Free Ray Elkins mystery - 02 - Color Tour by Aaron Stander Page B

would need some knowledge of the area.”
    “But probably not too much,” said Ray. “If they parked in the lot, the trail is marked with a map posted at the trailhead. Plus, once you get out beyond the forest you can see for miles from the top of the dunes.”
    “Wait. I’m telling the story,” Sue smiled. “I think the perp took the trail. From the top of the dune it’s easy to watch someone coming up the beach. He waited until they were engaged, probably slid down one of those gullies, and then crawled up through the dune grass from the lake. Approaching at that angle he wouldn’t be spotted until the last second.” She pushed over the pile of photos. “Look at the position of the bodies, the assailant would have attacked from this line,” she used her finger as a pointer, “slashed victim one, and then stabbed victim two. Just the way Dr. Dyskin described it.”
    “And how about Arnie?”
    “He could have been up there too. There’s a lot of real estate. And I doubt if the killer would have been aware of his presence.”
    Ray was silent as he considered this scenario. Finally he asked, “Ashleigh’s car?”
    “The Volvo was locked. I assume Ashleigh locked it.”
    “Because?”
    “There was a backpack and some other fairly expensive camping equipment in the rear. I opened it with keys we pulled from her jeans. I’ve dusted the car, her prints are everywhere. Dowd’s are on the passenger’s side. There are some others, random, and mostly partial. I don’t think the killer touched the car.”
    “What else?”
    “We’ve checked the other cottages along the ridge, they’re all closed for the season. And I talked with Nora again. She’s sure she didn’t see anyone else that evening. Said there were a few people around earlier, but they were long gone by dusk.”
    Ray slid down in his chair. “You’ve been thorough. Damn,” he muttered. “There just isn’t much here.” He paused, removed his glasses, and rubbed his right eye. “If we could find the weapon, that might give us some direction. Let’s do a search of the water contiguous with that part of the shore, out to the second bar. And sweep a broader area of the beach with the metal detectors. But… ”
    “But what?”
    “The proverbial needle, isn’t it?” Ray said. He looked at his watch. “Ready to face the cameras? We’ve got about fifteen minutes until the news conference,” he said, pulling several sheets of paper from his printer tray. “Here’s the statement I’m planning on reading. Why don’t you give it a quick read and tell me if you think I need to make any changes?”
    “This is the part I hate,” Sue said.
    “It won’t be bad,” Ray offered reassuringly. “I’ll take all the questions. And at this point we don’t have much that we can tell them.”

13
Ray parked near the entrance of the Last Chance Tavern and moseyed in, past the pool table, empty booths, and jukebox and settled on the black vinyl cushion of a barstool. Jack Grochoski, the bartender and owner, his back turned to the room, was focused on a large television screen mounted on the back wall of the bar, above the neat rows of liquor bottles. On screen, Oprah was chatting with a bald-headed, intense-looking man. Ray, making a coughing sound, cleared his throat. Grochoski, looking startled, turned around.
    “Ray. Sorry, I didn’t see you come in. I was getting counseled on my love life,” Grochoski said laughing, as he picked up a remote and turned down the volume. He reached under the bar to get a coffee cup. “I made this about half an hour ago, it’s probably still okay,” he said as he filled the large, white ceramic mug. “If it has gone bitter, just say the word, and I’ll… ”
    “It’s fine, Jack,” said Ray after he carefully tested the coffee. He laid two photos on the bar.
    Grochoski pulled a pair of glasses out of his shirt pocket, unfolded them, and slid them in place, using his forefinger to adjust them on his nose.