Murder at Fire Bay (25 page)

I said I understood. “By the way, John, did you get my message I sent earlier? About my hearing Ashley talking about something going down in a day or two?”

“Yeah, but I have no idea what it might be. I’m afraid we’ll have to wait and see what she does. We want to drag this thing out as long as we can, to find out who all belongs to this ring, if that is what we call this thing. That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“Does the Boss know about all this?” I asked.

There was a chuckle on the other end. “Oh . . .yeah.”

With that last pronouncement, we hung up. I sat there a moment flapping my tie and then stopped. What a silly damn thing to do. What flapping a tie in one’s face had to do with problem solving I had no idea, except it seemed to focus my thoughts. I put the camera in my shirt pocket and headed out onto the floor. Ashley was making her rounds, but that seemed okay for the moment. The troops were still talking, although in a somewhat subdued manner. I made it a point to stop to talk to a couple that I hadn’t had much chance to visit with. Sometimes these little visits let me in on personal problems that were good to know. Troubles at home? Maybe that was why that particular employee’s production was going downhill. Production. Always production. I sighed with the weight of it. I pulled Ashley over to a corner and told her know I would be gone for a while.
 

“Where are you going?” she asked.

I gave her a look. “Out,” I said. It was none of her business, but I still got a frown in return.
 

Once I was out the back door, I took a deep breath of fresh air, more for a psychological boost than anything. The filtered air in the post office was probably cleaner, but there was something about that outside air . . . maybe it was the freedom that it implied.

I jumped into the Jeep and headed for what passed for a discount store in these parts. Fire Bay was not yet large enough for a real chain store, but I was sure Wal-Mart or Fred Meyer had it in its sights.

I plunked the plastic camera down at the photo counter and was assured by the woman that it would be an hour before it was done. I, in turn, assured her that would be great. Since I had no other work-related errands to run, I went back to the post office.
 

As I entered, I noticed the troops were talking louder. Ashley was nowhere to be seen. Now what?
 

As I cruised by Sam Goodnight’s case, I stopped. “Have you seen Ashley?”

He looked around and then back to me.

“No, she left shortly after you. By the way, there’s a cop in your office. I told him to wait there.”

Well, something was afoot.

“Do you know who it is?” I asked.

Sam smiled.

“It’s your favorite cop, the chief himself.”
 

I nodded my thanks, and headed to my office. My favorite cop? Emily must have dropped a word here and there.

“Chief?”

I received a weary wave in return.

“Hello, Bronski,” he said and sat up higher in his chair.

I closed the door and sat down.
 

“What’s up?”

“Do you know where your supervisor is?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”

The chief went on. “We’ve been keeping loose tabs on her comings and goings. But whether it was intentional on her part or not, we lost her.”

“I didn’t know you had been following her,” I said.

“Well, she doesn’t hold all of the cards. I’ll be darned if I was going to sit back and do nothing. Like I said, we’ve been keeping loose tabs on her. We haven’t been following her from place to place or anything. We just went by her house and Ralph’s place from time to time.
 

“Ralph’s?” I was surprised at this revelation, but I shouldn’t have been, considering it must have been him that put me in her bed. I hadn’t said anything to anyone about his role in helping Ashley to blackmail me. The idea that he took my clothes off, flat made me angry.

“Yeah, Ralph’s place. I’m beginning to think the two of them might be married or at least might have been at one time. I plan to look into that soon. But right now, I’m more curious about what they’re up to.”

“Married! You’re sure?” I said.

“No, but I think they were—down in Florida.”
 

It fit, I thought. Ashley was definitely from Florida. Married or not, she and Ralph had a history and that was a partial answer for the house she moved into so quickly. Ha! Aloud, I said, “Do you know where the dope is going?”
 

“We think most of it is going to Anchorage, but so far we haven’t made the hook-up. We’re dealing with some clever people here. Compared to Florida we’re probably babes in the woods.”

I nodded my agreement and removed my wire rims, setting them on the desk. Sometimes I do my best thinking when I can’t see too far. It was quiet for a few minutes, each of us lost in his thoughts.
 

Finally, I broke the silence. “Chief, I’m getting closer to breaking the Gloria Plinski case.”

I went on to tell him about the old man being on the bluff at the time of her death.
 

“I think it was one of the people here,” I concluded, “but it’s too soon to say for sure. I’ve learned the hard way not to draw conclusions too quickly.”

He gave me a sharp look.

“Who do you think it is?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, not until I’m sure.”
 

“Come on Bronski! At least give me a hint. I hope to hell you are not going to tell
 

that newspaper reporter before you tell me, are you?”

I smiled and folded my hands; this was getting to be fun. “No, chief, I promise I’ll tell you at least five minutes before I tell her.”

He slumped down in his chair, a rueful look on his face. I could imagine what he
 

was thinking: of all the people I have to put up with, the worst is this guy who thinks he is a detective!

I put my wire rims back on and stood up, extending my hand.

“Thanks, chief, for dropping by. I think things are beginning to pop. I’ll keep
 

you informed.”

He silently took my hand and nodded. “Yeah, okay, sure,” he said, and stalked out.

Chapter 32

I pulled up to the High Bluff B&B and shut the Jeep’s engine off. I sat there a moment and thought over the day’s events, particularly seeing Martha at the store, purchasing what looked like a handgun. I had entered the store on a beeline for the photo counter. It was while I was waiting for the clerk to get the photos that I noticed Martha at the other end of the store, looking over various handguns. No big deal I guess, but still I wondered what she wanted with it. Maybe she was a hunter and needed it for camp protection. Somehow, I couldn’t imagine her out on the hunt, but I’ve been fooled before. Hunters come in all shapes, sizes, and dispositions. Why was I concerned anyway? Yeah, she had called in sick, but a person had a perfect right to obtain a gun and sometimes had to call in sick to handle personal business. Maybe I had heard one too many tales of “going postal.”

I heaved myself out of the Jeep, thinking about the more immediate problem of how I was going to get Arness to look over the pictures. Mrs. Mordant would have more questions than I was willing to answer. It would be a great thing for her to discuss with her friends. I looked up at the sky. There was still an hour of daylight left. It wasn’t too cold yet for the old fella up on the bluff. I opened the door of the house to see Mrs. Mordant fussing over her father who had spilled something on his shirt.
 

She looked up as I entered. “Oh, you’re early today.”

“Yes, everything was going okay, so I took a little comp time.”

She looked intently at me and I knew she was thinking how to word a request.

“Could you . . . ” she paused and took a deep breath, “Would you mind taking care of him for a couple of hours? The girls are having a late coffee downtown.”

I smiled. “Sure, go ahead, take off. Arness and I will be just fine. You might want to leave a phone number or some way of getting in touch with you.”

Her eyes lit up as she dug into her purse. “I have a cell phone!” she said, holding it up, as if it were a trophy.

“Great!” I returned. Both of our prayers had been answered.
 

In no time at all, I had the number, and she was out the door, happily mumbling to herself, no doubt lightheaded with her good fortune. I watched as she drove off, throwing a little gravel here and there. And once again, I marveled at the patience and stamina people found to deal day after day with their ailing loved ones. If anyone deserved a little time off, Mrs. Mordant did.
 

I turned to the old man, who sat there watching me with narrowed eyes.
 

I pulled the packet of pictures from my pocket and spread them out on the table.
 

“Arness, I think somebody in the post office killed Gloria Plinski. Could you look at these pictures? The killer may be here.”

He nodded and wheeled himself closer to the table. Trembling hands moved the pictures around one at a time. He paused now and then to look extra long at a picture. Finally, he nodded, and for a second I thought he had somebody. But then he shook his head.

“Not . . .here.”

I nodded and sat back in my chair, twiddling my thumbs. “You’re sure?”

His hand slapped the table. “I’m . . .sure!”

I leaned forward and smiled. “Sorry, Arness. But I had to know. I have one more picture to take.”

This seemed to mollify him. We sat for a while listening to the wall clock ticking. Finally, I asked him if there was anything I could do for him.
 

He shook his head. “No . . . ” he said. And then, “Thank . . . you.”

I nodded. “Arness, you and your daughter have more guts than anybody I know. To sit there in that wheelchair day after day, unable to talk . . . ”

I let the sentence hang. A tear was starting to form in my left eye. That’s where they always started, and it irritated the hell out of me. Women tell me it’s okay to cry, but I’ve never quite believed them. I am a man, not a crybaby. But then, I did have my share of baggage as most men past fifty have. That was my excuse anyway.

To cover my tears, I grabbed the newspaper off the table and started reading it out loud to the old man. From time to time he would nod and mumble unintelligibly at those idiots down in Juneau. When it came to Alaskan politics, I usually laughed. I found, much to my surprise, that I enjoyed reading and commenting to Arness about the political antics that abound in our state. I almost regretted putting the newspaper down when Mrs. Mordant returned. Thank goodness I’d had the foresight to put the pictures away.

“How are you guys doing?” she asked, looking directly at me.

“Fine . . .fine,” the old man said.

Well, I’ll be, I thought, the old boy beat me to the punch. I looked back to him and he winked, very slowly.

“Oh, Daddy!” Mrs. Mordant rushed to him and gave him a hug with tears cascading down.

I excused myself and left. Enough was enough.

Back in my room I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling for while, letting my baggage be put back in its corner with the rest of my demons. When some of the ache was gone, I called Jeanette and related the day’s events. I said I thought things were coming to a head. She told me in good wifely fashion to be careful. I assured her I would and we rang off.

* * *

The next day dawned with a few frozen mud puddles. Not so hard you couldn’t put your foot through them, just a skim of ice. My breath steamed as I walked from the B & B to my Jeep. I stopped for an instant to monitor a flock of geese flying south. I shivered. I should be on the hunt for moose in some spruce forest. Instead, I had to be on the hunt for suspected human wrongdoers. And in a way, they were more dangerous than any moose.

I arrived at the office promptly at 7:00 o’clock to a ringing telephone and an anxious Abby in my office. She held the phone out to me and mouthed the words, “The postal inspector.”
 

I gave her a smile, as if no obstacle was too big, and took it from her.

“John!” I said, and waved Abby out the door.
 

She left with a relieved look on her face. “Bronski! Where’s your supervisor?”

“Got me,” I answered. “Maybe she overslept.”

“Not according to our sources.”

“Who would that be?” I asked. This conversation was getting interesting.

“Never mind,” came the answer.

I sat down and got my wits together. I hadn’t seen Martha at her case either. But I decided to let that thought hang for a while. Ashley’s absence was more important.

“What do you think she’s up to?” I asked.

“We don’t know. We almost have the bad dope people figured out. All we need is a day or two. But something smells. I’m concerned she is onto us, Leo. Today’s the day something is supposed to happen, right?”