Under the Alaskan Ice

by Karen Harper

  Meg was tempted to encourage her to enjoy Rafe’s attentions, but she just nodded, steeled herself and walked over to the trio on the leather couch. She hoped Bryce had had enough time to get his equipment ready in his room.

  “Hello, I’m Suze’s sister, Megan. I’m the one who happened to be out for a walk and saw the plane crash. As you may hear later, once we found out Lloyd Witlow’s name and address, I and a friend went to notify those he knew at the sawmill, since they had not reported him missing. It turns out he’d taken some vacation days, so they weren’t alarmed they hadn’t seen him. They got word just as we were about to tell them.”

  Rina stood, blocking out her husband and Melissa. She not only extended her hand, but covered Meg’s hand with her other one.

  “I heard you were the one who saw the plane crash,” Rina said. To Meg’s surprise, her tone was comforting, solicitous, but she also seemed very nervous. “As you may have heard, I’m Rina, the pilot’s daughter and only child. Please—I’d like to talk to you about the accident. Sadly, my father and I were estranged for years—my fault—and only recently connected again. Too little, too late.”

  Tears shimmered in the woman’s eyes, and her voice trembled. Meg scolded herself for thinking she would not like this woman, who seemed sincere and so sad. Meg and Suze greatly missed their parents, who had died in a boating accident on a rare vacation in the Bahamas years ago, but at least they’d had each other and their grandmother. This woman was an only child who evidently now blamed herself for the lost years she’d shunned her father. But at least she had a husband who had come all this way with her at such a difficult time.

  “Let’s go into the office,” Meg said, “just the two of us right now.”

  “Yes. Yes, that’s fine. But let me introduce my husband, Todd, born and bred in Michigan, though we live in northern Ohio now. I see Mayor Purvis has gone outside with his friend he’s offered us as legal counsel if we need it, though Todd’s pretty sharp about—I hate to say it this way—business arrangements. We want to have Dad buried next to my mother in Wasilla, see to selling the house, sell the mill...”

  Not mentioning the search warrant, Meg exchanged a few words with Todd Galsworth, who seemed extremely nervous. Then Meg escorted Rina into the office and closed the door. As they passed Suze, she gave Meg a what’s-going-on look. Meg realized she’d filled Suze in on very little of this, even before the trip to the mill. That reminded her that family members kept secrets from one another, so Rina might know nothing about her father’s having no ID in an unmarked plane flying historic national treasures around backwoods Alaska. Besides, Bryce had said just to let her talk and he’d take care of the questioning.

  * * *

  Bryce was pleased and surprised the audio reception was so good for the wire Meg wore. She must have been sitting close to Rina because both voices came through great. Meg described the Thanksgiving Day walk in the snow, the crash—though she didn’t say she’d been walking with Chip. Smart move not to involve him. He wasn’t sure she’d tell Rina about the man in the white blanket, but she did.

  Rina: “Well, I suppose it could be someone else just out for a walk after a big Thanksgiving dinner. But you’re certain you don’t know who that was? You couldn’t see their face?”

  Meg: “No. Then in the chaos of the crash, the person disappeared. However, there were some tracks in the snow outside the lodge that matched ones he or she may have left, because we found a snag of white blanket there.”

  Rina: “So—spying on the lodge? Or just maybe passing through?”

  Meg: “We have no idea. However, I’m sure the mayor told you that National Transportation Safety Board divers came to recover your father’s body. Someone attacked them and, during another dive, blew up the airplane underwater—a sophisticated job. I’m sure you’ll want to talk to the incident commander too, since he’s still here.”

  Rina: “Yes, of course I want to talk to him. With my husband and our new lawyer present. Terrible—the attacks on them, and I can’t imagine why someone would want to kill people trying to help. When the divers were looking for my father’s body at first—I have no clue why he didn’t have some ID on him—did they recover anything from the plane I could have for a—a final keepsake from him? I want to ask the divers what they found. Things in the plane might legally be my property through inheritance or even his will. He was so thrilled about learning to fly and had always wanted to.”

  Bryce sat up straighter. The woman was jumping topics now. Since Rina had been estranged from her father for years, would she know he’d wanted to fly? He could have told her after they were reconciled. But asking for a keepsake or even legal property from the plane? She probably thought at this point she could have access to his entire house of “keepsakes.”

  Meg: “Would you like to spend tonight at the lodge before you go on to the mill and his house? It’s getting late. Darkness falls early here, you know.”

  Rina: “Don’t I remember my early dark days here! That’s kind of you, but the mayor offered for us to stay at his home tonight until we get some answers tomorrow at the mill. He said he’s having people in for his wife’s birthday party tomorrow, but they have room for us.”

  Wait until Rina and Todd hear her father’s home is off-limits from a search warrant, Bryce thought. As least Meg must be saving that for him to tell her. Then, the obvious question would be why. And that would open up Pandora’s box about what was in the plane.

  The two women kept talking, now about why Lloyd Witlow might have taken an early holiday break from the mill where he’d always been so hands-on. “He never wanted to leave the area, even if Mother went stir-crazy and I hated it—used to, I mean,” Rina said, sounding calmer now.

  “It’s great he could change his mind about traveling a bit later in life,” Meg said. “And that he could afford that plane and flying lessons.”

  As he strained to listen, silence screamed at Bryce. He hoped Meg hadn’t somehow screwed up her wire. But then, Rina’s voice again, with an icy tone now. “We have no idea where he got the funds, of course. Some client at the mill, we assumed. We certainly could not have afforded it—the plane—or the concrete runway.”

  Why did Rina’s tone change when Meg asked that question? It was time to go knock on the office door and explain that the NTSB had the right to investigate all plane crashes, especially ones with strange circumstances. And this crash had been fatal not only for the pilot but potentially for the investigators too.

  * * *

  The moment Bryce took over talking to Rina—and her husband and lawyer—Meg returned to the common room. She had mixed feelings about Rina and wished she’d had the courage to see if she had any explanation for her father flying a plane without markings while he carried no ID. But she’d let Bryce handle that.

  She wished she had insisted Bryce wear a wire and she could listen in. But at the explosion of voices from behind the office door, she realized she didn’t need one.

  “NTSB involvement? Why? Absolutely no right! Looking for what at his house? You want this kept under wraps, but we’ll go to the media!”

  Todd’s voice? Meg wasn’t familiar with it. Maybe that was Mason’s. Yes, because Suze looked panicked. Rafe, who was sitting at the front desk with her, stood and headed for the hall.

  Then Bryce’s steady voice, but she couldn’t hear his words. Official incident commander tones. Calm. Controlled. In charge of the situation, and even at a distance, increasingly in charge of her heart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Meg headed for Suze at the main desk to bring her up to date on what had happened at the mill when Melissa jumped up from her seat and blocked her way.

  “Meg, I’ve talked to Suzanne about this, but I really need to speak to you too about buying your antique jewelry. I’d like to make you an offer.”

  Meg stepped back rather than yanking away. She crossed her a
rms over her chest and felt the wire in her bra move again, but no one, not Bryce or even Suze, was listening right now. Only, maybe Bill Getz, standing by the front door, looking out—or pretending to.

  “This is something you absolutely should not turn down,” Melissa went on, “especially not with your son growing up so fast. Despite how lovely this isolated lodge is, surely it’s hard to make ends meet, and more so to save your profit. I’m sure you’ll want money to invest for your son, college, maybe some travel.”

  Meg was tempted to just walk away, but if Melissa could be at all involved in the stolen Confederate treasure, especially its antique jewelry, it would be best to hear her out.

  “Let’s sit over here,” Melissa coaxed and gestured toward the corner rather than taking her arm again. “I’m sure you and Suze have your own opinions on things, and, like I said, you have a son to think about.”

  Meg hated it that this woman kept mentioning Chip. Was that a bargaining tool, even a veiled threat?

  They sat in chairs facing each other in the corner of the common room near the window. With the shortened daylight, it was dark outside. Meg’s stomach rumbled as if in foreboding, but it was because she hadn’t eaten in a long time.

  “Look,” Melissa said, leaning forward, “I’m going to level with you. It’s the dead of winter, and my business won’t pick up until the cruise ships come back to Anchorage. But I need to build up stock, and you’d be surprised how well antique jewelry, even Victorian-era mourning jewelry, is doing right now.”

  “I’d be surprised by a lot of things,” Meg said, staring the woman down.

  “Yes, well—a lot has happened lately. But my point is, to increase my store’s publicity and my stock of precious items, I’m willing to pay you three times what I offered before for your grandmother’s jewelry. If Suzanne says no, I’ll take your half. After all, she doesn’t have a son to worry about.”

  It was true that stashing money away for Chip from her candy sales was slow going considering the cost of college today, even with the University of Alaska and its branches not far away. But Meg was also agonizing over Melissa’s desperate need for sales items. Weren’t those beautiful Native Alaskan pieces going well? Were her ties to the mayor only that he bought his wife expensive jewelry at her store? Maybe some of that airplane cargo was meant for Melissa. But would she risk selling traceable antiques—or, since they hadn’t “existed” for years—were they traceable? The entire Confederate stash must have been a well-kept secret for over a century. In a way, it was still a secret now—so far.

  Although Meg had no intention of selling her share of her grandmother’s jewelry, she needed to keep tabs on Melissa to help Bryce’s case—and hers.

  “You make a good point,” she told Melissa. “I’ll think it over and let you know.”

  * * *

  Meg and Suze fixed a huge plate of sandwiches and put out chips and a vegetable tray with dip in lieu of a larger supper. Chip had fallen asleep on his bed with the little Scottie curled up beside him and the other two dogs in their baskets on the floor. He didn’t budge as Meg took off his shoes and carefully covered him up.

  She saw the metal frame of the unassembled soccer net Bryce had bought him. It leaned against his bedroom wall near the two brightly colored soccer balls on his desk where the dogs couldn’t play with them. Chip had said it had come in a big truck with a curved arrow on its side all the way from Anchorage. He’d shown it to Bryce before he and the dogs went to bed. Bryce had told him they’d assemble everything and clear the patio of snow for soccer practice as soon as possible.

  Later, after Rafe ate, Meg saw him go back to a chair by the largest table lamp with his sketch pad on his lap again. Suze said he’d been drawing all five of their new guests in a “wanted poster” format as he’d once done courtroom sketches. Meg couldn’t help but wonder if the huge Confederate treasure heist would end up in a courtroom, or if the Big Man would keep all this under wraps. He had more or less spirited away the gold bar, jewelry and the boxes Bryce had salvaged from the wrecked plane.

  Meanwhile, the mayor kept pacing, and Getz was hovering while Meg whispered a short version to Suze about their trip to the mill—as best she was allowed to share.

  Finally Bryce, the Galsworths and Mason Nowles emerged from the office. Meg had heard voices raised inside but had caught none of the conversation after the initial protests. Without any explanation, the mayor immediately escorted Rina, Todd and Melissa out to his truck while a frowning Mason strode past the desk and exited without another word. Meanwhile, Getz went down the hall to his room.

  Bryce walked over to the front door to watch them go. “Let’s lock up for the night,” he called to Suze. “Wish we could lock some people out for good.”

  “Me too,” she said. “I thought I had.”

  Rafe stood and laid his sketch pad aside, having pulled from it several drawings he laid on the big ottoman nearby. “I’ll check the doors, all of them,” he said. “Just stay put, Suze. I know the drill. Since your security person and all-around handyman, Josh, asked for the weekend off, just let me know if there’s anything else.”

  Coming out from behind the front desk, Suze asked him, “Are you drawing what I think?”

  “All the possible perps—and one of you,” he said, turning back to hold that one up for her to see.

  The three of them crowded close to look at it. Meg was totally impressed: he had captured her twin, even her personality.

  “Oh, it’s very flattering,” Suze said, her hands fluttering to her chest.

  “Nope. Realistic,” Rafe insisted. “From the pen and from the heart.”

  Wide-eyed, Suze stared at the drawing as he went off to check the doors. Meg and Bryce kept quiet as she finally propped it against the lamp on a table. She sighed and started away, calling back over her shoulder, “I’ve got to check the office to make sure our visitors didn’t leave it like a battleground in there.”

  Bryce bent down to look at the hastily made line drawings on the ottoman. “Our possible rogue’s gallery,” he told Meg. “You and I have to confer about today—and plan for tomorrow.”

  “I do have a plan, if it suits you, other than conferring, I mean.”

  “Tell me,” he whispered.

  She turned to Bryce and said nothing for a moment. At least for now, Bill Getz had gone to his room. Perhaps he was upset that they might be on to him, or that the mayor had ignored him, but she’d discuss that with Bryce later, because she had something more important in mind.

  “I don’t think Suze or I have mentioned to you something about the bungalow our cousin, Alex, and her new husband, Quinn, own—you know, the tracker.”

  “Wish he wasn’t on their honeymoon. We could use his talents to nail whoever’s spied on the lodge—and that plane crash. Sorry to interrupt, but I guess I’ve done that since I first met you, and you ain’t seen nothing yet. Tell me your idea,” he said, cupping his hands under her elbows and pulling her a step closer.

  She looked up into his face and almost forgot what she meant to say. The man absolutely vibrated with intensity.

  “Okay, so the house they’ll move into when they get back is on the edge of town, on the other side of a ravine which more or less divides the lower value area from the houses farther up the hill—the few expensive ones, including the mayor’s. His home has huge floor-to-ceiling windows and, with binoculars from the rear windows of Alex’s new home, you can see in—as well as who is driving up their twisting driveway. Suze and I have been helping Alex and Quinn fix up their place, so we have a key, and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if...”

  “If you and I camped out there to watch the big birthday bash? See who’s there, though we know some of the guest list already?”

  “Right.”

  “I swear, once again, I’m putting you on salary if the Big Man doesn’t. I pay well, but it may not be in mo
ney.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes. She whispered, “I hate to stoop to spying the way someone has done to us from outside—not to mention Bill Getz inside—but at least it’s a next step. I think the mayor’s involved, Melissa too. Maybe with attorney Mason Nowles’s help they plan to ‘handle’ Lloyd Witlow’s family. Buy Rina off, help to sell the Witlow property here fast—to get them out of here, something like that so Rina doesn’t pursue what was in the plane or even why it crashed.”

  “So they don’t figure out the mayor was using Witlow to run stolen goods? The mayor could be the one who bought that airplane and lessons. Maybe he had Lloyd pick up the Confederate contraband from someone else, maybe out of state, and fly it in here to be hidden, some of it sold through someone like Melissa. Falls Lake’s illustrious Mayor Purvis talks to everyone. He has to have connections. For all we know, he also hired Getz to keep an eye on us. That’s the other place I want a good look at—Getz’s hoarding hideaway. What better place to stash historic government treasure than among other people’s trash?”

  He loosed his hold on her elbows but took both of her hands in his and went on, “I have never said this to another woman, but—in more ways than one—I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I’m starting to feel the same. But in case Getz comes out again and starts spying, let’s go into my workroom.”

  “I do need to finally take that wire off of you.”

  “I can do that,” she said, realizing she’d set up a private tryst with this man who rattled her poise and seduced her senses. “Just think, we’re going to take up spying.”

  “As they used to say in the old days, I want to take up in general with you, Megan Metzler. I’ll grab a couple of those sandwiches, and then let’s continue this huddle in your workroom.”