Death Falls. Todd Ritter
“And what’s going on in China right now was going on in America back then. I raise you five.”
A raise. Of course. Nick should have seen it coming. Kat, apparently, had. Clenched in her hand was a five spot, which she threw onto the table with an audible growl.
“So my dad was there first,” she said. “Do you know for how long?”
“A few minutes, I guess. It was about quarter to eleven. I met up with him at the end of the street. He told me that Ken Olmstead just reported his son missing and that we should have a look around the creek and bridge.”
“Why there?” Nick asked.
“Because that’s where Mr. Olmstead said Charlie was heading. How many cards do you want?”
Nick got rid of the four and the seven. They were replaced by a six and a ten. Still a crappy hand, especially compared with the one card Owen took.
“I raise you another five,” he said.
Nick dropped his cards. “I fold.”
Grinning again, Owen Peale lunged for the money and slid it toward his side of the table. “Feel free to ask me another question.”
“Was Ken Olmstead also there when you arrived?”
“He was. So was a neighbor. Mort Clark. They looked around with us for a little bit before going back home to tell Mrs. Olmstead the bad news. The chief and I continued looking.”
It was Kat’s turn for another question. “Did you see anything unusual?”
“Other than Mrs. Olmstead clutching her baby in the rain and getting hysterical?”
“When did this happen?”
“About fifteen minutes later. Right after I spotted the boy’s bike in the water. She came out of nowhere and ran onto the bridge.”
“Did she see the bike?”
Owen had collected the cards and was shuffling them again. For a man pushing seventy-five, his hands were quick. The cards seemed to dance in his capable fingers, a blur of reds and blacks.
“I told her not to look. Just in case the boy was dead nearby. But she saw it anyway. Then, while we were standing there, the bike broke free and went over the falls. That was the moment all of us realized the same thing probably happened to the boy.”
Nick took note of his word choice. “Probably?”
“At that point, it wasn’t a certainty,” Owen said. “Still isn’t.”
“What do you think really happened?”
“Ante up.”
Kat dug into her wallet and huffed. “I’m out of fives and I only have three ones. After that, it’s all twenties.”
“Don’t worry, Officer,” Owen said, grinning. “I can make change.”
Kat reached across the table and traded a twenty for four fives. She placed one of them on the table.
“The bike went over the falls,” Owen continued as he dealt Nick his new cards. “I saw it with my own eyes. So did the others. And I think everyone jumped to the same conclusion without asking one basic question: How did the bike get there?”
“Charlie Olmstead rode it into the creek,” Nick said. “That was the official ruling, right?”
“It was. But when was the last time you heard of someone riding their bike into a creek?”
“Never,” Nick said. “But it was dark.”
“It certainly was.” Owen stared at him expectantly. “You raising or checking?”
Nick examined his hand. It was much better than the previous one—a nine, a ten, a jack, and a queen. The odd card out was a five of clubs that he intended to get rid of immediately. “I’ll raise you five.”
This time, Kat shook her head before placing the money on the table. “I’m keeping track of how much you owe me.”
“Think of it as a donation,” Nick told her.
“Donation, my ass.”
Owen called, tossing in his own money. “It was also raining that night. Made the ground soft.”
“That only boosts the argument that Charlie lost control and accidentally went into the water.”
Nick placed the five of clubs facedown on the table and Owen drew him a new card. It was a king. He had a straight on his hands.
“Sounds to me,” Owen said, “like you think the Olmstead boy went over the falls.”
“I don’t know what to think,” Nick replied. “I only know what I’ve been told.”
“Then what if I told you that in that soft ground I mentioned, well, there weren’t any tire tracks, bike or otherwise, leading into the water. So if Charlie Olmstead was on that bike when it went in, then he must have been levitating.”
“How do you think the bike got there?”
“Someone tossed it in,” Owen said. “After grabbing the boy.”
Nick’s mind spun so rapidly that he actually started to get dizzy. During the course of the day, he had slowly come to accept the official story about Charlie Olmstead’s disappearance, mostly because there was no evidence to refute it. Until now.
“Did you tell anyone about this?” Kat asked. Taking a seat next to Nick, she leaned forward with anticipation.
“I told your father,” Owen said. “Not that he needed telling. He noticed the lack of tracks, too.”
“But why wasn’t any of this in the report? Certainly the two of you should have investigated it further.”
“We did. We interviewed everyone who lived on that street. Even that crazy neighbor of theirs, although he wouldn’t let us inside. We had to talk to him through the screen door.”
“The report said Mr. Stewart claimed to be asleep at the time,” Nick said. “Did you really believe that?”
“We had to,” Owen said. “We knew there was no one to confirm or deny it. Besides, taking the Olmstead boy would require him leaving his house. And you’re more likely to see Howard Hughes rise from the dead and give you a lap dance than be invited into Glenn Stewart’s place.”
Nick had a habit of creating mental files about cases, crimes, and suspects. It helped him organize his thoughts and keep ideas on track. Owen Peale’s Howard Hughes line was immediately secured there, but not because it had anything to do with the Olmstead case. He simply wanted to be able to use it someday.
“What about the Santangelos?” he asked. “The report mentioned a disparity in testimony about whether Becky Santangelo was home or not.”
Owen waved the words away like he was swatting at a fly. “That was just a simple misunderstanding. Maggie said she spotted Becky in an upstairs window. I think she saw someone, but not Mrs. Santangelo, if you get my meaning.”
Nick most certainly did. “Lee was having an affair?”
“That was the assumption, which is why I left it out of the report. What Lee Santangelo did in his spare time was none of our business. Although why he’d want to step out on someone as fine as Becky is beyond me. I’d turn into a foxhound for a piece of that tail.”
“You should change the subject,” Kat told him, “before I decide to shoot you.”
Owen shrugged off the threat. Nick decided that, scam artist or not, he liked the man.
“What did the Clarks have to say?”
“Not much,” Owen said. “They were asleep. Ken Olmstead woke them with the news that Charlie was missing. Mort Clark