Murder Sees the Light by Howard Engel

know. He just takes these little things seriously.”
    â€œDoesn’t it seem a little unfair?”
    â€œOh, you get used to it. That’s just his way. He’s not like anybody else. He’s Norrie.”
    My coffee had arrived. Now I took a sip. She watched me and I watched her back. She should have got the boys to take her for one of their joyrides. “Maybe you should get out a little. Do you see anybody at the cabin?”
    â€œGet out more? Are you kidding? Norrie keeps us so bottled up I feel like mineral water. The only guest we’ve had is an Indian guide.”
    â€œAeneas DuFond?”
    â€œSure. He came to see Norrie the other day. Oh, it was a treat just to see another face. Now, he’s my kind of Indian. He and Norrie go back a long way together. He …” She tightened up on the stream of information. I must have started sounding like I was asking questions. I took another tack.
    â€œDo you like Europe?” I asked. That sounded general enough to get restarted on. “Spain, now! What a country!”
    â€œYou can have it. In spades you can have it.”
    â€œBut a port like Palma. The Mediterranean. That’s a great little town.”
    â€œI was stuck there on a boat for a month. He said I’d love it, and it turns out to be a fucking island. Jesus! I was that far from leaving him that time.” She didn’t bother to gesture. She was so run down in her self-esteem she didn’t think I was watching or listening. Or so I was thinking, when her head tilted. She’d seen somebody come into the café. She took another cigarette from my pack. “For later,” she said, getting up. I turned to see Spence at the door. The car was parked out front with the other eager faces looking through the café curtains.
    â€œSee you,” she said, gathering up her treasures.
    â€œSee you,” I said, following her with my eyes out the door.
    The road back to the lodge went faster. I didn’t turn right around; I went back to the general store to buy a hat and a few more things I’d forgotten about. I should have invested in boots. I could have used boots. All in all I was feeling good about the day so far. By the time I got to the raft in Elephant Lake, the sun had shifted and the girl in the blue bathing suit had abandoned it. I saw her on the dock spread out like a trapper’s pelts working on her tan. Just like Aline Barbour.
    Before I got to the culvert, I came across Joan’s Honda with the hatch door open. I pulled up behind her and turned off the ignition. As I expected, there she was, out in the middle of the flood, her rubber boots awash, pulling at a half-submerged bedspring. I took off my shoes and socks and rolled up my pants. I should have taken them off altogether, because they got completely soaked and muddy during the next couple of minutes. Wading out to help a lady in distress hadn’t been ruled out by Ray Thornton, so I thought, why not? At least I would have a fine view of all traffic in and out of the lodge while I was there.
    â€œYou’re going to ruin those trousers, Benny.”
    â€œI’ll be all right. Have you found the trouble?”
    â€œDamned beavers, that’s all. Just like I told you, they can build up their dam as fast as I can pull it apart.” Joan was wearing a faded grey T-shirt tucked into muckspotted white shorts. Her tanned legs were also muddy. This was my first beaver dam. I’d never even seen a beaver, except on the back of a nickel. I didn’t know anything about them except that they built dams, represented industry around the world, and bit their balls off when they became frightened. I didn’t have much to go on, but I hoped that my brawn would be of use to Joan.
    Joan smelled. The hole she was digging up smelled. In a very few minutes I smelled like they did. Nobody ever mentions the stench of all this unspoiled nature in the travel books. I worked