Page 25 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Road Kill

“I wonder,” said Labelle, returning to the shade of the tree, if you
can tell me something about Mr. Ewidge’s death.”
Fassner grunted assent.
“I understand he died immediately when his head struck a rock
down there. Is that common?”
Fassner put out his cigarette in the bark of the tree. “You mean is
it common for a person falling from a height to die in that manner?”
She nodded. “Certainly. You might think his arms or legs would
protect him from such a blow, but in fact multiple impacts are
sustained as a body bounces down a precipice, and it is almost
inevitable that the head would be struck—given a sufficient length of
fall, and Ewidge fell about a hundred and fifty feet. Bits of his skin
and clothing were found at intervals along that stretch.”
I shuddered. Was the man intentionally being brutal?
Labelle was unfazed. “I see. And his hat: what did it show?”
“Nothing. It must have come off his head before he hit it. Can’t
tell anything by where we found it, either. Could have sailed around
anywhere before touching down.” His impatience was becoming
palpable.
She frowned. “One more thing, please, Captain Fassner, and then
we can go. I read in the newspaper that you recovered the rock that
killed him. Did you locate the place on the side of the cliff where it
originated?”
Fassner squinted against the afternoon sun. “No, Miss Gramercy,
we did not. First of all, we are not geologists. Second, even if we
thought it made any difference, it would have been impossible to
establish. The surface is covered with loose shale and rocks of all
descriptions. It’s not like he knocked off a piece which we could
match like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle.”
“Yes, I thought so.” She made some sort of notation on her pad.
“Okay, I guess I don’t have any more questions. I don’t want to keep
you any longer, sir, so we can leave any time you’d like.”
Neither of us males needed any further encouragement to quit the
scene. We returned to the ranger station single file, Labelle in front,
me bringing up the rear in my by-now painful footgear.
As we got into Fassner’s car, he favored me with a glance of ill-
disguised malice. I fervently prayed I would never need another favor
from the man.

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