“No. Are you with the reserves?”
“Yes, sir, how’d you know?”
“In Las Piernas, that’s on the test for detectives. Identification of Reserve Officers.”
Deputy Whatever continued on as he mulled this over, giving them a little peace. A few minutes later, though, he let loose with a loud and pungent fart.
“For Christ’s sakes!” Ben said angrily.
“Sorry.” The kid grinned. “No charge for the bug repellent.”
Eventually, they could hear other voices up ahead.
“Deputy,” Frank said then, “I just realized that I am without one of the authorization forms I’ll need for this investigation to be taken over by Las Piernas. It’s vital that I have it. We can find the site from here — but would you please return to Detective Garrett and tell him that I need a Universal Transfer of Responsibility Form Eighty- five-dash-seven?”
“I don’t know if I should—”
“Maybe I should go,” said Ben. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it back here on my bad leg, but—”
“Don’t even think of it!” The deputy repeated the form number and took off.
“Universal Transfer of Responsibility Form?” Ben asked as soon as the deputy was out of earshot.
“I thought the ‘Eighty-five-dash-seven’ was a nice touch, myself. Which one is your bad leg?”
Ben smiled.
Frank called Garrett on the radio and warned him that the deputy was on his way. “You’d better take a long time finding that form, Cliff,” he said, “or I may require lots of cooperation from a certain San Bernardino homicide detective. You want to hike down here again to help?”
Cliff laughed and asked how the mosquitoes were, then agreed to keep the deputy busy.
They had no trouble finding the others; they followed the sound of their voices until they saw the coroner’s assistant, several sheriff’s deputies, and a tall, dark-haired woman in lightweight coveralls standing in a small clearing. Frank recognized the woman — they had worked together on a previous case. Was that the real reason Carlson had sent him out here?
“Hello, Mayumi,” he said to her. “How’s life with the NTSB?”
She turned and smiled. “Frank! Good to see you again.” She quickly sobered and said, “Sorry it has to be under these circumstances.”
“Thanks, but I never knew him, so—”
“Of course not,” she said.
This quick reassurance puzzled him. He glanced at the other men. They seemed a little tense. What was going on?
“You weren’t in the department in Las Piernas ten years ago, were you?” Mayumi was saying.
“No, I was still working in Bakersfield then,” he said, and saw the others visibly relax. What the hell was that all about?
“Where’s the wreckage?” Ben asked.
“Not far. I’m Mayumi Iwata,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m with the National Transportation Safety Board.”
“Forgive me for not introducing you, Mayumi,” Frank said. “This is Dr. Ben Sheridan. Ben’s a forensic anthropologist. He’ll be doing the work on recovering and identifying the remains.”
“Oh, yes, the coroner’s office told us you would be coming here with Frank.” She introduced them to the coroner’s assistant and the others. One of the older deputies, a man named Wilson, looked back in the direction of the road and asked, “Where’s the chatterbox?”
Frank and Ben exchanged a look.
“Frank sent him on an important errand,” Ben said.
Wilson laughed. “You have our undying gratitude.” He gave them the sign-in sheet for the scene, noting the time of their arrival, then reached into a canvas bag and brought out some gloves. “You’ll need these. There’s quite a bit of poison oak down there.”
“I begin to see why Cliff was so happy to hand this one off,” Frank said with a laugh, but noticed that Wilson suddenly seemed uneasy. Probably one of Cliff’s friends. Frank decided to stick to business. “Who was first on the scene?”
“I was,” Wilson said. “A couple hikers with a dog wandered through here. We don’t get many through this ravine, because most of the time the little creek that runs through here is dry. I don’t think they would have seen the wreckage if it hadn’t been for the dog.”
“Did the dog disturb the remains?” Ben asked.
“No, and the hikers didn’t either. The dog kind of scratched at the door of the plane. Hikers called him back, and I guess they — well, they freaked out when they realized what it was and came running out of here. We almost couldn’t find it again. Hadn’t been for the dog, I don’t know if we would have. We took statements from them and let them go on home — didn’t realize what a mess…” His voice trailed off, and he colored slightly. “Well, let’s take you on over there.”
Again, Frank felt as if the others were waiting for him to react to something, that there was more going on here than the little Carlson had told him.
