The Murders at El Tovar Read online

  The Murders at El Tovar

  Book Three of the Mike Damson Mysteries

  By Charles deMontel Williamson

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities between its characters and any real people are a coincidence. The actual locations may have been adjusted or relocated to improve the action.

  The author has hiked across or visited the Grand Canyon dozens of times since he first saw it in 1968. It is a place he loves, but it is also dangerous for those who don’t respect the risks. Deaths occur from falls almost every year. If you have never been there, it should be on your must visit list.

  Please respect the author by using this work only for your personal enjoyment.

  This work is dedicated to my aunt, Jean Wall. Thank you for being you.

  PROLOGUE

  Peggy Marshall could hear the labored breathing of her husband as she roused slightly from her dream. She had been floating over her house in Trenton watching her neighborhood on a bright summer day. The dream had been very real. Peggy reached out to the comfort of Paul, her companion of twenty-three years. Peggy Marshall woke up completely when her arms did not find Paul in his accustomed spot next to her. She sat up in bed in the unfamiliar room. It took only seconds for her memory of the trip to return. They were in a hotel room in separate beds.

  “Of course,” she thought, “It’s the second day of our vacation.” Peggy smiled in anticipation and excitement of their long planned trip to the American Southwest. They were going to see five national parks plus spend four exciting days in Las Vegas.

  Poor Paul, yesterday had been such a difficult day for him. They had gotten up early for the drive to the Newark Airport, and he hadn’t been feeling well as they left the house. He had gotten even worse as they waited for the long line to check their bags and the second even longer line to clear the security checkpoint. The security guard had insisted that Paul take off his shoes, and the overweight pasty-faced woman had searched him.

  The long flight to Phoenix Sky Harbor had been mind numbingly dull, and Paul had slept most of the way. Peggy had finished her mystery novel somewhere over Texas, and she had grown restless long before reaching Phoenix.

  Peggy had stood in line for the rental car and helped get their bags onto the bus for the Hertz lot. It was quite hot in Phoenix even in early June, and Peggy had been glad to drive north toward the cooler part of the state. Paul normally did almost all of the driving on vacation trips, but Peggy felt competent and self-reliant as she guided them through Phoenix to Interstate 17. Once they left the ugly sprawl of the scorching desert city, she was in a very good humor. They had planned this trip for more than a year. She’d read so much about this part of the country that she felt almost as if she had been in Arizona before. Peggy taught second grade, and her class had helped her plan the trip as a geography exercise.

  They had gotten off the Interstate at Flagstaff and gone to a pharmacy to find more cold medicine for poor Paul. Peggy had enjoyed the drive from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon, but she had been disappointed to arrive at the Canyon after dark on a moonless night. She could smell the pine trees in the cool evening air, but she could only see a vast expanse of blackness with the remote lights of the Grand Canyon Lodge miles away on the North Rim. Paul had been too sick to have dinner with her at the dining room of the El Tovar Hotel where they were staying. Peggy had made the dinner reservation a month ahead of their visit so they could be certain of a good meal after the long flight and drive. She had brought her leftovers to the room in a Styrofoam container and put it in the ice bucket in case Paul was hungry.

  Peggy was truly excited. It was almost dawn. She would dress warmly and go to the rim to watch the sun slowly illuminate the Canyon, turning it from a black bottomless chasm to one of God’s most wonderful sights. She had a feeling of secret guilt. Peggy was actually glad that Paul was still asleep and that she could have this little adventure on her own. She borrowed Paul’s long johns and put on her new hiking boots. Before starting her adventure, Peggy refilled the ice bucket where the leftovers of last night’s dinner had been floating in the cold iceless water. Paul had not eaten anything yesterday, and Peggy didn’t want him to wake up famished with nothing to eat in the room. She took the small red Maglite flashlight from her purse and tucked the room key into her jeans pocket. She hung the digital camera around her neck after putting on her parka and gloves. She hung her purse on her shoulder. She was ready for the predawn cold at 7,000 feet above sea level.

  Peggy Marshall took the stairs down from her second floor room. Each carpeted stair squeaked slightly as she descended to the first floor lobby. A young blond man smiled as she passed the front desk, “You’ll be glad you dressed warmly to watch the dawn.” He pointed to a small sign on which the current weather conditions had been written. It said, “Clear and 28°F, –2°C.”

  Peggy thought he was an extremely good-looking young man, like a soap opera star. He had a slight accent, perhaps Australian. She smiled and asked, “Have other people gone out to watch the sunrise?”

  The name tag on his shirt said Jason. He was probably about the same age as her son Kyle. Jason answered with a broad grin, “Yes mum. It’s a popular time of day. If you walk east along the rim trail, there’re benches to sit on and watch nature’s great show. It’s not crowded about a quarter mile past the hotel.”

  Peggy replied, “Thanks Jason. It’ll be nice to find a quiet place to sit and wait for the dawn.” Peggy smiled again wondering if Paul would be back to his frisky vacation self soon. Their most extended intimate times had been on their annual vacations when Paul was away from his stressful job at Exxon. Peggy taught school and loved her work, but Paul hated the office politics of his job.

  A fire was burning in the big stone fireplace in the hotel lobby. Peggy saw another slightly familiar looking young man sitting with his feet on the hearth. As she exited the old building onto the broad porch filled with its many rustic chairs and benches, she noticed a young couple kissing on a bench in the darkest part of the verandah. She smiled. There were so many young attractive people who worked here at El Tovar like the wait staff at last night’s meal. Her own waiter had been a mature gray-haired man, but he was an exception among the young crew. It was natural for the young employees to be attracted to each other especially in a setting like this romantic old hotel.

  She walked past the Hopi Gift Shop to the low stonewall edge of the Canyon, but it was still too dark to see anything of the canyon’s features. The gift shop was an interesting building built in the Hopi Style of stacked red sandstone, and she looked forward to a little shopping when it opened. A few people were standing near the rim. She turned on her flashlight and began to walk east, away from the lights of the hotels and gift shops. The reassuring rock wall that bordered the path was soon gone, and she only had her light to avoid danger. The path was wide and made of asphalt bordered with stones. She could hear an occasional car passing on a nearby road and she kept walking to find a quiet place.

  As the path took a turn toward the rim, a looming sinister shadow next to the trail startled Peggy. She gasped. When she pointed her light at the black form, the threatening shape was only the dead form of two intertwined trees. Both trees had died in their fight for moisture and nutrients, but their shapes formed an embrace that made the natural process seem a little tragic. Peggy smiled at how jumpy she’d been. This was a vacation. She would relax. Peggy decided to take a photo of the trees after dawn. The photo might be interesting to her students.

  In a few more minutes, Peggy was in the complete darkness of the forest. Her small flashlight, focused on the asphalt trail, was the only reassurance that civilization was nearby. After a fifteen-minute walk, she sat on a wooden benc
h. She was disappointed, in her schoolteacher manner, when her flashlight showed that many names had been carved on the wooden seat. She looked into the darkness. Peggy could clearly see the black line of the North Rim where it blocked the stars from her view. In fact, she soon realized that she had never seen the stars as vivid as this. There were so many, especially when she looked west. The faint blue of the eastern horizon was just beginning to reduce the star count in that direction. She had not put on her watch, but it was clear that the dawn was near.

  She sat back on the bench with a profound feeling of contentment with her life. She had accepted middle age in the way many of her friends could not. Peggy Marshall had always thought of herself as ordinary looking, so she had no great sense of the loss of beauty that the forties had brought to her vainer friends. She knew that Paul was satisfied and faithful in their relationship. Their son and daughter had both matured into fine young people, and she looked forward to being called granny in a few years. She and Paul had the money to enjoy their leisure time, and they were both normally in very good health.

  Peggy could begin to see purple rather than solid blackness in the huge chasm in front of her bench. It had felt even colder after she’d sat down. She heard a slight movement in the trees and focused her flashlight in that direction; a fluffy-tailed squirrel was off to an early morning start. Peggy stood up to watch the dawn and get her first view of this famous landmark. She moved forward to the canyon side of the asphalt trail. Peggy briefly wondered if there were any dangerous animals in these woods, but she dismissed that brief fear. Millions of people a year visited the Grand Canyon Village, enough people to scare away any bears or cougars. There were no dangerous animals this close to the hotel. She would merely enjoy the dawn and ignore her silly fears.

  It happened too quickly to even register. There was a slight sound from behind. Peggy felt the sharp two-handed push on her lower back, and then she was falling. She started to scream, but her mind abruptly canceled the scream. This was just a continuation of her dream of floating over Trenton. It was not real. Death came instantly when her back collided with a Coconino Sandstone outcropping four hundred feet below. The fall broke her neck and shattered the rear of her skull. The momentum of her fall carried her off the ledge to drop another six hundred feet, her inert body bouncing along the Redwall Limestone.

  CHAPTER 1

  The jangle of the phone distracted me from the case file I was reviewing. I was preparing for my upcoming testimony in the Secret Mountain Murder cases. I answered, “Sedona substation, Detective Mike Damson.”

  The familiar deep-pitched voice on the line said, “Hi Mike, thanks for having Rachel and me over for dinner Sunday. Margaret must be the best cook in Coconino County.”

  It was my boss, Greg Taylor, the sheriff of Coconino County, Arizona. Greg and his wife, Rachel, had come down from Flagstaff for dinner at our house on Sunday evening. My wife, Margaret, had invited them to Sedona to taste some of the dishes she’d learned at her recent cooking school in Santa Fe. The cooking course had been interrupted by the murder of the instructor, but Margaret still had improved her skills at preparing Santa Fe style food. I was not very comfortable with this first name friendship with my boss. I’d spent too many years in the more formal atmosphere of the Los Angeles Police Department where I never even met the Chief in person in the thirty years I was on the force.

  “You’re very welcome boss,” I said. “She’s getting so damn good at cooking that all my 34 inch pants are getting too tight. I’ll pass your compliment on to her.”

  Greg got quickly to the point of his call. “Mike, with the press coverage of both the Secret Mountain Murders and the Chris Cooper case, you’ve become something of a celebrity in Coconino County. I’ve had a special request for you to assist with an investigation up at the Canyon.”

  Coconino County is huge, the second largest county in the United States. It takes more than four hours just to drive from Sedona at the southern end of the county to the Mormon town of Fredonia by the Utah border. The county stretches north to the Glenn Canyon Dam at Page, Arizona, east to Tuba City on the Navajo Reservation and west to include the Grand Canyon National Park.

  The sheriff continued explaining the assignment. “There was a death early this morning at the South Rim. A woman fell, jumped, or was pushed to her death from a point along the Rim Trail about half a mile from the El Tovar Hotel. Deaths from falls are not too unusual at the Canyon, but this one doesn’t look like either an accident or a suicide. The park superintendent, Karl Harman, called me this morning. Karl wants me to assign you to investigate this death. You’re to stay until the case is solved or you reach a dead end. Chad can cover the Sedona office for you. The dead woman was a grade school teacher named Peggy Marshall. I told the superintendent that you’d be there this afternoon. I’m counting on you Mike. You know how important tourism is to this county.”

  I called Margaret at her job at the Chase branch to let her know that I’d be up at the Grand Canyon for a few days. Margaret is often able to help with my cases because of her keen understanding of people. She’s a very sharp woman, and I always find it valuable to discuss my cases with her. Margaret also is the best looking fifty-two year old woman I know. Her good humor and warmth can always make a stranger feel like an old friend.

  When I explained the assignment, Margaret said, “You’re by far the most experienced homicide detective in the county. It’s not surprising that they want you for any really difficult and important cases. Have you noticed the number of Grand Canyon deaths that have been reported in the Arizona Daily Sun recently? Something strange may be going on up there. I’d like to join you Friday evening if you’re not home by then. Maybe we can go for a hike on Saturday if you can take a few hours off. Please, call me tonight. I’ll miss you.”

  I went into the nearby office to let my partner Chad Archer know that the Sheriff had asked me to cover a case up at the Grand Canyon. “Things will be fine here Mike. I wish I could go with you to help partner.” Chad is a competent young man, but he lacks experience with serious crimes since they’re so rare in Sedona. If this case took awhile, I’d ask the Sheriff to let him join in the investigation. Chad needs more criminal investigation experience.

  I went home and packed only enough clothing to last until Saturday. If the case took longer, Margaret could bring clean things when she came for the weekend. The drive from Sedona to Flagstaff on Highway 89A is among the most scenic in the Southwest. Even after three years in Sedona, I still enjoyed the spectacular scenery as much as I did on my first visit to town twenty years ago. The road follows a spring-fed creek through a steep-sided canyon with red and tan sandstone walls thrusting a thousand feet up on either side of the narrow road. From Flagstaff, I drove the two-lane busy road through the ponderosa forest and high plateau country northwest of Flagstaff. It was one of those northern Arizona days of huge billowing cumulous clouds accentuating the deep blue of the pollution free sky. The total trip took two hours and ten minutes.

  CHAPTER 2

  As I drove into the little town of Tusayan, just outside of the park entrance, I called the local substation detective-in-charge. He was a fellow officer in the Coconino County Sheriff’s Department, and I would be stepping on his toes by taking charge of this case. I had met Doug Redman only twice, and I was uncertain how he’d react to Sheriff Taylor sending me up here.

  He answered the phone in a surprisingly soft pleasant tenor voice.

  “Doug, this is Mike Damson. I’m in Tusayan headed for a meeting with Superintendent Harman. Harman asked the Sheriff to send me up to investigate this morning’s death of a school teacher tourist from New Jersey.”

  “The-hell-you-say. This is a damn long way from Sedona, Mike.” Doug Redman’s voice was no longer soft and pleasant. The Sheriff hadn’t called him about my assignment. I was glad that I’d contacted him before meeting with Superintendent Harman.

  “Doug, I’ve never even met Harman, but I understand he specificall
y asked for me.” I hoped that this was not going to embarrass Redman.

  “Hum, I guess Harman knows your name from all the publicity you’ve been getting lately big guy.” Doug had decided that I wasn’t deliberately poaching in his territory. He continued, “Actually, I’m glad you’re here Mike. We’ve had more problems than we can deal with lately. It’s the start of our big tourist season, you know.” He was implying that I probably didn’t have any important cases down in Sedona. He was right.

  Over four and a half million tourists would pass through the little town of Tusayan and the main gates of the Grand Canyon National Park each year. A lot of the activity got concentrated into three summer months. Unlike my quiet little substation in Sedona, the Grand Canyon Substation would actually be bustling with activity in the summer months.

  I asked my colleague, “I guess your team has already started an investigation of the death of Mrs. Peggy Marshall?”

  “I’ll have our file up-to-date for you by this evening. Where are you staying Mike?”

  “I’ll have to let you know. I’ll come by the office after I meet with Harman.” I understood that the assignment of a case to a Sedona detective wouldn’t be popular with my colleagues here at Tusayan. I was confident they’d help with the case if needed, however I wanted to make an appearance at the local office so everyone would feel I was keeping Doug informed.

  I drove along the crowded main drag through the unpleasant strip of motels and restaurants. Tusayan’s most prominent building is an I-Max movie theater, which continuously shows a feature about the Grand Canyon. I had often wondered why people would stop to see a movie of the Grand Canyon when they could drive another fifteen miles and see the real thing. Margaret and I have had many houseguests since moving to northern Arizona from LA three years ago, and last November, we’d stopped at the I-Max at a houseguest’s request. It’s actually a good way to understand the history, ecology, and geology of the Canyon, but seeing the Canyon first in a movie still seems a little weird to me.