiteman was bent down near the water, taking photo after photo of what he later called "strange footprints."
Jim and Arthur arrived in Arthur’s old Chevy and parked upon the road. They walked in and stood next to Zak, watching the others at work. Helen Green walked over.
"Is the bank like this all the way downstream? Come to think of it, just how far is downstream?"
Jim was unfamiliar with this part of the Martin's Way, but Zak appeared to know it well.
"I fish a lot," he said. "Gives me time to think. The bank gets steep in between the picnic and fishing spots. It’s not a ‘walk beside it’ kind of river. We’re getting close to the end of the Martin’s Way here. It’s only about two miles to the Mississippi."
Helen let out an oath.
"So if a body were to be carried on down river, are there places before it hits the big river where it might get washed ashore?" asked Green.
"No," said Zak. "From here on down there’s no bank access. The river gets narrow and really fast as it flows into the Mississippi. If there’s more of poor Rory, we probably aren’t going to find it here."
Jim had been wandering downstream a bit, avoiding the steeper parts, and continuing to look for footprints. As he probed some bushes close to the river’s edge he heard a duck quacking. Because he rarely came to the river, he couldn’t say that there were no ducks, but this one sounded strange even to his untutored ear. He listened for other ducks to respond, but there were no further quacks.
He returned to the crime scene to find everyone still busy photographing and documenting the entire area. He recommended taping off the head of the path at the park area, but Meadows wanted the entire parking area taped off and guarded.
"Can you keep your deputy down here overnight?"
"Yeah. Don’t know who will be unhappier, him or his new girl. But the promise of overtime pay should do it."
Harry agreed to stay, though Jim noted he didn’t promise to be alone or to stay awake. He figured if someone was here, with all the police tape and all, things would be okay. Folks in Harper's Landing tended not to be law breakers, even at their most curious. He would make sure, however, that no one in their present company mentioned Big Bass Pool where anyone else could hear it.
Jim walked over to Zak, who was sitting on the back end of the Explorer looking weary and shocked.
"Heard a duck quacking down there. I thought they swam in flocks."
"They do. And it’s the wrong time of year for ducks this far up on the river. They shouldn’t be up here until early to mid-summer. And generally they prefer places like Harve’s pond to the river. Current is too strong for them."
"Maybe it was a frog and I misheard," said Jim. "Could have sworn it was quacking and thought it was strange not only because it was just one but because I can’t ever remember hearing a duck after dark."
He shrugged and turned to helping the CSIs pack up the evidence they’d gathered so far.
"We’re going to need to send the divers," said Helen, "just to see if anything caught on any snags or other possible protrusions between here and the Mississippi. But it can wait until the morning. Do you agree, Blake?"
The big man nodded. The called the State Headquarters and requested two divers for the following day.
Harry Randle had taped off the parking lot for Big Bass Pool. Meadows and Murdoch both were stressing the importance of preventing anyone from entering the area. They also told Randle he needed to stay awake until someone arrived in the morning. He held up a 6-pack of Red Bull.
"Reckon I can make it," he chuckled.
"I’ll have someone bring you some food from Morey’s," said Jim. "And don’t you be going down there snooping at the river. One person missing is enough for me."
The two CSIs who had driven the crime lab truck up from St. Louis agreed to remain at the site and help secure the area for the night. They were used to sleeping in the van and had eaten dinner on the way up from St. Louis.
Meadows yawned hugely.
"Where can we stay for the night? I didn’t see anything that looked like a hotel."
"Arthur here, has a bed and breakfast," said Jim. "Used to be the town hotel. He bought it and called it the Hotel Rectory. There’s plenty of rooms for all of you if you want to stay in one place."
"I think we’ll do that," said Meadows. "That way we can get an early start. You reckon you could get Morey and Maggie to send us over breakfast there? Would help avoid a lot of gossip. The fewer people who know we are here the better."
Jim heartily agreed with that sentiment. He called Morey, who was quite happy to provide breakfast for all of them, including Jim and young Zak, at the Rectory early in the morning.
"How’s 6:30?" he asked. "That’ll get you out of there before most folks get into town to get their breakfast."
Jim agreed. He reluctantly allowed Zak to go home to his wife and kids. First, the young man had to remove his boots and surrender them to the CSIs for examination and print comparison. Jim extracted a promise that Zak would join them for breakfast at the Rectory at 6:30 the following morning and promised to square things for him with the mill. He dropped him at home and headed to the Rectory.
It was going on 7:00 p.m. when they arrived. The state law folks were tired, dirty, and hungry. Arthur showed them to their rooms, each with its own attached bath, and happily provided soap and towels. He offered to let Jim stay also, but the big man wanted nothing more than to be in the peace and quiet of his own home, surrounded by his and Beth’s things. His stomach, however, had other ideas. He started for the door to walk over to Morey’s, when it flew open and in marched Maggie, Jen, and two of the high school football team members, loaded down with baskets emitting glorious smells.
Helen Green was the first to arrive after her shower, freshly dressed, hair damp and curling.
"My god, if that tastes even half as good as it smells, I may never leave this town."
"Wait until you taste the pie," said Jim. "You’ll be buying land tomorrow."
Meadows and Murdoch arrived next, agreeing with Jim. They had eaten Maggie Farmington’s pie on more than one occasion, and Murdoch, a lifelong bachelor, had promised Morey that if anything ever happened to him it would be Clay Murdoch’s pleasure to care for Maggie until her dying days.
Moriarty and Whiteman were last to arrive and were treated with the sight of everyone, including Arthur and Ben, chowing down on ribs, mashed potatoes, buttered corn on the cob, fresh rolls, and hot coffee. Ben kept eyeing the last basket, which he knew held at least two apple pies. He had seen Jen put vanilla ice cream in the freezer but was hoping for cheese with his slice of pie.
When dinner was over, Jim rose to leave but Ben stopped him.
"Jim, I reckon it’s time I told these folks what I told you‘n Arthur and the lawyer yesterday. Especially if they’re going to go out to the pump house tomorrow after whatever else they’re doing."
Jim sighed. He had hoped to get home soon, turn on some jazz, and just relax. But Ben was right. They all needed the rest of the story.
"You’d best not make me lose my supper," growled Helen. "Or there’ll be hell to pay."
"Oh, it’s me who gets upset," said Ben. "And not so much now that I’m seeing things clearer. But I doubt you’re gonna be more inclined to believe me than this one was," nodding his head toward Jim.
They all helped clean up the dishes, put away the ample leftovers, which did not, of course, include pie, and packed up the baskets for Morey to pick up in the morning when he arrived with breakfast. A couple of them eyed the clock over the mantel in the spacious sitting room, knowing that six-thirty was going to get there all too soon.
Ben was brief but thorough in his retelling. He told them the exact same story he had related in Martin Rutledge’s office, though it took less time because he didn’t need to leave or to pause. When he finished, the state police folk looked bemused and incredulous. Jim could hardly blame them, what with eyes, and teeth, and giant mouths.
After a moment of quiet, Murdoch said, "I think we have to treat this all of a piece. But like Helen or one of you said, let’s deal with people stuff first. That means a more thorough daylight look at where Rory’s head and foot were found, then on to the rest of the Martins Way River. The divers can do that, along with the forensic guys who stayed down at Big Bass. And the rest of us can take the camera and equipment out to that pump house. We had the chopper take the head and foot down to the State Medical Examiner in Jefferson City. We should know by afternoon tomorrow if we are dealing with just one body. Jim, are you willing to make a formal identification of the head as that of Rory O’Connor?"
He set his cell phone to record.
Jim nodded and then remembered to say yes for the official recording. Although the neck was badly torn, or chewed, from where it had once joined the body, the face was pretty much untouched, and decomposition had not yet set in. Even without the eyes, which were always the first thing to go, it was obvious to Jim that the head was Rory O’Connor’s. Jim wiped away a tear. He had been in cop mode since Zak first rushed into the diner, but now that he had eaten and had a chance to relax a bit, the loss of his friend was hitting him hard. He stood up and without speaking strode out the door and got into his SUV. He needed to be home, now!