Free Wicked Eddies by Beth Groundwater Page B

Mandy said, “Yeah, he sure angered other fly fishermen with his cheating. But besides family and friends, did he piss off other people, too?”
    â€œSome people he used to work for. He hasn’t been getting as many calls for his carpentry skills in this economic downturn, so he owed money to a couple of folks. They aren’t too happy he died before he paid off his debts. Something could have happened between him and Newt or Ira or one of his creditors that made one of them want to kill him.”
    â€œOr Howie pissed off someone else we don’t know about yet.”
    â€œAgreed. I have a feeling there’s a lot more to the Howie Abbott story than we know already.”
    At that point, Mandy heard the call-waiting beep signal on her phone. She figured she and Quintana were about done anyway. “Oops, I’ve got another call. I’ll check in with you later.”
    â€œThanks for the information about Ira. You’ve been real helpful on this case, Mandy.”
    Feeling a glow of accomplishment, Mandy said goodbye and hung up on Quintana, then picked up the other call. It was the dispatcher from the ranger station.
    â€œSorry to call you in on your day off, Mandy, but we’ve got a body search situation where we need all hands.”
    Mandy stowed her laundry basket back in her closet and sat on the bed to scratch behind Lucky’s ears. “What’s going on?”
    â€œA woman reported her husband missing last night. She said he told her he’d be camping and fishing at Ruby Mountain for a few days, but she noticed after he left that he’d forgotten his box of flies. When she drove to Ruby Mountain to deliver the box, his truck was parked there, but she saw no sign of him. He didn’t respond to her shouts either. She searched for him along the banks for a couple of hours before it got pitch black, then she called in the report.”
    Damn, Mandy thought. Ruby Mountain was just upstream from Brown’s Canyon, a rushing series of Class III and IV rapids that was the most popular whitewater rafting run on the upper Arkansas River. If the man’s fishing waders filled up and he was washed into the canyon, his chances were slim to none. Worried it might be someone she knew, Mandy asked, “What’s the man’s name?”
    â€œArnold Crawford. You know him?”
    â€œNo. Did anyone try his cell phone?”
    â€œHis wife said he left it in his truck. He doesn’t carry it when he’s fishing.”
    â€œâ€™Course if he had and it got wet, it wouldn’t work anyway.” Then Mandy realized that it was too early to start a search. “Why are we searching for him now? Don’t we usually wait a couple of days on missing person reports?”
    â€œA rafting guide picked up a Bronco’s Super Bowl ball cap in lower Brown’s Canyon this morning. It had Crawford’s name written inside, so the guide brought it into the station. When it was shown to his wife, she burst into tears.”
    _____
    When Mandy drove into the parking lot at the AHRA headquarters, the two search and rescue trucks from the Salida and Buena Vista fire departments were parked there as well. Steve stood in the hot sun, consulting with the Salida fire chief and making notes on a clipboard. When he spied Mandy, he raised his hand in a wave to acknowledge her presence.
    Mandy joined a group of her fellow river rangers who were milling about in the parking lot, readying gear and swapping stories. None of them seemed to know anything more about Crawford than what she’d already been told. The lot’s black asphalt was
already throwing off shimmers of heat waves under the blazing
mid-morning sun. Only a few small cottonball clouds punctuated the clear blue sky. Beads of sweat had appeared on many foreheads, and some of the searchers crouched in the shade of the parked trucks.
    After popping the cap on her sunscreen, Mandy started slathering it on the