Amaz'n Murder. William Maltese
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cleverness, in the eyes of any killer who might take umbrage to her efforts to thwart him. “The cave is closer and more convenient than ferrying the body across the river.”
“Brilliant!” Melanie congratulated. “It’s cooler, too, isn’t it? The body will be better preserved when the authorities finally do arrive on the scene.”
Silently, Carolyne bemoaned Melanie having brought that to the attention of any killer. In consolation, it was unlikely any killer would have missed the obvious even if Melanie hadn’t spelled out the obvious. Which was no derogatory reflection on Melanie’s intelligence, except so far as Carolyne, never a beauty herself, had an inherent bias that made it difficult to equate prom queen with discoverer of a possible cure for cancer. She sometimes forgot the genes of Cornelius Ditherson were locked somewhere within that attractive package. Charles, not too shabby a scientist in his own right, had arisen from that very same impressive gene pool.
“Natural refrigeration, so to speak.” It wasn’t a question but Teddy pondering that possibility. “It might work.”
“It’ll certainly be worth the try,” Roy agreed.
“There are those natural niches in the cave wall,” Melanie reminded. “We can put Gordon in one of those and block it off with stones.”
“Stones big enough to thwart any recovery attempts by Mr. Hungry Jaguar,” Charles added his congratulations.
“Two at a time on the litter,” Roy summated logistics, “the third walking shotgun and trading off duties with the other two.” Felix, back at camp, wasn’t counted. “The ladies can devote full-time to making sure the cat doesn’t appear unexpectedly.”
The speed and ease with which everyone fell into litter construction and assigned roles denoted universal acceptance. Although, Carolyne hardly expected the killer, if there was one, to draw attention to himself by arguing for a less acceptable—except for him—alternative course of action.
They were headed out when Melanie was distracted by a faint glitter of green. She stooped to retrieve the cause from the otherwise concealing mat of leafy decay. “Something else I suspect Mother Nature didn’t put here?” she said and held up her discovery for more light.
“Is that an emerald?” Charles asked in amazement. Walking shotgun, he’d seen Melanie kneel to claim the prize. Now, preferring a professional opinion: “Roy, my niece has a possible emerald, yes?”
None too ceremoniously, the litter, with Gordon on it, was lowered by Teddy and Roy, the latter’s expertise immediately available.
“Damn if it isn’t one of mine!” Roy surprised after his initial examination of the stone that wasn’t overly large but definitely a beauty as far as its deeply translucent green was concerned.
“My niece found it while you were hitched to the litter,” Charles indignantly begged to differ; he snapped the gem from Roy’s hand.
Roy realized his announcement had sounded like a bully staking claim to some little weakling’s prize marble. “I mean, it was once part of a cache I brought back from the headwaters of the Jurua.”
“So, what’s it doing here?” Teddy waited for Melanie to take the stone from her uncle and pass it on.
“Beats me. I sold it to John Leider awhile back.”
“How can you be so sure it’s the same stone?” Teddy was doubtful. “One emerald looks pretty much like another, yes?”
Roy had news for him. “Gems of this exceptional green don’t grow on trees. They’re damned hard to come by, and I remember every one I ever had the luck of finding.” He retrieved a small spiral notebook from his shirt pocket, shuffled its pages, and pointed to a pencil drawing. “That’s it; its inclusions form a distinctive ‘J,’ just slightly to the left of center. John’s wife’s name, Jane, starts with a J, too, and he was hot to have it. I jacked up the asking price, because of his obvious anxiousness to have it, and he still bought it.”
“Inclusions?” Teddy held the emerald elevated between his thumb and forefinger; it converted all refracted light into green sparks.
“Its flaws.” Roy wasn’t a jeweler explaining stone qualities to a prospective buyer; he was a jeweler begrudgingly indulging questions from some know-nothing bum who’d accosted him on the street. “It’s how you tell the real things from the fakes; it’s the fakes, in the case of emeralds, that are always perfect.”
“So, does this expand our list of suspects by putting Mr. Leider at the scene of the crime?” Suddenly, Charles was willing to welcome that additional scapegoat.
“There’d be a lot of people interested to hear it, if it does,” Roy revealed. “Jane Leider included. John was due back in Manaus ages ago, but his wife insists he’s never shown.”
“Disappeared in order to off Gordon?” Teddy was magnanimously as anxious as Charles to shift the blame outside the immediate group.
“I can’t imagine John misplacing an emerald, let alone this one,” was the way Roy saw it. “Besides, I’d know if he’d reappeared around these parts.”
“Maybe, my unexpected appearance on the murder scene didn’t give him time to realize the emerald was gone,” Teddy suggested.
“Meaning, we should keep our eyes peeled for a two-legged John Leider as well as a four-legged jaguar?” Charles ventured.
“Cheery thought!” Carolyne’s tone came across anything-but.
“Congratulations, Melanie, it’s a beautiful stone and will make a nice souvenir.” Roy watched the gem pass back to its latest discoverer’s hands.
“I get to keep it?” Possession pleased her, despite the tragic circumstances.
“At least until Mr. Leider comes to collect it,” Teddy said ominously; it wasn’t something Melanie wanted to hear; having heard it, she was sorry Teddy was so killjoy.
“Finders-keepers, I suspect,” Roy was more optimistic. “Of course, the authorities will want to take a look.”
“All chocked up as a very interesting interlude, but shouldn’t we get Gordon taken care of before nightfall?” Charles suggested. “I suspect both our jaguar and Mr. Leider have better night vision than we do.”
The ensuing burial proved anticlimactic, the trip down to the river and behind the falls entirely without incident. One of several niches was sufficiently large so that Gordon fit without any undignified efforts to stuff him into a better fit. Convenient rocks, fallen from the cave ceiling over the centuries, made only a few additional stones necessary from the river.
The natural chill of the cave was enhanced by the sounds of the water that curtained the entrance without splashing anything but a leading lip of stone.
Roy asked Carolyne if she would read something appropriate from his weather-worn miniature Old Testament. She chose the “Twenty-third Psalm.” That walk through the valley of the shadow of death was an old standard that always fit. She’d learned early that anyone who spent time in the wilderness should be prepared for the eventuality of dying there—herself or others.
Back at the campsite, they apprised Felix of the situation. He surprised Carolyne with his personal interpretations, and thankfully he did so in a private conversation. Had he publicly voiced his opinions, he would have found Carolyne completely unsure how to have handled them.
“If you ask me, put the blame squarely on you, or on Charles,” said Felix.
Carolyne was flabbergasted by that insinuation. “On me? On Charles?” The echoing of his words was all she could manage.
“What has the death of Gordon accomplished, huh? It’s nipped this little expedition right in the bud. It puts us on a beeline out of here, not only because we don’t have a guide to take us farther, but because that guide’s death, possibly by foul play, must be reported.”
This,