OVERDOSE OF MURDER
Authors: Nonny and Mouse
Rating: G
Disclaimer: "Diagnosis Murder" and the characters in it are owned by CBS and Viacom and are merely being borrowed here for recreational, non-profit purposes.
Synopsis: When Mark and Steve take a long-delayed vacation together, tragedy strikes.
Authors' Note: This story started off as a 'wistful suggestion' for a storyline that Mouse wanted to see written, that neither of us was quite sure how to pull off. After a few weeks of batting ideas around between the two of us, however, not to mention some major-league nudging by Mouse to get Nonny to agree to write it (Nonny being initially a trifle uncomfortable with the basic premise, although she couldn't seem to let go of it once she got involved!), we decided to write it together, and it rapidly developed a life of its own. So, the story you are (presumably) about to read is the result of the first-ever Nonny and Mouse collaboration, and we sincerely hope you enjoy reading it as much as we've been enjoying writing it.
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Chapter 1
Steve was smiling as he thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music. Both front windows were open, and the wind ruffled his hair as he drove next to the scenic coast, north on Route 1. The view was stunning, the weather perfect for early April, and Steve felt more relaxed than he had for a long time. He looked across at his father in the passenger seat. Mark was admiring the scenery and also showing his appreciation of the music by whistling an accompaniment to the melody, and Steve's sense of well-being deepened. He could hardly remember the last time the two of them had successfully planned and departed on a vacation together. Although they had often discussed and attempted to schedule various vacations, between the demands of their jobs, these plans never seemed to reach fruition. Steve had learned to be grateful for the odd day of fishing or trip to a ball game snatched between hectic work days.
Not that this trip was solely for relaxation, he reminded himself, his smile dimming as the original motivation behind the excursion pushed itself to the forefront of his consciousness. He was scheduled to give testimony at the murder trial of a mob boss up in Sacramento at the beginning of the next week. He was hoping that he might be finished by Tuesday, giving him five more free days with his father before they both had to report back to work. Automatically, he started reviewing his testimony in his head. The defense lawyers would be looking for a way to discredit him as his evidence, though hopefully brief, could prove pivotal in getting a conviction. As Steve's thoughts moved towards the logistics of the case, he was abruptly brought back to the present by a candy bar waving under his nose. Always attuned to his son's moods, Mark had sensed the downward spiral of his humor, and the reasons behind it, and now sought to lighten the atmosphere and refocus his son's attention on the glorious day.
"Sorry, Dad," Steve apologized with a grin, determined not to allow the prospect of the trial to intrude again on his enjoyment of his father's company and this rare carefree time together. One of the reasons he had cajoled and badgered his father into taking a week off work and joining him on this trip, even resorting to some minor emotional blackmail, was the uncharacteristic tiredness he had noticed recently in his father. Between his official and unofficial duties at the hospital and his frequent assistance on Steve's cases, Mark had had little time to relax, and Steve was determined to ensure some peaceful time for his father over the next week.
He took the candy bar and ate it with enjoyment, letting contentment wash back in over him as the waves washed in over the shoreline below. The last two hours of the journey passed in quiet harmony. They stopped the car at one point to watch some seals cavorting on the rocks, then headed inland to the mountains. Their journey led them through a town named Clear Valley, then off the beaten path on a one-lane dirt road to Roscoe Lake.
The sun was low in the sky when they reached their destination, casting a deep orange glow on the trees which heightened the beauty of the lake and its surroundings. The cabin belonged to a friend of Mark's. Dr. Walter Harley, now retired, and his wife had been enjoying their vacation home themselves when they had been called away by the premature birth of a grandchild. They were very happy for Mark to make use of the cabin in their absence when they heard about his plans in this area. The log cabin was set at one end of the lake with no other structures in sight. It was not a large cabin, but had more than just the basic amenities. There were two bedrooms, but one still contained most of the Harleys' belongings, so they would share the other, which had two single beds and a conjoining bathroom. Dr. Harley had also promised a comfortable living area with a fireplace and a nicely equipped kitchen.
Both men got out of the car and admired the view in the crepuscular light in silence for several minutes. Steve loved his home; he knew how lucky he was to stay in such a perfect location, especially on the salary he was making. The ocean was in his blood, and he loved to sit beside it to think and to fall asleep to the sound of the waves, but it was nice to leave the problems and stress of his job behind and visit this haven of peace for a week.
"It's perfect Dad." Appreciation was clear in Steve's voice. "Let's unpack the car, then maybe we can get in a little fishing before bedtime."
The weekend passed all too quickly – an idyllic rest for both men, fishing, talking and taking some small hikes to explore the area. Mark challenged Steve to a fishing competition, the loser to cook the fish in question for dinner. Steve may have been famous among his friends for his microwave dinners and love of hospital food, and most people thought that BBQ sauce was his highest culinary accomplishment, but his father knew that, given a campfire and a fish and some wild herbs, Steve could produce a delicious meal, the product, perhaps, of considerable wilderness experience.
Monday morning rolled round all too soon from Steve's perspective, and he set out for Sacramento reluctantly, leaving Mark to fend for himself. He left his Dad with strict instructions not to take the boat out into the lake by himself or wander too far from the cabin – parental-sounding injunctions that considerably, albeit privately, amused his father.
Steve would be gone for at least one night, and Mark had brought plenty of books to entertain himself. He returned to the cabin, after waving Steve off, to tidy up the breakfast dishes; then he sat on the porch to finish the new mystery he was reading. He passed the remainder of the day reading, relaxing, and taking a few uneventful walks around the lake. Tuesday morning was spent in much the same way. Having successfully figured out that the murderer had to be the business partner posing as the cable repairman, Mark set the book aside and decided to stretch his legs and take his fishing rod in the hopes of surprising Steve with a nicely cooked supper on his return.
He decided to try his luck on the little quay on the other side of the lake. This involved making his way up a path through the woods over the hill, since the lake was inaccessible around the edges. He and Steve had already explored the trail. He would be the first to acknowledge that he was no woodsman, and he didn't want to try anything too adventurous that would leave him stranded in the middle of nowhere. He smiled to himself at the picture of Steve calling in Search and Rescue to find him, and the accompanying embarrassment that would incur. Then, whistling cheerfully, he set off up the hill on the path that would come out on the other side of the lake.
He fished happily for a couple of hours, enjoying the unaccustomed solitude; but after the morning by himself, he remembered one of the main reasons why he was alone so rarely – he didn't really enjoy it for any extended period of time. He was used to the lively company of the younger residents and students at the hospital and the warmth and affection of his friends and son at home.
As Mark sat there in the warm sunshine with the sweet mountain air blowing gently past his face, he reflected on the many blessings in his life, not the least of which was the companionship of his son. He imagined that Steve had to tolerate a fair amount of ribbing from his colleagues for living with his "old man". But Mark was overwhelmingly grateful that he didn't have to rattle around the large house by himself. Even if he didn't see his son for the rest of the day, sharing a cup of coffee in the morning or a warm drink at night provided a familiar warmth that helped them both through difficult days.
Mark continued to muse until he realized with a start that he had almost fallen asleep. Getting down to business, he caught enough fish for supper and decided to head back to the cabin. Hopefully, by the time he had finished cleaning and preparing the fish, Steve would be back.
As he neared the cabin, he noticed that the door was slightly ajar, and he berated himself for his carelessness, hoping the raccoons hadn't discovered the contents of the kitchen. He remembered a camping trip when Steve was young when some of the rascally pests had broken into their tent and stolen the steaks intended for supper and rifled through their belongings. Mark had not seen another soul since arriving at the lake, and the possibility of human intruders had simply not occurred to him. As he entered the bedroom, that oversight was brought abruptly to an end, as he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.
