Weeds in the Garden of Love (13 page)

“
G’mornin’, Joe. Hey—wasn’t that the comedian from last night?”

“
Sure was,” Joe said. “Nice guy and funny too.”

“
Funny? My wife almost peed her pants. He was hilarious!”

“
You bet he was. I just told the cruise director we’re all hoping he’ll do another show. So what are you and Mrs. Earl up to today in Juneau?”

“
My wife wants to go salmon fishing. But I told her—I’d rather go shopping.” They both laughed. “What are you up to today, Joe?”

Joe smiled. “I’m going on a helicopter tour over Mendenhall Glacier.”

“
What’s her name?” Joe knew exactly why Earl was asking. He knew Joe would need a solid reason to fly in a helicopter.

One afternoon at the poolside bar, Joe told Earl: “Fixed-wing pilots like me don’t trust helicopters. We call them ‘flingie-wingies.’ We can never get used to the idea of having our wings rotate over our heads. Helicopters have so many different ways to ruin your day. To me, those damn things are nothing more than thirty thousand spare parts flying in close formation.”

Joe realized the jig was up. “Connie. Her name is Connie. She invited me to go with her.” Connie was an eye-catching widow Joe met the first night at a single cruisers cocktail party. Earl saw them eating breakfast together the next day.

Earl gave him a wink and a big smile. “Have fun, Captain Joe. I’ll be shoppin’.”

* * *

The Bell 206 Jet Ranger looked relatively new to Joe, and so did the pilot. Joe, Connie and a couple of their fellow ship passengers walked over to the helicopter. The pilot Jim Patterson interrupted his walk-around to introduce himself. He was from Perth, Australia and had over two thousand hours of pilot-in-command time on this type of helicopter. Joe relaxed when he heard that.

“
How’s the ceiling and vis’ today?” Joe asked. “Looks like a lot of low stratus, especially around those mountains.”

Jim immediately pegged Joe as a fellow aviator. “Well,” he said in his thick Aussie accent, “you’re obviously a pilot, so you’ll understand this. The katabatic winds coming down the glaciers form ice fog. South of here the weather is severe clear, and it’s heading this way. That ice fog should dissipate enough for a good view long before we get up to the glacier. Around here, we got us broken cloud at eighteen hundred, and the visibility is unlimited. Should be okay—fair dinkum, mate.”

“
Sounds good,” Joe said. “Whatever you said.”

Jim invited Joe to sit up front, a compliment from a fellow aviator. They wore David Clark earphones to suppress the engine noise, utilizing the intercom to communicate with one another. The Jet Ranger lifted off effortlessly into the cool morning air. Joe marveled at the feeling of absolute freedom a rotary wing aircraft afforded. He glanced back at Connie to see how she was enjoying the ride. She smiled at him. Joe had a tinglein a place that hadn’t tingled in a long time. Joe had to pursue a relationship with Connie. She was beautiful both inside and out. The best part was, Liv would approve.

“
How long have you been driving a helicopter up here in Alaska?” Joe asked Jim over the intercom.

“
My first season here. Beautiful country, eh?”

“
Some of the most beautiful scenery I’ve seen.” Joe was thinking about Connie in the rear seat. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Alaska was beautiful, especially from the air. The scenery out of Juneau was spectacular: coastal mountains coated in green pine cradling clear blue fiords, mountain peaks majestically white-topped above the tree-line and tidewater glaciers forming fog as they slipped a toe into the ocean. Joe saw lots of sea birds, hawks and a lone bald eagle on patrol over the treetops. He also saw the persistent fog up near the glacier. He glanced over at Jim and then again at the fog.

“
Still lotsa fog up there,” Joe said into his headset.

Jim smiled. “No worries, mate. We’ll be fine.”

The Jet Ranger approached the glacier and was now flying into near whiteout conditions. The ice fog and the glacier were virtually indistinguishable. Joe’s pilot senses warned him they were in danger. He reached for the intercom button to tell Jim to turn around.

Joe didn’t get a chance. The helicopter slammed into the glacier at over one hundred knots. They all died on the first bounce.

“…
thirty thousand spare parts …”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Aftermath

A notification of next of kin is one of the most distressing duties a cop has to perform. No amount of training can prepare you. Telling someone that a person they love is dead is never easy. The next of kin seem to sense it when you walk up to their door. They see it written all over your face. The best rule is to be quick and kind.

The incoming message from Juneau was forwarded from Telecommunications to the watch commander Captain Johnson. He called the duty sergeant.

Sgt. Philip Haskett walked into the captain’s office. “What’s up, boss?”

“
Got a request here, Phil. Alaska State Troopers want us to do a next of kin notification. The croakee is a local, a Robert John Devries. The message indicates he died in a helicopter crash near Juneau. The pilot flew into a mountain.”

“
Boy, that’ll mess up your day. I’ll pass this along to Patrol.”

“
Thanks, Sarge.” Captain Johnson returned to his paperwork.

At the Patrol office, Sgt. Haskett found two young officers who had just completed a prisoner transfer. He cleared the duty request with the shift boss then explained the situation to the two officers.

“
Be gentle, and let us know if you need any help,” Sgt. Haskett said. “And be careful—sometimes the next of kin can go all crazy on ya.”

On the way out to their patrol car, the two officers noted the address and discussed the best route to take. Neither had done a death notification, so they flipped a coin to decide who would do the talking. Patrolman Dixon lost.

Craig was working at home and saw the police car park out front. He watched the two officers walk up to the front door. He knew something was horribly wrong. His first thought was Chrissie had been killed in a drunk driving accident. Craig opened the door before the officers had a chance to ring the bell.

“
Good afternoon, sir. I’m Patrolman Dixon, and this is my partner Patrolman Walsh. We’re looking for a Christine or a Craig Andrews.”

“
I’m Craig Andrews. What’s this about?” Craig was afraid of what would come next. His is heart was thumping in his chest.

“
Are you related to a Robert John Devries?”

“
Yeah. Joe’s my father-in-law. He’s away on a cruise to Alaska. Why? What’s happened?”

“
I’m very sorry to inform you—” Patrolman Dixon paused, searching for the right words. “Mr. Devries was killed in an accident yesterday morning.”

“
Oh, my God!” Craig said. “Where? Why? I mean—what the hell happened?”

“
We don’t have all the details yet, sir. The Alaska State Troopers reported he was sightseeing in a helicopter, and it crashed. Happened outside of Juneau.”

“
They’re sure it was Joe Devries? He hated helicopters!”

“
Yes, sir, they’ve confirmed he was one of the five people killed. If it’s any comfort, it appears they all died instantly on impact.” Craig listened in disbelief. It seemed like only yesterday he had spoken to Joe. “Can we contact someone for you, sir? You know, to maybe, come over and—”

“
No, no. I’m fine, but thanks anyway,” Craig said. “I have to go tell his daughter.” Dixon and Walsh expressed their condolences. Craig thanked them, closed the door and broke into tears. He couldn’t believe Joe was gone.
First Olivia and now Joe. I don’t know how I am going to tell Chrissie.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and she would not be home until late that evening. He couldn’t keep this from her until then. If he called and asked her to come home, she would want to know why. He had no choice. He had to go to Towercrest.

Craig passed Rita and Heather walking Robbie home from school. He honked and waved.
Those poor kids—they’ve lost both their grandparents.
And their parents ain’t doing too good either.

Chrissie happened to be standing at the reception desk when Craig walked into Towercrest. She took one look at him and asked what was wrong.

“
Nothing.” Craig tried to sound as calm as possible. “Just thought we could play hooky for awhile.” What he really wanted was a place where they could be alone.

“
I’ve got a lot of work to do—Craig.”

“
I have something to show you. Won’t take long. I’ll buy you a drink afterwards.”

“
Okay,” she said. “I’ll get my purse.”

Craig drove Chrissie to Victoria Crossing. He parked on a dirt street where the new houses were in various stages of completion. Framing crews were busy hammering interior walls, while others poured concrete foundations. Some houses were nothing more than marker sticks with red streamers planted in the ground.

Chrissie wanted to know what was going on. “Okay. What’s up? Why all the mystery?”

Craig knew this was one blow that could not be softened. “It’s your Dad. He’s been in an accident in Alaska.”

“
Daddy? Is he okay?”

“
He was killed, Chrissie—in a helicopter crash.”

Chrissie gasped. She held her breath and stared at Craig. For a brief moment, she seemed frozen, unable to move. Then she was hit by reality. “Oh, God! No!” she screamed and fell into his arms.

Craig’s thoughts first centered on Joe, then Chrissie and finally on their marriage. He thought Joe’s death might bring them closer together. He was wrong.

* * *

The following year would prove to be one of the most difficult and frustrating times Craig had ever endured. Chrissie retreated into her own private misery and refused any offers of help. She managed to maintain a semblance of normalcy through alcohol. Craig had no idea how much she was drinking, nor did he care. He had long ago lost interest in confronting her about anything. Their sex life was a distant memory. Craig had no doubt—their marriage would be too.

Craig continued to work at home and was having great success selling new houses in Victoria Crossing. He rarely saw Chrissie and knew she was intentionally avoiding him. She left the house early in the morning and didn’t arrive home until after he had gone to bed. She no longer slept in their bedroom. Craig didn’t know, nor care, where she slept.

Chrissie’s long hours at Towercrest were paying off, and the company continued to grow. Annual sales were in the millions, and she had become a major player in the city’s real estate industry. Life was good, and she felt everything was under control—except her marriage.

Chrissie wasn’t sure if she still loved Craig. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to. People she loved ended up dead. She decided it was easier to ignore her marital troubles, for now. She would deal with it only if she had to. It could wait for another day. That day came sooner than she thought.

Chrissie was invited to Dianne Paul’s birthday party. Dianne had been with Towercrest from the beginning, and she and Chrissie were close friends. Chrissie joined Dianne and most of the office staff at an Italian place called Trattoria Medina. Towercrest held many corporate functions in their private party room.

The party was well underway when Chrissie arrived. After greeting and hugging Dianne, she excused herself. Chrissie knew how to work a room. She stopped and chatted for a few moments with everyone. Finally, she sat down to celebrate with Dianne.

Chrissie was having fun. The drinks poured at the bar were weak, so she surreptitiously added vodka from the miniatures hidden in her purse. The party began to break up around midnight. Chrissie was loaded. She had not eaten anything since a muffin at breakfast. She was among the last to leave and couldn’t remember where she parked her car. She staggered around the parking lot for a while before giving up. The last thing she remembered was hailing a cab in front of the restaurant.

The next morning Chrissie woke up from a deep drunken sleep. She had no idea where she was. From the décor, it appeared to be some sort of motel room. Suddenly, she panicked. Not because she remembered where she was—or how she got here. No, Chrissie had a bigger problem.

Who was the man sleeping beside her?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Deadbeats

Mark Floyd leaned forward in his chair and placed Craig’s papers in a basket on his desk. He tilted back in his chair, pondering what he had read. “Well, Craig, you’ve done a good job here. This will really help. Now—I have a few questions for you.”

“
Fire away,” Craig said.

“
I need more details about the last few months you and Chrissie were together.”

“
Not much to tell. Chrissie and I continued to drift apart. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to talk to her, but she refused to discuss anything. I finally gave up.”

Mark picked up Craig’s summary once again. “How much was Chrissie drinking?

“
I really have no idea. She hid it very well.”

“
You mention a couple of occasions when she should not have been driving.”