Murder at Fire Bay (20 page)

Without missing a beat in her sorting, she asked, “Have you decided anything about that step two?”

I sighed; now wishing old happenstance had kept to itself. “No, not yet,” I replied, “but I will.”

“Uh huh” was her reply, and not a word more. Her letters seemed to hit the case a little harder.
 

I wandered on, saying hello to Abby, who gave me her big smile. I loved that smile, because it had no deceit in it. It was what you saw. I slowly made my way back to the office, stopping one more time to chat with the new guy, Sam Goodnight, in the box section.

“How’s things going?” I asked.

“Okay,” he said. The envelopes kept on slapping their way into the various boxes.
 

“Anything I can do to help you settle in your new apartment?”

I had heard he was taking an apartment not too far from Ashley’s house. What this meant, I had no idea. Probably nothing, I hoped. I did not want her to put a spell on this new kid. I wanted him to remain whole and in one piece.
 

He stopped a second and gave me a smile. “Thanks, sir, but I am pretty much moved in.”

He went back to slapping the mail into its respective boxes.
 

I turned and looked out onto the main floor. Seeing that everybody was in his or her place, I returned to my office. No more put-offs. I had to do paperwork.
 

The only thing good about that day was that Ashley, for whatever reason, stayed away from work. I could hear a laugh now and then through my open doorway out on the main floor. The troops were enjoying a respite from Ashley’s autocratic rule.
 

I went back to the B & B that evening, mystified as to Ashley’s whereabouts. Had she gone on a trip, or was she sitting in her house thinking up new ways to make my life miserable?
 

Mrs. Mordant caught me at the door and asked if I would take the old man up to the bluff. I said I would and threw on a cap; it was a mite breezy out there. She had him all muffled up and ready to go. As I had many times before, I pushed him to the bluff’s top and then sat down beside him on the bench. The sky was clear, but the sun was almost down at 6:00 o’clock. The long summer days when the sun went down at almost midnight were over. Sadly, winter was coming.

“Blue.”

I slumped in my seat. Here we go again, I thought, same old word or two.

“Co . . .”

“Yeah, it won’t be long before it’s cold. You have that right, my friend.”

He shook his head and he too slumped further down in his wheelchair.

Obviously, I was off base again. Would I ever understand what he was trying to say? Shaking his head again, he dug out his binoculars and focused on what I guessed was a huge tanker making its way through the white caps. That was the good thing about this vantage point. You could see most of the bay. He put down the binoculars, satisfied, I guessed, that this great ship was in its proper place. With trembling hands he put them away in their leather case.

“Time to go, sir?”

He nodded. I turned him around and away we went back down the hill as fast as safely possible. I truly believe this little run was one of the reasons he got up in the morning, hoping I would give him this moment of excitement. Up to now, he had enjoyed it in silence, but now I heard a sort of “ho, ho” from him. I’m not sure who enjoyed it more, him or me.

I left him with his daughter and I went up the stairs to my room. Mrs. Mordant made me promise that I would come back down for a bowl of stew, which I gratefully accepted. It was not quite family for me, but it helped, and I wondered about Jeanette. Did she sit there evening after evening, alone with her stew? I hoped not. I hoped the people in the village would invite her out from time to time.

Later that night I asked her about her evening meals, and she said about half of them were spent in solitude. She could have had more meals with her sister, but she felt it would have been imposing on Jean since she was keeping house with the village constable. I told her about Emily saying Ashley was involved in drugs in Miami and that her boss down there had gotten rid of her. Both of us remarked on how Alaska seemed to be used at times as a dumping ground for incompetent people. Ashley was not incompetent; she was just plain bad.

We said our goodbyes and hung up, with my feelings in a much more positive mood. Somehow, I was going to whip Ashley. Truth always makes a good whip and that’s what I would use.

Chapter 27

The next morning was an early one for me. By 6:00 a.m. I was at the office. The prime reason for being there so early was to get out the tape recorder I had bought the day before and to get it installed in Ashley’s office. Finding an out-of-the-way spot to put it was not easy. It had to be in a spot she would not ordinarily look and yet pick up all the sounds in the office. Using a ladder and an electric screwdriver, I put it behind a heat register behind an old box of unused forms on a shelf thick with dust. I then tested it to make sure it worked and noted with some pleasure it would even pick up a noisy whisper.

I left before the early-morning employee came in, but not before I looked around for hidden boxes and warm bodies. If there was anyone in the place, they did a great job of hiding.
 

The Jeep once again took me to the Eat More Cafe. Emily wasn’t there, so I sat in her place at the table and watched the front door. To my surprise, Goldilocks himself came in, all resplendent in his Postal Service uniform. One of the younger locals gave a smirk a little bit on the loud side and got a withering glare from Sam. This guy, despite his small size, was not one to be trifled with. The smirker turned away, back to his meal, glad, I imagined, that he was still in one piece. After a second’s hesitation, I waved Sam to my table. He smiled and, after another look in the smirker’s direction, sat down. The place had turned quiet at this little interlude, and I was determined to bring it back to life.

I looked up from my coffee. “I guess you must also be an early riser.”

“Yes, sir.”

For the time being, I let the “sir” go by. Sometimes my ego needed it, especially from the young. I have this thing about being respectful to your elders.

“Well, are you ready for another action-packed day?”

“Yes, sir, I think so, yes, sir.”

Good grief! I thought. “So you’re all settled in then, I guess?”

For that, I received another, “Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’m glad to have you here at the P.O. Thanks to you, the old-timers have less OT, and to them that’s important.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I was just about to tell him to stop the “yes, sirs” when Emily walked in. Saved by the little lady. She looked good in her black suit, and I have to say my tired old eyes brightened at the sight of her. I wasn’t the only one whose eyes brightened. Young Sam was taken by what he saw, buckteeth and all. His eyes fairly glowed. On impulse, I waved her over. Sam rose from his seat as I introduced them to each other and I saw love at first sight. It was a wonder for me to see their eyes talk back and forth as they sat down. This was a first for me, to bring two people together who might be meant for each other. My insides welled up. I would have to tell Jeanette tonight about how I was going to be a godfather someday.
 

* * *

I pulled up to the office at 8:00 o’clock. Ashley’s car was not in its space. Now what? She was supposed to be at work at seven. Thank goodness the employees knew how to keep the place running. Briefcase in hand, I walked onto the main floor. Everybody seemed to be in place. There had been laughter and some talk as I walked through the door, but that decreased to almost nothing as I walked around the various cases. The place became a tomb with watchful eyes. I could almost hear the slap of mail into the cases slow down. This was no good. People should be allowed some latitude.

I walked over by Martha’s case. There was a tight-lipped expression on her face.

“Martha, tell everyone they have my permission to talk. This place is a morgue.”

She stopped sorting mail. “And if Miss Fancy Pants threatens us?”

“Come see me and we’ll have a talk.”

Her expression became a little more pleasant. “By the way, sir. I moved the grievance about her doing union work to step three.”

Crap! The day was getting off to a bad start. I simply nodded and I’m sure my shoulders dropped an inch, but there was no help for it. Maybe Ashley or I would be out of here in a few weeks, and life in this station would fall back to normal for these good people. I sincerely hoped so. I moved on toward my office. Just as I was hanging my jacket on its hook, my office phone rang. I hesitated to answer it, wishing I had an answering machine to screen my calls. On the third ring, I picked it up.

“Bronski.”

I began breathing harder. I suspected it was because he wasn’t yelling as much these days. When the Boss starts a conversation by being quiet, something is afoot.
 

“Yes, sir.”

“How’s everything?”

“Uh . . .not too good. Ashley didn’t come in at seven o’clock as she was supposed to.”

There was a second or two of silence. I began to suspect I was about to ruin what had been a good day for the Boss.

“Maybe she’s sick?”

“I don’t think so, Boss. She was gone yesterday afternoon also.”

“Well, did you try calling her?” I could hear his exasperation.

“Yes, sir, I did.”

The words had just left my mouth, when Ashley came bursting through the door.

“Bronski! Did you give permission . . .”

She stopped when she saw the smile on my face.

“Oh, here she is! She just came through the door.”

I held the phone out to her. “The Boss wants to talk to you.”

Her expression changed from a glare to a smile. But her eyes told the story and so help me I shivered. I hung up after she picked up the phone in her office with what I hoped was a loud click, but not before I heard the beginnings of southern charm starting to ooze.

“Ah’m . . .so sorry, sir, that . . .”

I’m sure I would have gagged if I had stayed on the line. No doubt, I would hear from the Boss about being so mean to such a sweet girl. Did the Boss know about Ashley’s background? If he did, why did he bring her up to Alaska from Florida? My thoughts were still trying to unravel all this when she burst through the door, again.

“Bronski, did you really give permission to the people to talk?”

“Yes, I did, Ashley. Production may suffer a tad, but the morale is important too. People have to enjoy their jobs, Ashley. And people here were not enjoying their jobs. Thanks to Sam Goodnight, some of those employees with seniority won’t have to work overtime. They were just about to enjoy their jobs again when you put out the gag order.”

She sniffed. “I did it for the good of the service.”

I shook my head. “Ashley, I don’t think you know what that means. You just use that term to control people. Now unless you have something that needs to be said concerning the main floor, get out of my office.”

And so help me. She held up that picture again. I snickered. “What’s with the picture you keep holding up, Ashley?”

She said not a word, just turned and left my office. She was one sly broad, but sooner or later, she would screw up and that’s when I would turn the tables on her. In a quiet voice, for the tape, I said what day and what time it was and what was on the picture she held up in an attempt to blackmail me.

The rest of the day went well. I stayed until the last person left and then searched the place. If anyone was there, they were well hidden. Since no one was around, I got a ladder and retrieved the tape recorder from behind the heat register.
 

I listened to it for about an hour. Most of the stuff was ordinary admin stuff. It reflected how good a supervisor Ashley could be. I was about to turn it off when she answered the phone at what I guessed was late in the afternoon. The phone records at the telephone company might verify when, I reasoned. I listened and began to smile.

“This is Ashley,” she said.

There was a moment’s silence, then, “You’re sure the stuff is in it?” There was a moment’s silence. Then, “Okay, I’ll look for the shipment to come in a day or so.”

Then the tape went silent again, except for the shuffling of paper and the chair scraping from time to time. I called Postal Inspector Crouch and left word on his machine for him to call ASAP to my cell phone only. I hoped he would check in with his machine before the next day.
 

* * *

I was dreaming about Jeanette when the phone rang. I looked at the bedside clock. It read 11:00 p.m. Who in hell calls this time of night? I asked myself. Better not be a crank, or they would get an earful. I picked up the phone, which brought blessed relief from its noisy ring.

“What?” I muttered, as quietly as I could.

“Bronski, it’s John Crouch.”

“Yeah?” I was a little bit testy.

“My God, were you in bed? My, but you country boys do all right.”