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shoes?”
    “Sorry man, but a customer needs change.” Gonzo handed a twenty over the counter. “I think he’s going to give me a sorry-ass five- or ten-dollar tip for taking his whole family down Brown’s. None of ’em could paddle worth a darn, they didn’t laugh at my river snake joke, and I bet they don’t turn their wetsuits right-side out for me either. Why is it that the customers who are the hardest to work with tip the least?”
    Mandy passed him the small bills her uncle had dug out of his desk. “At least he is giving you a tip. Thank the river gods. He could be stiffing you.”
    “Then he’d suffer from bad Gonzo karma.” He waggled his fingers as if casting a spell, then leaned on the counter to get a good look at Mandy. “Speaking of bad karma, how’re you doing today?”
    “Could be better, a lot better, but I’ll live.” Unlike King. Mandy shuddered, then she noticed how bleary-eyed Gonzo looked. He must have drunk some of those beers last night that he was talking about.
    He stuffed the money in his pocket. “Any word on how King died?”
    “Nothing definite yet.”
    Uncle Bill sat forward in his chair. “Maybe you can help us out, Gonzo.”
    When both Gonzo and Mandy stared at him, Uncle Bill said, “We were talking about the possibility of a heart attack and whether it could have happened prior to King hitting the water or after. You notice anything about him in the raft?”
    Gonzo stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Come to think of it, his strokes got weaker before we hit Number Four. They were pretty strong for the first half of the trip. Then all of a sudden I had to compensate, which probably led to the raft going sideways on me.”
    “Anything else?” Mandy asked. “Like wooziness, profuse sweating?”
    “Sweating, yeah. It was warm out, but King wiped his head a lot. He reached for his drink bottle right before we had to line up for Four. I yelled at him to wait. Come to think of it, the look he gave me when I said that was kinda weird.”
    Mandy came over to the counter, excitement making her edgy. “Weird how?”
    “Like he was having a hard time processing what I said to him.”
    Mandy turned to her uncle. “Sounds like maybe he was already having a heart attack before the raft spilled. That’s good news.”
    Gonzo raised his brows. “Good news how?”
    “If that’s the case, then no one can blame Uncle Bill, me, or you for his death.” Mandy turned to her uncle. “Quintana wanted me to pass on a warning that Mrs. King is talking to her lawyer and said she was going to sue someone.”
    Uncle Bill raised his hands and looked skyward, as if saying, “Why me?”
    Gonzo let out a low, slow whistle. “Man, I hope that don’t happen. But, if it’s like you’re saying, King was already dying when he left the raft, then that should get Steve Hadley off my back, too.”
    “Steve?” Mandy peered at Gonzo. “Why’s he on your back?”
    “Oh, he said it was standard practice after a fatal accident, but I’ve never been asked by a ranger to do it before. Only by outfitters for job-screening.”
    “Do what?”
    “Piss in a jar.” Gonzo turned and stomped out.
    _____
    After checking that her uncle had liability release forms in his file signed by all the passengers on Lenny Preble’s trip, Mandy went out back. She helped Gonzo and his fellow rafting guide, Kendra, unload and partially deflate the rafts while trading taunts and river rat jokes to lighten the load. Then they rinsed the customer’s wetsuits and booties in disinfectant, and hung them up to dry. Normally her uncle would have done these chores, but the gout flare-up had him limping in pain.
    While Mandy swept out the women’s restroom, Kendra brought in rolls of toilet paper and paper towels. The guide’s black skin glistened with sweat and suntan oil. “Hey, Gonzo and I are meeting some of the gang at Vic’s tonight to get ‘victimized.’ Want to join us?”
    At first, Mandy felt inclined to