Written into the Grave

“Yes. Well, at least as far as I could see from up here. It’s not a long drop, but those rocks are …”

“Unforgiving.” Vicky tried to smile, but she felt queasy. The deputy was just about quoting Trevor Jenkins’ little story. Not a long drop, but those rocks …

Someone had died here, this morning, in the same way as in Trevor’s contribution to the writing group’s serial!

Chapter Two (#ulink_7751a22e-6848-53ae-a64f-5fbaae072ea9)

Of course not, Vicky tried to rally herself. In the story the person is shot by the narrator. Here it was simply a matter of someone falling. Having a dizzy spell, maybe even a heart attack, like the deputy suggested.

An odd coincidence, nothing more.

Still she wanted to know just a little bit more about the circumstances of this sudden death. She asked, “And how did you hear about it? Did somebody call it in?”

“Yes, some man walking his dog. Saw the body on the rocks at the foot of the cliffs and called the police. Sheriff’s talking to him down there.”

Vicky felt a moment’s regret she was not down there herself to ask that man a question or two. Like whether he had happened to glance up at the cliffs and had seen movement there?

Or whether he had heard gunshots, huh, she chided herself. Will you stop going on about that story in the paper? There’s nothing sinister to it.

“If you have anything relevant to report about this case …” the deputy said with a probing look.

“Oh, no, I just wanted to talk to Cash for a moment.” Vicky tried to smile again. “I can wait. I suppose he’ll come up here again, when he’s through down there.”

“The doctor is coming to look at the body. I assume he can tell us what caused the fall. Or at least guess at it. I think doctors can see whether somebody had a heart attack or seizure. By the color of the face, the lips. Maybe how the eyes are?”

Vicky tried not to think of the dead body. “Probably,” she said briskly. “Well, must be a weird start to your day.”

“No weirder than chasing loose cattle and almost getting run over by an angry bull.” The deputy shook his head. “That beast had horns … You don’t want to know. At least that body down there is dead and can’t hurt anybody.”

It can when it’s murder, Vicky thought. Then we’ll actually have to start looking for a killer.

Again.

But she said nothing.

Vaguely, they caught voices down below, but no words could be made out. After a few minutes a car came up to them, and a tall, gray-haired man climbed out. He retrieved a black leather bag from the back seat and came toward the deputy with an outstretched hand. “Got a body for me? Nasty business if he fell down there. Hello.” The latter was said to Vicky.

“Oh, doc …” Cash had just come up the cliff path. His face was purple, and he was panting. He leaned on the police car’s hood to catch his breath again. Mr. Pug came over to say hello, but Cash didn’t notice. He huffed, “Pretty steep, those cliffs, huh …”

“Or you’re out of shape, Sheriff,” the doctor said with a sly smile. “Maybe lay off the beer and pizza, huh? And you should take up running.”

“And end up like that poor guy down there? No thanks.” Cash wiped sweat off his brow.

“Do you think he died of exertion?” Vicky asked quickly.

Cash looked her over. “Good morning.”

Vicky flushed. “Good morning, Cash. I was walking the dogs when I saw the commotion. I was just curious what was up.”

Cash tilted his head as if he didn’t believe her.

“Do you think he died of exertion?” Vicky repeated before he could start asking about her reasons for butting in.

Cash shrugged. “Don’t know. I went over and had a look to ascertain the victim was dead. Not that it was necessary. He was lying at an angle that isn’t quite natural for the human body. But I didn’t look too close.”

Cash grimaced. “He was dead—that was for sure—and the rest I leave to the police doctor here and the medical examiner if need be.”

The doctor took this as his cue, excused himself and went down, balancing himself with his bag held high in the air.

Cash patted Mr. Pug and Coco who vied for his attention. They associated him with the roadside restaurant where Vicky had met Cash during the last investigation to wean some information away from him. To the dogs’ minds the sheriff came with the promise of sausages.

Vicky asked Cash, “But do you think someone can really fall down here by accident? You’d have to get close to the edge.”

“Some people take risks for the view. If he got dizzy …” Cash shrugged and studied her. “What do you think? That he was pushed?”

“It’s possible,” Vicky said.

“No doubt. But we’d need evidence to support that. And I don’t see right now how we could collect it.”

“The person who reported the body didn’t see anything suspicious?”

“Not that I know of.” Cash studied her, mopping more sweat away. “Why are you asking all those questions? Do you suspect foul play? We did have two murders here recently, but those were clearly murders.”

“It has nothing to do with the earlier murders,” Vicky assured him quickly. She wasn’t too eager either to tell Cash that she had read it in the morning paper. He’d probably think she had gone crazy. “I just don’t see as I stand here and look around me how you can go over the edge by accident. The deputy and I were just discussing that there’s no traffic here that can hit you. Or that you can move away from and take a tumble.”

Cash raked a hand through his hair. “How it happened might not be important if the doc establishes that the deceased had a clogged artery or a seizure. Maybe once we know who the victim is, it’ll turn out he had some medical condition that explains his fall.”

Vicky pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure how to address Trevor Jenkins’ story in the Gazette this morning. She didn’t want to get the young gardener in trouble for nothing, but as the deputy had mentioned yellow stripes on the victim’s clothes, it was a weird coincidence.

The doctor came back up, looking grim. “Not a pretty sight.”

“Tell me something I don’t know yet,” Cash said ironically.

The doctor came back at him at once. “How does this grab you? The victim has two bullets in his chest.”

Vicky gasped. So it was murder. And it had happened in the exact same way as in Trevor Jenkins’ story. Two shots. Two bullets. A fall. Dead.

“Bullets in the chest?” Cash echoed. “But … I thought he had fallen.”

“Oh, he did fall, and it’ll be hard to say which killed him. If one of the bullets struck the heart, the victim might have been dead upon impact, so well before he hit the rocks below. An autopsy can tell you more about that. Also time of death and all.”

Cash shook his head. “Bullets,” he repeated. “So there must have been shots. Somebody should have heard those, right?”

“Not if it happened early.” The doc gestured around them. “Who would be around here at an early hour?”

He shook his head. “No, I think it would have been relatively easy to wait for someone here and shoot him.”

“But why do it?” Cash mused. “Premeditated murder, with a gun brought to the spot, not an altercation and a push in a rage. That means someone hated the victim enough to plan his demise.”