“Dan’s here though,” she said with a suggestive smirk.
“That’s okay, I’ll catch Clem later.” I started to leave, but Dan came running out, hand on his gun.
“Stop using that panic button, Tammy, or I’ll rip it out myself. What brings you here, Cara?”
I handed him Olivia’s note. “I was going to talk to Clem, but Tammy says he isn’t here today.”
“Yeah, he went out with his son this morning. Sorry to see this,” he said, giving the note back. “Marcie’s gonna kill me.”
“It’s not your fault, Dan. Is there any chance you could clear Mrs. Nash?”
“I don’t see how when there isn’t any evidence a crime was ever committed. How do you prove somebody didn’t do something that never happened? Gossips are always gonna find something to talk about, but I spent yesterday talking to everybody I could find who knew both couples. Mrs. Tiliamu died of cancer, just like it says on her death certificate. People remember that funeral like it was yesterday. They all agree both Doc and Mrs. Nash were torn up about it and that doesn’t seem like the reaction of a couple of clandestine lovers and murderers. Not that it matters, everybody agrees Mr. Nash didn’t seem broken up about it, but that could just be because nobody seemed to like him.”
“They have the same impression of him Dad had?”
“Yep.”
Tammy had been following our conversation. “Maybe Doc gave her something. To let her go peaceful like, ya know?”
“Legally, that would still be murder, but if anybody suspected it at the time, nobody’s saying anything.”
“That poor woman suffered something awful,” Tammy said, nodding her head vigorously. “Nobody would’ve blamed the poor man.”
“Is Alex sticking to his story now that he’s had time to sober up?”
“He is, but he’s not making any more sense than he did when he was drunk. He just keeps repeating his accusations and insisting Olivia has no right to his family’s home.”
“Not that he ever cared about that house.” I snorted and Tammy giggled. “He and his sisters let that house fall apart. Why are they going all sentimental about it now?”
“Money does that to people,” Dan said.
“When is he leaving? He isn’t under arrest, is he?”
“Clem made him pay a fine and advised him to think twice before visiting Coho Bay again.”
“Doc’ll be turnin’ over in his grave over it.” Tammy made a clucking sound. For all her melodrama, she was right. I began to think my mother was right about why Doc would have disinherited his children.
“I need to borrow your boat, Cara.”
I pulled myself out of my musings and stared at him. “Why?”
“Clem wants me to follow Alex to Juneau and make sure he gets on a plane, then suggest the boat rental company find an excuse not to rent to him again.”
“He rented a boat? I thought he came on the ferry.”
“His sister went back on the ferry day before yesterday. He says she washed her hands of him.”
“Well, is it legal to ask somebody not to rent to him?”
“No. Can I borrow your boat?”
“The city really ought to buy a bigger boat for you. That little rig of theirs isn’t much use once you get out of the mouth of the bay.”
“Think how much money you’ll be saving the taxpayers when you loan me your boat.”
“I’ll take you to Juneau.”
“Cara, that’s not necessary.”
“Ooh, la,” said Tammy. Dan glared at her and she went back to pretending not to listen.
“Let me call the university and see if those instructors I need to meet with will be available. If they say no, I’ll give you the keys. Deal?”
“Fine. Call them. Alex is chomping at the bit and I’m running out of excuses to keep him here.”
I hurried out, talking on my cell phone. Happily, the two professors were agreeable so when I got home, I took the steps up to my apartment two at a time. I hurried to throw clothes into a duffel bag. We weren’t planning an overnight trip, but this time of year, it’s best to be prepared. I stopped by Mel’s to let her know where I was going, avoided the look Mom threw at me, kissed Dad, hugged Bent, grabbed the boat keys and was gone.
Fifteen minutes after I left City Hall, I met Dan on the dock. Alex was standing beside him, slouched over and looking like he’d had a rough night. He grumbled something when Dan told him to shove off, but he obediently climbed into his boat, one about half the size of The Sea Pallet so I knew I’d have to throttle down on this trip or he’d never keep up. Dan untied his line and tossed it onto the deck, then did the same for me as I fired up the engine, dutifully trailing the smaller boat.
“If you want to date Frank instead of me, I won’t stop you.” Dan hadn’t said much during the first hour of our trip so his opening the second hour with this kind of threw me. “I won’t be happy about it,” he continued, “but I won’t make it hard for you.”
“Where’d that come from?”
“I never much liked the rule that says you can’t say what you really think when you’re seeing someone.”
“In that case, I’m wishing we could talk about something else.”
He laughed. “At least you’re honest.”
“I am seeing Frank. I guess. Just like I’m seeing you. If that’s what you call it. I’m not ready to be exclusive, but I don’t want that to sound like I’m a player because I’m not like that. Do you see why I don’t like talking about this kinda stuff?”
Dan chuckled softly. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I’d like to keep seeing you and I don’t expect you to stop seeing other men just because you’re seeing me. I just wanted you to know I wasn’t going to make it uncomfortable for you.”
“So, you want me to see Frank?”
Dan came to stand behind me at the captain’s chair. I kept my gaze locked on the boat in front of me as he put his hands on my shoulders. “It’s too early for us to be exclusive. I get that.” He started massaging and I had to rivet my eyes on the water to keep my focus. “I don’t want to push you into thinking you have to choose between us.”
“You always think it would be great to have men fighting over you. Not so much.”
“He does seem the jealous type.” He dropped his hands and took his seat again, never taking his eyes off me. “You shouldn’t have to be somebody you’re not or do something you’re not ready for in order to be in a relationship.”
“I don’t know about that. Every guy I’ve ever been with always wanted me to be something.”
“Like what?”
“Funnier, sillier. Certainly sexier.” The moment the words were out, I wished I could pull them back.
“I think you’re funny and silly. Also smart, honest and brave.”
“Not sexy, huh?” What in the heck was I saying?
His answer was serious, thoughtful, not flirtatious or suggestive as Frank’s would have been. “I’ve never gone for the kind of woman who dresses provocatively or paints her face and flounces around, showing off what God or a good plastic surgeon gave her. I mean, look at me. I’m no GQ model. Trust me, there are no six pack abs under here.” He patted his belly. “Sexy starts with how you feel about someone not what they do to your blood pressure.”
“Maybe you can say that because you’ve been married before. For me, sexy is... awkward.”
“And it shouldn’t be. Look, I’ve had sex with five women in my life. I’m not proud about it, but I have. Sex by itself is nothing. Body part A meets body part B. I’ve also made love to a woman I was deeply in love with and it’s a very different thing. That’s where you put your heart on the line, where you’re sharing your soul with someone, not just your body.”
“That was your wife?”
“Yes.”
“But it didn’t work out.”
“No.”
“Did she break your heart?”
“I wouldn’t say that. You get to a p
oint where you grow together, or you break apart.”
“So maybe the whole soul to soul thing is over-rated.”
“You think?”
“If you still end up alone, maybe I’m better off not being sexy.”
“Cara, somebody’s gonna touch your heart and you’re gonna fall in love. It may be me or Frank or somebody you haven’t even met yet, but when it happens, you won’t have to wonder whether it’s worth it. Everything’s worth it for love.”
“You’re pretty romantic for a cop.”
“Cops can’t be romantic?”
“I read every book you dropped off for me. Nothing but hard-boiled, world-weary cops and private eyes. Nobody acts against their nature, Dan.”
“You still talking about me?”
“I was but I was also thinking about Doc. He didn’t kill his wife.”
“Even though she was dying? It would have been a kindness.”
“When people died around here, Doc would sit by their bedsides for hours, hold their hands, tell them stories, do what he could to make them comfortable but he never killed any of them.”
“Physician assisted suicide may not be legal, Cara, but it’s nothing new.”
“I don’t care! Doc wouldn’t have done it. You said you talked to people who knew them. I was there. I never heard a whisper of it.”
“You were too young for people to have whispered that kind of stuff to you.”
“You’d be surprised what people will say in front of a kid because they think you won’t understand.”
“Like what?”
I thought about that for a while. Long-ago conversations drifted through my mind until one stuck. “Like Mrs. T telling Mrs. Nash that her own suffering would be over long before hers would be.”
“What does that mean?”
I turned the boat over to Dan so I could focus on the memory until it was clear. “I was down by the water at low tide, exploring the tide pools. The two of them were sitting on a bench above me. You know the one Doc has next to the water?” Dan nodded. “Mrs. Nash was telling Mrs. T how sorry she was to see her suffering. It must have been the summer she died. Mrs. T told her there was more than one kind of suffering and at least hers would be over soon enough, while Mrs. Nash would go on suffering for the rest of her life.”
“What did she mean by that?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think much of it at the time, of course, and I hadn’t thought about that conversation for years.”
“You realize it makes it more likely that Doc killed his wife?”
“How so?”
“She knew her suffering would be over soon. Maybe they’d talked about him ending it for her when it got to be too much.”
“She might also have known she was dying, Dan. That would be much more likely.”
“It also makes it more likely Mrs. Nash went home and killed her husband, if that’s why Mrs. T thought she’d suffer the rest of her life.”
“He kills for love but with her it’s just plain murder? I think you’re wrong about both of them, Dan.”
WE MADE IT TO JUNEAU without delving more deeply into the nature of relationships, ours or anyone else’s. I slid the boat into my usual slip at the marina and he jumped off, tying off the lines before helping me out of the boat. “We have to hurry,” he explained as he set a blistering pace to reach the other end of the marina, where Alex would be turning in his rental.
There were times when I hated Dan. Here I was, panting like a racehorse about to be sent to a glue factory, while he––thirteen years older––was loping along not even breaking a sweat. We reached the sidewalk that connected the two areas and came to a stop since Alex was walking up the dock toward us. I leaned over, hands resting on my knees, gasping for breath as I tried to ignore the pain in my side.
“You okay?” asked Dan.
“Sure,” I wheezed, my words coming out in short bursts. “Still...feeling...effects of...pneumonia.”
Alex stared down at me. “What the hell’s wrong with her? Scrawny dame like her oughta be able to run better’n that.” He snorted at his attempt at humor.
“Leave it, Tilamu,” warned Dan and Alex subsided.
There were many things I would like to have said, but every one of them would have required air, so said nothing. Dan and I had decided we’d share a taxi as far as the airport. I’d drop the two of them off at the terminal, then travel on to the University of Alaska campus. We’d meet back at the boat early in the afternoon so we could get home before dark.
My pulse had almost returned to normal by the time I reached the student center, where I’d arranged to meet the professors for coffee. I’d never been to UAS, having gone to the main campus in Anchorage, and I got lost a couple of times before I found the right building. In my defense, I was distracted by the sheer beauty of the campus. Seemingly carved out of the Tongass National Forest, it is situated along Auke Lake, with a backdrop of mountains and glaciers. I would have had a hard time studying if my dorm room had offered a view like that.
I didn’t spare another thought for the view once the meeting started. I took notes as fast as my fingers could fly over the keyboard. I had initially envisioned one year-long fellowship, enabling an artist to live on Johnny’s island, submersed in a master project or series of projects away from the distractions of day to day living. As we talked, the idea of having a summer arts intensive began to form. For one month during the summer, Coho Bay could host a number of artists who would live and work together, perhaps guided by experienced teachers or mentored by some of the artists whose work I’d been exhibiting. It was wildly exciting and insanely intimidating, all at the same time.
I hadn’t watched the clock, noticing how late it had become only when my laptop battery died. I thanked the professors, promised to keep in touch, and ran across campus to catch a cab. Dan was waiting for me on the boat. “I’m sorry I’m late.” The words spilled out as I scrambled to cast off and get underway.
Dan was quiet, but I was so excited to share every detail with him I didn’t give him much chance to get a word in until we had traveled more than half the way home. When I finally took a breath, more because I was losing my voice than running out of things to say, I noticed he didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm.
“No, it’s not that,” he explained, when I asked him about it. “The intensive thing sounds great. Hard work, with all you’ve already got going.”
“I know. I don’t know how I’m gonna pull it off.”
“If it were me, I’d start small. One person this year. Get that up and running, then do the other thing––”
“The Intensive.”
“Do that next year.”
I frowned, deflated. “I suppose that would be more reasonable.”
“That it does,” Dan said, staring out at the water.
“I’m pretty dense about this sort of stuff,” I said, “but there seems to be something bothering you.”
Dan took a deep breath and huffed it out, but he didn’t answer and my thoughts drifted back to the Intensive. How could I possibly devote a month during the height of the cruise ship season to something like that? Could we have it after the season? Would an October Intensive work? If artists were like the rest of us, working like crazy during the summer, trying to earn enough money to see them through the rest of the year, October might work better.
I almost missed it when Dan spoke. “I think Mrs. Nash might have been murdered.”
“What? Why? Did the lab report come back?”
Dan shook his head. “I stopped by the boat rental when I got back to the marina.”
“To illegally strong-arm them into not renting to Alex again.”
“To let them know it might be better for everybody if they found a good excuse not to have a boat available if he comes back.”
“Uh huh. Did they go for it?”
“On the record? No.”
“And off the record?”
“Turns out this wasn’t the
first time he’d rented a boat from them.”
“When did––Oh, Dan. You don’t mean that Alex...” I stopped. Alex might be an alcoholic and a creep, but was he a murderer?
“Rented a boat the last week of the season. That’s exactly what I mean.”
“That’s crazy. Alex hasn’t set foot in Coho Bay since he left town thirty years ago and he didn’t even know Mrs. Nash. Why would he come all the way up here and shoot her with her own gun?”
“Whoa, deputy. Slow down. I never said he shot her.”
“Tell me that’s not what went through your mind when you found out he’d been here.”
“I don’t know for certain he took the boat to Coho Bay.”
“Yeah, right. I’m sure after all these years he just had a hankering for some Alaskan salmon and decided to go fishing. C’mon, Dan!”
Dan laughed. “I can’t afford to make assumptions. I have to follow where the facts take me.”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
“No, you’re putting one and one together and getting six.”
“So what do you get?”
“If Tilamu did come to Coho Bay, maybe somebody saw him.”
“So you can prove he was there.”
“That’s right. Had anything changed about the property? Taxes going up? Mrs. Nash threatening not to rent next year?”
“The furnace broke down, but he didn’t come up when the roof leaked or the water heater went out or when I called about any of the hundred other things that were falling apart. I can’t imagine the furnace would bring him running.”
“That’s another good point.”
“Are you going to ask Alex?”
“Never ask a suspect a question unless you already know the answer.”
“They teach you that in the Police Academy?”
He shook his head. “To Kill a Mockingbird. If it was good enough for Gregory Peck, it’s good enough for me.”
“That was the movie. Didn’t you read the book?”
“There was a book?”
I looked sideways at him. “Okay, Einstein. Who would know why he came up?”
The Deadly Art of Love and Murder Page 12