Free Wicked Eddies by Beth Groundwater Page A

“One thing’s for sure, Howie could tie beautiful flies. I wonder who’ll get his fly box. I hope that person will know the value of the contents.”
    After a respectful moment, Wally cleared his throat. “How about if you show me exactly where those eddies are that you were talking about, Ira?”
    With admonitions to be careful, Steve and Mandy pushed their raft off the cobble bar. Giving the fishing duo a wide berth, they paddled quietly downstream. Mandy thought back on Ira’s reaction. Was the man’s grief genuine or was he faking it?

Five
    Let your hook be always cast.
In the pool where you least expect it, will be fish.
    â€”OVID
    Thursday was Mandy’s day off, so she threw a load of laundry in the washing machine and took a nice long run with Lucky. After showering and breakfasting, she phoned Detective Quintana to tell him about her encounter with Ira Porter.
    She ended with the question that had been niggling her all night. “Do you think Ira’s really grieving over Howie’s death, or do you think he might be the one who killed him?”
    â€œCould be both,” Quintana answered. “Ira’s a much smaller man than Howie. If they got into an argument and it got out of hand, Ira could have resorted to the hatchet and then sprayed Howie with pepper spray if it looked like Howie would get up. And now he’s regretting his rash actions and missing his fishing partner.”
    â€œBut if they were arguing, why was Howie lying on top of his sleeping bag?”
    â€œMaybe that’s where he fell. Or maybe he was sitting there when Ira hatcheted him, or maybe Ira’s temper simmered until Howie fell asleep and Ira got him then. Or maybe I’m just blowing smoke. Hopefully I’ll find out something when I talk to him this afternoon. He’s agreed to come in for questioning.”
    Mandy’s dryer beeped, and she started unloading the clothes while cradling her phone against her shoulder. “Were you able to confirm Newt Nowak’s alibi?”
    â€œGonzo confirmed that he spent Saturday evening with him,” Quintana said, “but when I took Newt to his campsite, no one else was around. I almost wonder if they saw us coming and high-tailed it out of there.”
    â€œYou going to go back there?”
    â€œYeah, sometime tonight. Though in the meantime, Newt could have concocted a story with his buddies. I would have preferred to talk to them last night.”
    Taking a break from folding her clothes, Mandy shifted the phone to her other ear. “Did Newt’s fingerprints match any of those on the hatchet or beer cans?”
    â€œNo, but he could have worn his work gloves while doing the killing. Some of the prints on the hatchet were smeared. That could have happened when Howie tried to get it out of his neck with hands that were already slippery with blood. Or, a killer wearing gloves could have smeared the prior prints.”
    Mandy shuddered at the image of Howie clawing away at the hatchet. “Did you see any blood on Newt’s glove?”
    â€œNot from a visual inspection, but we sent the glove off to CBI. They’ll see if it has any minute traces of Howie Abbott’s blood or the pepper spray on it.”
    â€œAnd I suppose they’ll try to confirm that it’s Newt’s glove by doing a DNA match on skin cells or hairs inside.”
    â€œYep.”
    Mandy tugged on her ponytail while she mulled over the two suspects. “You know, I don’t see how either one of these guys has a motive.”
    â€œJust because we haven’t found one yet doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist.” The sound of pages flipping came over the phone, as if Quintana was reviewing the case file. “From what I’ve been able to find out about Howie Abbott so far, he wasn’t well liked. He tended to piss people off and didn’t seem to care.”
    While stowing socks in her dresser drawer,