Murder on the Rocks

By Kevin Zahn

Murder on the Rocks is set in the red rock country near Sedona, Arizona. The protagonist is Will Johansen, a retired merchant marine captain. He and his wife, Katie, live a pleasant life in beautiful Red Rock Valley. While out walking his dog, a tri-colored collie named Sassie, that peace is shattered. Sassie discovers a dead body in the woods -- that of a Forest Service Ranger.
The county sheriff is called, and soon makes the determination that it was a suicide. Will cannot believe that, and gets involved to prove it was murder. His motivation is something that happened to him on his first voyage as captain, many years ago. The memory haunts him, but he thinks if he can help solve the case, the nightmares might go away. Katie doesn't like it, but puts up with it.
The middle part of the story is filled with suspects, evidence, speculation and altercations. Will recruits a retired FBI agent neighbor to help. He supplies critical expertise. New names go up on the “suspect board” while others come off of it. Will is determined to get it down to one name.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Zahn
• Release date: Sep 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005701581

Kevin Zahn

Kevin Zahn is a graduate of the United States Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point, New York. He also holds a master's degree from Boston College. He sailed all over the world as a mate, or deck officer, for over 20 years (1965-1987), some years full time, some part time. His ships were a variety of steam, diesel and nuclear powered. They carried every kind of cargo imaginable. He was also a junior high school teacher and coach of baseball and basketball. His last occupation before retiring was as a Geographic Information Systems Analyst. Kevin likes to play tennis, walk his dog, Sassie, and go for hikes around his home in northern Arizona. He is married, and has three children and two grandchildren. Please visit http://www.kevinzahn.com for more information and samples.

Book preview

Murder on the Rocks

by

Kevin Zahn

Copyright 2020 Kevin Zahn

All Rights Reserved

Note: This is a work of fiction. All the characters are imaginary, except for Sassie. Any resemblance to actual persons is coincidental.

Other books by Kevin Zahn:

The Bucko Mate: Twenty Years in the Merchant Marine

One Fine Summer

Edited by Kevin Zahn:

Out the Gate in '68! A Kings Point Memoir

Published by KDP Independent Publishing Platform

Cover design: Kevin Zahn and ebooklaunch.com

Dedication

To my wife, Kathleen, for tolerating my writing habits for many years.

Table of Contents

Chapter One: Discovery

Chapter Two: Memory Lane

Chapter Three: The News

Chapter Four: Getting Help

Chapter Five: One Step Forward?

Chapter Six: Billings

Chapter Seven: O'Conner

Chapter Eight: Survey Says

Chapter Nine: Forks in the Road

Chapter Ten: Making a List

Chapter Eleven: New Developments p

Chapter Twelve: Making an Offer p

Chapter Thirteen: One Out, One In

Chapter Fourteen: Cortez

Chapter Fifteen: Sharkey

Chapter Sixteen: Fulton

Chapter Seventeen: Crossed Wires

Chapter Eighteen: Caller ID

Chapter Nineteen: Getting Closer

Chapter Twenty: A Narrow Field

Chapter Twenty-one: Revelation

Chapter Twenty-two: Confrontation

Epilogue: Six Months Later

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter One: Discovery

I thought it was just going to be another one of many long, uneventful walks in the beautiful hills of red rock country in northern Arizona, with my lovely, tri-color collie, Sassie. I was wrong.

It all started normally, leaving our house on Fox Run in Red Rock Valley, near Sedona, and cutting through the neighbor's yard to connect to the Loop Trail. The trail went uphill for about half a mile, and then went northeasterly, along a ridge overlooking the houses in the valley below. Wild Pony Mesa was to the southeast, and the trail skirted it. The trail had been a jeep trail years ago, and went for a long way into Nick's Canyon. Nick had homesteaded the valley in the late 1800's and succeeded in owning 160 acres. He put in a well, raised cattle, and farmed. Of course, the canyon became Nick's Canyon and the only road to it Nick's Canyon Road.

The old homestead changed hands several times in the ensuing years. One owner laid out dirt roads and parceled it for a trailer park. He then sold it to another investor, who finished laying out the mostly half-acre parcels, put in underground utilities, with no street lighting, so as not to disturb the views, and sold off lots. We bought one of the lots and held onto it until retirement, then built our dream home on it.

From some vantage points, I could see our house below, and I took a few pictures. Katie, my wife, had given me a good camera when I retired, a Canon EOS Rebel T7i, which I was still learning how to use. Sassie trudged along beside me, having learned not to pull me ahead. She stopped often for smells. I often say we don't go for a walk we go for a smell. I liked to keep her on the leash even though she obeyed well enough to be off it. It was springtime, and in addition to the blooming yellow and purple fire wheel flowers and the pretty pink blossoms on the purple leaf plum trees, the snakes were starting to come out to sun themselves. Sassie did okay in obedience training, but not so much with the rattlesnake avoidance school. She had come across a small black-tailed rattler once on the same trail, but just stared at it as if to say, What the heck are you?

The higher up we went, the more pine trees there were. Many visitors to Arizona are surprised to learn that the largest ponderosa pine tree forest in the U.S. is in Northern Arizona. Our house was at an elevation of 4300 ft. and considered high desert. We had owned the lot for years, waiting until retirement to build on it. We had found a reputable builder and put up a Mediterranean-inspired four-bedroom house, with a red-tiled, hip style roof. When relatives or friends visited for the first time, I liked to mention that it was me who insisted on walk-in closets in all the bedrooms. Katie and I continued our old habit of having a room for ourselves, like an office, only with a good quality fold-out couch for company. It was a large team effort with the builder, his architect, the two of us and our daughter, who is an interior designer, but we got it built.

Our valley has an odd combination of plants like barrel cactus and soap tree yucca, mixed with pine and mesquite trees. You could grow lots of flowers, including roses. Hawks were plentiful — mostly Cooper's Hawks. We had javelina, coyotes, bobcats, raccoons, deer, foxes and an occasional mountain lion, too.

After we passed the last house in the valley and continued deeper up the canyon, Sassie stopped and barked at me. She never barked at me or hardly anything else. She wanted off the leash. I hesitated, mostly because javelina travel in packs and will attack a dog. But I let her go into the brush. I took a few photos all around while I waited for her. She came back very excited and barked at me again. She wanted to show me something. I thought it would be a rabbit maybe — hopefully not a rattler. Boy was I wrong!

A short way uphill and through some thorny acacia brush, Sass stopped. All I saw at first was a pair of shoes. They were toe down in the dirt and motionless. As I got closer, I saw the rest of the body — a man, face down, and dressed in a dark green uniform. He had a patch on his shoulder that I recognized immediately as that of a Forest Service ranger. There was a hole in the back of his head, matted hair, and a lot of blood soaking the soil underneath his head. There was a pistol in his hand.

If it had not been for my career as an officer in the merchant marine, I would have left right then. But having had some medical training, and on the merchant ships over the decades, a lot of medical experience, including seeing dead sailors and passengers, I felt obligated to at least formally assess that he was deceased. I knelt down close to the body, trying not to disturb any evidence. That terrible memory of what had happened on the MV Hong Kong Express flashed in my mind. Sassie had already left enough tracks to cover up some footprints. I checked his carotid artery, his breathing and listened for a heartbeat. No signs of life. I put the leash on my dog and backed her away from him. I took a few pictures. We saw and heard no one else around.

I hesitated, thinking that I might stop at the last house in the valley and knock on the door, but did not. I didn't know those people, and the few more minutes it would take to get to my own house wouldn't matter to the dead ranger.

Down our paved driveway we went, rather excited. Sassie didn't know if she had done well or not, but a few treats would soon allay her conscience. Inside the foyer, I put my hiking stick and backpack in the corner, as always, and hollered for my wife, Katie. I briefly told her what we had seen, and asked her to get Sassie's treats while I called the sheriff. I hesitated to use 911 as my practice of over-thinking things made me wonder if discovery of a dead body was an emergency. Then, the years of reading mystery novels and true crime stories, while at sea, told me that speed might be of the essence in finding and preserving evidence, if indeed it was a crime, or cause of death at least, so I used the emergency number.

Red Rock Valley is at the dead end of Nick's Canyon Road. Our area is not incorporated, so we have county sheriffs. There is only one assigned to our locale, and it took him about 30 minutes to get out to us. Katie answered the door.

Is a Mr. Will Johansen here? the heavy-set deputy asked.

Yes, please come in.

After verifying that it was me who had called and the basics of the discovery, the deputy and I left in his jeep to the actual trailhead. It was a longer trek than what Sassie and I had made, as I didn't want to alarm our neighbors by cutting through their yard again with the deputy. I left Sassie home. Deputy Wilson struggled with the uphill parts, being a rather hefty person, but we eventually got to the body. It looked the same.

Wilson put plastic gloves on and did about the same medical check that I had. After confirming what I already knew, he took out an evidence bag and carefully removed the ranger's wallet. He peeked in it a bit and I could see cash still there. He took out another bag and placed the pistol in it.

Has that been fired recently? I asked.

Dunno. I'm supposed to just secure it. I don't see powder burns on him, but a detective and forensics will check the weapon. The powder marks depend on how long he's been here, too. You said your dog found him?

Yes.

Were you with her at the time? Wilson asked.

No, she went off the leash, then came back barking. Why?

Oh, just for the record and trying to be complete. And so the detective will know your dog might have disturbed evidence. If there had been gunpowder burns on his hand, she could have licked them off. You know how most dogs will lick your hand to wake you up? He saw the dismay on my face. Might not matter, about the dog, you know. Don't worry. You did right.

What do you think happened here? I asked.

Oh, I'm just a deputy. Maybe this, maybe that. Above my pay grade. I spend most of my time trying to prevent crime or injury — domestic disputes, petty theft, and dangerous drivers. Up to others to figure out what happened after an incident like this.

Wilson tried to use his portable radio, and then his cell phone and neither worked.

They don't work much up here, I said.

We walked down the hill to the trailhead, where they did work. I stayed out of the way while he sat in his jeep and called it in. He got out and had a roll of that yellow police line tape with him. I helped him block off the trailhead, running the tape from the Loop Trail sign to a cairn full of rocks, marking the other side of the beginning of the trail, then to a tree.

Forensics and a detective are on the way, but all the way from Prescott, Wilson said. I told them to try to make it before dark.

Animals?

Yeah. Poor ranger needs to be left alone.

I knew that the javelina were vegetarians, but not a hungry coyote or mountain lion. Bobcats and foxes hunt too. Some of those hunters work after dark.

Wilson got back into his jeep and backed it up to the trailhead, facing out. He could sit there and watch anyone approaching the trail.

You can go home now. Want me to drive you?

No, the walk will do me good. You gonna stay here until the others get here?

Well, that's the plan, except in an emergency.

Like what? I asked.

Well sir, if I get a 911 call that someone is in physical jeopardy, like an armed robbery, say, I'll have to leave. You know this is a remote corner of the county, and it will take a while to get help. In fact, the boundary is right up there somewhere, pointing up the trail. The living get priority, you know — that's just the way it is.

Want me to get my car and park here, in case that happens?

No. You don't have the authority. Just go home and be available in an hour or two. Whoever investigates will want to talk to you, mostly to just confirm what I will write up. Maybe make some notes about the time you found the body, things like that. Okay?

Yeah, I'll be home. If we need to get to the store, the wife will go — I often can't remember if we have supper planned or not.

That was how I left him, parked at the trailhead. When I got home, I told Katie all about it, made a few notes, and gave Sassie a treat. Then I sat down in my easy chair and got really quiet. Katie brought over my favorite drink — vodka with Perrier.

You're going to get involved with this, aren't you? she asked, although she knew the answer. "It's the Hong Kong Express again, isn't it?"

Yes.

Chapter Two: Memory Lane

Dammit, Will, I wish you would forget that, Katie said. We have it made here. You're still the tall, handsome, blue-eyed man I married. You have your health and maybe only five pounds over ideal. Living in this beautiful valley was our dream and we made it happen. If you do help solve a real murder, you could get mixed up with some really bad people. But you do what you have to do. I've always told you that and I'll stand by it.

I'm going outside. Sit with Sassie.

Okay. Want a refill first?

She knew I would be out there a while, so I refilled my glass, went out on the patio and sat in the large patio chair. The view was due north and had a great look at Lew's Mountain. It got to over 7,000 feet. I liked it best when there was a dusting of snow on it, with the red rocks all around.

Sass came up the steps from her play area and nudged my arm, probably asking if we were going on another walk. I patted her furry head while my mind drifted back in time.

Right out of the maritime academy, I had shipped as a union deck officer. Back then, many lines going all over the world were crewed by unions. Shipping was good, in part because of the Viet Nam War. I went all over, but had little job security. By the time I hit 30 I realized I needed a permanent billet and to get serious about promotions. I got lucky with a second mate's job with Pacific Orient Lines (POL) out of Long Beach, Ca.

I worked my way up with them to chief mate and eventually captain. My first assignment with four stripes was captain of the MV Hong Kong Express. She was fairly new at the time — one of an emerging class of ever larger and larger container ships. Shipping companies were realizing that you could sail a much larger ship with the same crew as a smaller one, and make more money. It had started with the closure of the Suez Canal, and the tankers from the Mideast having to go around Africa. That increased costs a lot, so they started building what everyone called supertankers. Freighters became containerships with the same idea — the bigger the ship the more cost effective.

The Express had no cargo booms of her own, using those large, new cranes on the docks to lift trailer truck bodies on and off. It had a 30,000 HP diesel engine, and was fast. The 750 ft. long ship was on a Pacific run from Long Beach and Oakland in the states, to Yokohama, Japan, Hong Kong, and Kaohsiung, Taiwan. She sometimes stopped at Guam with military cargo, and rarely at Honolulu with general cargo. It was a great ship and I remembered it well — unfortunately, mostly because of an incident on my very first voyage as captain. It always amazes me how I often can't remember what shirt I wore yesterday, but can remember details like that from 20 or more years ago with absolute clarity. It seems common for retired folks.

I took a sip of my drink and leaned back. Sassie gave up on me and went out in the yard in search of her favorite toy, the blue hard-rubber chew toy. I drifted back over 20 years to that first voyage as captain.

We had made the outbound voyage just fine, with me gaining confidence in my captaincy all the time. I had a good chief mate, my second in command, and the watch mates and engineers were capable. I believed all would be well. We turned for home in Hong Kong, stopped in Kaohsiung, and then headed east for Oakland. Then it got ugly.

First, the weather turned sour. The barometer dropped hour by hour. Our weather maps showed a gale ahead. I adjusted course a bit to go south of it. People think you do that to make it easier on the crew. You don't. You do it to prevent damage to the ship and cargo — humans are secondary.

The storm let up a couple of days later. We were now on day 5 of our voyage, making 21 knots, fast for a big ship, and about half way across. I lingered over breakfast that day, discussing ship's business with the chief engineer. The meal had ended a half hour before and we were the only ones in the officers' mess. Then the chief mate came in. The chief mate is always called the Mate on merchant ships. He was quite agitated, and his rather plump face was very red.

Mate, what's the matter? You look terrible, I said.

Cap' I hate to tell you. The bosun didn't turn to on deck on time today. He is never late. I waited half an hour, until 0830, and went to his room. Wondered if he was sick or hungover.

And?

He's dead! The Mate was sputtering and stammering. I could barely understand him.

Are you sure?

Damn sure, sir, there's blood all over.

Okay, calm down, I'll go down there with you. Chief, would you come along as a witness?

Anything you need, Will. The chief was the head of the engine department, a rank almost equivalent to mine. We treated each other as equals, but the final decisions on ship items were mine. As such, we were on a first name basis. Not so for the rest of the crew.

We went below to the crew's deck and the bosun's room. Being a supervisor, he had the corner room at the end. We went in. It was as ugly as the Mate had implied. He was lying in his bunk, face up. There was a lot of blood on his chest and the mattress. I did check