Randy White - Deceived

“No sign of a struggle,” Ransler said, “and no obvious injuries. The medical examiner thinks she’s been dead since Thursday, but that’s preliminary.”

“That’s awful,” I said, getting to my feet. Loretta, of course, had heard Ransler’s car and was trying to eavesdrop from the porch. She would soon have to be told about her friend, but the job required gentleness and planning. Mrs. Terwilliger was in the kitchen, making their breakfast, so now was not the time.

I got Joel’s attention and nodded toward the house. He confirmed his understanding by taking a seat close to my skiff before explaining, “The only reason I mention the condition of the body is because the media might go into detail. You should be prepared. It’s not… nice , the way she died, so the less your mother knows, the better.”

“Are you sure Mrs. Helms wasn’t running from someone?” I asked, meaning a crazy person with an axe.

“She’d already been dead for at least a day when you were attacked,” the prosecutor reminded me. “I suppose the perp could’ve come back to rob the place. But why?” He thought about it, then shook his head. “No… what happened is, I think you surprised someone in the middle of a burglary. He-or she -wouldn’t have used an axe on the door if they knew someone was inside. That bothered me from the start.”

An insane killer might, I thought but stuck to reason, asking, “Then why was he wearing a mask?”

“Whoever it was probably came by boat-the dock’s only fifty, a hundred yards from the house. And you said yourself sun masks are popular with fishermen. The perp probably had it stuck in his pocket and put it on when he heard you drive up. Maybe the sound of your truck brought the woman’s dogs on the run, too. Those animals were half starved, apparently.”

Ransler paused and tapped a knuckle at his teeth, thinking about it before adding, “What he did to that dog, though, that does bother me. And what he might have done to you. Whoever the person is, I think he’s got a screw loose.”

“Anyone could have wandered into that house and surprised him,” I said, wanting to believe it.

Ransler nodded. “Unless the medical examiner says different, we think Mrs. Helms wandered off and got lost. That’s usually the case when an elderly person goes missing. It gets dark, they panic, then just sort of give up and die. Or maybe she got so thirsty, she tried to drink from the pond.”

“That’s… terrible,” I murmured.

The man shrugged and allowed me some privacy by looking at his hands. “The important thing is she didn’t suffer for long-the medical examiner has dealt with a lot of these cases and the old ones go quick. But please don’t tell your mother right away. Not anyone until the lab sends back DNA confirmation. We should get it late today.”

“That’s just a formality, right?” I said. “You’re sure it’s Mrs. Helms.”

“We’re sure, but it’s more than a formality. The sheriff’s department located the daughter, Crystal-she’s living in a trailer park not far from here-but there was no point in asking her to identify the body. So we’ve got to wait to make it public.”

The significance of that came so slowly I sought another explanation. “You mean Crystal was too upset… or she’s using drugs again?”

The prosecutor’s pained expression read I didn’t want to tell you but he did, saying, “Vultures weren’t the only thing that got to the body, Hannah. You grew up in this country, you know better than me what lives in those mangroves.”

Crabs, snakes, feral hogs, rodents-I didn’t think about it for long.

“Enough,” I said. “Poor Mrs. Helms.” Then we both sat in the silence of an April morning while, nearby, baitfish panicked beneath a sortie of pelicans and warring seagulls.

“There is one thing that might make you feel better,” Ransler said finally. “The pamphlets you saw but were missing? Deputies found a stack wadded in a trash bag behind the house. Under a pile of junk.”

“Trying to hide them,” I said. “Why do that?”

“Irrational people do irrational things. What interests me… Well, if we’d found one pamphlet, no big deal. But Mrs. Helms had a whole stack. It has nothing to do with her death but might lead to something you could maybe help me with. I have a couple in my briefcase, if you’re interested… and have the time.”

I said, “Time to do what?”

“Consumer fraud is a big issue for my office. Especially schemes that target the elderly. It’s a billion-dollar business in Florida, but I’m so short-staffed I need to hire outside help to-” Ransler was interrupted by the ping of his cell phone, which he looked at before saying, “Sorry, I’ve got to take this.”

I busied myself rigging new fishing leaders while the special prosecutor stepped away to talk but was wondering if the man had come because he had a romantic interest in me. Or had he come to give me the news about Mrs. Helms, then offer me a job?

I spun a Bimini twist around my knees and waited to find out.

JOEL RANSLERhad called the previous afternoon, saying he and Mr. Chatham wanted to do some fly-fishing and also take more photos-concentrating on the area between Sulfur Wells and where the Sematee and Charlotte county borders met. Did I know the water and was I available?

I HAD ANSWEREDyes to both. He was referring to a short stretch of coastline, less than five miles, all shoal water and mangroves, as Ford had described it. Access to the area was through a tricky slalom of cuts and creeks, and I had been looking forward to the challenge because it would give me a break from worrying about Ford. Instead of thinking of him, I would have to concentrate on running my boat and then finding fish in a series of bays where limestone reefs were a threat-an oddity in Southwest Florida. Ransler had arrived dressed for work, though, not fishing, in his blue pin-striped shirt and tie, and he was alone, so I figured the trip was off.

Which is why, when he finished his phone call and had returned to the dock, I offered him a bottle of water, saying, “I feel sick about Mrs. Helms, but I appreciate you driving down to tell me. I know you’re busy, Joel, so let’s make it another day.”

“Rance,” he corrected me, “and what gives you the idea I’m canceling? That was Del on the phone. He’s dealing with some family issues, so it looks like it’ll be just you and me.” He knelt to take the bottle of water and opened it. After a sip, he asked, “Is that okay?”

Do a fishing trip so soon after Mrs. Helms’s body had been found-just the two of us? My uneasiness must have shown because the man gave me a look that mixed patience and understanding. “I’m just the prosecutor. There’s nothing I can do about the person who assaulted you until the cops have their ducks in a row. And there’s nothing either one of us can do for Mrs. Helms. In my job, I see some of the most horrific stuff you can imagine, but life goes on, Hannah.” He smiled. “Right?”

I tried the only excuse I could come up with. “I’m worried about my mother-you know, leaving her alone so soon.”

Ransler looked toward the house. “She doesn’t have a nurse?”

“A sitter, yes, but-”

“Then your mother will be just fine-unless she wanders off in the mangroves. But, tell you what, I’ll have the deputies keep an eye on the place for another few days if you’re concerned.”

Sulfur Wells wasn’t in Sematee County, which I pointed out, but Ransler replied it wasn’t a problem. Then looked around, saying, “I’ve got clothes and my fishing gear in the car. Can I change in your mom’s house? Or what about there?”