Body in the Bluff Norma Jean's Mysteries Series Book Two

Norma Jean’s Mysteries Book Two

Body in the Bluff

By

Jo Ann Snapp

Body in the Bluff Copyright 2011 Jo Ann Snapp

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*****

Chapter One

I committed my first mistake by coercing my good friend Roy Stedman into taking a hike into the bluffs above Bayou Creek. The beautiful fall morning with trees colored like the rainbow beckoned, and I decided Roy and I could use some exercise.

I got on a good pair of hiking boots, a smart looking sweat suit and Roy and I took off into the hills. A half hour later when the pathway became steeper and less traveled, I puffed along, perspiring and had begun to hunch over a little, but Roy wasn’t doing too badly. When he and I dated in high school I would have had no trouble with this jaunt, but as a fifty-seven year old widow the age was telling.

I found out my second mistake pretty quick. Sweat suit material isn’t so great for going through burrs and nettles and sticker briars. Not being the one to quit first though, I drew in a breath and followed Roy up into the narrow paths going around the edges of the stacked, black, slate rocks.

My high school track endurance fell by the wayside as I tripped and stumbled over areas I had once ran fleet-footed. I’d gone beyond heavy breathing and gasped for air but tried to hide the sound.

When Roy began to beat the brush out of our way, I knew we trekked in un-explored territory, but I wasn’t giving in. We stopped under a cliff hanging plate in weeds almost over our heads, and he finally said something.

Do you think we’ve gone far enough?

I expelled a heavy sigh. You think? I’m okay to turn back if you are. I know my red face betrayed me, but I put my hands on my hips and took a casual look over the edge. The most beautifully colored trees, hilly pastures and meandering creek in the Ozarks met my eyes. I sucked in a needed breath of air and pretended surprise to cover it. Oh, we’re high up!

Roy leaned over and rubbed his thighs then released a pent up breath. His blond hair clung to his forehead. He pushed the tall, dried brush out of his face and started back the way we came.

I took the minutes of opportunity watching his backside to inhale before I fainted. He’d gone maybe ten feet when I turned from the ledge back to the bluff.

I drew in a haggard breath, this time not from lack of air, and I couldn’t move. My voice trembled as I called. Roy? Roy, come here.

I thought you were ready to go back. He stopped in the narrow pathway with only his head toward me, before swinging around and trudging the few feet back.

Can you tell me what that is sticking out of that crevice up there? I pointed a shaking finger just slightly above my head. My voice squeaked. Is that a stick? Or . . . is that what I think it is?

Where? What do you think— Roy stared to where I pointed. Is that . . . is that fingers sticking over that edge?

Use to be fingers? Looks like bones, bleached bones to me. My voice sounded so high pitched, I tried to get it under control by clearing my throat.

Roy looked around and waved me to help pull one of the flat stones over to the ledge.Should we disturb it? Shouldn’t we call the Sheriff? I wasn’t keen on getting that extra height to see what else occupied the crevice.

Let’s just take a look. Roy climbed up on the rock step stool, and I bravely followed.

The stone gave us just enough of a boost to look directly into the crevice. I squinted, opened my eyes wide then closed them and grabbed Roy’s arm to steady myself. Not only was there a hand with all fingers intact but it was with a complete body. I wanted to step back down, but I didn’t do it. My eyes locked on the scene.

The old over-alls, tattered, with a wisp of hair still visible next to the skull, were sandwiched into the narrow crevice in such a way no available space remained around the skeleton. Under the chest and in fact jammed into the chest cavity was a small jug of some sort.

He sure didn’t crawl in there. I trembled, though I tried my best to stop.

My thoughts exactly. He’s been packed in there by the looks of the twisted bones and the lay of the skull. Roy furrowed his brow and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.

We both stared, acting like archeologists at the find of an ancient tomb of some sort. Only this wasn’t so ancient taking into account the bib overalls. But the little jug. I peered longer than I had expected to at something so shocking. It doesn’t look like it’s broken.

Roy stepped down, and I followed suit. He . . . or she, could have been here for years. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been this way in a long while.

She? I think by the overalls and that one lace up boot, it’s probably a man. Let’s get the Sheriff. I pulled the cell phone from my jacket pocket only to find, no signal. Roy tried his with the same results. Awwh! Should have known. Let’s get on back down.

We got side tracked a couple of times going home and ended up not finding our original trail. The second time Roy marked the way so we would know if we were going in circles, but we found the right path. Getting lost made me feel old. As children we had covered every inch of the holler and the hills, but the paths weren’t as clear anymore.

By the time Roy and I reached the cottage I hassled for breath. I stumbled toward the porch for a place to sit. Didn’t have to be a chair, the steps would do, and I collapsed there.

Jason looked up from working on the old truck, grabbed a rag and crossed the yard. Well, if you all aren’t the most winded hikers I’ve ever seen. He laughed but must have seen the look on my face. What’s wrong?

We found a body. I flipped open my cell phone and punched in the number. Not really a body, a skeleton.

What? Around here? Jason wiped his hands.

Way up on the bluff—tucked away in a crevice. Roy went inside and came back out with bottles of water. He downed one and handed me another. Looks real suspicious.

Like how? Jason looked at me while I explained to the sheriff then back to Roy.

He was jammed into the crevice . . . didn’t just crawl in there but was jammed, like someone was hiding him. Roy gulped the last of his second bottled water.

I flipped the phone shut. Said they’ll be up with a rescue unit . . . and the coroner.

*****

We’d rested about three hours before the Sheriff showed up at the cottage with the coroner, Doc Dibrell, a camera man, Doug and three emergency responders, Truman, Sean and Stewart.

Roy, Jason and I followed the rescue squad back up the mountain into the bluffs to show them our find.

I think the Sheriff, a little overweight, was more tired than I when we reached the bluff, even though it was his first hike up. Sean and Stewart, two of the first responders, young whippers, didn’t seem to even breathe hard.

Don’t touch anything until the coroner’s team gets pictures and information. Sheriff paused to take a breath between phrases and glanced at the crevice. He didn’t even take the seven inch stone advantage to get a really good look. He rounded up the rest of us, got us around the bluff to a wider grassy area to wait out the investigation of Coroner Dibrell.

Ain’t that something? Truman, the older, emergency first responder, eased himself down on a stone. He kind of had my facial expression of earlier in the day; red, puffy with a wheeze to go with it. I declare, it looks as if someone didn’t want him found.

Looks like maybe a moonshiner . . . you know, with that little jug tucked under him. Jason had taken advantage of our step stone. Perspiration glistened on his dark skin, but physically he fared better than me. You’re right. Someone sure was tryin’ to hide him. Ain’t no way he could have poked himself in there.

Surely is a quandary. Sheriff rubbed his chin. Gonna take some figuring to find out who he is if he has no ID. Ya’ll didn’t touch him, did ya?

Noooo! I looked at him like he’d fallen off the bluff on his head.

How long you suppose he’s been there? Roy asked Sheriff.

"Dibrell should be able