A Conventional Murder, page 17
part #2 of Megan Montaigne Series
Sunbeams were glaring off a large van, and a driver Megan didn’t recognize smiled at her as she looked for signs that this was the vehicle she was supposed to get into.
“Diablo Lake?” she said to the driver.
He nodded, and Megan climbed aboard. Only a few other passengers were in the van, which seemed strange until Megan remembered this was not the first excursion out to the lake and trail. Ginny had likely been busy adding outings where they’d proved popular. She certainly seemed to have a good number of sponsors supporting this convention. Megan made a mental note to try to track down the blogs of the attendees after they were gone. She was curious how they were representing her tiny, treasured town.
A few more passengers got on the van, and then Megan saw Devin poke his head into the vehicle. She waved.
“I beat you!” she said, scooting to the window seat to make room for him. She pulled the spare travel mug out of her bag before tucking the bag under the seat. “Coffee?” she said, holding up the mug.
“You did not bring me coffee!” Devin said gleefully, eyeing the mug with joy. He sat next to Megan and pulled off his jacket.
“I did,” Megan said. She lifted the mug again. “All yours.”
Taking the mug, Devin opened the lid and took a cautious sip. He closed his eyes. “Oh, man,” he said. “That is delicious. You did not make this yourself.”
Megan laughed. “You doubt me a lot this morning! I did bring you coffee and I did make it myself. Least I could do as a thank you for the ride home.”
“It was absolutely my pleasure,” Devin said. “And I can’t tell you how glad I am you came along today.”
Soon, the driver decided the bus was as full as it was going to be. He pulled out of the library parking lot and headed to Highway 20 and then east toward Diablo Lake. The road was not busy, and they made good time. After not too long, the van made the steep left turn down the winding road that opened up onto the top of Diablo Dam. The first time Megan had driven down this road, she’d been sure she’d made a mistake: it felt like it took her somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be. But she’d been there dozens of times since, and she knew they were in the right place. At the bottom of the hill the driver slowly maneuvered the van onto the very narrow road that served as dam as well as bridge.
“Those lampposts!” Devin said with delight, pointing at the tall lights lining the bridge.
“They’re fantastic, right?” Megan said. The shapely posts were one of her favorite parts of the dam.
“It’s like Narnia,” Devin said, eyes wide as he admired the lamps, and, beyond them on the right, Diablo Lake.
“That’s exactly what I think every time,” Megan said, tickled that Devin had seen it, too. She pointed at the lake, glistening in the sun. “We’re a little early in the season, but later in the year, like toward the middle of summer, this lake is a deep turquoise blue. From the glacial till suspended in the water. It’s like magic. The lampposts and the glacial blue water and the mountains and the trees … it’s just like a scene from a novel. Something you can’t believe is real.” She pointed out the left side of the van as they crept along the bridge. “On the other side is where they spill over any excess water. I’m assuming the driver will let us out at the end so we can walk back and look.”
The driver did exactly that, pulling into a small parking lot and letting the passengers unload, telling them they’d drive farther down the road after they had a chance to wander around for about half an hour. A park employee showed up and started talking to the group. As he talked, he tossed out breadcrumbs. As if summoned, two ravens flew in for a late breakfast. The park employee explained that whereas crows gather in crowds—a murder of crows, he said—ravens were far more territorial. This pair of ravens, he said, owned this dam, and he always had a baggie of treats for them when he came.
“Is a group of ravens also called a murder?” Devin asked.
“A group of ravens is an ‘unkindness’ or ‘conspiracy,’” the park employee said. “But they don’t really like being in groups. Pairs or small family groups are most common. Sometimes in winter they’ll flock together to forage or roost. But most of the year, they avoid big groups. It’s not common to see a true conspiracy of ravens. They leave the real conspiracies for us humans.”
The gathered group gave a mild laugh. Devin looked at Megan. “Whoever created these group names did not care for ravens and crows,” he said.
“Which is ridiculous,” Megan said. “Crows and ravens are so smart. They deserve better.”
After the park employee had given the group a bit more information about the dam’s history and the North Cascades in general and answered several questions, he got back in his car and headed down the road. The people in the travel writing group dispersed to walk over the bridge, take photos, and wander around, gazing in awe at the beauty.
Once they were out of anyone else’s hearing, Devin stepped to the edge of the bridge on the spillover side and leaned over to look, inviting Megan to do the same.
“Did you hear any more about last night?” he said quietly. “Did your officer friend call and get you caught up?”
Megan realized that Max never had, even though she’d asked him to. He must have simply forgotten, she told herself. “No, nothing,” she replied. “Did you hear anything?”
Devin stretched out his torso to see farther over the side of the dam. “That is a long way down,” he said, and then he looked up at one of the mountains nearby. “No, nothing, really. But I heard some women talking about how jealous some of the others are of Kendall. Could have just been a stunt.”
Megan inhaled deeply. “Some stunt,” she said. “I’m convinced it wasn’t Sidney. But it almost certainly was someone taking advantage of what Sidney started. Which means it had to be someone who was at the hospital the first afternoon.”
One of the ravens flew almost directly overhead, and Megan ducked instinctively.
“Honestly, it seems like it’s all coincidence,” Devin said. “Like you said, someone taking advantage of the situation for publicity’s sake. I wouldn’t rule Sidney out just yet, if you ask me.”
“I can see that,” Megan said. “He definitely will benefit. I talked with him the other day and I can’t say he struck me as a warm human being. Calculating, for sure.” She pondered the thought. No, she wouldn’t put it past Sidney Remington to milk the travel writers for every bit of ink he could get out of them. Well, digital ink, anyway. Advertising was so twentieth century, she’d heard one of the writers say. This century was about stories. And the haunted hospital excursions had provided that in spades. But she couldn’t stop wondering what had transpired between Sidney and Patrick on the day they’d met.
“Looks like the driver wants us back,” Devin said, looking over Megan’s shoulder.
Over in the parking area the driver was waving his arms, trying to get everyone’s attention. Megan felt like she should call out and try to round everyone up, but she felt so peaceful that she didn’t want to rush anyone, not even herself. The world wouldn’t end if they were a few minutes late.
They sauntered back to the van and then drove along the side of the lake and down another narrow road to the very end, where there was a good-sized parking area. The driver parked, and then led them down a trail to a building where another person was waiting for them. That person herded everyone toward a loading dock, where they boarded a boat with a roof of almost all glass. Soon they were on a placid cruise around Diablo Lake, learning about the early explorers and settlers, the wildlife, the mountains, and the Skagit River Hydroelectric Project, which, they learned, provided power to Seattle and much of the area.
“This is magnificent,” Devin said, busily pointing his camera in every direction. “What a day,” he said. “What a day to be here. What a day to be alive.” The snow-capped peaks stood out against the blue sky; waterfalls tucked into crevices in the mountains peeked out as they rode by. An eagle soared overhead, wings wide.
The boat sauntered lazily around the lake for an hour or so, and then returned its reluctant passengers to the shore where they were met once again by the van driver.
“I could live here,” Devin said as he took a final look back at the boat and the glistening lake.
Megan nodded slowly. “Me too,” she said.
Once everyone was piled back in the van, they retraced their route to the bridge, drove back across the dam, and started the return trip west to Emerson Falls.
“We have one final stop,” the van driver called out as he pulled the vehicle onto the shoulder of a side road at the east end of Newhalem. A powerhouse loomed large next to the river, looking quite industrial and out of place. Next to it, a suspension bridge led to their final destination: Ladder Creek Falls.
“I love this place,” Megan said to Devin as they disembarked the van. “For a long time they illuminated the falls at night, but I’m not sure they still do. Money and maintenance and whatnot. But the falls are still gorgeous.” Without thinking, she grabbed Devin’s hand and rushed ahead of the crowd, leading Devin across the bridge that bounced with the weight of their feet.
“Are we sure this is safe?” Devin said, holding the rail to help his balance.
Megan laughed. This day, she thought. What a day to be alive.
Once they reached the other side, they headed up a steep incline with many stairs to reach the top. Megan kept a brisk pace. This put them well ahead of the rest of the group, who were stopping along the way to ogle at the river, the fountain, the powerhouse. She stopped only once, to pick up some expensive-looking sunglasses someone else had dropped, tucking them securely in her bag so they wouldn’t get broken by the trampling crowd to come. Megan wanted to get to the top of the falls before everyone else was there, pushing and shoving to get the best view. They could view the rest of the sights on their way back down.
About halfway up the climb, the trail branched off to a short bridge on the right. From there, they could see both the upper and lower falls. “If it’s been rainy and the moss is just right,” Megan said, leading Devin to the bridge, “this part looks like a fairy forest. Like if you turned at exactly the right moment, you could catch a fairy peeking out from behind one of the rocks. Just waiting for you to leave so they can go about their fairy business.” She looked up at the upper falls, splashing its way down the rocks, a vertical river intent on its course. She sighed. There was probably a reason she’d ended up making Emerson Falls her home. There was just something about waterfalls that she could stare at all day.
Devin turned to check out the lower falls from the other side of the bridge. “Oh,” he said.
“I know,” Megan said. “Speechless, right?”
Devin didn’t answer immediately, so Megan turned to see if he’d heard her. The look on his face, however, was not one of awe. It was horror.
“What?” Megan said, crossing to the other side of the bridge to see what he was looking at.
Sensing Megan at his side, Devin pointed to the rocks at the edge of the river, just beneath the bridge.
Megan gasped.
A woman’s body was splayed out on the rocks, arms and legs bent at unnatural angles. Her pale skin was drained of any color. Her curly red hair was matted with mud and water and a lone leaf that had dropped while the woman had been lying there. Half of her body lay on the rocks and half was in the water, including her face, which was submerged in a shallow pool. Her nose and mouth were underwater, but her left eye was just above the water line, open, staring, never to blink again. Dead.
“Is that…?” Devin said, shaking his head.
“That’s Kendall,” Megan said.
Somehow, Devin and the van driver managed to corral all the visitors, and get them back to the area down below by the powerhouse, while Megan texted Max.
Kendall Perkins, the one you were talking with last night at the hospital, is dead. Body at Ladder Creek Falls, Megan wrote.
She watched for a while as the three dots appeared and disappeared and started up again. Finally his answer came.
Are you kidding me? Max wrote.
Not kidding, Megan replied. Devin and I found her. Below the little bridge.
On my way. Keep the area clear if you can. 15-20 minutes, Max wrote.
Devin and driver have cleared people out. Can we send driver and passengers home? Megan asked.
A pause, then: Do you have a list of who all is on the trip? Could any of them have been involved?
Yes. No. She was dead before we got here.
Go ahead, then. But you and Devin should stay.
Okay. See you soon, Megan wrote.
Max sent a fist-bump emoji, and then was done.
Megan went to where Devin and the driver were standing, hands on hips, sternly watching the visitors in case one of them might endeavor to head back up the trail for a look. Many of the travel writers were holding their phones out in front of themselves, talking into their cameras. Megan felt weary. “This is not how I want people to report on Emerson Falls,” she said to Devin.
“Any publicity is good publicity?” he said weakly.
Megan turned to the van driver. “Officer Coleman says it’s okay for you to take these guys back to Emerson Falls,” she said, tilting her head at the group. “No point in staying. Or you could take them to the trails in Newhalem if you wanted.” She shrugged. “Maybe ask them what they want to do. The Visitor Center is nice, and has some trails, too.” Megan didn’t much care what the group did next, but the organizer in her felt like she had to at least try.
“No problem,” said the driver. He walked toward the group, waving his hands to gather everyone to him, and Megan considered that part taken care of.
She turned to Devin. “I’ll be honest. I didn’t really like her all that much. I really thought she might have been the one to kill Patrick. Got him to write her book, and then destroyed the evidence. Not that I mean Patrick was ‘evidence.’ You know what I mean.”
Devin laughed softly. “I know what you mean. I wondered, too. It seemed like a pretty clear motive.”
“And if you were the person who did kill Patrick, you’d think if there was another person with a clear motive you’d push the evidence toward them. Not kill them.”
Max arrived shortly afterward, lights swirling but siren silent. He would not have encountered enough traffic on the mountain road to have needed it.
Megan and Devin were sitting on some benches just across the suspension bridge over the Skagit River, both of them lost in their own thoughts, when Max approached.
“Hey,” Max said, mostly to Megan.
“Hey,” Megan said. “What’s a handsome man like you doing in a place like this?”
Max laughed briefly. “Okay. I suppose I should talk to you guys separately. Megan, can you come with me first?”
Megan followed Max to a spot in the sun not too far away.
“Okay,” said Max. “Tell me what happened.”
Megan nodded, assembling the timeline in her head. “We were almost first off the van. I hate big crowds and wanted to get Devin up the trail before everyone else was there. There’s just not a lot of room for everyone at the top, or at that bridge overlook, you know.”
Max acknowledged this fact with a short dip of his head.
Megan continued. “So I dragged him with me up the trail fast, getting ahead of everyone else. We stopped at the bridge.” She blinked hard, remembering the sight of Kendall’s body. “I was on the side that looks up. I guess that’s … the east side of the bridge?” She looked to Max but he didn’t nod this time. “I was on the side that looks to the upper falls. Devin was on the other side, and he made a sound … I guess he said ‘oh’ or something. I thought he was just in awe of the waterfalls, but he was quiet then so I turned and he pointed down at the rocks, and … there she was.”
“She wasn’t moving?” Max said.
Megan shook her head. “Looked pretty dead,” she said.
“Could Devin have gone ahead of you?” Max asked.
“No,” Megan said, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “He’s my alibi and I’m his.” She shook her head ever so slightly, a twitch more than a statement. She knew Max would know she wasn’t really a suspect, but she hated that he had to treat her like one anyway.
“What else can you tell me?” Max said.
“That’s it. We rushed down, and I texted you. We’d barely gotten here. There was no time for anyone on the van to have done anything, I can tell you that,” Megan said.
“Did you see Kendall’s car here?” Max asked.
Megan frowned. That hadn’t even occurred to her. She squinted toward the dirt parking area on the other side of the river, but most of it was blocked by trees and bushes. Tall metal towers, their grids crisscrossing to form Xs and diamonds and triangles of support, held the uncountable masses of power cables that would carry power all the way down to Seattle and beyond. Past the initial row of power towers, the water tower for the tiny town of Newhalem stood high above the low one-story buildings. Past that, some lower peaks of the North Cascades National Park angled into the sky. In front of her, the river swept by, calm, undisturbed. Megan always felt she should be able to feel some sort of electric hum in the air, what with all those power lines filling the sky, but she never did. “Did you drive Kendall home last night?” Megan asked.
“I did,” Max said.
“So someone had to drive her out here, then,” Megan said. “Unless she went back to the hospital to get her car. Or took a cab.” She looked toward the parking area again and noticed a couple more police officers were coming across the suspension bridge, their determined strides making it bounce and squeak. “Backup,” she said.
Max looked up at the figures approaching, a man and a woman, and raised a hand in greeting.
