P Deutermann - Spider mountain

I grinned. “Guilty,” I said. “But you have to admit, you know more about what happened to that girl than when I first came here.”

“And now that we do, will you be leaving soon?” the sheriff asked, sounding hopeful.

“That depends,” Mary Ellen said, provoking an annoyed look from Ranger Bob, who’d been about to speak.

“On…?” prompted the sheriff.

“Mrs. Howard called me earlier this evening,” she said. “After she heard about our finding that body, she sat down with Janey and had a heart-to-heart. She said Janey was ready to tell me what happened, although she did not want to talk to the police. So I went back to Murphy. I took along a tape recorder.”

She fished the recorder out of her bag and set it on the table. We all listened to Janey Howard tell her tale of witnessing the execution and being taken down, assaulted, and then driven away out into the woods dressed in only a blanket.

“So now we know what the word ‘hangman’ was all about,” Mary Ellen said.

“And that there were two men involved in it, not just the fat boy I saw getting eaten by a dog pack,” I said. “Grinny Creigh did not tell the entire truth.”

The sheriff just stared at me, until I remembered that I hadn’t told him about the dog-pack incident. I did now.

“Ain’t that something, now,” the sheriff mused, shaking his head. He turned to Mary Ellen. “We can’t use that tape as evidence, you understand. If there’s gonna be a prosecution, she’s gonna have to make a statement, ID a bad guy, and testify in court.”

“I understand,” Mary Ellen said. “I just thought you would appreciate finally hearing from the victim. At least you know where to look.”

“Yeah,” the sheriff said unhappily. “That’s not necessarily progress. Means I now have to call M. C. Mingo.” He turned to me. “You want to press charges?”

“I’ll think about it-it was more of a summons before the throne than a kidnapping. Will you need a formal statement as to what I witnessed out there on the road with those dogs?”

“Can you describe the victim?”

“Ragout?” I said, prompting suppressed grins among the other cops.

“Let’s see what M. C. has to say tomorrow morning,” the sheriff said. “In the meantime, give some thought to going back to Manceford County. Actually, give it a lot of thought; I can’t stand all this goddamned excitement.”

I promised I would, and the meeting broke up. Mary Ellen stayed behind, after having exchanged what I sensed to be a few tense words with Ranger Bob as he left the cabin.

“Your boss seems unhappy tonight,” I said.

“Let’s say he isn’t thrilled with developments,” she said. “I have been suitably cautioned about bringing outsiders into Park Service business.”

I thought about a scotch and then decided to make some coffee instead. Mary Ellen and I went back out to the porch.

“Given all the hostile vibes up here, maybe the sheriff is right,” I said. “I should back out and let you folks get on with your interesting lives.”

She gave me a wan look and nodded. “I really appreciate your coming,” she said. “I’m just sorry…”

“That it turned up yet another dead body and more violence?”

“That wasn’t your fault,” she said with a sigh. “But…”

“Yeah, but. It does seem to happen a lot. Like every time you and I get together. Maybe the sheriff was also right about my being a shit magnet. I wish things were different.”

“This is such a beautiful place,” she said, looking out at the creek rushing through the night below our feet. “The Smokies. The park. This whole end of the state. It’s sad to think there are people who come out here to hurt other people, make narcotics, hunt people down with packs of dogs. That’s the stuff that happens in big cities, not out here in God’s country.”

“Violence in these mountains was here long before Mr. Vanderbilt bought the Smokies and gave them to the government for a park,” I said. “I imagine it takes a hard individual to live off the land out here.”

“Who was the girl in the truck?” she asked, a little too casually.

“Rowena Creigh,” I replied. “Grinny’s daughter. She seems to think very highly of herself. She showed up in her truck after I’d been dismissed. It beat walking back.”

“Was she the one the man said he saw leaving your cabin earlier this evening?”

I was surprised, but then remembered that second witness. “No,” I said. I didn’t elaborate. I sensed that somehow all these unknown women had become important to Mary Ellen, although, superficially at least, she had no claims on my loyalty. And vice versa.

“There going to be formal repercussions from Ranger Bob?” I asked.

She smiled. “I don’t think so. I think he’s more upset about you than me.” She hesitated. “Bob’s carrying a bit of a torch, I think. I keep fending off, but someone must have told him persistence pays. One day I’ll have to get firm, I suppose. Mostly it’s harmless.”

I remembered the hostile looks Bob had been shooting my way during my little debrief. I wondered how harmless the guy really was. Mary Ellen was a striking woman who took her beauty in stride; she might be a whole lot more important to Ranger Bob than she knew.

“All the more reason for me to get out of Dodge,” I said, finishing my coffee. “I’m glad I could be of some help. I think.”

She smiled. “We’ll have a ton of paperwork to do after today. I’ll let you know what they find out about the victim and the second hangman.”

Once she’d left I thought about taking the dogs out for a final night walk. I decided against it. One unscheduled truck ride was enough for one evening. I decided on a nightcap after all. As I sat out on the porch in the dark, I wondered if my association with the lovely Mary Ellen Goode wasn’t drawing to a close on more fronts than just the Howard case.

We’d met by chance during the cat dancers investigation, and I’d been smitten, probably like every other normal man who saw her for the first time. But the fact was, the entire context of our time together had been violent and especially frightening for a park ranger with a Ph. D. A man and a woman may draw very close under those circumstances, but in the cold light of day, it was common ground you both wanted to go away.

Frack came out to the porch and flopped down on the rug. We both decided to sit there and listen to the creek go by.

The muttskis roused me early the next morning with some tentative woofing on the front porch. I grabbed my bathrobe and went to the door, where a deputy stood waiting patiently, flat hat in hand and mirrored sunglasses firmly in place. He looked to be at least thirteen. Or perhaps I was getting old.

“Morning, Deputy. What’s up?”

“Sheriff needs to see you,” the deputy replied, looking nervously at the shepherds now that I had the screen door open. They were sitting behind me, waiting for breakfast. “Problem in Robbins County.”

“What kind of problem?” I asked, wondering why the early-morning summons.

“Um,” the deputy said, knotting his hands. “Sheriff Mingo says you killed a man over there last night?”

I blinked in the bright morning sunlight. “News to me,” I said, “but you tell the sheriff I’ll be right over.”

“Do I need to wait for you, Lieutenant?” the deputy asked, pointedly.

“Nope. I need a shower and some coffee, and then I’ll be right along. Want to come in and meet my shepherds?”

“No, sir, reckon I don’t. Big dogs make me nervous.”

“Okay, then. Tell him thirty minutes.”

The sheriff was waiting for me at his office a half hour later.