Nine

Fly fishing is like sex, everyone thinks there is more than there is,

and that everyone is getting more than their share.

—HENRY KANEMOTO

By the time Mandy got home after discussing Ira Porter’s interview with Detective Quintana, the late afternoon sun’s rays were slanting across her small yard and Lucky’s outside water bowl was empty. Mandy refilled it and let the retriever inside to bounce around her, snuffling dog toys against her feet, while she sorted her laundry and threw a load in the washer. The two of them shared a hasty meal, kibbles for him and macaroni and cheese out of a box cooked with defrosted peas for her. She managed to clean up right before Bridget Murphy appeared on her front stoop and rang the doorbell.

The woman was kind enough—or astute enough—to put up with Lucky’s obligatory crotch sniff, then reached down to scratch the dog’s ears, sealing her friendship with Lucky for life. She stood and looked around. “Do you have a table where we can sit and spread out some papers?”

“In the kitchen.” Mandy led the way. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Just a glass of water would be nice.” Bridget dug a file out of her portfolio case and fanned out some pages on the table.

Once Mandy sat down with two glasses of water, Bridget started right in. “Your uncle’s home is in pretty good shape. Needs a termite inspection and a thorough cleaning, but I can arrange both of those. If you want to sell it fast, I suggest we just list it as is. Were you planning to convey the furnishings that are left there?”

Convey? “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, I mean that they’ll be sold along with the house.”

Mandy’s brother had come up from Colorado Springs a few weeks after her uncle died, and they’d cleared out all of her uncle’s personal items—clothing, toiletries, papers, foodstuffs, and so on. They each took home a few possessions to remember him by, and Mandy had sold some furniture really cheap to a few rafting guides fixing up a group rental home.

Before that, she and Rob had moved all of the rafts and outfitter equipment and supplies to Rob’s place of business. But the two men had presumed she would want to finish the clearing out process, since she had the most sentimental attachment to the house. Without them pushing her on, she’d left the rest of the furniture alone, comforted by sitting in the same easy chairs she was used to whenever she visited the empty house.

“I don’t know,” Mandy said. “I don’t have room for it all here.”

Bridget looked around Mandy’s small cottage. “I can see that. But maybe a few things? A couple of nice prints are hanging in the living room, for example.”

“I really don’t have time to go through everything and decide right now,” Mandy said with dismay.

“I understand.” Bridget patted her hand. “I tell you what. We can say that most of the furnishings will convey in the listing, minus a few items. I’ll make up an inventory and bring you a copy, and you can put a checkmark by those things you want to keep. Easy peasy. I even have a guy who moves things for me, if you’d like me to arrange for him to bring the stuff you want to keep over here or to a storage unit.”

This woman has all the answers. Mandy sighed. “I guess that’ll work.”

“Great!” Bridget pushed three property sale listings in front of Mandy. “I took the liberty of calling an appraiser. He’ll do a quickie for us on Monday. In the meantime, I found these three comparables, given location and square footage. I suggest we list your uncle’s property for the same price as the lowest one here. If the appraisal comes in significantly different from that, we can adjust accordingly.”

Bridget sat back and took a discreet sip of water while Mandy looked over the listings.

The words blurred while Mandy tried to make sense of what she was reading, but all she could pay attention to was a tearful, childish voice in her head saying over and over again, “It’s Uncle Bill’s home. It’s Uncle Bill’s home.” Then Rob’s voice, full of reason and practicality, “It’s just a building. Bill would want you to have the money, to build a successful business.” She rubbed her aching head.

Bridget put a hand on her shoulder. “I know this is hard, honey. I’ve worked with a lot of clients who’ve had to sell the homes of their lost loved ones. I can tell you that putting off the decision just prolongs the agony. If you need to sell, you need to sell, and it’s best to get it over with quickly.”

With a last pat on Mandy’s shoulder, Bridget removed her hand and slid a contract on top of the listings. “I’ll do whatever I can to make this easy for you. Here’s my listing contract.”

Bridget’s voice droned on while she explained each of the contract provisions until Mandy was ready to scream. When Lucky put his head in her lap, she saw a chance to escape. “Excuse me. I have to let Lucky outside. I’ll just be a minute.”

She almost ran for the back door and followed Lucky into the yard. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the first few stars were winking on as cobalt blue twilight gave way to inky darkness. She took a deep breath of the cool air, filling her lungs. Looking up at the North Star and the big dipper, she sent up a silent plea to Uncle Bill, asking for a sign.

What should I do?

No reply came, other than a neighbor clattering some trash cans to the curb, then moments later, the garage door closing. Lucky nudged her hand, and Mandy absently scratched his head. Then she had a thought. If she set the price of Uncle Bill’s house to match the highest comparable instead of the lowest, maybe no one would make an offer for awhile, or if they did, it would be lower than the sale price, and they’d have to negotiate. Then she would be able to get used to the idea of selling it, and to visit the house a few more times.

Mandy gave a light slap to Lucky’s rump. “C’mon, fella. Let’s go inside.”

She walked back into the kitchen and saw Bridget patiently waiting for her, hands in her lap.

“Okay,” Mandy said, “Where do I sign?”

_____

Mandy finally finished her laundry after midnight Saturday night, then crawled between the sheets while Lucky curled up on his pillow beside the bed. In what seemed like minutes, she was awakened by the doorbell, followed shortly by Lucky racing to the front door to bark at the visitor.

What the heck? She looked at the clock. After two a.m.

“Mandy, wake up!” Cynthia hollered through the front door. “And Lucky, shut up. It’s me.”

Groggy and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Mandy padded in her bare feet to the door and let Cynthia in. “What’re you doing here so late?”

“I just got off work.” Cynthia was wild-eyed, pacing and gesturing frantically. “I was thinking about Faith the whole time I was tending bar. I knew that if I didn’t talk to you, I’d never get to sleep.”

Mandy sat on the sofa and drew her chilly feet up under her. “So you woke me up instead.”

Cynthia plopped down beside her. “I’m really, really sorry, but I know Faith’s autopsy was done yesterday. I called Aunt Brenda from the bar, and she said Detective Quintana hasn’t told them the result yet.”

She clutched Mandy’s arm. “I figured you and he were in cahoots, so he probably told you. I’ve got to know what they found out.”

“I shouldn’t say anything until Detective Quintana releases the report to the family.”

“I won’t tell a soul, I swear. Not even Aunt Brenda. But not knowing is tormenting me, Mandy. I can’t wait any longer.”

Mandy covered Cynthia’s fingers and gently peeled them off her already bruised arm. She held Cynthia’s trembling hand. “Why are you so anxious to know?”

“Remember when I told you I warned Faith about something, to be careful?” Cynthia bit her lip while Mandy nodded. “It wasn’t something I warned her about. It was someone.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh God, I don’t want to tell you. I haven’t told anyone why I warned Faith, not even her.” Cynthia’s eyes filled with tears. She hunched her shoulders, pulled her hand from Mandy’s and tightly clutched her hands in her lap. “Maybe if I had, she’d be alive now.”

A sick premonition crept into Mandy’s gut. “I hope you aren’t blaming yourself for Faith’s death.”

“That’s exactly what I’m feeling!” A tear ran down Cynthia’s cheek. “And that’s why I need to know if that scum did to her what he did to me!”

“What scum? What did he do to you?”

“Uncle Howie. He raped me when I was fifteen, made me think it was all my fault, that I seduced him, that I was wicked and evil. He said if I told my parents, they’d send me away to juvenile detention, where the guards and the other inmates would finish the job.”

Horror-stricken, all Mandy could say was, “Oh, Cynthia, no.” She tried to put a hand on Cynthia’s shoulder, but her friend flinched.

Cynthia balled herself up tighter, drawing her knees up to her chest, as if trying to protect herself from attack. “He forced me to do all sorts of perverted things with him, in exchange for him keeping my secret. Finally I ran away from home when I was sixteen. I wound up in a youth shelter in Santa Fe. They let me stay and finish my GED even though I refused to tell them where I was from.”

“But when I met you, you were here. How’d you make your way back?”

“My dad found me just before I turned eighteen, using a private investigator. He came down and brought me home. By then I’d toughened up, taken some self-defense classes, and got some counseling at the center. I called Uncle Howie after we got back and told him that if he ever touched me again, he’d be a dead man.”

Mandy’s eyes teared up, too, as she imagined the hardships a younger Cynthia had had to bear. “I don’t know where you found the courage to do that. What did he say?”

Cynthia harrumphed. “He just laughed at me, said, ‘Listen to the big girl now.’ Then he lit into me, said he wasn’t afraid of me, and threatened all kinds of grief if I ever told anyone what we’d been doing. He said he had no interest in me anymore anyway, that he’d already found someone else.”

“Oh my God, not Faith!”

“No, she was just five years old then, hadn’t matured yet to the age Uncle Howie liked his victims.” Cynthia made a face. “Either he’d found some other teenage girl, or someone his own age, or he was lying to me.”

“And you never told your folks or the police?”

Cynthia shook her head and dropped her feet to the floor. “I was too scared, embarrassed, even felt guilty. And I didn’t want to think about what he did to me. I pushed it all way, way back in my psyche. I knew intellectually that none of it was my fault, that Uncle Howie was the predator. But emotionally, it was a lot harder to deal with.”

As Mandy tried to imagine what she would have done if it had been her, a cold chill streaked down her spine. The ghastly memories. How would she deal with those? “You must have wanted to bury those memories.”

“Yeah, I wanted to put it behind me, forget it all. I had started waiting tables, and after a few years, I decided I’d rather tend bar, that I’d earn more money that way. So, I went to bartending school in Denver, and came back here to work at the Vic, where I met all these great people. Salt of the earth, especially the river guides—and you. I’m so glad you’re my friend.”

Seeing Cynthia’s body loosen up as good memories took the place of bad, Mandy hugged her. “And I’m glad, too. You’re the best friend I could possibly have.”

She pulled back a little to gaze at her friend’s tear-streaked face. “But then you did dig up those memories. What made you decide to warn Faith? Because she turned fifteen?”

“No, it was more than that. Even though I tried to avoid Uncle Howie, we wound up attending some of the same family functions. Once Faith grew up and filled out and her family moved back here, I caught him eyeing her.”

“Oh, no.”

Cynthia nodded. “Oh, no, is right. I would watch him from the other side of the room. Back in June, I pulled Faith aside, told her to watch out for Uncle Howie, that he was a pervert and she should never be alone with him.”

“Did she listen to you?”

“I don’t know. Problem was, I’m not sure she believed me, since I didn’t, I couldn’t, tell her how I knew he was a pervert.” Cynthia looked at Mandy with tears shimmering in her eyes. “You see? If Howie got to her, if he raped her, maybe even killed her, then I failed. I failed Faith, and Aunt Brenda and Uncle Lee, and Craig and even myself. That’s why I’ve got to know. I’m all knotted up inside.”

Mandy couldn’t prolong Cynthia’s misery, but she wasn’t sure she could alleviate it either. “All right, I’ll tell you what I know. But you can’t tell anyone that I told you anything about the autopsy.”

“I swear I won’t. Please, please…”

“You aren’t going to like the result. The pathologist said Faith died Saturday evening, but he couldn’t determine if her death was accidental, suicide, or murder. All he could say was that she drowned, that she was alive when she went in the river because she had water in her lungs. She had a blow to her head that might have knocked her unconscious, but he couldn’t say whether that happened before or after she went in the river.”

“So she died before Howie did.”

“But we don’t know if he killed her.” Mandy paused.

Cynthia peered at her. “You know something else, something you’re not telling me.”

Mandy grimaced. “I can only tell you if you promise you won’t have any contact with Faith’s family until after Detective Quintana gives them the results.”

“I promise.” Cynthia had her arms wrapped around herself now, squeezing so tightly that Mandy imagined it must hurt.

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.