A Hard Case

by Ron Hess

  “Anybody know where Jimmy is? I need to thank him.”

  “Probably . . .” Jean began.

  “. . . at the dig,” Jeanette said.

  I nodded in response. It made sense. With fall coming on it wouldn’t be long before the ground began to freeze, and then the digging would have to stop. I wondered again how long the village could keep their secret. Trooper Wattle had already noticed activity along the river. It wouldn’t take long for him to put two and two together. Then various agencies would be showing up with paperwork signed by the right people saying the village would have to halt their digging. I suspected that, come the following spring and summer, some high priest of an obscure government office would show up with horror in his eyes about the unauthorized digging. Personally, I was sympathetic toward the villagers. It was their ancestors, after all.

  I had just got back to the desk to check on Jeanette’s paperwork when the phone rang. Old calm cool me, jumped a mile. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jean raise an eyebrow. Was the boss as healthy as he thought? Had to be what she was thinking.

  I let it ring a couple of times for good measure, more to get my nerves settled down than anything. I lifted the receiver.

  “Bronski!”

  This time, for some reason, I actually winced.

  “Yes, sir, it’s me.”

  “Good to see you back on the job, Bronski. I trust everything went well over in Bethel?”

  “Yes, sir. I was treated reasonably well. Nothing to write home about, but over all it was okay.”

  “Well, Bronski, I just want to say you have a couple of good employees there. I called and talked to the one you appointed supervisor, what was her name?”

  “Jeanette, sir.” I looked at her and gave the thumb and forefinger, A-Okay sign. She grinned from ear to ear. Compliments make the world go around.

  “There is one thing, Bronski.”

  I had a feeling what was coming and I wasn’t wrong. The twins stopped what they were doing and cocked their ears my way when they saw my facial expression change.

  “It’s this Justus thing, Bronski. You need to get this thing resolved or solved. Something we can write home, and feel good about. His relatives are keeping the pressure up. I’ve been telling them we have our best man on the job and that life is slower in the villages, but they’re getting tired of hearing that. They want to know for sure what happened. Can you blame them, Bronski?”

  “Sir, I don’t know what to say. Everybody I’ve talked to says he committed suicide. I’m beginning to believe them; that he really did that very thing. I don’t know why, but I believe that’s what happened.”

  “Well, his relatives still think he was murdered.”

  I rolled my eyes. How many times had I heard the boss say that? It was getting to be an old singsong. I let my free hand slap the desk’s surface. I remained silent, afraid of what I’d say. I couldn’t yell at the boss, not today. The man had just gotten me out of jail.

  “What was that, Bronski?”

  “Nothing, sir, somebody dropped something. I’m sorry, sir, that I don’t have a more definite answer for you on the Justus case.”

  “That’s okay, Bronski, I know you’re doing your best. Keep at it. Something will break.”

  He rang off, which was a good, because I was at the end of my patience about the whole affair. I carefully put the receiver back in its cradle. No need to let the twins see any more of my anger. I got up, grabbed my jacket and headed for the side door. As I did so, I noted the look of concern on the women’s faces. Maybe after the conversation they had overheard, they would understand where I was coming from with the Justus affair.

  “I’ll be back after awhile,” I said.

  After closing the door I stood on the steps for a minute savoring the nip in the air. Although it was nine o’clock, the sun was just peeking above the river’s hills. In another week or so it would be almost ten before the sun showed itself. The sun’s changes in the arctic never failed to amaze me. The summers don’t last long and the spring and fall seasons can be mere transitory illusions. I shivered. Soon I would be wearing a sweater under the jacket.

  I walked slowly to Main Street and looked up and down. Quiet as could be. Should I turn left toward the river or right to climb the hill to the old shack? My feet moved toward the river and so I moved with them. That was one good thing about this place. No cars to speak of, therefore no worries about getting run over.

  My feet propelled me to the end of the dock, and sure enough, down at the end sat a lone solitary figure. I didn’t have to look twice to know who it was. It was the old man in his usual fishing spot. Dare I go there? Something told me I might get a chilly reception after beating up his son. Hell with it. I would go anyway, and I let my feet move in a determined manner clattering the boards to let him know I was coming.

  “Good morning,” I said quietly, “how’s the fishing?”

  He turned his head as I squatted down beside him. He was quiet and I thought perhaps he wasn’t going to talk to the man who beat up his son. I guess I couldn’t blame him if he felt a little animosity toward me. That feeling disappeared when he stuck his pole between his legs and grabbed another one. Wordlessly, he put some salmon eggs on the hook and handed the pole to me. I took this as a good sign and sat down beside him. He shook his head. “No fish yet, maybe you bring some good luck.”

  “I hope so,” I answered. I then went on to tell him that I was sorry about his son. He nodded and said he guessed his son had it coming. We sat a while, getting comfortable in each other’s presence again after the fight. I still remembered the look he gave me while Charlie held me. I had seen that look somewhere before, but where? Finally, I broke the silence.

  “I saw Mary again when I was tied to the tree. She showed me her breasts and she told me Charlie was mad at John Justus. Then she was off again, skipping up the path. I’ll never forget seeing her as long as I live.”

  He nodded. “I keep hearing about her. She needs to pass on. When I see her, I will help her. She needs to go.”

  I watched my pole in studied silence. So matter of fact. He sounded like it was no big thing to tell a ghost to move on to wherever it was supposed to go. I had to ask.

  “You can do this?”

  He turned to look me full in the eye. My mind whirled for a few seconds, and then he looked away. I believed him. I decided to change the subject.

  “Helen came to see me in the Bethel jail.”

  “She is not real.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Why isn’t she real?”

  “She has nothing to offer, not even of herself. She is lost in her own world. She had much to offer until the drugs came. She was going to be a doctor, but now she’s lost.”

  As I was digesting this, I heard a rattle of boards behind me. I jerked my head around Ivan was still on my mind. He would attempt retribution, I just didn’t know when. The old man must have noticed my sigh of relief for it was not Ivan, but young Jimmy who was rattling the boards.

  “Jimmy!”

  “Mr. Postmaster!”

  I laid my pole down and stood up. I really think if the old man John hadn’t been there I might have gotten a hug from the lad. What I gave was a vigorous handshake. It was obvious he was glad to see me.

  “Am I ever glad to see you, Jimmy! I became really worried when I came back to my room and you were gone. Where did you hide?”

  He put his free hand to his mouth and giggled. “I hid in the mail truck! Ivan never think to look for me there!”

  I released his hand. “I want to thank you for saving my life.”

  Jimmy peered around me to look at the back of the old man. “Ivan was wrong to tie you to tree so I tell Helen!”

  “Well, I’m glad you did. If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know and I’ll try to help you,” I said. I meant it, even though there was a slight twinge to my conscience for using the word “try.”

  Jimmy’s smile broadened as he pulled a small m
ask from his jacket. It was smaller than the other mask that had started all our problems, but it was well preserved.

  “I have another mask,” he said.

  “Yes, I see,” I said. “What happened to the other mask that Ivan was chasing you for?”

  Jimmy peered around again at the old man and then motioned me closer. “I sold it to Ivan at the potlatch,” he whispered.

  I had a sinking feeling. “For how much?” I asked.

  “For thirty dollars.”

  I almost gagged. “Thirty dollars?”

  Jimmy nodded solemnly, his mouth down turned.

  “Jimmy, that mask was worth much more.”

  “I know, but now Ivan is not after me.”

  I nodded back. You have to live with the devil sometimes, and young Jimmy had learned that a long time ago. Better to have something than nothing. Ivan ought to feel really good for bullying a young kid around.

  I stole a look back at the old man. His back was straighter. Most likely, he was taking in every word. I felt sorry for him. His world was turned upside down. His children were certainly above average, yet they were nothing but a bully and dope dealers. No wonder he fished a lot. It was one of the few things he still understood. But the shame he must have felt. I turned back to Jimmy.

  “Tell you what let’s do, Jimmy. Why don’t you drop around to the post office later? Right now I don’t have any money to pay you with, okay?”

  That got a smile and an, “Okay, Mr. Postmaster.”

  I watched as he ran back up the dock, and I wondered what he did with the money. Did he spend it on clothes, radios, what?

  I sat back down beside the old man, deciding to let him speak first.

  His voice trembled, whether with sadness or anger I couldn’t say.

  “Our lives, our culture is being sold. We are disappearing. Do you know what Jimmy spends his money for?”

  I shook my head, but I had an idea.

  “He spends it for his mother’s alcohol habit.”

  This hit me hard even though I had guessed where the money went. I caught myself staring hard across the river. After a minute, I was able to speak. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  We sat there in silence for a while. He was right, of course. At the very least his people were changing and changing fast. They were caught in the world’s whirlpool of change and there were few eddies left for them to escape to. A thought occurred to me and I decided to try it.

  “After I buy the mask from Jimmy, would you keep it for me,” I asked. “Perhaps you could give it back to your people someday.”

  Again, those blue eyes focused on mine, but instead of power emanating from them, I saw gratitude.

  We sat again in comfortable silence. After a half-hour had gone by and no bites, I handed the pole back to the old man. “I’m afraid I’m not bringing good luck today, and I have to get back to the post office. Thanks for the fishing time.”

  He nodded, not saying a word. Somehow I got the feeling he wasn’t really in the here and now, and that maybe he was lost in thought about what to do about his errant children. This in turn made me feel for the pistol in my jacket pocket. Although Ivan would be a fool to accost me on the street in broad daylight, I would be the fool for not being ready. The dock’s boards creaked as I slowly walked back to the post office, letting my eyes slide from side to side, checking the shadows, just as I had in Vietnam.

  The twins were hard at work when I slipped in the side door. I blessed myself again for having employees that could run themselves. The only bad thing about this was that I had more free time to think about Ivan and what he was going to try. A good stiff drink would have lessened my stress, but then I wouldn’t be thinking rationally. And I valued that above all else, stress or not. Jeanette looked up from her case.

  “Your Bethel attorney called and said she had asked for a week’s delay on the trial to gather more evidence. I said I would pass the word along to you.”

  “Right, thanks, Jeanette. How’s things going here?”

  “Fine, boss,” she said, a small smile on her face.

  I could imagine what she was thinking, that your boss might be your friend, but he’s still the boss. The rest of the morning went quickly, my time divided between the front window and paper shuffling. Noontime came. I had Jeanette warm up a large can of chili in my quarters, and we all sat down to a simple meal. No need to have someone standing alone at the front window. To be quite honest, I didn’t trust myself being alone with Jeanette. I noticed she had taken to wearing a little makeup. In her post office uniform, she looked darned professional and attractive. I was busting to ask them about the old postmaster, but then Jean would probably relay that to Charlie. I told them again about being tied to the tree and Mary’s appearance. Jeanette’s eyes brimmed and I felt like a low-down skunk.

  “Sorry, Jeanette,” I said, and despite myself I covered her hand in mine. I truly did not want to hurt her feelings. What I hoped for was some new insight from them, some new angle. When I said the words, “Charlie plenty mad at him!” I thought I saw something in Jean’s eyes. Would she have related something if Jeanette hadn’t been there? Hard to imagine these two having secrets from each other, but they might if it would cause the other pain. Jeanette had had enough, Lord knows.

  We spent the rest of lunch break talking about the new computers we were getting. They were relieved to know I had already been through a changeover in Anchorage, so when it came to our post office the changeover should be a relative snap. Then it was back to work, with the rest of the day sailing along like any other normal day.

  Chapter 24

  I put my feet up on the desk in the mailroom, and stared into nothing. The days were going by faster now. Ice was forming on the water puddles in the mornings only to melt in the early afternoon hours. Geese by the thousands were flying over head and needless to say, “it didn’t take anybody with any brains ” to know what that meant. I probably would have felt comfortable wearing a heavy coat, but since none of the villagers did, I let pride carry the day and wore one of those leather pilot jackets with a sweater underneath. My favorite old red baseball cap completed the picture. Jeanette said that with my wire-rim glasses on I looked like a semi-intellectual redneck—like a movie director or someone she’d seen in a movie magazine.

  “Kid,” I told her, “you are bound for glory in the postal service.”

  Whereupon, Jean had rolled her eyes. I sensed she thought this courtship dance between her sister and the temporary postmaster was getting downright sickening. It was the nights that were longest. I permitted myself one swig of Jack Daniels in the evenings. Sometimes my hand actually trembled as it reached for the bottle. But I stuck to my promise. Truth be known, it was easier to keep in the village than Anchorage where all my “churches” were. I even took up doing calisthenics to help pass the time. In short, I was becoming an all-American Mr. Health-Nut of sorts, what with the vitamins and all. I was beginning to like what I saw in the mirror and I asked myself again if I had been reborn while tied to the tree in the wilderness. After thinking about it, I figured it best to let the answer ride by itself for a while.

  People were coming back from their fishing and hunting camps. Activity on the street increased. School was starting, and four white teachers showed up. Since I was white, they tended to gravitate toward me. I was courteous, polite and helped them out where I could, but I decided to keep a distance. I wanted the villagers to believe I was not just another white man. I was their friend and I wanted to be a part of them. I was beginning to feel at home, which was scary in a way, but there it was.

  In the meantime, I still had Ivan to be concerned about, and then there was the postmaster’s death. My current thoughts now told me he most likely did commit suicide—I just didn’t know why. What was his monstrous secret? Dozens of times I came close to asking Jeanette and Jean again about it, but I had gotten so close to them by then that I found it impossible. I valued their friendships, especially Jeanette’s. She
was one savvy little woman. I wasn’t sure what she saw in a hopefully reformed alcoholic, but whatever the reason, I was glad. Until my problems with Ivan and the postmaster’s death were resolved, I decided to keep our relationship just very friendly. A hug now and then would have to do along with Jean’s smirks.

  “Hey, Leo.” It was Jean, bringing me out of my ruminations. I jerked awake, my eyes blinking in the harsh mailroom glare. Have to watch the catnaps in front of my employees. Seeing I was back in the real world, she went on.

  “Are you going to the game tonight with Jeanette and me?”

  I stole a look at Jeanette who was very busy flipping mail into various boxes. Going with them might send a signal to the village that I was getting very friendly with Jeanette. Everybody knew, of course, that it couldn’t be Jean, because she and Charlie was an item. I took a deep breath, looked directly at Jeanette and smiled.

  “Sure, you bet, what time?”

  “Seven o’clock.” Jean answered. “Jeanette will come after you.”

  Whereupon, Jeanette’s face turned red and she glared at her sister. Meaning: “Wait till I get you alone.”

  Whereupon, Jean put on a holier-than-thou look that said, “What’s the problem? I’m doing you a favor.”

  Whereupon, I swung my feet down to the floor, sat up with the straightest of faces, and said, “Okay, Jeanette, I’ll be waiting for you. It ought to be a good game.”

  She gave me a quick side-long look, mumbled something ending with, “Sure, boss,” like P. O. employees went to village basketball games with their boss as a matter of course. Jean rolled her eyes again, not caring whether I saw or not. Meantime, I kept my face straight and hearkened back to an old song from the play, “Fiddler on the Roof.” “Matchmaker, Matchmaker . . .” Yup, that was what Jean was doing all right. She was going to get this romance off the dime one way or the other. And, I realized she was right. People cannot dance forever. When the music stops playing, they either walk back to a table together or else they go back to separate tables. Friends perhaps, but maybe wishing things were different.