Lie Catchers (5 page)

She stopped chewing long enough to hear Parker’s announcement of Everett Olson’s death. “I’m sorry, ma’am. This must be a great shock to you.”

“Shit,” she said. “Always the drama. That’s Ev.”

“I understand you two had a falling out some time ago.”

“Finding a used condom in your boyfriend’s truck can do that.” She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t do it in vehicles, you see.”

“Uh,” said Parker. “Right. I don’t suppose you know who…”

“You mean did I take the condom in for a DNA test? Or did Ev spill his dirty little secret once I had the evidence in hand? Pah! Clearly you don’t know much about Everett Fucking Olson.”

“That’s what I’m here to learn, ma’am.”

“Jesus Christ. Stop with ma’aming, won’t you?”

“Tilly. When did you see Everett last?”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask where I was on the night he died?”

“We aren’t sure when he died.”

“When will you know?”

“We may not be able to pinpoint the day, since he was in the water for some time.”

She sighed. “I haven’t seen that freeloader’s hind end since I kicked him out of my house.”

“But some say your separation was temporary and you’d probably get back together.”

Heavier sigh. “I told you Everett’s middle name.” Tilly waited for Parker’s assent. “He may be a dick, but he’s a good one, if you know what I mean.” She looked around her office as if seeing it for the first time and not liking it at all. “I’m forced to smell and count fish every day. Diversions are required.”

Parker noted the violets on her windowsill and on her desk and the faux bamboo wallpaper. A giant potted palm sat in one corner of her office next to a wicker chair. Air fresheners plugged into two outlets puffed out something tropical.

“So you expected Everett’s return. You would have welcomed him?”

She shrugged.

Parker decided to take another tack. “How well do you know Tuck Barber?”

He caught a frisson of hesitation before she delivered a bigger shrug. “Liv’s favorite dance partner. Pal of Everett. Once foreman here; now owner of Lito’s Landing.”

Parker couldn’t help himself. “How close a relationship does Mr. Barber have with Liv Hanson?”

She sat forward, put her elbows on the desk and grinned. “You watched her dance with him. I was there; I saw you sitting with Ivor. What do
you
think?”

Suppressing a need to clear his throat, Parker shook his head. “I understand there was something between Everett Olson and Liv Hanson a while back.”

Tilly’s eyes hardened. “You’ll have to ask her about that, buddy.”

“Is it true that you’ve been seeing Tuck Barber since your break-up with Everett?”

“Well, aren’t you a quick study? How many days have you been in town? One? My, my, you’re a hustler.”

Parker nodded. “It’s a small town.” He checked his notes. “And Everett spent some time with Susanna Halley, who works at the Coffee Hüs, right?”

Tilly chewed her gum furiously. “The bitch.”

Parker closed his notebook and rose. “You can be sure I’ll return to ask you some more questions, Ms. Grant. I’m interested in a tour of the cannery, as well. You up for that?”

She shrugged. “Pah! Not me. I can’t stand the stink of the place.”

“Fine. I’ll ask Halley. But I may require a guided tour of your books.”

“Asshole,” she muttered so Parker could barely make out the word. Pulling the corners of her mouth into a fake smile, Tilly Grant said, “I wait with bated breath.” More gum-chewing and snapping of the eyes as she stood. “It’s a tiny town, Petersburg is, which means your job will be harder, not easier.” She gave him a speculative look. “Can you write, Detective?”

“Write?”

She waved her hand at him like he was slow-witted. “Stories, I mean. If you could write about this town, you’d have a helluva soap opera, prime for TV.”

Hand on the doorknob, he smiled. “And you’d likely be a central character?”

She waved her hands again, gesturing the negative. Then she came close to him and with spearmint breath, said. “I recommend you focus on Liv Hanson as your person of interest.”

“Really?” Parker asked, surprised.

“Yup. She’s gorgeous and bright and she has secrets.” Tilly Grant winked at him. “And I think she needs to get laid.”

****

Petersburg, 1932

The Body Never Lies

(The Murder of Sing Lee: A Retrospective

by Liv Hanson)

“
Four days dead.” Gus Stockton’s words echoed in the cannery annex where Sing Lee’s wrinkled eighty year-old corpse lay on a metal fish-cleaning table. An odor redolent of dead fish and decaying flesh thickened the air.

Iceberg fragments from the nearby LeConte Glacier lay around Lee’s still form, the blue ice chunks encircling him like alien flowers. Gus marveled at the irony. Petersburg had become an active cannery town because the LeConte Glacier sat in its back yard, a natural ice-making machine for chilling endless catches of fish. Because of ice, the town prospered, enticing Sing Lee to share in its bounty. He rested, finally, in a bed of it.

Friends of Lee had come and gone all morning, replenishing the ice and shaking their heads over the loss of a man so important to Petersburg. Many came because they could not believe Lee was dead. Throughout the visitations, Gus made a point of asking each person for their name, their relationship to Sing Lee, and their suppositions about who might have killed him.

Out of a hole in the bottom of the corpse’s resting place, a steady drip of melting ice reminded Gus time was running out and not one mourner had offered up a name of Sing Lee’s enemy. Since the corpse was ripening despite its cold bed, and the mortician was anxious to bury the body, Gus would have to end the visitation period today.

He re-examined the bruises on the side of Sing Lee’s shrunken face. Initially these marks and a bloated belly had been reason enough for the local doctor to call foul play on Lee’s death and alert the territory’s law enforcement. Like the doctor, Gus hadn’t been satisfied that a blow to the head had killed the man.

Guessing that the true cause of Lee’s death wasn’t obvious by looking at the corpse, the doctor had cut open Lee’s chest to find his organs awash in blood. Once the doctor had suctioned the liquid out, he discovered five crushed ribs. A sharp shard of rib bone had ruptured the man’s aged pulmonary artery so he’d bled to death internally.

One last time, Gus pulled the rough cotton drape off Lee’s torso, to view the crude fish-line stitches binding Lee’s chest. He said a silent goodbye to the man along with a vow to find his killer, then motioned for the mortician to carry the body away.

****

Liv rested her hands on the computer keyboard, identifying with Gus’s challenges: not a shred of evidence at the crime scene and not one person in town with a bad thing to say about Sing Lee. Sure, they called him a Chink or a Chinee, but there was no mistaking the fishing industry had depended on the Chinese workforce to behead and gut cod, salmon and halibut, before the fish was frozen and shipped south. When Alaskans came up with the motorized fish cleaner, they’d called it The Iron Chink, for the people the machine replaced. Archives told the story: Petersburg had sympathized with Sing Lee because his family lived in China and they appreciated how hard Lee worked to serve his customers at the Country Store. Lee’s generosity was legend. Any down-and-out Norwegian knew he could come to the Chinaman for a loan or a free beer. No question about it. Sing Lee, an immigrant from China, had been a key citizen in the Norwegian-dominated Petersburg.

Ev’s death didn’t compare. Though Ev was a gregarious character in town, a well-known Lothario, he wasn’t powerful like Lee was; nor was Everett rich.

Or was he?

Parker’s presence in Petersburg implied foul play, didn’t it?

What would Parker learn in his interrogations this morning and how would he use that information when he questioned her?

When she felt a pulse of pressure in her abdomen at the thought of the intensity of his gaze, she squirmed in her chair, embarrassed.

Click!
Her chair jerked her downward. “Damn thing,” she said, jumping to her feet. With a growl, she turned the pedestal contraption sideways and bent to fiddle with the adjustable height mechanism. Somehow, if she turned too quickly to the left, the chair released and down she’d go. No matter how many times she’d tinkered with it, she couldn’t fix it. Couldn’t afford a new one, either.

She turned the chair right side up, sat down carefully and reached for her necklace, made of Murano glass, smooth and cool to the touch. Ivor’s favorite, the string of black ovals with iridescent yellow highlights, reminded her of starry nights. She’d worn it last on September 22
nd
, three years ago, a warm evening in Las Vegas, at a Bette Midler concert, and June 3
rd
the year before that, in a New York downpour when she visited her agent. Last month, on October 8
th
…

Oh, hell. Admit it, Liv. You wore them today to give you strength, preventing you from blabbing stuff to Parker Browne he has no reason to know.

Liv stood, her concentration blown by her stupid musings. Parker would arrive within the hour and if she didn’t find a way to calm herself, she’d spill secrets in his presence. Maybe she should change her jewelry, choosing something that would distract him.

She picked up her cell phone and rang Ivor.

“Liv?”

“Sorry to bug you. Got a minute?”

“You never call me, so, yes.”

“I do too. I called you a month ago, on September 3
rd
. It was raining.”

Ivor was quiet for a moment. “It’s always raining. What’s up?”

God, I can’t tell him how nervous I am about Parker coming over.
“I’m reporting in on my new project,” she blurted.

“That old case is as cold as a witchʼs tit.”

Liv ignored his comment. “Sing Lee helped Petersburg prosper. Questions about his murder were never answered and we all feel guilty we didn’t try hard enough to find his killer. As I said it’s our elephant in the room.”

Ivor did not respond.

“I have a plan.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“I know. But it’s just the challenge I need right now, with my real name attached to the product. I think of it as a gift to the town.”

“Could open old wounds, too,” Ivor said. “You can’t solve the crime, but you might intensify the guilt. That big Petersburg elephant might start to stink.” He paused. “When does the first installment go out?”

“A special edition. Tomorrow morning, e-mail and paper.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough if you help the town or hurt it.” He cleared his throat. “What did you really call me about, Liv? Something to do with Browne, I’ll bet.”

“How did…? Okay. Yes. He’ll be here in forty-five minutes if he’s on time.”

“All right.”

“Is he any good, Ivor? I mean, he acts like a tourist, for God’s sake. But what if his casualness is a cover? Maybe he’s pretending to be interested in my writing and the stuff in my store so I spill the beans.”

Ivor chuckled. “What beans would those be?”

“Any old beans, including ones I make up. I’ll confess to stuff I didn’t do.”

“You think he’s that good?”

“Or I’m that bad. Or he makes me nervous.”

“Or he turns your crank.”

“Absolutely not. He’s supposed to be a professional but his tactics are odd. That’s all. I mean, he’ll show up here after he’s helped his dad clean fish.”

“Really?”

“I called Jenny at the B&B about setting up an interview time and that’s what she told me. The detective’s talked to Candy, Halley and Tilly. Jenny overheard Browne telling his dad where he’d been.”

She could hear the amusement in his voice when he said, “So you’re next. Want me to be there?”

“No. No. I just…”

Ivor was quiet for a while. “You could help him, you know.”

Liv gripped the phone. “What do you mean?”

“He and I need all the help we can get.”

She relaxed. “Far be it from me to obstruct justice.”

“Liv, he said he’s going to talk to Mom.”

“What?”

“He’s picked up that Mom was no fan of Everett Olson.”

“Oh, God. How the hell did he find that out?”

“Parker’s got a different way of doing things, like you say, but he surfaces stuff pretty quickly. Anyway, I told Ma.”

“She invited him to dinner, didn’t she? With his father, right?”

Ivor chuckled. “Ma said we have to come too, to protect her.”

“So now I have to undergo Parker Browne’s scrutiny twice in one day. Does this guy get around or what?”

“Think about the spread Ma will put out to prove she’s no murderer.”

“Ivor!”

“Just joking. But the food. My mouth is already watering. Fishcakes,
lefse
. I’ll bet she’ll do the halibut with sour cream, too. Think we’ll get rosettes for dessert? Or maybe
krumcake
.”

“Two times in one day,” Liv said, ignoring Ivor’s dream menu. “It
is
like water torture.”

Ivor laughed. “Only if you let it be, Sis. See you at dinner. Five o’clock. Good luck on your private meeting with Detective Parker Browne. Twenty bucks says he’ll crack you
before
dinner.”

“You little…” Liv protested. But Ivor laughed and disconnected before she could finish her sentence.

****

The smell of fresh ground coffee beans enveloped Parker when he opened the door to the Coffee Hüs. With a couple of tables to the right and left of a narrow passageway to the five foot-long counter, the place was a cozy annex to the Norsk Hotel. A mix of tourists and townies; probably an important daytime meeting place for the new latte generation.

Susanna Halley was a surprise. She’d inherited her dad’s fleshy lips, but on her, the effect was sensual, not comic. In fact, for a small woman, her features were overlarge: heavy dark eyebrows and eyelashes, midnight black short hair spiked in a punky style. And big-breasted. Very.

“Josh, take over,” she said, without looking at Parker or her boss, Josh Cameron. To Parker: “Did you want to order coffee before or after the inquisition?” When he shook his head, she shrugged on a sweater, grabbed a package of cigarettes from under the counter, and led the way out the door.