Diane Davidson - The Main Corpse

“Time to pack up,” the general announced. He wanted to get to Idaho Springs and the Eurydice Gold Mine as soon as possible.

We left the Hardcastles’ cabin somewhat cleaner than we’d found it, and my only hope was that a new layer of dust would cover the interior before the Hardcastles took it upon themselves to visit their country property.

When we drew up to the mine an hour later, it appeared utterly abandoned. The heavy grates across the menacing portal were wrapped shut by a thick chain. The sheds were tightly locked. How different the old site seemed now, with no tent, no portable ovens, no food, and no partygoers. Arch talked to Jake, who had howled on our way up High Creek Avenue. Jake scrambled over his lap, poked his nose out the window and let loose with a grandiose, ear-splitting wail.

“Not again,” muttered Marla.

“Close the damn window,” the general commanded.

“Okay,” Arch said meekly, “but it’s like up at the cabin. Bloodhounds remember a scent. When they smell it in the air, they howl. It’s just the way they are. I think Tony’s been here.”

“Honey,” I said mildly, “Jake always howls.”

“Not true,” Arch maintained, ever loyal.

“Well, then,” I asked as we piled out of the Jeep, “what if whoever kidnapped Tony was here, and then went off? Or say the kidnapper got the gold, then came back down this dirt road? The dog certainly won’t be able to distinguish between coming and going, will he?” And particularly not this dog, I thought somewhat peevishly.

“Bloodhounds always go after the freshest scent,” my son replied earnestly, anxious to exhibit his beloved pet’s unique skills. “At this point, the whole idea in Jake’s mind, his whole purpose in life, is just to f-i-n-d Tony.”

Arch coaxed the working harness, a leather and metal contraption attached to a thicker leather leash, back over Jake’s head. Jake immediately lowered his nose to the train track leading into the mine. I turned and saw Marla staring at the portal. There was fear in her eyes. Jake cast along the area where the party tent had been, nose to the ground, paws taking him first here, then there. He sniffed out a ditch, then the entrance to a shed. My heart sank. This would never work. And even if it did, and if we did find Tony in the mine, what would we do? Suppose he really was dead? Would we call the sheriffs department? I couldn’t imagine De Groot and Hersey driving up in a department vehicle with big smiles on their faces. Hey, sorry everybody! Marla didn’t kill Royce! Nobody got pushed into Grizzly Creek! Big mistake!

ake had a scent. He was pulling dementedly on his leash.

“Hold up,” said the general. “There’s a road around the side of the mountain. It goes down some rough terrain and ends up on a back road to Central City, not far from Orpheus Canyon Road. Maybe Tony and his abductor came for the gold samples, and they went out the other way. Be very sure to let the hound cast for the freshest scent, Arch.”

But Jake was determined that there was only one scent to follow, and that led straight into the Eurydice Mine. He stopped at the closed grate, and howled.

“Wait,” the general commanded briskly. He strode over to the corrugated metal shed on the right side of the mine, where the party tent had been pitched less than ten days earlier. He pushed hard on the door until the wood splintered and gave. A moment later, the string of lights leading into the mine lit up. I recalled that Marla had told me the lights had been specially hung for the investors’ tour of the mine, and did not go in very far. But to me, the tiny lamps seemed to go down and in forever, like a vision out of Alice in Wonderland.

Bo poked his head out the shed door and signaled to us.

“I don’t know this place at all,” he said, almost apologetically. “And I have no idea what the scent will be like inside the mine. I don’t even know where the safe is, but the tracks should take us to it. I’m hoping that’s where we’ll find Tony.” He looked hard at Arch. “I really don’t want you to be subjected to this, son. Please let me take Jake. You can stay here, in the car if you like, with your mother.”

Arch pushed his glasses up his nose and squared his shoulders in unconscious imitation of Bo. “Wherever Jake goes, I go. That’s the way it is. My dad’s a doctor and Tom’s a homicide guy. I know about life and death, and you know my mom’s been involved with solving some crimes before.”

Bo scowled. Then he nodded. Maybe he recognized that Arch could be as stubborn as he was.

“All right then,” he said. “Here’s the deal. Sorry to take over, Goldy, but with safety an issue, I’d feel better being in charge.”

I nodded an assent. The general went on: “I want Marla to stay at the portal with my gun. Arch, Goldy, and I go in wearing mine safety equipment. We follow the rails with Jake to the safe. No matter what happens, we stay together. A lamp goes out, Jake starts to howl, we all come out and I go back in alone. Got it?”

Arch said yes. I nodded. General Bo led us, catlike, through the shed. He handed Arch and me hard hats, then put one on himself Arch clamped his foot over Jake’s leash while he fastened the hard hat strap under his chin.

“Put these on, too,” Bo advised. He held up bulky belts whose loops were crammed with equipment. When we had fastened the cumbersome leather straps around our waists, Bo grinned. “Before we take off, ladies and gentlemen, we’d like to demonstrate the safety features of your belt.” He reached to one side of the belt and pulled on a round reflective device attached to a cord. “This is a cap lamp.” He slid the light into a metal bracket in the front of his hardhat. “Used one of these once when I went into a VC tunnel in ‘Nam.” He flipped a switch on the lamp, and it came on. “Only use this if you have to.” He touched the cord on the lamp. “It’s attached to a wet cell battery back here.” He grasped what looked like a miniature flask from the belt. “This is what’s called a self-rescuer. If there’s a fire in the tunnel, what you most need to worry about is carbon monoxide. You use this like diving equipment.” He glanced around the shed, tucked his self-rescuer in his belt, and reached for another of the flasks. Unlike the ones on our belts, this flask was red.

“This is a training device. Nonfunctioning, that’s why it’s painted red. You pry up this lever to break the seal and discard the cover. Then you bite on this mouthpiece.” When he pulled the cloth cover off the flask, underneath was a metal container with an attached nose clip. He held the mouthpiece of the training flask up to his mouth. “Then close your nostrils with this” – he pointed to the nose clip – “and breathe. The filter inside the self-rescuer turns carbon monoxide into carbon dioxide for about an hour, depending on the concentration of carbon monoxide. You probably won’t need it.” He nodded, his eyes sternly assessing us for signs of cowardice. “Okay? Ready?” Arch said yes, eagerly, and scooped up Jake’s leash. I bobbed my head inside the hard hat. It was tight on my head, and I wasn’t sure I would be able to fit the cap lamp into the hat’s bracket if I had to, much less use the respirator. All I wanted to do was find what we had come here for, and get home to Tom. If Tom wanted me back home.

General Bo carried a hammer out to the portal entrance, where he examined the chain and padlock, Loudly, he said, “Okay, here we go.” A few swings of the hammer broke the padlock, and Bo unthreaded the chain.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Arch told me as we neared the iron doors that Bo pulled open. Jake surged forward expectantly. “Mines are really safe these days. Not like they used to be.”