Sweet Creek

By Connie L. Beckett

Gwen Lindstrom and her partner, Jay, travel to Florence, Oregon, to escape the Wyoming winter. A scenic hike takes an unexpected turn when they stumble upon a lifeless body in Sweet Creek Falls.

Dismissed by local authorities, Gwen's curiosity is piqued. She delves into the mystery surrounding the city commissioners, unearthing financial irregularities and concealed motives. Soon, Gwen's pursuit of truth intertwines her fate with those willing to guard their secrets - no matter the cost.

The third book in Connie L. Beckett's Gwen Lindstrom Mysteries series, 'Sweet Creek' is a gripping tale of mystery, resilience, and courage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Aug 29, 2023

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Oregon’s Sweet Creek Falls was anything but sweet that day.

Oh shit, exclaimed Gwen Lindstrom, her steps coming to an abrupt halt. Walking behind her on the narrow trail, Jay Marker nearly rear-ended her.

What? Jay exclaimed.

Look, Gwen hissed, extending a shaky finger toward the pond's edge below the trail.

A body floated in the murky water. Unblinking eyes in a pale face stared up at the sky while the rest of him bumped against the rocks lining the edge.

He's moving, Gwen shouted and started down the hill of boulders.

Hold on. Jay grabbed the back of the weatherproof jacket she had worn to ward off Oregon's cold, damp December day.

Gwen turned back to him, frowning.

That's just the movement of the water, Jay told her. He's long gone. Look closer.

Gwen had to trust his opinion. After all, Jay was the funeral director and, at times, coroner back in their hometown of Dubois, Wyoming. Dead people he would know.

On closer examination, Gwen realized the man really was dead. His mouth gapped as if in mid-cry for help, and his open eyes were clouded.

Oh, Gwen murmured.

Jay pulled a phone from his jacket pocket and stared at the screen. He lifted it above his head and frowned. No bars.

Well, damn. Gwen pulled a phone from the back pocket of her jeans, but it, too, had no reception bars. You remember when we last had service?

Don't know. Haven't had an incoming call for a while, us being on vacation. He put the useless thing back in his pocket. One of us needs to take the car down toward Mapleton and see if we can pick up a signal. I'll stay here and make sure…, he waved his hand at the area devoid of people except for them on this cold misty morning, …the corpse isn't disturbed.

Gwen gave him a half-hearted grin. I guess seeing how you're more comfortable with the dead, I'll go call the sheriff. She turned somber. What do you think happened?

Jay examined the area around the edge of the pond. Hard to say, but doesn't it look like tangled fishing line in that puddle over there?

Gwen squinted. When it came to fishing equipment, she was the expert. Looks like it. Think he was fishing, fell in, and drowned?

Could be, or he slipped on these rocks and hit his head. Same result.

Gwen ran a hand nervously through her short, dark, curly hair and said, I’ll be back as soon as I can. You just watch out for bears. She raised her slender five-foot, two-inch frame on tippy toes to kiss Jay.

Then she turned and started back up the path toward the car. She looked over her shoulder one last time before the trail curved to find Jay working his way down the slope to better examine the dead man.

The hike to the car took Gwen less time than the meandering walk they had taken down to Sweet Creek and the falls. It gave her time to think. She owned the Rancher's Café restaurant in Dubois, Wyoming. Waitressing in the morning and doing bookwork in the afternoon kept her busy most days. That was fine, she enjoyed what she did, and it kept her from being bored or lonely. Jackie, her daughter, was grown and Gwen was a widow. Her husband, Gabe, had been gone ten-plus years now from the cancer that had caught them both by surprise.

Gwen always closed the restaurant the day before Christmas Eve until after the New Year. That was when tourists fled to warmer climes and locals recovered financially, or weight-wise, from the holidays. Some years she traveled south by herself, or she went to visit Jackie. Other years, she simply enjoyed sleeping late and working on projects around the house. For this year’s vacation, she had company.

When Gabe was still alive, they had socialized with Jay Marker and his wife. Now Gabe was gone and Jay's wife, Laurel, was an Alzheimer’s patient in a local nursing home. The disease progressed quickly, and Laurel had lost all memory of Jay.

So…

She and Jay had gone from coupled friends to single supportive friends and then to lovers. Dubois was not a large town. Their relationship (and Jay's still married status), plus their visibility as business owners, necessitated that they keep their relationship low profile.

Jay's brother lived in Florence, Oregon. Come on down, Jeff had told Jay. Our winters here have no snow, and that's when everything greens up.

He failed to mention winter was the rainy season on the west coast. Even though the lows were in the forties, it was a damp, chilly forty degrees. Still, the area was beautiful with moss-covered trees and ferns that grew everywhere. That made it far different than frigid, bare Wyoming.

Gwen reached the rental car, beeped the key fob to unlock the door, and slid into the driver's seat. Starting the engine, she made her way down the gravel road to the blacktop.

Gwen kept checking the bars on her phone. When it climbed to three, she pulled over at the first available spot and called 911. Was that right? Would the call route to a 911 operator in her Dubois area code or a local one? Before she could think it through, the operator answered.

911, what is your emergency?

Is this the Dubois 911? she asked.

No, Lane County. Please hang up and call your local Dubois…

Wait. That's good. Uhm, I'm outside of Mapleton. I don't know how far. At a place called Sweet Creek Falls.

The operator interrupted. What is your emergency?

Oh, we found a deceased person at a place called Sweet Creek. I'll need police or sheriff, I'm not sure which.

Stay on the line, the operator commanded.

Gwen did, listening to the car tick as its engine cooled.

The sheriff is on the way. Are you still at the location?

No, but my friend is.

The sheriff will meet you there, the operator said. The line went dead before Gwen could give directions, not that she could. Jay had driven. She had been reading the hand-drawn map the motel clerk provided and watching for turn-off signs.

Gwen made a U-turn and started back up the road to the dead man, and to Jay.

CHAPTER TWO

Hell, snorted the deputy when he first spied the body. Damn fool probably slipped and bounced down the rock field. The medical examiner is on the way from Eugene. It'll take a while.

He noticed Jay had moved down to the edge where the body floated in the shallows. You didn't touch it, did you? he asked with a menacing tone.

No, sir, Jay responded. I know better than that.

The deputy aimed his dark sunglasses at Gwen. You?

Nope.

Hell, he repeated, one hand resting on the butt of his holstered gun. Staring at the body, he began rocking back and forth on his feet.

We noticed some fishing line there, Gwen pointed at the mound of tangled line.

It looks new, no debris or moss like you'd expect if it'd been there for a while, Jay added. Is this a popular fishing spot?

The deputy set his sunglasses on top of his head and squinted at the clump of line. I suppose there are fish but there are better places to throw out a line. Me, I like Woahink Lake—you can hook some good perch there. Or there’s sea fishing off the coast. In the summer, we see tourists up here at the falls. You know, lots of people, music, and swimming. Scares the fish. This time of year, he hefted up his belt, the tourists have left, and the locals mostly stay inside with it being rainy and cold like this.

They waited in silence for a while, each in their own thoughts. There was no wind, the pond being sheltered by cliffs and vegetation. The only sounds were water tumbling over the falls and the occasional bird song. Deputy Myerson shivered and zipped up his coat.

Aren't you folks cold? If you want, you can wait in your car. He waved his hand up the trail toward the lot where Gwen had parked.

Jay chuckled. We're from Wyoming. This time of year, we call it balmy if we have highs in the teens. It's that dry cold, and it seeps into your bones. Now this, this feels like spring.

The deputy shivered again.

After a while, the damp chilled Gwen and she and Jay walked around to generate body heat. It was beautiful here, the bright green moss thick on the bare trees and ferns tucked into cliff crevices.

Look at this, Jay said, pointing. Gwen looked and found a