"Death At Wyngaerts Falls"
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dochermes"Death At Wyngaerts Falls"
A Trom Girl Mystery
8/14/2005
I.
At the base of Wyngaerts Falls, late on a muggy uncomfortable August day, Megan Salenger stood on a rocky ledge and studied the water. Behind her were Sheriff Acienzo and his deputies, watching dubiously. In the mist and spray from the water crashing down two hundred and thirty-nine feet, they were glad that at least the air felt fresher. The area had been closed to the public for a week since the body of Tony Schoonmaker had been found at the top of the falls.
Standing behind the Trom Girl, Archie helped her hook up her helmet to the compressed air cylinder between her shoulder blades. At six foot two, he was almost a foot taller than she was and he looked down at her tousled head of jet black hair as she lowered the helmet on and closed its visor.
"How it's working there, kid?"
Her voice came clearly through a speaker grid in the helmet's jawbar. "Everything seems nominal, Archie. Air supply is normal. The suits checks as watertight." She was wearing one of the KDF field suits with its boots, snug pants and waist-length jacket. The gloves sealed around the cuffs and the helmet fastened to the high collar of the jacket so that the field suits could even be made airtight. In the tight black outfit, the Trom Girl seemed even smaller and thinner than she actually was.
The sheriff shook his head doubtfully. "By tomorrow we can have a few State frogmen here. Maybe you should wait instead of using your own equipment."
Megan dismissed this as she stepped to the pointed end of the ledge almost directly under the falls. "I'm fine, Sheriff. I've done diving off New Zealand in my field suit. Infra-red projectors on." There was a faint click and her visor acquired a deep pinkish sheen to it. The Trom Girl crouched and slid off the ledge to disappear under the swirling water.
Meeting the worried gaze of the two lawmen, Archie McAllister shrugged. "She'll be okay," he told them reassuringly. Then he himself got down on one knee to peer into the pool at the base of the falls.
II.
Two days earlier, a phone call had come to the building on East 38th Street that was the headquarters of the Kenneth Dred Foundation. In the conference room on the second floor, a blond man with a weathered face picked up. "KDF, hello?" he answered.
"Good morning. Is Jeremy Bane there, please?" came a male voice.
Josef Jubilec gave a faint scoffing noise. "He's not here any more. He stepped down as Director years ago. Do you want to speak to him or are you interested in the KDF itself?"
There was an instant of hesitation on the other end. "Umm... this is Sheriff Vince Acienzo, I'm located about ninety miles north of Manhattan. Base of the Catskills. We have an unusual murder situation here. Mr Bane helped us twice before in tough homicides and I thought he might be interested."
"Well," the Blind Archer answered, "Jeremy has opened his own PI agency but I happen to know he's out of town at the moment. We will send one of our members to look into the matter, if you like."
"Wait. I was asking for Bane because he has worked with us before. He's licensed by the State of New York, he's professional..."
"It's not a problem," said Josef with a barely detectible hint of mischief in his voice. "Our Trom Girl will be there this afternoon." With that, he hung up and pressed a button on the console beside him. The Blind Archer placed his copy of THE NEW YORK TIMES to one side and smiled as an eager young woman's voice answered, "Hey, Josef! What's up?"
"You said you were looking for something interesting. Report to the conference room, I think I have something." Josef smiled as he released the button. In a few seconds, the door swung open and a rather pretty young woman burst into the conference room.
At twenty-five, Megan Salenger had begun breaking all the emotional repression indoctrinated into her. She had been a Human orphan raised by the Trom to serve as a liaison between the two Races and to them, she could act best if she had as little emotion as possible. Megan had been highly educated by the Trom, particularly in technical areas, with a natural near-genius mind to take it all in. She was physically fit and healthy as an Olympic gymnast.
But in a way, all the planning of the cold logical minds of the Trom councils had been in vain. Megan's natural impulses and feelings had come to the surface eventually and, a year earlier, she had floored everyone by falling in love with a Harley mechanic named Archie McAllister. Her friends in the KDF had quickly become delighted and approved seeing her so happy.
The Trom Girl, as she taken for a war name, was wearing a white jumpsuit smeared with oil stains, well worn at the knees and elbows. Around a narrow waist hung a leather tool belt that seemed to weigh as much as she did. Megan's inquisitive face was lit with curiosity. "Josef? You paged me?"
Seated at the long oak conference table, the Blind Archer of Chujir regarded her with affection. If only he could have kept her enthusiasm for life, her eagerness. But his own life had been bitter and hard. In some ways, he had to admit, he was emotionless in the way that she was supposed to have been. "Yes," he said simply.
Megan lowered herself into the chair facing him and listened to his recounting of the phone call. "I have read a little about the incident. A man was found shot to death at the top of Wyngaerts Falls. There is strong evidence that his wife did it, as they are going through a divorce. But there also seems to be doubts. She has no obvious motive and her movements at the time of the murder make it difficult for her to have been there."
"Are you interested in going up there and inspecting the scene?" asked Josef.
"Oh yes, absolutely. I have a few theories I could not help formulating. Let me clean up and change." She jumped to her feet again.
"Megan, I should tell you that the Sheriff specifically requested Jeremy. He seemed uninterested in having anyone else from our team work on the case... actually, he seemed reluctant. I don't think he has much faith in the rest of the us."
The Trom Girl raised one eyebrow and a smile touched her mouth. "I take that as a challenge."
As she rushed from the room, the Blind Archer nodded happily. "I rather thought you would."
III.
In half an hour, she had scrubbed herself and changed into an unobtrusive outfit of red sneakers, faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt with a light windbreaker over it. Under the clothes, which she thought of a camouflage to blend in with normal people, she wore as always a full suit of the silk-thin Trom armor which protected up to and including high-powered rifle bullets.
Wearing civilian clothes, she limited herself to a handful of the advanced gadgets she normally carried. The Link and the beam projector were invaluable, of course, and one or two other devices. She enjoyed these solo excursions better the more she relied on thinking through them, rather than using advanced tech. Archie had started calling them "the Trom Girl Mysteries" and she liked the term. Packing her full field suit into a garment bag, carrying the helmet under one arm, she paused before leaving the headquarters building to inform Josef she was on her way.
"Taking Archie with you?" came the droll voice.
"If he can get off work, yes."
"Great. You need your Watson."
She frowned. That reference escaped her. Despite all her years out in Human society, her upbringing had skipped so many TV shows, books and songs that everyone else seemed to be universally familiar with. She guessed "Watson" was a sidekick of some sort? Dropping the matter from her mind, Megan stopped in the front foyer to scan the street outside with the surveillance cameras. Nothing suspicious. The Midnight War had been in a severe lull lately in any case.
Carrying her field suit and helmet, the Trom Girl marched briskly north a few blocks, then turned to Third Avenue and the IMPERIAL GARAGE. When she had purchased her own vehicle, she had started storing it in the same public garage where her captain kept his cars. The young man in the booth by the wide cement ramp entrance nodded and smiled widely, smitten with Megan in a way she was completely oblivious to.
There was Jeremy's dark green Mustang. He kept changing cars every month or so, ostensibly for security purpose, but in her opinion he just enjoying frequently trying different cars. Her own cherry red Jeep Wrangler gleamed impeccably in the slot she rented. On the driver's sun visor, tiny blue and green lights winked reassuringly that no one had touched the vehicle. Megan stowed her field suit in the back next to all the emergency supplies she always traveled with and vaulted lightly up into the driver's seat.
Stopping at HARLEY HAVEN, she spent ten minutes chatting with the owner, an immensely fat man named Lou. In that time, she walked through the shop and rapidly diagnosed a dozen bikes the crew were working on. "That's only a compression problem," she said finally, pointing a stern finger. "That shovelhead will be fine."
Despite himself, Lou laughed hard and loud, showing yellowed teeth from smoking. "Little lady, you're priceless. We'll be done with everything in the shop a couple days early now." He glanced over at Archie McAllister, who was rubbing Liquid Soap on his greasy hands. "What's her secret anyway, Arch?"
"It's the way she was brought up, boss." Archie wiped his hands vigorously on a towel only slightly less abrasive than sandpaper. "And, let's be honest, she's a smart little cookie."
Megan just stopped herself from saying she was not in fact a cookie, recognizing the figure of speech. "Lou, may Archie be dismissed early to help me?"
The owner held up both hands. "Tell you what, sweetie. Every time you come in here, you save me thousands of dollars in a few minutes. Then you borrow my best detailer and airbrush artist. Fair exchange. You gonna bring him back?"
"Probably tomorrow, but I cannot be sure."
"Okay, okay, let's not get crazy with this. Archie, you got two days. But you better punch in Friday morning, get me?"
Archie checked that his hands were at least presentable. He was wearing ancient blue coveralls with his name on a patch over the left breast pocket, and he started unzipping it. "Thanks, boss. Maybe we can ask Megan to do her diagnoses more often."
As the couple started walking out of the garage, Lou picked up his belly so it rested more comfortably over his belt. "Not that it's any of my business, sweetheart, but where are you intending to take Archie this time?"
"I am investigating a suspicious murder upstate, at Wyngaerts Falls," she blithely answered as she started the Jeep and backed up to swing out of the parking lot.
"How come I never met a girl like that?" mused Lou as he went to start giving new instructions to his crew.
As they rolled along the Major Deegan Expressway, the Trom Girl suddenly seemed to remember something. "Archie! I should have asked you first if you have any plans for the next two days."
"Naw. TV and beer, maybe try out that meat loaf recipe. I've been getting better at cooking lately." He grinned over at her serious expression. "Going on a Trom Girl Mystery is ALWAYS a good choice."
"I am glad," she said. "I understand now that I have not always been polite in the way I treat people."
"You're fine, Meg. I'd tell you if you crossed a line that bothered me. So, uh, what's this about a mysterious murder up in the Catskills?"
IV.
It took almost three hours to get to the scene. Halfway from the city, they stopped at a roadside rest station where Archie changed into clean clothes which Megan characteristically kept packed in the Jeep for him. He scrubbed himself a little more in the men's room, changed his outfit and came out looking more presentable. There was a Roy Rogers and a Nathans there. Megan was not happy with the food provided by either, the sodium and fat content was unacceptable for her dietary guidelines, but she bent her rules and had fried chicken, French Fries and soda with Archie.
"So. The victim was found at the top of the falls," she went on, "shot through the head just above the eyes. The bullet passed entirely through the head and has not been found. The exit wound was larger than expected. The blood spray was in the normal pattern, brain and skull matter was spread as expected."
"You sure know how to make this chicken leg taste better," Archie muttered.
"The body was lying on its back, both arms outstretched, on the dry ledge that protrudes over the falls themselves. The Wyngaert is the second highest waterfall in New York State," she added.
"Anyone with him?"
"Not that we know of. He did not mention to anyone that he even intended going up there. The body was found the next day by three teenage boys who immediately called everyone from the State Troopers to the National Guard." Megan finished her last French fry, wiped her mouth and regarded the grease on the napkin with horror. "All that is in my digestive system..."
"Back to the murder case, hon. How about a suspect?"
"Ah, here is where I seem to detect some anomaly. Schoonmaker was fifty-three, he worked at an insurance company in the nearby city of Cypress. He was in the process of getting a divorce from his wife Elisa. It is nearly final. She seems to be a widely disliked woman in the area. Reportedly, she has joined an notorious evangelical church with extreme views. She intends to homeschool her infant children herself with no training and with ideas that are described by many as 'crackpot' and 'hateful.' "
"Okay, go on." Archie examined his paper cup and found it was empty, but he wanted to hear more before refilling it.
"Getting a search warrant, the County Sheriff's department searched the home... HER home, I should say, she is getting it in the divorce. They found a .32 Colt revolver with residue in the barrel showing it had been fired recently. They cannot do a ballistics check without possessing the bullet that killed Shomberg, of course, but wounds are consistent with a firearm of that caliber."
"Back in a minute," he said. "You want more Dr Pepper?"
"No! I mean, no thank you. Some clean water, please."
When he returned, she took a sip of the water. "Archie. I have no logical reason to doubt the police narrative of what happened. And yet.. Mrs Schoonmaker seemed to be getting everything she wanted from the divorce. She was granted custody of both children, the house was in her name, she would receive ample child support. Apparently, Mr Schoonmaker had given up and was not contesting it anymore. What would her motive be for murdering him?" Megan took a long drink of the plain water and slapped the paper cup down with a touch of anger. "To be honest, I often have difficulty understanding human emotional states. There is a random element I cannot comprehend. But in this instance, her action just seems... implausible? There is something unexplained."
"I think you're learning to trust your hunches there, Trom Girl. Your subconscious is trying to tell you something."
"I suppose..." she continued doubtfully. "Well, we are done here. I want to examine the falls while it is still daylight."
"Want me to drive, hon?"
Placing their debris in the receptacle, she froze and turned her head. "Why, yes. That will free me to concentrate on the mystery. Thank you, Archie."
"Glad to help," he said as he stood and stretched, looming over her like a solid protective wall. She liked the feeling.
V.
They had arrived off the side road where the trail started to the top of Wyngaerts Falls. On a metal post was a marker giving information about the site and its history. Nailed to two trees, yellow tape reading NO ADMITTANCE criss-crossed the trail but there was no officer on duty. As blithely as if she had been invited, Megan ducked under the tape and started briskly up the trail. Being considerably bulkier, Archie had to go to one side and circle around to join her. It was a steep incline, and a walk that would have many people out of breath by the time they reached the top.
"Quite a view," Archie gasped. A semi-circular shale ledge stretched out, wide enough for a dozen people to stand comfortably on. Getting near the edge of that natural platform where the roar of rushing water was louder, they gazed down more than two hundred feet at a pool below them where kids had been swimming in summer for generations. It was closed off now. "Isn't that gorgeous?"
"It is attractive," Megan answered in a distracted voice.
"Before we get old, honey, I am going to teach you to appreciate nature. Sunsets. Thunderstorms. Something like this," Archie told her. "You are missing out on so much beauty."
"Thank you, dear," the Trom Girl as if she had not really heard. She walked around the ledge, studying the scene from different angles, then stood with her toes right on the edge of the stone shelf, leaning over to peer down at the pool. Archie yelped, grabbed the back of her belt and yanked her sternly back a few feet.
"Don't DO stuff like that!" he grumbled. "You'll give me a heart attack yet."
Megan still seemed oblivious to everything except her own thoughts. Suddenly, she spun on one heel and started racing back down the trail. Archie hurried after her without knowing why. As she ran, the Trom Girl unclipped her Link, thumbed a few buttons and reached the Sheriff's office in town. Archie heard her identify herself, declare that she was going to go into the pool at the bottom of the falls and that she would have valuable evidence in the Schoonmaker case for them.
Watching her reach the Jeep, Archie bit his tongue. If he started asking questions now, he might never stop. Megan yanked out the garment bag containing her field suit and stripped off her clothing in a flash. Still wearing the skin-tight flexible Trom armor, she tugged on the snug pants and black crewneck shirt, then the heavy boots and the waistlength jacket. The gloves followed. Everything sealed at the seams. She had practiced this so many times that she was ready as quickly as any quick-change artist could match. Finally, she lifted the helmet and lowered it over her head, visor up.
"If you happen to feel like explaining....." Archie began in his most reasonable tone.
Two black and white patrol cars came speeding up the dirt road, but with their lights off and the sirens silent. Sheriff Vincent Ascienzo jumped out of the lead car. He was a remarkably good-looking man, breaking all the stereotypes by being trim and muscular, with a full head of curly black hair. Getting out of the other car were two deputies, much older men who were showing middle-age spread.
"Hold it! Hold it! No one's doing anything yet!" Ascienzo yelled as he approached the red Wrangler.
"You requested assistance from the Kenneth Dred Foundation," Megan said in her no-nonsense voice. "I am here for that reason. Come. I am certain I can provide you with critical evidence in what seems to be a homicide." With that, she turned and strode quickly off onto a side path which led downhill to the base of the falls.
Archie shrugged as the two law enforcement officers looked at him quizzically. "She usually knows what she's doing, fellas. I'd say give her a chance." He went to follow the Trom Girl and Ascienzio went after him with the deputies trailing behind.
........So it was that, after eleven minutes underwater, the glistening black helmet broke the surface. Megan Salenger accepted Archie's hand as he helped haul her up onto the rock ledge where everyone was standing. She carefully placed a strange collection of objects on the rock ledge in front of the lawmen. There was a .32 Colt revolver with clothesline tied firmly around its butt, and the other end of the line fastened to a jagged piece of rock the size of a human fist.
"I was not completely sure this would be found, but the probability was high," she said. Megan unfastened the field helmet, pulled it up off her head and took a breath of fresh air. "The conclusion is obvious."
"Wait. Give me a second." Ascienzo glared down at the weapon, then swung his eyes up to the top of the falls high above them. "After the gun was fired, the killer threw it into the...no. Wait. Schoonmaker shot himself! He held the gun out at arm's length. As he took the bullet, the weight of the rock took the gun away and over to land in this pool here."
The Trom Girl was watching him intently. "And the next conclusion?"
"It was suicide. But... Schoonmaker wanted it to look like murder? No weapon in sight, but a similar gun was planted in his wife's house. He was framing her for a murder that never happened...!" Ascienzo turned to stare incredulously at the Trom Girl. "And you figured this out just like that?!"
"There is also a remote chance that a third person shot Mr Schoonmaker and arranged the gun this way. He or she might be framing the ex-wife," Megan said. "Although the way the weapon was tied to a weight suggests it was meant to fall into the water rather than just drop to the ground."
"I don't think it was anyone else," the Sheriff answered after a second. "Believe me, we've interrogated all the family and friends and co-workers without letting up. No one has the slightest motive. Everyone has a reasonable alibi. No, this rings true. It sure lets Elisa Schoonmaker off the hook."
Archie alone seemed unconvinced. He wore a doubtful expression that Megan recognized, and because of that, her own certainty suddenly was shaken.
VI.
Following the patrol cars to the police station where they could expect to be signing statements and answering questions well into the night, Megan frowned at her lover and partner. "Archie? Is there something you wish to say?"
"Yeah." The gentle blue eyes in the weathered face never seemed sadder. "This whole business. It just doesn't FEEL right. Listen. From what I've heard, Tony Shonberg wasn't enraged or determined to punish his ex-wife. Everyone says he was resigned to the break-up. His biggest concern was that he did not want his ex-wife to homeschool the kids. Her religious mania went way overboard. Right so far?"
"That is how I understand it."
"So, suppose that Mrs Schoonmaker is worried about the homeschooling. She belongs to the Gatlensberg Church and even I've heard of them. They're nuts. They're one step away from blowing up schools that teach evolution and support gay rights. Suppose she is so concerned that her ex-husband will somehow get the children sent to a regular school that she feels she cannot take that chance. Tony Schoonmaker has to die."
"But... I don't see where this arrangement makes any sense. Wouldn't she just murder him in as much secrecy as possible and hope to get away with it?" Megan was scowling so hard in concentration that her nose was wrinkling up.
"That bugs me too," he said. "It's just my instinct. You know what, where did she get that gun? Why were there two of them? Did they each own one? Is there any record anywhere of Tony Shonberg buying two identical revolvers? Or of her buying them?"
Megan slowed down and leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the bearded cheek. "I think it is worth checking. You tell me that I need to trust my hunches, but YOU are the one with insightful instincts."
"Hah," said Archie. "Just trying to contribute to the 'Trom Girl Mysteries.'"
As soon as they arrived at the police station in town, Megan surprised the officers again by immediately taking charge. She found that no one knew who had purchased the revolver that had been found in the Schoonmaker house and inquiries along that line had been dead ends. At once, she had everyone making calls as she pulled up names and numbers from the Web through her Link.
Finally, close to seven-thirty that evening, she herself reached a man who had rented a table at a gun show earlier that year. It had been near Albany, only a forty minute drive away. Even though his records were a mess, even though he had dealt in cash and had not asked for IDs, he recognized the description of Elisa Schoonmaker. A tall busty woman like that made an impression, although he remembered her blonde hair as being concealed under a wide-brimmed hat and her hazel eyes hidden by sunglasses. He had sold her a pair of .32 Colt revolvers, her story being that there had been break-ins in her neighborhood. He reluctantly agreed to identify her if it came to that, although he obviously didn't want it to.
Megan asked the Sheriff to send a deputy to bring Mrs Schoonmaker to the station, and then send the other deputy ten minutes later to search the grounds for a certain object. By this time, he was so intrigued by the way the Trom Girl took over that he immediately agreed. A half hour passed while Megan reminisced with Ascienzo about the cases that Jeremy Bane had helped with a decade earlier. She was describing how well Bane's Dire Wolf agency was doing when the deputy returned, ushering the ex-wife into the inner office.
Elisa Schoonmaker was as she had been described, tall and well-endowed, with long legs and an impressive figure, silky blonde hair that reached halfway down her back. But her mouth was a thin tight line and her eyes hard. As she entered, she began with, "Oh I'm glad you called me here. I just thought of something that might be important. Has anyone searched the pool at the base of the falls? I wonder..."
Standing by Sheriff Ascienzo's desk, still wearing her black field suit with the helmet under one arm, Megan Salenger gestured at a table against the wall under the window. On that table, laid out on white paper, was a revolver tied to a rock with clothesline. "You thought we might find your other firearm?"
"MY other...? I, I don't understand..." Elisa Schoonmaker began as the second deputy entered with something in a large clear plastic evidence bag, all dated and tagged properly. "Found it in the yard, chief!" he announced gleefully.
The Trom Girl took the bag and held it up. It contained a coiled length of white clothesline. "A-ha. My proposition is that microscopic examination of the cut end of this line will exactly match the similar end of the clothesline tied to your revolver."
"What are you talking about? Why wouldn't it be our clothesline? Where else would Tony get it when he framed me?"
" 'When he framed you'..." Megan repeated. "As you wanted us to think. If the authorities did not think to search that pool, you would soon suggest it, as you just did. You needed the weapon to be found so that everyone would believe he had committed suicide and fixed the blame on you. You would have gotten away with murder and left his memory in disgrace."
"Holy cow..." said one of the deputies.
Facing the speechless Elisa Schoonmaker, Sheriff Ascienzo said, "You are either brilliant or completely insane. Maybe both. We have proof you purchased the guns, two of them so you could plant one in the house yourself."
"Why did you think he had to die?" asked Megan bluntly.
"Oh. Oh." The woman sat down suddenly in a chair as if her legs wouldn't support her. "It was about Jimmy and Parker. He wanted to send them to a Godless school where they would be taught lie after lie. I know in my heart the Rapture is coming soon but I couldn't risk it arriving before they were ruined. He was a threat to my babies!" She looked at the staring faces as if she thought someone would be sympathetic. "He would corrupt them and they would believe lies and go to Hell! What mother could allow that?"
The Sheriff pointed at the older deputy. "Get the stenographer, Don. This is going to be a long night. We're going to be taking a lot of statements."
Megan glanced over at Archie and saw him roll his eyes. She had to agree. It was all the paperwork and legal tedium that she also hated about a case.
1/18/2016
A Trom Girl Mystery
8/14/2005
I.
At the base of Wyngaerts Falls, late on a muggy uncomfortable August day, Megan Salenger stood on a rocky ledge and studied the water. Behind her were Sheriff Acienzo and his deputies, watching dubiously. In the mist and spray from the water crashing down two hundred and thirty-nine feet, they were glad that at least the air felt fresher. The area had been closed to the public for a week since the body of Tony Schoonmaker had been found at the top of the falls.
Standing behind the Trom Girl, Archie helped her hook up her helmet to the compressed air cylinder between her shoulder blades. At six foot two, he was almost a foot taller than she was and he looked down at her tousled head of jet black hair as she lowered the helmet on and closed its visor.
"How it's working there, kid?"
Her voice came clearly through a speaker grid in the helmet's jawbar. "Everything seems nominal, Archie. Air supply is normal. The suits checks as watertight." She was wearing one of the KDF field suits with its boots, snug pants and waist-length jacket. The gloves sealed around the cuffs and the helmet fastened to the high collar of the jacket so that the field suits could even be made airtight. In the tight black outfit, the Trom Girl seemed even smaller and thinner than she actually was.
The sheriff shook his head doubtfully. "By tomorrow we can have a few State frogmen here. Maybe you should wait instead of using your own equipment."
Megan dismissed this as she stepped to the pointed end of the ledge almost directly under the falls. "I'm fine, Sheriff. I've done diving off New Zealand in my field suit. Infra-red projectors on." There was a faint click and her visor acquired a deep pinkish sheen to it. The Trom Girl crouched and slid off the ledge to disappear under the swirling water.
Meeting the worried gaze of the two lawmen, Archie McAllister shrugged. "She'll be okay," he told them reassuringly. Then he himself got down on one knee to peer into the pool at the base of the falls.
II.
Two days earlier, a phone call had come to the building on East 38th Street that was the headquarters of the Kenneth Dred Foundation. In the conference room on the second floor, a blond man with a weathered face picked up. "KDF, hello?" he answered.
"Good morning. Is Jeremy Bane there, please?" came a male voice.
Josef Jubilec gave a faint scoffing noise. "He's not here any more. He stepped down as Director years ago. Do you want to speak to him or are you interested in the KDF itself?"
There was an instant of hesitation on the other end. "Umm... this is Sheriff Vince Acienzo, I'm located about ninety miles north of Manhattan. Base of the Catskills. We have an unusual murder situation here. Mr Bane helped us twice before in tough homicides and I thought he might be interested."
"Well," the Blind Archer answered, "Jeremy has opened his own PI agency but I happen to know he's out of town at the moment. We will send one of our members to look into the matter, if you like."
"Wait. I was asking for Bane because he has worked with us before. He's licensed by the State of New York, he's professional..."
"It's not a problem," said Josef with a barely detectible hint of mischief in his voice. "Our Trom Girl will be there this afternoon." With that, he hung up and pressed a button on the console beside him. The Blind Archer placed his copy of THE NEW YORK TIMES to one side and smiled as an eager young woman's voice answered, "Hey, Josef! What's up?"
"You said you were looking for something interesting. Report to the conference room, I think I have something." Josef smiled as he released the button. In a few seconds, the door swung open and a rather pretty young woman burst into the conference room.
At twenty-five, Megan Salenger had begun breaking all the emotional repression indoctrinated into her. She had been a Human orphan raised by the Trom to serve as a liaison between the two Races and to them, she could act best if she had as little emotion as possible. Megan had been highly educated by the Trom, particularly in technical areas, with a natural near-genius mind to take it all in. She was physically fit and healthy as an Olympic gymnast.
But in a way, all the planning of the cold logical minds of the Trom councils had been in vain. Megan's natural impulses and feelings had come to the surface eventually and, a year earlier, she had floored everyone by falling in love with a Harley mechanic named Archie McAllister. Her friends in the KDF had quickly become delighted and approved seeing her so happy.
The Trom Girl, as she taken for a war name, was wearing a white jumpsuit smeared with oil stains, well worn at the knees and elbows. Around a narrow waist hung a leather tool belt that seemed to weigh as much as she did. Megan's inquisitive face was lit with curiosity. "Josef? You paged me?"
Seated at the long oak conference table, the Blind Archer of Chujir regarded her with affection. If only he could have kept her enthusiasm for life, her eagerness. But his own life had been bitter and hard. In some ways, he had to admit, he was emotionless in the way that she was supposed to have been. "Yes," he said simply.
Megan lowered herself into the chair facing him and listened to his recounting of the phone call. "I have read a little about the incident. A man was found shot to death at the top of Wyngaerts Falls. There is strong evidence that his wife did it, as they are going through a divorce. But there also seems to be doubts. She has no obvious motive and her movements at the time of the murder make it difficult for her to have been there."
"Are you interested in going up there and inspecting the scene?" asked Josef.
"Oh yes, absolutely. I have a few theories I could not help formulating. Let me clean up and change." She jumped to her feet again.
"Megan, I should tell you that the Sheriff specifically requested Jeremy. He seemed uninterested in having anyone else from our team work on the case... actually, he seemed reluctant. I don't think he has much faith in the rest of the us."
The Trom Girl raised one eyebrow and a smile touched her mouth. "I take that as a challenge."
As she rushed from the room, the Blind Archer nodded happily. "I rather thought you would."
III.
In half an hour, she had scrubbed herself and changed into an unobtrusive outfit of red sneakers, faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt with a light windbreaker over it. Under the clothes, which she thought of a camouflage to blend in with normal people, she wore as always a full suit of the silk-thin Trom armor which protected up to and including high-powered rifle bullets.
Wearing civilian clothes, she limited herself to a handful of the advanced gadgets she normally carried. The Link and the beam projector were invaluable, of course, and one or two other devices. She enjoyed these solo excursions better the more she relied on thinking through them, rather than using advanced tech. Archie had started calling them "the Trom Girl Mysteries" and she liked the term. Packing her full field suit into a garment bag, carrying the helmet under one arm, she paused before leaving the headquarters building to inform Josef she was on her way.
"Taking Archie with you?" came the droll voice.
"If he can get off work, yes."
"Great. You need your Watson."
She frowned. That reference escaped her. Despite all her years out in Human society, her upbringing had skipped so many TV shows, books and songs that everyone else seemed to be universally familiar with. She guessed "Watson" was a sidekick of some sort? Dropping the matter from her mind, Megan stopped in the front foyer to scan the street outside with the surveillance cameras. Nothing suspicious. The Midnight War had been in a severe lull lately in any case.
Carrying her field suit and helmet, the Trom Girl marched briskly north a few blocks, then turned to Third Avenue and the IMPERIAL GARAGE. When she had purchased her own vehicle, she had started storing it in the same public garage where her captain kept his cars. The young man in the booth by the wide cement ramp entrance nodded and smiled widely, smitten with Megan in a way she was completely oblivious to.
There was Jeremy's dark green Mustang. He kept changing cars every month or so, ostensibly for security purpose, but in her opinion he just enjoying frequently trying different cars. Her own cherry red Jeep Wrangler gleamed impeccably in the slot she rented. On the driver's sun visor, tiny blue and green lights winked reassuringly that no one had touched the vehicle. Megan stowed her field suit in the back next to all the emergency supplies she always traveled with and vaulted lightly up into the driver's seat.
Stopping at HARLEY HAVEN, she spent ten minutes chatting with the owner, an immensely fat man named Lou. In that time, she walked through the shop and rapidly diagnosed a dozen bikes the crew were working on. "That's only a compression problem," she said finally, pointing a stern finger. "That shovelhead will be fine."
Despite himself, Lou laughed hard and loud, showing yellowed teeth from smoking. "Little lady, you're priceless. We'll be done with everything in the shop a couple days early now." He glanced over at Archie McAllister, who was rubbing Liquid Soap on his greasy hands. "What's her secret anyway, Arch?"
"It's the way she was brought up, boss." Archie wiped his hands vigorously on a towel only slightly less abrasive than sandpaper. "And, let's be honest, she's a smart little cookie."
Megan just stopped herself from saying she was not in fact a cookie, recognizing the figure of speech. "Lou, may Archie be dismissed early to help me?"
The owner held up both hands. "Tell you what, sweetie. Every time you come in here, you save me thousands of dollars in a few minutes. Then you borrow my best detailer and airbrush artist. Fair exchange. You gonna bring him back?"
"Probably tomorrow, but I cannot be sure."
"Okay, okay, let's not get crazy with this. Archie, you got two days. But you better punch in Friday morning, get me?"
Archie checked that his hands were at least presentable. He was wearing ancient blue coveralls with his name on a patch over the left breast pocket, and he started unzipping it. "Thanks, boss. Maybe we can ask Megan to do her diagnoses more often."
As the couple started walking out of the garage, Lou picked up his belly so it rested more comfortably over his belt. "Not that it's any of my business, sweetheart, but where are you intending to take Archie this time?"
"I am investigating a suspicious murder upstate, at Wyngaerts Falls," she blithely answered as she started the Jeep and backed up to swing out of the parking lot.
"How come I never met a girl like that?" mused Lou as he went to start giving new instructions to his crew.
As they rolled along the Major Deegan Expressway, the Trom Girl suddenly seemed to remember something. "Archie! I should have asked you first if you have any plans for the next two days."
"Naw. TV and beer, maybe try out that meat loaf recipe. I've been getting better at cooking lately." He grinned over at her serious expression. "Going on a Trom Girl Mystery is ALWAYS a good choice."
"I am glad," she said. "I understand now that I have not always been polite in the way I treat people."
"You're fine, Meg. I'd tell you if you crossed a line that bothered me. So, uh, what's this about a mysterious murder up in the Catskills?"
IV.
It took almost three hours to get to the scene. Halfway from the city, they stopped at a roadside rest station where Archie changed into clean clothes which Megan characteristically kept packed in the Jeep for him. He scrubbed himself a little more in the men's room, changed his outfit and came out looking more presentable. There was a Roy Rogers and a Nathans there. Megan was not happy with the food provided by either, the sodium and fat content was unacceptable for her dietary guidelines, but she bent her rules and had fried chicken, French Fries and soda with Archie.
"So. The victim was found at the top of the falls," she went on, "shot through the head just above the eyes. The bullet passed entirely through the head and has not been found. The exit wound was larger than expected. The blood spray was in the normal pattern, brain and skull matter was spread as expected."
"You sure know how to make this chicken leg taste better," Archie muttered.
"The body was lying on its back, both arms outstretched, on the dry ledge that protrudes over the falls themselves. The Wyngaert is the second highest waterfall in New York State," she added.
"Anyone with him?"
"Not that we know of. He did not mention to anyone that he even intended going up there. The body was found the next day by three teenage boys who immediately called everyone from the State Troopers to the National Guard." Megan finished her last French fry, wiped her mouth and regarded the grease on the napkin with horror. "All that is in my digestive system..."
"Back to the murder case, hon. How about a suspect?"
"Ah, here is where I seem to detect some anomaly. Schoonmaker was fifty-three, he worked at an insurance company in the nearby city of Cypress. He was in the process of getting a divorce from his wife Elisa. It is nearly final. She seems to be a widely disliked woman in the area. Reportedly, she has joined an notorious evangelical church with extreme views. She intends to homeschool her infant children herself with no training and with ideas that are described by many as 'crackpot' and 'hateful.' "
"Okay, go on." Archie examined his paper cup and found it was empty, but he wanted to hear more before refilling it.
"Getting a search warrant, the County Sheriff's department searched the home... HER home, I should say, she is getting it in the divorce. They found a .32 Colt revolver with residue in the barrel showing it had been fired recently. They cannot do a ballistics check without possessing the bullet that killed Shomberg, of course, but wounds are consistent with a firearm of that caliber."
"Back in a minute," he said. "You want more Dr Pepper?"
"No! I mean, no thank you. Some clean water, please."
When he returned, she took a sip of the water. "Archie. I have no logical reason to doubt the police narrative of what happened. And yet.. Mrs Schoonmaker seemed to be getting everything she wanted from the divorce. She was granted custody of both children, the house was in her name, she would receive ample child support. Apparently, Mr Schoonmaker had given up and was not contesting it anymore. What would her motive be for murdering him?" Megan took a long drink of the plain water and slapped the paper cup down with a touch of anger. "To be honest, I often have difficulty understanding human emotional states. There is a random element I cannot comprehend. But in this instance, her action just seems... implausible? There is something unexplained."
"I think you're learning to trust your hunches there, Trom Girl. Your subconscious is trying to tell you something."
"I suppose..." she continued doubtfully. "Well, we are done here. I want to examine the falls while it is still daylight."
"Want me to drive, hon?"
Placing their debris in the receptacle, she froze and turned her head. "Why, yes. That will free me to concentrate on the mystery. Thank you, Archie."
"Glad to help," he said as he stood and stretched, looming over her like a solid protective wall. She liked the feeling.
V.
They had arrived off the side road where the trail started to the top of Wyngaerts Falls. On a metal post was a marker giving information about the site and its history. Nailed to two trees, yellow tape reading NO ADMITTANCE criss-crossed the trail but there was no officer on duty. As blithely as if she had been invited, Megan ducked under the tape and started briskly up the trail. Being considerably bulkier, Archie had to go to one side and circle around to join her. It was a steep incline, and a walk that would have many people out of breath by the time they reached the top.
"Quite a view," Archie gasped. A semi-circular shale ledge stretched out, wide enough for a dozen people to stand comfortably on. Getting near the edge of that natural platform where the roar of rushing water was louder, they gazed down more than two hundred feet at a pool below them where kids had been swimming in summer for generations. It was closed off now. "Isn't that gorgeous?"
"It is attractive," Megan answered in a distracted voice.
"Before we get old, honey, I am going to teach you to appreciate nature. Sunsets. Thunderstorms. Something like this," Archie told her. "You are missing out on so much beauty."
"Thank you, dear," the Trom Girl as if she had not really heard. She walked around the ledge, studying the scene from different angles, then stood with her toes right on the edge of the stone shelf, leaning over to peer down at the pool. Archie yelped, grabbed the back of her belt and yanked her sternly back a few feet.
"Don't DO stuff like that!" he grumbled. "You'll give me a heart attack yet."
Megan still seemed oblivious to everything except her own thoughts. Suddenly, she spun on one heel and started racing back down the trail. Archie hurried after her without knowing why. As she ran, the Trom Girl unclipped her Link, thumbed a few buttons and reached the Sheriff's office in town. Archie heard her identify herself, declare that she was going to go into the pool at the bottom of the falls and that she would have valuable evidence in the Schoonmaker case for them.
Watching her reach the Jeep, Archie bit his tongue. If he started asking questions now, he might never stop. Megan yanked out the garment bag containing her field suit and stripped off her clothing in a flash. Still wearing the skin-tight flexible Trom armor, she tugged on the snug pants and black crewneck shirt, then the heavy boots and the waistlength jacket. The gloves followed. Everything sealed at the seams. She had practiced this so many times that she was ready as quickly as any quick-change artist could match. Finally, she lifted the helmet and lowered it over her head, visor up.
"If you happen to feel like explaining....." Archie began in his most reasonable tone.
Two black and white patrol cars came speeding up the dirt road, but with their lights off and the sirens silent. Sheriff Vincent Ascienzo jumped out of the lead car. He was a remarkably good-looking man, breaking all the stereotypes by being trim and muscular, with a full head of curly black hair. Getting out of the other car were two deputies, much older men who were showing middle-age spread.
"Hold it! Hold it! No one's doing anything yet!" Ascienzo yelled as he approached the red Wrangler.
"You requested assistance from the Kenneth Dred Foundation," Megan said in her no-nonsense voice. "I am here for that reason. Come. I am certain I can provide you with critical evidence in what seems to be a homicide." With that, she turned and strode quickly off onto a side path which led downhill to the base of the falls.
Archie shrugged as the two law enforcement officers looked at him quizzically. "She usually knows what she's doing, fellas. I'd say give her a chance." He went to follow the Trom Girl and Ascienzio went after him with the deputies trailing behind.
........So it was that, after eleven minutes underwater, the glistening black helmet broke the surface. Megan Salenger accepted Archie's hand as he helped haul her up onto the rock ledge where everyone was standing. She carefully placed a strange collection of objects on the rock ledge in front of the lawmen. There was a .32 Colt revolver with clothesline tied firmly around its butt, and the other end of the line fastened to a jagged piece of rock the size of a human fist.
"I was not completely sure this would be found, but the probability was high," she said. Megan unfastened the field helmet, pulled it up off her head and took a breath of fresh air. "The conclusion is obvious."
"Wait. Give me a second." Ascienzo glared down at the weapon, then swung his eyes up to the top of the falls high above them. "After the gun was fired, the killer threw it into the...no. Wait. Schoonmaker shot himself! He held the gun out at arm's length. As he took the bullet, the weight of the rock took the gun away and over to land in this pool here."
The Trom Girl was watching him intently. "And the next conclusion?"
"It was suicide. But... Schoonmaker wanted it to look like murder? No weapon in sight, but a similar gun was planted in his wife's house. He was framing her for a murder that never happened...!" Ascienzo turned to stare incredulously at the Trom Girl. "And you figured this out just like that?!"
"There is also a remote chance that a third person shot Mr Schoonmaker and arranged the gun this way. He or she might be framing the ex-wife," Megan said. "Although the way the weapon was tied to a weight suggests it was meant to fall into the water rather than just drop to the ground."
"I don't think it was anyone else," the Sheriff answered after a second. "Believe me, we've interrogated all the family and friends and co-workers without letting up. No one has the slightest motive. Everyone has a reasonable alibi. No, this rings true. It sure lets Elisa Schoonmaker off the hook."
Archie alone seemed unconvinced. He wore a doubtful expression that Megan recognized, and because of that, her own certainty suddenly was shaken.
VI.
Following the patrol cars to the police station where they could expect to be signing statements and answering questions well into the night, Megan frowned at her lover and partner. "Archie? Is there something you wish to say?"
"Yeah." The gentle blue eyes in the weathered face never seemed sadder. "This whole business. It just doesn't FEEL right. Listen. From what I've heard, Tony Shonberg wasn't enraged or determined to punish his ex-wife. Everyone says he was resigned to the break-up. His biggest concern was that he did not want his ex-wife to homeschool the kids. Her religious mania went way overboard. Right so far?"
"That is how I understand it."
"So, suppose that Mrs Schoonmaker is worried about the homeschooling. She belongs to the Gatlensberg Church and even I've heard of them. They're nuts. They're one step away from blowing up schools that teach evolution and support gay rights. Suppose she is so concerned that her ex-husband will somehow get the children sent to a regular school that she feels she cannot take that chance. Tony Schoonmaker has to die."
"But... I don't see where this arrangement makes any sense. Wouldn't she just murder him in as much secrecy as possible and hope to get away with it?" Megan was scowling so hard in concentration that her nose was wrinkling up.
"That bugs me too," he said. "It's just my instinct. You know what, where did she get that gun? Why were there two of them? Did they each own one? Is there any record anywhere of Tony Shonberg buying two identical revolvers? Or of her buying them?"
Megan slowed down and leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the bearded cheek. "I think it is worth checking. You tell me that I need to trust my hunches, but YOU are the one with insightful instincts."
"Hah," said Archie. "Just trying to contribute to the 'Trom Girl Mysteries.'"
As soon as they arrived at the police station in town, Megan surprised the officers again by immediately taking charge. She found that no one knew who had purchased the revolver that had been found in the Schoonmaker house and inquiries along that line had been dead ends. At once, she had everyone making calls as she pulled up names and numbers from the Web through her Link.
Finally, close to seven-thirty that evening, she herself reached a man who had rented a table at a gun show earlier that year. It had been near Albany, only a forty minute drive away. Even though his records were a mess, even though he had dealt in cash and had not asked for IDs, he recognized the description of Elisa Schoonmaker. A tall busty woman like that made an impression, although he remembered her blonde hair as being concealed under a wide-brimmed hat and her hazel eyes hidden by sunglasses. He had sold her a pair of .32 Colt revolvers, her story being that there had been break-ins in her neighborhood. He reluctantly agreed to identify her if it came to that, although he obviously didn't want it to.
Megan asked the Sheriff to send a deputy to bring Mrs Schoonmaker to the station, and then send the other deputy ten minutes later to search the grounds for a certain object. By this time, he was so intrigued by the way the Trom Girl took over that he immediately agreed. A half hour passed while Megan reminisced with Ascienzo about the cases that Jeremy Bane had helped with a decade earlier. She was describing how well Bane's Dire Wolf agency was doing when the deputy returned, ushering the ex-wife into the inner office.
Elisa Schoonmaker was as she had been described, tall and well-endowed, with long legs and an impressive figure, silky blonde hair that reached halfway down her back. But her mouth was a thin tight line and her eyes hard. As she entered, she began with, "Oh I'm glad you called me here. I just thought of something that might be important. Has anyone searched the pool at the base of the falls? I wonder..."
Standing by Sheriff Ascienzo's desk, still wearing her black field suit with the helmet under one arm, Megan Salenger gestured at a table against the wall under the window. On that table, laid out on white paper, was a revolver tied to a rock with clothesline. "You thought we might find your other firearm?"
"MY other...? I, I don't understand..." Elisa Schoonmaker began as the second deputy entered with something in a large clear plastic evidence bag, all dated and tagged properly. "Found it in the yard, chief!" he announced gleefully.
The Trom Girl took the bag and held it up. It contained a coiled length of white clothesline. "A-ha. My proposition is that microscopic examination of the cut end of this line will exactly match the similar end of the clothesline tied to your revolver."
"What are you talking about? Why wouldn't it be our clothesline? Where else would Tony get it when he framed me?"
" 'When he framed you'..." Megan repeated. "As you wanted us to think. If the authorities did not think to search that pool, you would soon suggest it, as you just did. You needed the weapon to be found so that everyone would believe he had committed suicide and fixed the blame on you. You would have gotten away with murder and left his memory in disgrace."
"Holy cow..." said one of the deputies.
Facing the speechless Elisa Schoonmaker, Sheriff Ascienzo said, "You are either brilliant or completely insane. Maybe both. We have proof you purchased the guns, two of them so you could plant one in the house yourself."
"Why did you think he had to die?" asked Megan bluntly.
"Oh. Oh." The woman sat down suddenly in a chair as if her legs wouldn't support her. "It was about Jimmy and Parker. He wanted to send them to a Godless school where they would be taught lie after lie. I know in my heart the Rapture is coming soon but I couldn't risk it arriving before they were ruined. He was a threat to my babies!" She looked at the staring faces as if she thought someone would be sympathetic. "He would corrupt them and they would believe lies and go to Hell! What mother could allow that?"
The Sheriff pointed at the older deputy. "Get the stenographer, Don. This is going to be a long night. We're going to be taking a lot of statements."
Megan glanced over at Archie and saw him roll his eyes. She had to agree. It was all the paperwork and legal tedium that she also hated about a case.
1/18/2016
