The Hunting Wind: An Alex McKnight Mystery (34 page)

Enough of this, I said to myself. This I do not need. Ever again.

When the summer began, I was finding excuses not to go to Jackie’s for lunch. Or for my afternoon beer,
even though I knew he’d have a Canadian on ice for me. Or dinner. When I did stop in, he’d ask me where I’d been. I’d tell him I’d been busy, cleaning out the cabins, fixing things. He’d give his famous look, like he could see right through me.

By the end of June, I was spending most evenings in my cabin, reading the paper, and as many books as I could get my hands on. I had never read so many books in my life. Whatever the tiny Paradise library had, or the couple of gift shops that sold paperbacks—thrillers, mysteries, some of the classics even—that’s what I read. The books I craved the most were true crime. You’d think that would’ve been the last thing I wanted to read, with eight years as a cop and a year or so of trying very hard not to be a private investigator, and with everything that had happened to me. But for some reason, true crime books were comforting to me. Maybe because I was reading about all these people getting their asses kicked and for once it wasn’t me.

By the time the Fourth of July rolled around, I don’t think I had even seen Jackie’s face for a solid week. He knocked on the door. I opened it and saw him standing there. It would have been a surprise no matter what the circumstances, because he never came to my place. The Glasgow Inn had the television and the food and the Canadian beer. So there wasn’t much reason for him to come my way.

“Jackie,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“Alex,” he said. He stepped past me and looked around the place. I think Jackie was sixty-five that summer. Over the years, his face had felt a lot of cold wind off the lake. He had a certain sparkle in his eyes,
though, that told you he could take whatever the lake gave him. When the snow melted, he’d be there smiling.

“Is everything okay?” I said.

“Everything’s fine,” he said. “Just dandy.” He picked up the book on my kitchen table and turned it over to read the back.

I stood there watching him. I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Okay,” he said, putting the book down. “Here’s the deal. I brought a tent with me. It’s practically brand new, one of those space-age nylon things. Doesn’t weigh more than thirty pounds, but it’s plenty big and it keeps the wind and the rain out. It’s beautiful. Along with that, I’ve got a good portable propane stove. A sleeping bag that’ll keep you warm to forty below. A backpack. You know, the kind with the frame that keeps the weight on your hips instead of your shoulders. A lot of other little stuff. Water purification kit, first aid kit, some mosquito netting. Oh, and I almost forgot, a couple of great fishing rods. I mean the best.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I said. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “You are.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll need a good rifle,” he said, “You’ll have to get that yourself.”

“Jackie . . .”

“I’ll draw you a map of this place. It’s up in the Yukon Territory. If you drive, it’ll take you a hell of a long time to get up there. I hope your truck is up for it.”

“Jackie . . .”

“If I were you, I’d sell the truck and fly up there. Tell you what, since I’m giving you all this equipment, just leave the truck with me. It’s what, about twelve years old?”

“Jackie, will you kindly tell me what the hell you’re talking about? Since when am I going to the Yukon Territory?”

“I’m just trying to help you out, Alex. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“By sending me to the Yukon? That’s helping me?”

“Think of it, Alex. The guy who told me about this place, he says you could set up camp there. Fish the rivers for food, maybe shoot some small game once in a while. There’s a little town a few miles away if you really need it, but aside from that, no human contact at all, Alex. You could go a whole year and never see another person’s face.”

“You’re trying to be funny, right? This is a joke.”

“I’ll look after the cabins,” he said. “I promise. Now get your stuff together.”

“Okay, I get it,” I said. “This is your cute little way of telling me I haven’t been coming around much lately.”

“Yeah, it’s been killing me,” he said. “Nobody to tell me I’m doing everything wrong. Nobody to make dinner for whenever he snaps his fingers. It’s been a real nightmare.”

“I was gonna stop by tonight,” I said. “Really.”

“The hell you were,” he said. “Look at you. Look at this crap you’re reading. ‘A heart-stopping tale of murder and revenge.’ ” He picked up another book and then plunked it back down. “ ‘A true story of
deception and naked greed.’ If this is what you’d rather do than come harass me all night, so be it. It doesn’t bother me one bit, believe me. Not until everybody starts asking me questions. ‘Where’s Alex, Jackie?’ ‘How come Alex doesn’t come in anymore?’ ‘What the hell’s wrong with Alex, Jackie? I said hello to him at the post office and he walked right by me like he didn’t know me.’ ”

“Who was that?” I said. “Who said hello at the post office?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “You don’t care. You don’t need us anymore. Any of us. This the goddamned loneliest town in the whole country, and you still have to hide in your cabin. So I figured, what the hell, there’s only thing to do with him. Send him north! Let him live with the bears!”

“Are you about done?”

“No, I’m not,” he said. “I came here to give you an ultimatum. I’m not leaving until you choose. Either I take you to the airport and put your ass on a plane to Moosehide, or you come play poker with me tonight.”

“Poker? Where, at the Glasgow?”

“No, in the Soo. At this guy’s house. You haven’t met him.”

“Since when do you go out playing poker?” I said. “Who’s gonna run the place?”

“We usually play at the bar,” he said. “Not the old crowd you used to play with. This is a new thing. You’d know that if you ever came by. Win wants to show off his new poker table, so I figured I’d let my son look after things. It’s called a night out, Alex. It’s what sociable people do sometimes.”

“Jackie, I really don’t feel like playing poker with a bunch of guys I don’t know.”

“Too much of a strain, I understand. Okay, I’ll help you get packed.”

“Knock it off. I’m not going to, where you’d say? Moosehide? Is that really a town in the Yukon?”

“I told you, Alex. One or the other. I’m not leaving until you pick one.”

“None of the above, Jackie. Thanks for the offer.”

“You’re gonna have to forcibly remove me,” he said.

“Since when do you use words like ‘forcibly’?”

“Poker or the Yukon, Alex. I’m waiting.”

What else was I going to do? I sure as hell wasn’t going to the Yukon, and I didn’t feel like forcibly removing him. So I chose poker. It seemed like the easy way out.

Little did I know.