Liars
and Legends
By
Pamela Ebel
“Carson, please don’t use that
fish finder. You know this trip prohibits them.”
“Stop whining, Peg. No one can see us. Just sit and be
quiet”
“This is
supposed to be our second Honeymoon. You said we’d see the cities and villages in
Scotland. All we’ve done is go from one fishing site to another and sleep in tents.”
“I don’t know what you’re
bitching about. We came on a cruise ship that cost me an arm and leg, that didn’t
stop in one fishing port. Now it’s my turn. Look at the mountains or something.”
He steered the
motorboat further from the yacht that served as home base. She saw Captain Duncan waving
them to return. Carson ignored him.
On the far side of the lake, he turned off the motor and
the boat drifted quietly with the current. Dropping the fish finder cable in the water
Carson turned it on. Peg looked at the screen that showed the underwater world beneath
them. Fish of all sizes swam lazily or streaked by in pursuit of dinner.
Looking for something to talk about, her
eyes settled on the fishing gear, that along with the travel expenses, had cost Peg her
bonus funds. She picked up the pole.
“Why don’t you try this out? It would be nice to share some
salmon you caught when we all meet for dinner tonight. Everyone else shares their catch.
We’ve never contributed anything and it’s embarrassing.”
Carson turned and grabbed the pole causing Peg to lose her
balance and fall backward. He then turned back to the sonar screen.
“I’m
sick of you whining and complaining. We had one Honeymoon. That should’ve been enough.
It’s more than most people get.”
“We went
fishing in the Gulf and slept on mud lumps at the mouth of the Mississippi River.”
“Yeah. But we stayed at that motel
too,”
“Only because
there was a hurricane coming. We had no electricity for two nights in August.”
“See, you always look on the bad side
of everything. Because the storm knocked out the power, Ralph let us stay on his yacht.
It’s a beauty. When I get back home, I’m ordering one.”
“How do you plan to pay for a yacht?
My salary barely covers our living expenses. I know you hope to settle that big wrongful
death case but…”
“Well,
now that you mention it.”
He dug into a
canvas bag and pulled out a paper, handing it to Peg.
“You settled the case? How wonderful. This bank statement
says you deposited $600,000. Wait! This isn’t our bank and this isn’t our account.
It only has your name on it. You opened this account last week and didn’t tell me!
Why?”
“You were
working that day. I wanted to order the Lincoln Town Car. It will be waiting when I get
back.”
“Why didn’t
you tell me? I used all our savings for this trip. Everything we have we pool together.
Why did you lie to me?”
“Why?
Because this is my money, bitch! Why? Because I’ve lied
our entire marriage to get what I wanted from you. Why? Because the lies got you to pay
for law school leaving me money to get what I needed. Why? Because lying is what I do best.”
He yanked the bank statement from her, putting
it back in the bag.
“You
were convenient and not too bad to look at and not bad
in bed. Just so pitiful wanting ‘to be loved’. But love costs money and I’ve
waited ten years. Now I’m going to live like I want, spend what I want on what I
want and love who I want. You, ‘pitiful Peg’, are not on any of those lists.”
Peg stared into the face of a man she didn’t recognize as
he picked up an oar and leaned toward her.
“It will
be an unfortunate accident. You grabbed the pole when we got a bite and when I was reaching
for the net you slipped and fell over. Your head wound will be caused by hitting the railing
as you fell. That’s what I’ll testify to and I’m a good liar.”
The sonar beeped causing, both of them to
stare at the screen. A large nose and huge eye stared out at them. Then the boat rose out
of the water. As it crashed back down, Carson fell finding himself face to face with
Nessie.
The Loch Ness
Monster’s head rose atop her five-foot long neck covered in dark green scales. She
stared down at Peg, then her snake-like mouth opened, two large fangs sprung forward and
in one bite she drug Carson and the fish finder overboard and disappeared. A few moments
later Nessie reappeared, seemed to smile at Peg, then, like a scaly submarine sank silently
into the dark water.
The
sound of a motor caught her attention, and the yacht pulled
alongside.
“Mrs. Olson
are you alright? We saw a giant splash. Where’s your husband?”
Peg pulled the canvas bag to her chest.
“I don’t know, Captain. A big
wave lifted the boat up. When it crashed down Carson was gone. We need to look for him.
I’ll stay in the boat. Maybe he made it to shore and will see me.”
The Captain shook his head and helped Peg
aboard the yacht.
“This is
the deepest part of the loch. It’s getting dark. We need to head back to the dock.
I’ll call now and get a search party out. You’ve had a shock. Some dry clothes
and a bit of ‘the hair of the dog’ will help.”
Peg waved her hands and let the tears come,
hoping to look appropriately distressed.
“Could I have some of the champagne we brought? It was for
our second Honeymoon celebration.”
“Anything
you wish. Anything else you need?”
Peg stood and
looked around the luxurious fifty-foot yacht and held the canvas bag tighter.
“Just one thing. What type of boat
is this and how much does one cost?”
The
Dead Key!
By
Pamela Ebel
“Morning, my friend. How you
doing this cold day?”
The
desk manager looked up as the Head Bell Man pushed a huge steamer trunk through the front
doors of the hotel toward the front desk check-in station.
“Doing okay right now.
I just started my shift, and I don’t see many memos or notes on things that went
wrong overnight. Same for you?”
The Head Bell Man shook his head
and shrugged.
“Same
for me except for this big trunk that UPS dropped off last night around midnight. I’ve
only seen one of these in old 1930’s movies. The paperwork says it goes to a Paul
Richter. A note signed by Richter says to leave it in his room if he isn’t here when
it comes. Which room is he in?”
“Let me check. The computer is
slow this morning. Oh, here it is. Richter is in Suite 405. Says he checked in at 9:00
last night.”
“Okay.
But I just realized I must have left my master key in my other uniform jacket. I don’t
have time to go back to the locker room. Got one I can borrow in case the guy’s not
there?”
“Let
me reset one of these dead keys for you.”
He pulled a plastic card out
of a box on the counter, entered it into the computer port and hit a series of
commands.
“There
you go. This should open all the doors for you.”
The Bell Man took the card,
tipped his hat, and pushed the huge streamer trunk into an elevator and disappeared.
In front of Room 405 he knocked
several times and got no answer. Using the master, he opened the suite door and called
out to announce himself. Still no answer.
Following
instructions from the note, he pushed the trunk into the sitting area, off the luggage
cart and to the center of the room just as his beeper indicated he was needed in the lobby.
“Be
right there.”
He
closed the suite door and jiggled the handle to ensure it was locked.
A minute later the trunk lid
snapped and creaked open. Slowly, like Venus Rising, a red-haired woman stood up and climbed
out of the trunk.
Stretching,
she pulled a tote bag out, went to a mirror, checked her hair and makeup, smoothed her
black velvet jump suit. She pulled black leather boots from the tote and put them on.
She
checked her watch, walked to the bar, removed a small bottle of champagne from the fridge,
poured it into a flute, drank deeply, then smiled.
Rearranging the clothes in
the trunk, she closed and locked the lid. Removing a bottle of scotch and a card
from the tote, she placed them on the bar and took her drink into the bedroom, closed the
door, and waited.
An
hour later Paul Richter entered his suite and grinned as he saw the trunk. As he pulled
out his cell phone, the bottle of Macallan Rare Cask Black Scotch on the bar caught his
eye and his grin widened.
“Jamie, it’s me. The trunk’s
here. I see that bottle you sent. Don’t be spending our money on $800 Scotch right
now. Give me a call back so we can get the next step going.”
He ended the call and poured
himself a generous glass of scotch and drank it down. Pouring another, he took a key from
his pocket and opened the steamer trunk.
The
clothes packed for his overseas cruise were neatly stacked. He downed the second glass
of Macallan, leaned in, and began feeling at the bottom of the trunk. After a couple of
minutes, he began tossing the clothes to the floor as he continued to search.
Richter
listened as the message on his cell phone indicated that “the party you are calling
is not available.”
“Jamie,
damn it! Answer the phone. Where’s the money, and where are you? Answer the phone.”
“I’m
afraid Jamie isn’t going to be available to answer his phone ever again.”
Richter stood up and stared
at the redheaded woman whose life savings he had planned to spend on himself in
France.
“Why,
Paul, you look surprised to see me.”
“What are you doing here, Shari?
We agreed when I left you in Chicago, I’d send for you when I reached France. And
why can’t Jamie answer his phone?”
“We
both know you didn’t intend to send for me once you had my million dollars. You really
should have picked your ‘best friend’ more carefully and not been so trusting
about my money.
“When
Jamie demanded the money and I realized what the real plan was, I convinced him that he’d
have more fun with me and the money, rather than killing me like you ordered.
“After a bottle of your
favorite scotch, I was able to get the gun away from him but instead of letting me go he
tried to stop me so . . .”
She
shrugged and gave Richter a hard smile.
“Look, you have it all wrong. I
was going to send for you. Jamie must have gotten greedy and lied to you. We can go together
this afternoon. My clothes are in the trunk, and we can buy you a new wardrobe. But we
need the money. Where is it?”
“Right
here in my tote bag. And I do plan on taking that cruise ship this afternoon. Unfortunately,
you won’t be able to join me.”
Richter leaned into the trunk
lid as Shari smiled again.
“There’s
no gun there. I have it right here. I searched the trunk and then worked on its ventilation
system for three hours before UPS picked it and me up. It was a little tight, but I
managed.”
She
pulled the gun and pointed it at Richter.
“You won’t shoot me. It’ll make
too much noise.”
“I
don’t have to shoot you. You’re wobbling and sweating. Don’t you feel
well? I’m sure you don’t because that scotch you drank was laced with Fentanyl.
By my calculations you should . . .
She watched as he pitched
forward into the trunk.
“.
. . Be near death right now.”
She
removed the room key from his pocket and rearranged the body, tucking him inside the trunk
and checking his pulse until it was no more.
She locked the trunk, placed the
Macallan and champagne bottles and glasses in her tote bag and wiped down all the surfaces
she had touched.
The
front desk manager answered the call from Room 405 with a “maid” saying a note
left by the guest said he had checked out on the TV screen system and asked that the trunk
be taken downstairs for pick up.
The Bell Man returned to suite 405,
started to reach for his “dead key” master, found the door ajar and the instructions
on top of the trunk. He wrestled the trunk back onto the luggage cart, closed the door
and headed to the elevator.
As the elevator door closed,
Shari emerged from the suite. She tried the card she had taken from Richter. It didn’t
work, meaning the guest had checked out. Riding the glassed-front elevator down, she watched
the trunk disappearing out the front doors.
She
smiled at the desk manager as she passed the counter. At the taxi area, she watched the
Bell Man help the UPS driver with the steamer trunk.
“Where you taking this old,
heavy trunk?”
“I’m
delivering it to the airport cargo area. Says here it is going to Bolivia in about two
hours.”
“No one going with it?
“Not part of my job.
I need to get going and thanks for the help.”
Shari stopped the Bell Man
as he headed inside.
“Can I help you, Miss?”
“I found this room key
in front of the main doors.”
“Probably from a room already vacated.
I’ll give it to the front desk manager. He’ll check it out and put it in the
box to be reprogrammed. You going someplace special?”
“Yes, I’m taking
a cruise. Thanks for taking care of that key card.”
“Not a problem. We get
a lot of ‘dead keys.’”
She smiled and nodded as she got
in the taxi.
“I
bet you do!”
The Hunter’s Moon
By
Pamela Ebel
October
11, 1984
Cotton Mouth
Bayou, Manteca, Louisiana
“Good morning, everyone. We start with breaking
news. The Manteca Police Department reports that skeletal remains were found this morning
in a shallow grave on the bank of Cotton Mouth Bayou. Don Stedman is on the scene to provide
us with the details”
“That’s right
Kate. We’re reporting live from Cotton Mouth Bayou where three hunters discovered
the grave. This is Earl Bonner who found the bones. Mr. Bonner can you tell us what happened.”
“Well, me and Joe and Ted were out here tracking
hogs. It’s the Hunter’s Moon and you can see um better. That’s important
cause they’ll mess you up bad with them tusks. They make great chops though and…”
“Yes, I’m sure
they do but how did you find the skeleton and was there any clothing to help ID the person?”
“Nope. I thought I saw hog prints in the mud.
So, just put my foot in to get a better look and this skull popped right up and grinned
at me. Scared the sh…”
“Yes.
Well, thanks Mr. Bonner. Kate, the sheriff’s detectives are out here and as soon
as we can we’ll update you. In the meantime, I turn it back to you.”
October 18, 2019
Manteca Memorial Hospital
Dr. Pat Steele looked
at a file as he placed the phone call.
“Kendrick, It’s
Pat. Got a minute?”
“Sure Pat. Always
have time for my old high school buddy and favorite pathologist. What’s up over at
Memorial?”
“I’m your only
pathologist, my friend. Right now, I have a corpse with no name. So, I knew I had to call
‘The Bone Detective.’
Dr. Steele looked
into the faceless skull as he spoke. The skull stared back in silence.
As
Chief Forensic Death Investigator for the Pearl River Coroner’s Office, Kendrick
Cooper never tired of putting faces and names to unknown bones. His obsession with trying
to bring the missing back to life long enough to provide justice and closure for
those left behind had earned him ‘The Bone Detective’ nickname.
“You
have a victim? I haven’t heard of any recent suspicious deaths or declared unidentified
skeletal remains.”
“Well, if you’re
still handling cold cases I may have a really cold one for you. Some of the interns were
down in the Path Lab looking for expired bones they might use for Halloween and they literally
stumbled across a complete skull pushed to the back of a storage locker. It’s been
there since December of Nineteen Eighty-Four. Some hunters found a partial skeleton buried
on the bank of Cotton Mouth Bayou and the remains were delivered to the hospital.”
Kendrick tapped computer
keys as he and Pat talked.
“I see our office
did some preliminary work to identify those skeletal remains in November of eighty-four.
We were able to determine it was a male’s skull, but we didn’t have the science
we do now. Why would the hospital’s path lab have them?”
“Standard practice
back then. The hospital was the only place that could store pathology studies. Whoever
this guy was, he’s been lost for thirty-five years. I thought your current tools
might be able to identify him.”
“I’ll have one
of our staff over at your lab this afternoon if that’s okay. I’ll need the
skull and other bones, anything identified as belonging to the corpse. If you have any
notes and lab results, I’ll need those too.”
“Will do. Think you can really figure out who this guy was?”
“Not who he was Pat, who he is. There’s
someone out there that probably told our
man goodby one day and is still hoping to hear from him again. Someone is still waiting
for answers. That longing and hope never grows cold. I’ll have to put on my ‘Bone
Detective’ hunting cap and call in the big dogs. It’ll take several weeks but
I promise this guy we’ll bring him home.”
“Just
be sure those interns don’t use bones that can help identify other missing persons.”
“Don’t worry. They’re
using hog bones left from the last hunt.”
November 21,
2019
FBI
Forensic Facial Services Lab, Quantico, VA.
“This is Detective
Kendrick Cooper calling for Dr. Bernadette Casteix.”
“Yes
Detective, the doctor is expecting your call. One moment.”
“Good morning, Kendrick. How are you?”
“I’m okay, Bernie. I’ll be a lot better
if you can tell me who the Hunter’s Moon man is.”
“Well,
I can’t put a name on him. But our anthropologist’s
work and the DNA we were able to use suggests he’s Caucasian. We’re going with
around twenty-five years old at the time of death. The tests also suggest that he most
likely died a few weeks before being discovered, putting date of death in the summer or
fall of Nineteen Eighty Four.
We also
discovered a fracture at the back of the skull sufficient to have caused his death. I’ve
just emailed the preliminary report and the facial reconstruction drawing to you.”
Kendrick clicked the attachment and looked at the face
of a man who had been missing for thirty-five years until this moment.
“I’m going to get
this out to the television stations, the papers and on our internet site. I’ll give
a number for people to call in and leave tips. I’ll be sure to mention that we don’t
believe he died of natural causes.”
“That’s fine.
Just be sure they know this is an approximation of the features. I’ll get this up
on the FBI site for you too.”
“Thanks
Bernie.”
“Good luck and
Good Hunting ‘Bone Detective’.”
# # #
“We have breaking news to report as we start the four o/clock
edition of Eye Witness news. On your screen is the computer-generated image of a man whose
skeletal remains were discovered thirty-five years ago this month. The Pearl River Coroner’s
Cold Case Investigations Office, with the help of the FBI, has determined the man did not
die from natural causes and is asking that anyone who thinks they recognize him to call
them at the number listed below immediately. We also have a link to the office’s
site on our web page.”
“Carl, come here
quick.”
“I’m right in
the middle of cleaning these fish. I need…”
“You need to get in here now! They’ve found Jake.”
“What the hell are you talking about. Is this
your idea of a sick Halloween trick? We buried Jake thirty-five years ago in the Pearl.
We don’t have to worry about him. Dead men don’t tell tales.”
Ezra Collins stood in front of the television screen
staring hard as his brother stepped next to him. Both men’s mouths were open.
“You had better be right about dead men not telling
tales, because if they can, Jake is sure to tell the police who killed him.”
Across town Janine Wallace stared at the image on the
TV screen with tears in her eyes. She opened a yellowed envelope, and unfolded a wrinkled
letter that she had read and reread for thirty-five years:
Dear Mrs. Wallace, you know that Jake’s been working with us on
our fishing boat. But he said he done got tired of it and you and he just left. Said he
was gonna disappear. Sorry. Ezra and Carl Collins.
November
23, 2019
Cotton
Mouth Bayou
The next morning Janine
Wallace parked her car and walked to the cabin where she had visited her husband a month
before he disappeared. She watched from a stand of Cypress trees as the Collins brothers
rushed to pack their RV.
“I still don’t
think we need to leave, Ezra. There ain’t no one to tie us to Jake’s murder. We
should just go on about our business.”
“Listen brother,
if we saw that news on TV there’s nothun’ to keep that wife of his from seeing
it. She knew he was working with us and you sent that stupid letter lying about where he
went and put our names on it.
The
money’s spent, but we still got the bearer bonds, including Jake’s share, from
that armored car robbery right in this bag. No one gonna be looking for the bonds or us
in Mexico. So, stop talkin’ and let’s get packed and gone.”
“After thirty five
years that bitch surely done got tired of waiting for him to change his mind and moved
on. Nobody gonna wait this long.”
The brothers
turned at the sound of snapping branches.
“Good morning
boys. Planning on going somewhere? Oh, by
the way I’m Jake’s bitch wife, Janine.”
She raised
the rifle and smiled.
“One
of the many things Jake taught me was how to use a rifle and this seems like a perfect
time to test my skills.”
“Wait
just a minute. Me and Ezra will be glad to give you what’s left of the money. It…”
“Sorry boys, but I need more than money after
all this time.”
“What more do you
want?”
Janine fired in
rapid succession, hit both men between their eyes and watched them drop.
She
walked over and stared at the brothers, who stared back in surprise.
“Just like you taught me Jake. Hit the prey right
between the eyes and they’re done. And boys, just for your information some people
never get tired of waiting and don’t move on until they know what happened.”
December
25, 2019
Vancouver,
British Columbia
Janine read the
news on her computer detailing the discovery of the bodies of two men found shot to death
on the bank of the Cotton Mouth Bayou in late November.
“According to Kendrick Cooper, Chief Forensic
Death Investigator for the Pearl River Coroner’s Office, the victims, identified
as Ezra and Carl Collins, had been dead several days. They appeared to have been planning
a trip at the time of their murders. Currently the police have no suspect or motive.”
She turned off the
computer and walked to the terrace of her recently purchased million-dollar condo overlooking
the Pacific Ocean.
She poured herself
a glass of Taittinger’s champagne.
“To
You Jake!”
Then
she smiled up at the late season Hunter’s Moon.
