“Thanks,” Mandy said. “I’m interested in learning how a fly-fishing tournament is run, so yes, I’ll stay to listen to your talk. In the meantime, I’ll let you get back to work.”

  She turned and threaded her way past a fishing team and two volunteer controllers who stood behind her, waiting to check in. When she passed them, she spotted Rob across the room, standing with a clipboard and tube tucked under his arm and talking to a couple of fishermen. Not feeling ready to talk to him yet, she turned in the direction of the coffee pot, hoping he hadn’t seen her.

  “Do you know Lee or Craig Ellis?” she asked a tall man next to her.

  “Sure.”

  “Can you see where they are?”

  Being taller, he could see over more heads than Mandy could. “They’re over by the beat map.” He pointed across the room, where a large USGS map of the AHRA hung on the wall, with bright red lines along the Arkansas River marking the tournament beats.

  “Thanks.” Mandy wended her way through knots of competitors and controllers until she reached the Ellis men, who were talking to four burly men with Southern drawls.

  After a round of introductions, Mandy said to the North Carolinians, “Do you mind if I steal these guys for a few minutes? I need to ask them some questions.”

  “Not at all, darling,” one of them answered, “as long as you return ’em before the starting bell rings.”

  Lee and Craig gave her some curious looks, but they readily followed her out to the mostly empty lobby.

  Mandy led the way to a private corner away from the meeting room, below a large watercolor of cottonwoods leaning over the river, all glinting orange in a sunrise.

  She took a deep breath and turned to Lee first. “I have to tell you that I’m really worried about Cynthia. Detective Quintana seems to be narrowing in on her as the most likely person to have killed Howie Abbott. I’m afraid he might arrest her soon.”

  Craig’s jaw dropped and Lee’s brow furrowed. “Anyone who knows Cynthia knows she’s not capable of murder.”

  “Of course, but a lot of evidence is pointing at her.” Mandy kept her growing doubts about her best friend to herself. “Did Quintana ask you about your hatchet last night, if Cynthia borrowed it for a camping trip?”

  Lee nodded. “I can’t find it, and the picture Quintana showed me of the one that was used on Howie matches mine. So, I assume Howie borrowed it when he went camping. Unlike Cynthia, he never asked when he wanted to borrow stuff. He just took it. I remember Cynthia asking to borrow some camping gear when she went to Ouray, but I couldn’t specifically say that she took the hatchet then.”

  “What?” Mandy was aghast. “You couldn’t back her up on that tiny point?”

  Lee held up his hands. “That was in July. I just don’t remember what all she took.”

  “Do you want Quintana to arrest Cynthia?”

  “Hell, no,” Lee said. “I wish he’d leave the whole family alone.”

  “You know,” Mandy said, hands on her hips. She didn’t like the answers she was getting, and decided to push the Ellis men—hard. “There are other fingerprints on that hatchet. They could match yours, or Craig’s here, or even Brenda’s.”

  “It was Dad’s hatchet, after all. Why wouldn’t our fingerprints be on it?” Frowning, Craig took a step forward. “What are you implying?”

  “Maybe one of you wants Cynthia to take the fall for this, because one of you is the guilty party and doesn’t want to admit it. Howie was abusing your daughter and sister, for Christ’s sake!”

  Lee’s expression was pained. “But we didn’t know about it.”

  Mandy glanced at Craig. “I almost could believe you didn’t know, from the way you behaved Monday night. Either that or you’re a darned good actor.”

  “Hey,” Craig said, “That’s a low—”

  Mandy turned to Lee, fury pushing her past the brink of civility. “But it’s just your word that you and Brenda didn’t know. Maybe you found out right before Howie went camping and it ate you up inside, enough to take a hatchet to your brother-in-law.”

  “Mandy,” Lee said, his hands making a calm-down motion. “I know why you’re saying this. You’re worried about Cynthia. But believe me, we had nothing to do with Howie’s death. No matter how despicable the man was, I wouldn’t kill him.”

  “Really? You wouldn’t try to protect your daughter from a monster?”

  Lee’s face reddened. “Of course I’d try to protect her. But not by becoming a monster myself. I’d let the law put him away, in prison, where he belonged.”

  “What’s going on here?” The voice was strident, shrill, and it was Brenda’s.

  She had come up behind Mandy, out of her field of vision. When Mandy turned toward her, Brenda was glowering, the lunch sacks she carried shaking in her hands.

  Lee licked his lips. “Nothing to worry yourself about, dear. Mandy’s just expressing her concern that the sheriff’s office is targeting Cynthia for Howie’s murder.”

  “That’s not what it sounded like to me,” Brenda said, her eyes wild-looking as if she was barely under control. “Sounds like Mandy’s picking on a grieving parent, trying to get you to confess to something you didn’t do.” She poked a finger at Mandy. “Shame on you!”

  Mandy’s cheeks and neck flushed with heat. “No, no, I’m sorry if that’s how it came across—”

  “Don’t try to excuse your behavior!”

  “Mom.” Craig took the lunch sacks. “Thanks for bringing our lunches. But you don’t need to get involved here.”

  Lee walked over and put his arm around Brenda’s shoulders, gingerly, as if he was afraid she would break.

  The woman did look close to cracking as she shuddered and pointed a wavering finger at Mandy. “You’re despicable. Leave my family alone.”

  “C’mon, honey.” Lee turned Brenda toward the entrance. “I’ll walk you back to the car. Craig, you go back in and listen to Mr. Squire’s briefing. You can fill me in on what I missed after I get back.”

  “But, but, …” Mandy stuttered as the two of them walked away.

  “I think we’re done here.” Craig glared at her, as he stood with a lunch sack in each hand. “I’m going back in the meeting room. John’s probably about to start his talk.”

  While Craig walked away, Mandy took a deep breath to still her racing heart. She felt like sinking into a hole to hide her embarrassment over behaving like an ass. And she hadn’t found out anything useful. Then she noticed that it had gotten quieter in the meeting room across the lobby. Deciding she might as well listen to the briefing, she rubbed her sweaty hands on her jeans and gathered her composure.

  When she walked into the room, John Squire was standing on a folding chair. He held a hand out to help a woman climb onto a chair next to him. Another man held the woman’s chair steady for her.

  John held up a hand. “Folks, this is Emma Crawford, and she has something important to say to the group. Please give her your attention.”

  With a start, Mandy realized Emma must be Arnold Crawford’s wife. She looked terrible, with deep dark circles under her eyes that hinted she hadn’t slept much in the last week. Her limp, mousey brown hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. Her lower lip trembled until she bit it and clenched her fists, obviously fighting for control. Finally she raised her chin and looked out over the respectfully silent group.

  “Thank you, John, for allowing me to speak to everyone. As many of you locals know, my husband, Arnold, is an avid fisherman. He’s been missing since last Wednesday, over a week now.” She nodded at Carol Squire, who began handing out fliers around the room, the same flier containing a photo of Arnold Crawford that Mandy already had a copy of.

  “Arnold went missing at the Ruby Mountain put-in,” Emma continued. “If any of you see him, or see something suspicious in or near the river, such as an item of clothing or a shoe or …” She paused, her eyes glistening, and bit her lower lip again until she could continue. “Or, you know …”

  At this point, Mandy finished the woman’s sentence in her mind, as she was sure everyone else in the room was doing … or his body.

  “Please call 911 to alert the Chaffee County Sheriff’s Office. Thank you.” Emma Crawford stepped off the chair then plopped down on the seat, collapsing like a rag doll.

  Carol Squire returned to put an arm around Emma’s shoulders while John added, “Or you can let me know. All of the controllers have my cell phone number on their sheets. I’m sure Mrs. Crawford would appreciate whatever assistance we can lend in finding her husband.”

  While John launched into a description of the day’s schedule, Mandy watched Carol escort Emma out of the room and decided to follow. Lee and Craig had named Arnold Crawford as their alibi for when Howie Abbott was killed, after all.

  Out in the lobby, Mandy spotted the two women sitting on a bench. She walked over, introduced herself to Emma and sat next to her. “I’m real sorry about your husband. I just wanted to let you know that I was part of the team that searched Brown’s Canyon for him. We were very thorough. We’re reasonably certain that he’s not in the canyon.”

  “Thanks,” Emma whispered, “that’s one small comfort, at least.” She heaved a great sigh and licked her lips.

  “I’ll get you some water,” Carol said and walked away.

  Here was Mandy’s opening. “Your husband knew the Ellis men pretty well, I understand.”

  Emma nodded. “They fished together often. I feel real sorry for that family. Sure, my Arnold is missing, but they know their Faith is never coming back to them. And then there’s Brenda’s brother.”

  “Lee and Craig told the sheriff’s office that they were fishing with your husband the Sunday afternoon that Howie was killed. Did you see them then?”

  “No. Arnold just told me he was going fishing when he left the house that day. He didn’t say who he was going with. He hardly ever does. Just like last Wednesday. I don’t know if he was out there alone or if he was supposed to be meeting someone.”

  Carol returned with a water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to Emma. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Emma took a drink. “No, I’ll just head home. I spend a lot of time there these days, waiting for the phone to ring, hoping it’s Arnold, or someone who’s seen him.”

  While Mandy and Carol watched her leave, Carol shook her head. “That poor woman.”

  “Yeah,” Mandy said, “but at least we didn’t find her husband in Brown’s Canyon. His body might be farther down the river, but there’s also some hope that he’s alive somewhere.”

  Carol nodded. “Guess we better get back inside and hear what else John has to say.”

  While Mandy followed Carol back into the meeting room, her mind raced. So Emma Crawford couldn’t back up Lee and Craig’s alibi story. And her husband, Arnold, had disappeared after Howie was killed. What if Lee or Craig picked him out as their alibi, then Arnold refused to lie for them. Would Lee or Craig have disposed of him, too? If one of them could kill a relative, why not an uncooperative friend?

  _____

  Late that afternoon, Mandy was stowing her cataraft and equipment in the AHRA Headquarters garages after a hot but fairly uneventful patrol day on the river. She’d fished some garbage out of a few shallow eddies, so she was not only sticky with sweat, but grimy with dried river mud. She couldn’t wait to clean herself up.

  Steve came out of the back door of the building as she was throwing her dripping trash bags in the dumpster. “Have you heard how the tournament’s going?”

  After wiping her damp hands on her nylon river shorts, leaving more muddy fingerprints, Mandy checked her watch. “No, teams were supposed to check in at five, and it’s a little after that now.” She sighed inwardly but decided she’d better make a suggestion. “We could walk over to the SteamPlant and talk to folks ourselves.”

  “Good idea,” Steve said. “And I bet we’ll find quite a few of them at the Salida Cafe next door, having a beer.”

  Come to think of it, a cold beer sounded really good to Mandy, almost as good as a cold shower. And it’s not like folks haven’t seen someone with river grime on them in the Cafe. She fell into step beside Steve. The two of them walked to the end of G Street and turned left just before the boat ramp to approach the SteamPlant from the walkway along the river.

  As they neared the event center, Mandy could see quite a crowd was gathered on the outdoor plaza. “John Squire must have moved his operation outside.”

  “I don’t blame him.” Steve raised his face to the warm rays of the sun that wouldn’t set for a couple of hours yet. “It’s a great afternoon to be outside.”

  Mandy shot him a look but clamped her lips shut so she didn’t speak her thought, not if you’re fishing garbage from the river.

  Before she could think of a milder reply, she spotted Rob separating from the crowd, walking toward her. Stomach quivering with nervousness, she approached him. They both started talking at once.

  “Sorry about last night.”

  “I’m sorry, mi querida. I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

  “You were right, though, about a lot, but I was too angry to see that.”

  “I shouldn’t be pushing you so hard.”

  “It was stupid of me to leave.”

  “Forgive me?”

  “Forgive me?”

  They both stopped. A slow grin worked its way onto Mandy’s face, matching the one growing on Rob’s. He held out his hands. “Come here.”

  “I’m all muddy.”

  “Like I care.”

  Gratefully, Mandy stepped into the warm circle of his arms and reveled in his hug. She lifted her face to his. “We’re a couple of dumb bunnies, aren’t we?”

  He kissed her on the nose and stepped back, letting one hand slide down her arm to grasp her hand, which he squeezed gently. “Maybe not so dumb as bunnies. We can learn from our mistakes.”

  Mandy realized that the peck on her nose and his releasing her from the hug meant that Rob had remembered her aversion to PDA, especially in front of her boss. Steve, ever polite, had taken a few steps away and was staring at the crowd.

  Yes, Rob was learning. Hopefully, she was, too. She gave his hand a squeeze back before letting go. “Want to try again tonight?” Then she looked down at her grimy self. “After I clean up, that is.”

  “Maybe I can help with that.” He winked at her then leaned over to whisper in her ear. “There’s nothing like make-up sex, they say.”

  A delicious shiver ran from Rob’s breath on her ear down Mandy’s neck. But this wasn’t the right place or time. She forced herself to take a step back.

  “Doesn’t look like a happy gathering.” Steve said with a frown and hands on his hips.

  Men’s voices shouting angry words at each other drew Mandy’s gaze toward the crowd. Mandy couldn’t tell who the men were, because a tense circle had formed around them. And their words were masked by a low buzz rising from the crowd, like the hum of hornets in a disturbed nest. Worried, she followed Steve and Rob as they pushed through the ring of people until they reached the inside of the circle.

  Ira Porter and Jesse Lopez stood squared off against each other in front of John’s check-in table. Ira’s partner, Wally, had stepped away from his teammate and stood chewing on his lip. A slight, worried-looking Hispanic man, whom Mandy presumed was Jesse’s partner, held his hand up as if to grab Jesse’s arm, but it remained motionless, showing he was hesitant to touch his partner.

  John stood behind his table, his hands making downward “calm down” motions. “Guys, guys, let’s not get excited here. I’m sure we can work this out.”

  “But he’s doing it again, John,” Jesse said with a wavering finger pointed at Ira. “He’s trying to get away with breaking the rules, just like he and Howie did when Howie was alive.”

  “But the rules don’t say what to do when a partner dies,” Ira said. “I’m in my rights to find a replace—”

  “No, what you do is withdraw,” Jesse spit out. “Clean and simple.”

  “Now, Jesse,” John said, “Ira’s right. The rules are unclear on this point. So we can be flexible.”

  Jesse stepped toward Ira, jaw jutting out. “Cheaters don’t deserve flexibility.”

  Ira’s fists clenched. “Who you calling a cheater?”

  “This doesn’t look good,” Rob said to Mandy and Steve.

  “Yep,” Steve replied. “These two may get physical. Doesn’t look like their partners are going to stop them, either.”

  “We all know Howie was a fucking cheater.” Jesse made a wide sweep of his arm toward the crowd.

  Mandy noticed some heads nodding in agreement while Ira shouted, “Not true, not true!”

  Jesse glowered at Ira. “And anyone who partners with a cheater must be one himself.”

  “Fuck you, Jesse! You know you can’t beat me. That’s the only reason you want us out of the tournament. You’re chicken.” Ira tucked his hands under his armpits and pranced in a circle, making clucking sounds and flapping his imaginary wings.

  That drew laughter from the onlookers.

  “Big mistake,” Rob muttered.

  From her association with Rob, Mandy knew Hispanic men were a proud bunch, and from the purpling of Jesse’s face, she knew Ira had gone too far.

  While Ira’s back was turned, Jesse rushed him, plowing into him. The two landed on their sides on the flagstones with a loud thump.

  “Stop this! Right now!” Steve lunged toward the grappling fishermen.

  Rob followed.

  Ira and Jesse rolled and thrashed. Arms flew, trying to land punches. Voices from the crowd were yelling, “Fight, fight,” and encouraging the two men.

  John ran around the table toward them, yelling, “Break it up!”

  Rob and Steve got there first. They each grabbed a combatant and pulled the men apart.

  Ira and Jesse struggled against their captors while Steve shouted, “Help us out here!”

  John grabbed Ira. Finally Wally and Jesse’s partners acted, and both ran toward their teammates.

  In Jesse’s case, it was too late. He squirmed out of Rob’s grasp and threw a wild roundhouse punch, connecting with Rob’s face.