Murder at Fire Bay (16 page)

To hell with it. I needed something to get rid of my headache, and this time, my hand did not stop until the bottle was in my grasp. With practiced zeal I stripped off the seal, unscrewed the lid, and poured two fingers into the glass. I sat back against the headboard of the bed and took a sip. It tasted good. The smell overwhelmed me with pleasure, and the dancing brown liquid seemed to say, “Where have you been so long, old friend? Well, no matter, I’m someone you can trust.” I swallowed the two fingers in one long, frantic gulp. I couldn’t think why I’d been resisting it. But I was going to catch up. The memory of Jeanette and my troubles faded as I danced in the dim corridors of my mind, where there is no beginning and no end— nothing—but a forgetful bliss.

Chapter 22

It was Monday morning and, in a way, I was glad. It meant I had to crawl out of my room and face the world. I stepped outside the High Bluff B & B and sniffed the air. Something was different, all right. Fall had arrived at Fire Bay. It was something every Alaskan learned. Maybe it was the geese flying overhead or maybe it was the angle of the sunlight, but a real Alaskan could tell within a few days when fall arrived.

I drove the Jeep to a lookout point over the bay where I ran the seat all the way back and reflected for a few minutes. Or maybe I should say I made a resolution that I was not going to drink like I did Saturday night. Those days were over. It didn’t matter how sorry I felt for myself. I was not going to get drunk again. I hoped that Mrs. Mordant would not find the bottle hidden on a shelf in the closet of my room. If she did, it wouldn’t take long for the rest of the community to know about it. Not that she was a bad person. It was simply that she lived in a narrow world. Anything other than running the B & B and caring for her father was something to talk about with her best friend. The best friend who swore she would never tell anyone. Of course, she would tell her best friend, and on and on it went.

My stomach rumbled. Time to feed it. I reluctantly moved the seat back into position, started the Jeep, and drove into town. I had fallen into the habit of eating a bowl of cereal in the B & B’s kitchen, mostly because it was quick and easy, but because of Saturday’s lapse I decided it was time to do something different.

I entered the Eat More restaurant and casually glanced around. Sure enough, there sat Ms. Emily Jems at her usual corner table, dressed in a black suit, her nose in a paperback. Well, this was it. I took a deep breath and headed her way.

“May I sit down?” I asked.

I must have surprised her because she looked up in a startled bird-like way, so absorbed was she in her novel.

“Yes . . . please do.”

Please do? Now that was an interesting answer. I resolved that no matter what I thought of her personal demeanor I was going to get to know her for her good qualities. She had to have some.

“What are you reading?” I asked, trying to be friendly.
 

“Nothing much.” she slipped the romance novel into her bag.
 

“Looks like it’s going to be a great day,” I said, and picked up a menu.
 

I decided on sausage and eggs. I needed something to replace Saturday night’s fumes. I handed the menu to the waitress and gave Ms. Jems a smile. Smiles worked, even in the most awkward situation, and this was an awkward situation. Ms. Jems, whether she knew it or not, was to become a recorder of my life, yea, perhaps even my savior. I had the feeling she could be trusted.

“Yes . . . ” she answered, now staring at me with those raven eyes, and I guessed she knew I chose to sit at her table for a reason.
 

“The air feels different this morning,” I ventured.

“Yes, it may be an early winter.”

Despite myself I swallowed, and I’m sure my Adam’s apple bobbed at least two inches. Whether this amused her or not was difficult to say. Well, it was a beginning, and building on it we went from weather to the town’s football team, to who would be elected for mayor in the coming election. By then, the meal had arrived and I busied myself eating and talking between mouthfuls about inane things, like politics and the record snowfalls in years past.

She sat there sipping on her tea, not saying much of anything. I was aware she was studying me from her bird-like angles and, like every good reporter; she knew I had a story. All she had to do was wait. Finally, the last piece of sausage was gone; the platter was metaphorically licked clean. I was all out of small talk.
 

I threw down my napkin and leaned forward. “Ms. Jems, may I call you Emily?”

She nodded her head once. I guessed it might not be to her liking, but maybe in pursuit of a story it was okay.
 

“You can call me Leo.” I reached forth my hand, as if to cement a new relationship. She took it, but I could tell she was reluctant. No doubt thinking about all that sausage and grease I had so recently ingested, she released my hand rather quickly.

“I have a story for you,” I said, “but it can’t be told here. I would like to meet with you somewhere else later this evening. Is that possible?”

She looked around the room slowly. I decided that intrigue suited her.
 

Her face came back to me. “Where and when?”
 

“Wherever you would like. Preferably in a quiet place out of sight.”

Her eyebrows raised. “You have a new car that people will notice. I think I should come to your place at the High Bluff.”

I wasn’t really in favor of that, what with Mrs. Mordant’s nose for news, but perhaps I could get away with a visit or two. I could say that Emily was interviewing me for a newspaper article. Only later that day did I wonder how she knew where I was staying. No secrets in a small town.

“Okay, for this time it will work. Bring a heavy coat and dress casual. This has to remain confidential until I say otherwise, okay? I know you reporters don’t like to be put in a spot like that, but it’s for my safety and for the prevention of crime.”

She took a deep breath and looked around the room again. Her mouth twitched to one side. I could guess this wasn’t to her liking, but the reporter in her told her this was more than a basketball game.

“Okay,” she said.
 

“Good. You won’t be disappointed. Remember, not a word to anyone. You’re the only one I know I can trust.”

I felt a guilty twinge in my gut when I made that last statement, but I had to have her completely on my side. She nodded, and left while I sipped on the dregs of my third cup.
 

“Well, Bronski, sitting with the enemy?”
 

I came near to dropping my coffee cup. Had he been there the whole time?

I looked up to see him coming into my range of vision. Never again would I sit with my back to the door.

“Good morning, Chief. Nope, I learned a long time ago, it’s good to be on the good side of the town newspaper, especially when people are complaining about lost packages,” I said quietly.

“Yeah, I guess it does at that.”

He was quiet for a few seconds as if trying to make up his mind about something.

 
“I understand another package was found,” he said in a loud voice.

I’m sure my eyes looked like they were going to fall out of their sockets, as I tried to motion with them toward the rest of the room. This was not for public consumption. If only one person in the restaurant put two and two together, rumors would be out and about in no time.

“Uh huh” was all I could say, along with a look that said something like, “are you crazy?”

He sat down in the chair opposite me and pushed Emily’s dishes aside.
 

A waitress came and plopped a cup of coffee down. “That’s five bucks you owe me, Chief.”

He nodded, and waved her off. She left with a smile. Evidently, an inside joke.

“Who told you?”

“Ashley,” he said, this time in a quiet voice. “She said she wanted to keep the local law informed. I understand you found it on Saturday. Why didn’t you call?”

“Eventually I would have, after I talked to my people. You must remember the post office is a federal institution. I only brought you in as a courtesy.”

He nodded, as if accepting this explanation.
 

I looked at my watch. “Chief, I have to get to work. See you later.”

“Right, Bronski. Keep me up to date on this.”

I left the restaurant, puzzled and angry. Why had Ashley told him? For points? Did they have a thing going? Why would someone in the drug scene, as she was, keep the law informed? Ashley was smart, there had to be a reason. Was the police chief a player on the drug scene or had he simply goofed there in the restaurant?

All these questions whirled in my mind as I pulled into the postmaster’s parking place. I felt I was behind the eight ball with no corner pocket to hide in.

Chapter 23

As I entered the main floor of the post office, I took great care to look upbeat and casual, taking time to converse with the troops. It was especially important now for me to have their respect. Their big complaint of too much overtime was going to be resolved. I had the Boss’s promise on that. Another employee was to be hired shortly. With that out of the way, the attitude problem was beginning to inch up on the scale.
 

I made it to my office and closed the door. The first thing I did was to dig out my trusty tape recorder. Mostly I used it to record my to-do items, but now it was going to become my undercover partner and reside in my shirt pocket behind my pocket insert with its assorted pens. Hopefully, the fact my pocket bulged a little would be ignored. Every time somebody talked to me, it would turn on and record their voice. It was one of the few ways I could hope to combat Ashley and her poison.
 

We shared the same phone system, which meant she knew when I was talking, and vice-versa. I knew she was in her office, so I decided to run a little test. I called a local restaurant to reserve a table for lunch. While I talked, I listened for any telltale clicks. Sure enough, Ashley had listened in. I hung up so quickly that she was caught by surprise. My phone line light stayed on for at least three seconds after I hung up. Her listening in meant I had to make confidential calls elsewhere. Thank goodness we live in a time when cell phones are a given for the hurried executive. I decided to purchase one ASAP.

But first things first. I picked up the phone and dialed the in-house number for Ashley. “Ashley, could you come to my office, please?”

“I’m awful busy.”

I could feel my face light up. “Ashley, do you have a customer standing in front of you?”

“No … ”

“Then get the hell in here!” I said, and hung up.

After about five minutes, she came dragging through the door. She stood there in the doorway, her eyes shooting daggers.

“Close the door—softly, Ashley, softly.”

She surprised me by doing just that. Evidently, she understood a loud door slam carried a message to the people on the main floor.

“Sit down, Ashley.”

She crossed her arms. “I prefer to stand,” she said. I could almost hear the icicles tinkling.

I just shook my head. “Very well.”

I went on to tell her about the conversation with the police chief about the package I found on Saturday. That I was in charge and I would decide who would be told and when. Her mouth dropped open and then closed, her lips in a narrow line.

“So, tell me, Ashley, is the chief in on your little game of drug pushing? Hmm . . . ?”

She regained her composure. “Why, ah don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Ashley, he stated in a loud voice right there in the restaurant that you had found a package on Saturday, a day, I remind you, that you chose not to be here. It’s a documented fact.”
 

“Why, ah can assure you the chief is not involved in any way with drugs. He is a friend of mine. I simply wanted to keep him informed so he would know what’s going on in the community.”

“Once again, Ashley, I remind you who’s in charge around here. You are not to discuss these lost packages with anyone except me or the Boss.”

“Oh, ah think we know who is in charge around here, don’t we?”

And, so help me, she pulled the picture of her and me out of her pants pocket and held it up for me to see, smiling her smile. “Besides, I already called the Boss on this. He was most appreciative.”

I managed to close my mouth before it opened all the way. “Oh, I’m sure he was,” I said. I watched as she put the picture away. “One more thing, Ashley. Do you know who killed Gloria out there on the water?”

The icicles became even longer. “No. May I go now, Mr. Bronski?”

I nodded. The door closed softly behind her. I reflected over what had occurred. I had hoped to catch her unawares, but maybe I was hoping for too much. Playing games was not a forte of mine. There was nothing on the tape that would show guilt on Ashley’s part. I looked down at my shirt pocket again to see if anything was noticeable. Nothing was, so I decided to keep on carrying the recorder. Someday Ashley would screw up and say something that I could use to send her sweet tail to jail.