Inspector Green Mysteries 9-Book Bundle (292 page)

“That’s still a lot of —”

The phone rang and Green snatched it up. A woman with a high-pitched, impossibly young voice asked for him, and then introduced herself. Kim Swift.

“Ian Elliott told me about the situation. Sorry it took so long, but I had to hunt for the original files. Those ledger books don’t seem to be on microfilm here yet, for some reason. The paper is yellowed and hard to read, sometimes the quality isn’t the best, and the entries were handwritten, so I can’t be exact.”

“Anything would help.”

“It was registered by two brothers from Whitehorse, Gaetan and Guy Lasalle. Two adjacent claims actually, forming a swath of the Selwyn Mountains on the south side of the South Nahanni River, just below its confluence with the Little Nahanni River.”

A thrill ran through Green. That was not far above where the canoe had been found. Surely they were on the right track! He remembered Elliott’s description. “Isn’t there supposed to be a map? Coordinates?”

“No map on file here, but there are always four corner posts in each claim to mark the boundary. We have the coordinates for six posts. But back then, working on foot and without the help of a GPS, those coordinates would have been approximate. And two of them are smudged so may be wrong. But here’s my best guess for you.” She read out six pairs of coordinates, and two alternatives. Green scribbled them down and read them back to her for verification.

Just as she was about to sign off, Kim gave a little chuckle. “This is a long shot, this claim. Someone was dreaming off the scale. Do you know what the Lasalles thought they’d found?”

“What?”

“The rarest gemstone in the whole world. Mainly found in the remote mountains of Burma. Rubies.”

Green was still reeling from that surprise when he passed the coordinates to Jethro, who took them over to the map. Jethro outlined an area on the map in the Selwyn Mountains, exactly as Kim had described.

“Still a lot of ground,” he said doubtfully. “At least fifty square miles.”

“At least it’s not the whole park,” Green said. “Fifty square miles is a manageable search area.”

“Pretty rugged up there. Could take all day to cover a square mile.”

“Then the sooner we get started…. If possible, I’d like to fly up there today, to get an early start on the search tomorrow. Can you get us the gear and a guide that fast?”

Jethro looked at him. His face was inscrutable, but Green sensed a hint of affront. He forced himself to back off. “I’m sorry. It’s a lot to ask on such short notice, and I’m grateful for whatever you can do.”

The cousin moved toward the door. “I need half a day to assemble this gear. You get us a plane to carry four people and three canoes. A Cessna will do.”

“What about a guide?”

“I have a guide.”

“Should we bring firearms?” Sullivan asked.

“Have you got any?”

“My 308.”

Green was startled. It had never occurred to him to bring his Glock, which was locked in his desk drawer in Ottawa where he preferred it. But Sullivan, country boy and avid deer hunter, had brought his hunting rifle.

“Good,” Jethro said. “But keep it stored away in the park. The guide will have one too.”

For such a quiet, calm man, Andy’s cousin could move very fast when he wanted to. He jumped into his pickup and tore out of the drive, spraying gravel into the purple flowerbed that bordered Andy’s house.

No soon had he gone than Green turned to Andy. “Can I borrow your truck again? Ian Elliott may still be here, and if we’re lucky we can catch a flight up with him on his way back to Whitehorse.”

He found Elliott at the park office, conferring with the superintendent. They both listened as Green briefed the superintendent on the new developments.

“What a bunch of young fools,” Bugden said angrily. “Rubies in those mountains? Impossible. The geology is all wrong. Emeralds yes, sapphires quite possibly, diamonds by the truckload farther north, and lots of other less valuable gemstones. But rubies? That’s what happens when you give some dumb trapper a prospecting kit with a bunch of mineral samples in it and send him out to find riches. He thinks he’s found rubies.”

A long-forgotten scrap of information fell into place in Green’s mind. “But Scott is not a dumb trapper. He’s a geology researcher and he has spent many summers in the mountains. I don’t think he’d be chasing this mining claim if he thought it was worthless.”

“If it’s in the park, it’s worthless anyway,” Bugden countered.

“The coordinates may straddle the park boundaries,” Green said stubbornly. “It could be just to the north.”

“But that adjacent area is a possible future park too, depending on how much of the Nahanni headwaters the government chooses to protect. Right now it’s under negotiation, and development is frozen.”

“But maybe Scott and his friends don’t know all that!” Green exclaimed in frustration. “Or maybe they just want to find out what happened to his grandfather, not stake a claim. Regardless, this is our best lead on where they’ve gone. Now we know they probably left the river to explore inland, and they have no phone to call for help. They may be in trouble miles from where anyone would see them. I’m going up there, and Ian, if you’re flying out, maybe we can hitch a ride.”

The superintendent looked appalled. “You’ll need equipment.”

“We’re getting equipment.”

“You’ll need a guide. You don’t know a damn thing about —”

“Andy’s cousin is getting us a guide.”

“Jethro?” The super’s scowl cleared. He swivelled to his computer and clicked it open. “Okay, let’s get your paperwork done. I’m not having more amateurs wandering around up there without giving me one damn bit of information on where they are. And who to contact when they get killed.”

Elliott had said nothing throughout this exchange, but now he smiled at the superintendent’s mood. “The cousin is outfitting for four, you said? Who’s the fourth?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter as long as he knows how to paddle a canoe. Because I don’t.”

Elliott chuckled. He kept the smile on his face as he thrust his chair back. “Yeah, I can take you up. I’ve got some business here in town so give me a shout when you’re ready to go.”

It was a busy afternoon of phone calls, last minute shopping, and packing the waterproof sacs Jethro had dropped off. Green was astonished at the amount of gear they were packing for one week. Had Hannah known about all of this? Or had she been caught out, without those extra pairs of wool socks and long johns?

Sharon’s voice sounded thin and tired when he called her, but she tried gamely to disguise it. “Don’t think of it as the wilderness, Mike. Think of it as Algonquin Park, only three hours’ drive from the comforts of home.”

Algonquin Park was already too remote for him, but he didn’t say so. He was focused ahead, facing the unknown but determined to master it.

But Sharon, as always, knew his every heartbeat. She sensed his fear. “You’ll find her, Mike. I know it. She’s your daughter, smart and resourceful.”

She’s also Ashley’s daughter, dumb and hysterical, was Green’s instant thought, but he banished it. It was unworthy of her. Hannah was not the least like her mother.

He signed off, filled with gratitude that Sharon was not at all like Ashley either. Sharon would cope, and she would manage not just her own duties but his while he was away. Sullivan was having less luck with Mary, who was clearly tearing a strip off him on the other phone. Mary, however, had lived through her husband’s near-fatal heart attack and she was like a mother bear where his health and safety were concerned. In her eyes, Green brought nothing but trouble. She resented the bond the two men shared and Green’s power to influence him.

Finally they were ready to go. Andy piled their packs into her truck and drove them down to the float plane dock, where Elliott’s plane bobbed in the water. Next to it was a larger Twin Otter with Eagle Air stamped on its side. To Green’s surprise, Elliott and Hunter Kerry were loading a canoe into the belly of the Otter.

Jethro’s pickup was parked at the edge of the dock. Green could just make out the silhouette of a dog sitting alertly in the cab. Elliott jumped down from the plane and came over to greet them, dressed now in sturdy khakis, a bush jacket, and hiking boots. A moment later, Andy’s cousin emerged from the plane and walked over to his pickup to open the door. A shaggy black dog the size of a border collie shot out and raced around the lot, sniffing excitedly.

Jethro grinned as he hefted the detectives’ bags from Andy’s truck. “Hunt’s dropping us off, so we’ll have plenty of room in the Otter.”

“Us?” Green asked.

“Yeah. We four. We’re it. The search party.”

Green gaped at Elliott. “You?”

Elliott shrugged. “I wrote the book on this river. And Jethro’s qualified in civilian search and rescue. More importantly, he’s a damn good tracker.”

Jethro grinned as he called his dog to heel. “Tatso’s an even better one.”

Chapter Ten

 F
or once, it was a slow afternoon at the Fort Simpson RCMP detachment. The sergeant was cloistered in his office, cursing over the weekly ordeal of file reviews. The other duty constable was out on a routine traffic call, so Chris Tymko was manning the desk. He had seen the inspector from Ottawa storm out of the station just as he was arriving, and he knew all had not gone well. But when the sergeant briefed him on the day’s alerts and assignments, he made no mention of it.

“Still no new developments in the Lasalle case,” was all Nihls said.

Chris nodded. “I saw the father just as I came in. He looked black as sin on Sunday.”

“He’s off on some new theory that the group was looking for a mine.”

“What mine?” Chris kept his voice neutral.

“They had some worthless old claim number from the 1940s. Green’s grasping at straws. I told him if he found out the location and any useful history about the claim, we might look at it again. But we don’t have the time or resources to dig in the archives.”

How hard can that be? Chris wondered as he sat at the front desk, waiting for the phone to ring. He should have been grateful for the slow time to get caught up on his computer, but he felt oddly troubled. He’d seen the Nahanni after that storm, and he’d seen the canoe tossed up like broken refuse onto the shore. He’d even seen Hunter Kerry’s peculiar interest in the document. He had only Hunt’s word that the group had left the pouch behind. Was it possible that Hunt had stolen it, sensing it might relate to something of value?

By 2:30, Chris could stand the uncertainty no longer. The sergeant had gone off to a meeting with the band chief, and Chris knew once he was in Jim Matou’s clutches he’d be gone for the rest of the shift. Chris looked up the Mining Recorder’s Office in Yellowknife and put in a call. It took less than five minutes to connect with a cheerful young woman who exclaimed in surprise when she heard his request.

“Oh, no! I hope I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Baffled, Chris assured her it had nothing to do with her.

She giggled. “Oh, I didn’t mean that. It’s just, someone was asking about this mining claim just this morning. I still have the file box right in front of me.”

“Let me guess. Some guy called Green.”

“He said he was a cop too. I thought it was weird, because he came from Ottawa, but Ian Elliott vouched —”

“He’s a persuasive guy. What information did you give him?”

She read out the coordinates, assuring him Green already had the name and date.

“What about the map?”

“No map. It’s possible it got destroyed. Some of them were pretty flimsy back then. Or maybe there never was one.”

“Anyone else made inquiries about this claim recently?”

She paused. “Hmm. Not
recently
recently. But the name Lasalle rings a bell. It was in the winter, mid-February maybe? Someone came into the office and asked to look at the records from the time period during World War Two.”

Chris grabbed his notebook. “Did you get a name?”

“You know, I think it was Lasalle too. I remember more what he looked like. Hot-looking guys don’t walk into this office in the dead of winter very often.”

Her playfulness was so infectious that he had to remind himself to be firm. “Can you give me a description?”

“Hot looking isn’t specific enough?”

“There’s no check box on my computer form for it.”

She laughed. “He was white, over six feet, slim but in shape. Like an athlete, maybe a runner, you know? Brown hair, brown eyes. His eyes were …” She paused as if groping for a word. She gave another laugh. “Hot.”

“Would dark cover it?”

“It’s more of a woman thing. It felt like he was undressing you, but … you wanted to be undressed.” She gave another laugh. “I imagine that’s not on your form either.”

“I’ll pencil it in. Did you mention it to the man who called this morning?”

“Mr. Green? Oh no! I didn’t mention this guy Lasalle at all. It’s only when you asked that I remembered him. He was interested in all the Lasalle claims from that period.”

“You mean there is more than one?”

“No, no. At least, not that I know of. He took the whole batch of records from 1940 to 1950 and spent two days in the back room going through them. I don’t know what he found. They’re not searchable, obviously, so you have to hunt through them line by line and page by page. Really boring. He did seem mad that he couldn’t find a map. He wanted to know who else could have looked at the files and when.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I’ve only been working here for a year. I asked my boss, but he didn’t think anyone had been in those file boxes for decades. He said more than likely there was no map. Things got kind of loose during the war, because they were understaffed.”

“Okay, thanks, Kim. Can you stand another question?”

“Are you kidding? This is making my day!”

He chuckled. “We always aim to please. Okay, question: was there any work registered on that claim after 1943?”

In the silence, Chris heard the sound of paper rustling. “It might take awhile to figure that out,” she said finally. “It looks like they just did the one exploration when they filed that claim and took some samples.”