A Spark of Death by A Spark of Death (Professor Bradshaw Mysteries #1)

Author:A Spark of Death (Professor Bradshaw Mysteries #1)
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-02-11T00:20:55.254000+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

The falls at Snoqualmie were more spectacular than Bradshaw had ever seen them. Spring runoff swelled the river, broadening the cascade from its usual slender form to churning white falls stretching the entire width of the brink. For two-hundred and seventy feet, the raging water plunged before crashing into a thunderous cloud in the pool below.

Bradshaw, with Artimus Lowe in tow, climbed the narrow trail through the misty woods, inhaling the sweet fragrance that was a mixture of clean mountain water, evergreen trees, and spring blossoms. He paused often to simply stare, his gaze lifting to the very top of the falls. He stood solidly on the trail a fair distance from the steep slope, and felt not the slightest twinge of anxiety. There had once been a huge boulder in the very center of the brink known as the “Seattle Rock,” but logs too often hung up causing dangerous jams and so last year it was blasted away. Now, only a few jagged black rocks pierced the deep flow. And there was something else.

Something that resembled a carriage wheel was impaled upon the tallest of the jutting rocks near the far bank above the churning water. The wheel, or whatever it was, and its curious predicament, as well as the sight of such a splendid force as the falls themselves, sent Bradshaw’s calculative mind into happy overdrive.

How had that wheel gotten stuck above the water line? Why hadn’t it been swept over the falls? What would be the speed of A Spark of Death 107

an object at the top of the falls, and what speed at the bottom?

Bradshaw had in the past spent many happy hours studying the dynamic hydraulic forces of rivers. He remembered being fascinated by the unique forces that came into play immediately downstream of large rocks where eddies could form and cause the current to actually flow upstream.

Bradshaw breathed deeply and let problems of physics and motion come and go as they please. The falls sang a pleasant, powerful song, like the crash of the tide without the intermittent pause. It was no wonder the native Snoqualmie people worshipped here, the beauty and energy lifted one quite away from the petty concerns of man. Care had been taken in the modern invasion, and the forest surrounding the falls had barely been disturbed by the construction of the power plant. Except for the handsome brick powerhouse, only a few white cottages to the south of the railway station disturbed the natural scene.

The dam behind the top of falls that regulated water flow was completely submerged and thus concealed from view. From below, the falls showed no obvious sign of this human tampering.

“Professor Bradshaw!” The superintendent of the plant, Mr.

Dittmar, a big, balding man in a practical dark suit, came huffing down the path toward them, hand extended.

Bradshaw shook the superintendent’s hand firmly then introduced Lowe.

Superintendent Dittmar’s eyes shifted from Bradshaw, to Lowe, then back to Bradshaw. He said, “I didn’t see you coming off the train.

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