Death Takes a Gander Read Free

rustled a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Come with me.”
    Angela spotted Ian’s name scrawled across the front of the report and rose to her feet.
    “Is that the autopsy?”
    Without answering, Kramner turned, gesturing for Angela to follow.
    “Excuse me, sir, but—”
    “Up-p-p-p-p,” the director clucked. He was slight and balding, and thin fingers had worried his remaining fringe of hair into horns at the back of his head. His regulation brown uniform dangled on his frame, his shirt billowing out behind him as he wound his way through the cubicles.
    He looked like a greater prairie chicken strutting his stuff, thought Angela, pursing her lips. No doubt her unkind assessment had to do with the fact that Kramner had kept her tethered to her desk for the past two weeks. Maybe if the investigation on Ian’s death were closed, he would assign her back into the field.
    “Shut it,” he ordered, striding through the doorway of his office and circling the desk.
    Angela swung the door closed.
    “Take a seat.” He pointed to a chair facing a window that offered a fabulous view. Rooftops and treetops gave way to the mountains, a jagged line of purple peaks crowned by white caps of snow, stretching along the horizon, looking like the negative image of a hot fudge sundae.
    Angela pulled her attention back to Kramner and folded herself into the chair. He sat down behind his desk and opened the report. “I’m going to cut to the chase. The investigators ruled Ian’s death a suicide.”
    Angela felt the blood drain from her face.
    An accident maybe, but suicide?
    “That’s crazy, sir.”
    Kramner folded his hands across the pages of the report. “Maybe, maybe not. There are reasons.” He pushed the file folder toward her. “Take a look.”
    Angela hesitated, then leaned forward and picked up the report. She skimmed the contents.
    Two things jumped out. One, Ian’s pending retirement wasn’t solely voluntary, and two, the mist net had been tampered with.
    According to Ian’s doctor, Ian had been recently diagnosed with a heart condition. Instructed to take it easy, there would have been no chance of his passing his periodic physical, and he would have been forced out of the Service. Family members claimed he was despondent.
    Then there was the mist net. It had been wrapped three times around his neck, and the pole wedged against the trunk of a tree in order to lend support under the strain of his weight.
    Angela closed the report and laid it back on Kramner’s desk. “I don’t believe he killed himself.”
    Kramner’s head snapped up.
    “What makes you so sure?” he asked, standing and circling his desk. He started pacing the floor between the chair she sat in and the window, a trampled strip of carpet signaling the behavior as his standard M.O. “Well?”
    “My gut.” Not that he would place a lot of stock in her instincts. “Ian had plans for retirement. He’d already lined up another job. He was going to work search and rescue.”
    Kramner stopped pacing and flicked a finger against the report. “According to his wife, the health issue knocked him out there as well. He learned about it the day of his death.”
    Angela swallowed. “Then why did he call me for backup?”
    “Who knows? Maybe he wanted to save the swan. Maybe he didn’t want some tourist finding his body.” Kramner eyed her through thick black glasses that dented the bridge of his nose. “I know it’s hard to accept, but—”
    “How about his field notebook?” she interrupted.
    “Nobody ever found it.”
    “Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
    “Look, Ian was a good man, but we both know he took lousy notes. He kept it all upstairs.” Kramner tapped the side of his head and resumed pacing. “We searched the lake area, searched his vehicle, and had his wife check at home. I doubt he took many notes that night, and if so, I’ll bet you they landed in the lake.”
    “How do you figure?” She felt the tension building in her