Alaskan Hideaway

by Beth Carpenter

  She hung up the phone and hurried toward the door, but before she got there, it opened. A young man took one step inside. “Hello? Is this the Forget-me-not Bed and Breakfast Inn?”

  Since that’s what it said on the door and the sign at the highway, Ursula didn’t see where there was much room for doubt, but she gave him her best hostess smile. “Yes, it is. Are you looking for a room?”

  Hmm. Not her usual winter tourist. He wore a light coat over suit pants and loafers, the kind with thin leather soles that turned into ice skates on snow. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and the circles under his eyes hinted at an overnight flight. His left hand clasped a battered leather satchel.

  “No. I wanted to ask about someone who may have stayed here in the past couple of months.”

  “And you are?”

  “Irwin Grimes, with the National Bugler. If I could just check your registration records—”

  “I don’t give out private information about my guests.”

  He pulled something out of his satchel and continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’m looking for R.D. Macleod. He may have registered under another name. This is his picture.” He thrust a five-by-seven headshot of Mac toward her, with a folded bill under his thumb. It looked like a fifty.

  Ursula’s first instinct was to throw the reporter out on his ear, but it wouldn’t take him long to find Mac in a town the size of Seward. All he had to do was show that photo at the grocery or gas station and somebody would remember. Without reaching for the picture, she pretended to study it. “He does look familiar. Why, who is he? A criminal?”

  “No, nothing like that. I’m just following up on a story.” He flashed her a conspiratorial smile. “It’s confidential. I’m sure you understand.”

  Ursula nodded as though he’d actually told her something. “I think I do remember him. He didn’t stay here, though. Didn’t like the rooms. Kind of snooty, if you ask me. I sent him over to the Caribou B&B just up the road. Don’t know if he stayed there or not.”

  “Thanks.” He quickly withdrew the photo and the money. Ursula resisted the urge to laugh. “This way?”

  “Yes. Second driveway on the left. You’ll see the sign.”

  He was out the door like a hound that’d caught a scent. Ursula peered out the window to watch him get into a black rental car while she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Marge’s number.

  Marge answered on the first ring. “Good morning. What’s this I hear about you and Rory accompanying our novelist neighbor to the Cabin Fever Festival?”

  Marge was a wonder, but Ursula didn’t have time to play the who-told-you game. “So you’ve figured out who he is.”

  “Of course. Saw him filling that Mercedes at the Gas-n-go, and recognized him from the news. Penny made me promise not to tell, though.” One thing about Marge. Despite her propensity for gossip, if she promised to keep a secret, nobody was prying it out of her.

  “Good, because a reporter’s about to turn into your driveway and he’s looking for Mac.”

  “Mac, hmm? You’re on a first-name basis?”

  Ursula ignored the question. “He moved to Alaska to get away from reporters. I have an idea on how to get rid of this one, but I’ll need your help.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  Quickly, Ursula spelled out what she had in mind. Marge had a couple of suggestions. “You’ve got to work Terry at Tattered Tales into this somehow. You know how he loves a good caper story.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. You know your part?”

  “Sure. Delay as long as possible, and then send him to Penny. He just pulled up in front.”

  “Okay, then. Good luck. And thanks, Marge.”

  “Anytime.”

  Okay. Marge was on the case. Her next call was to Penny. It helped that Penny already knew Mac’s story. Still, she hesitated. “You want me to lie to this reporter?”

  “Well...yes.” Maybe Penny wasn’t the best choice for this assignment. For a tourist information volunteer, Penny was a stickler for the truth. Tourists in Seward knew exactly how many rainy days to expect in August.

  “I suppose it doesn’t have to be a lie,” Penny mused for a moment. “If I call Mac now and tell him what’s going on, I can honestly say I recommended he get in touch with Bill about his remote cabin. I don’t suppose I’m under any obligation to tell the reporter when I recommended it.”

  “There you go.” Ursula breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Besides, it would give Barb a chance to make a little money. She’s considering offering mushing tours. Do you think this reporter would buy it if I recommend he hire her to take him to the cabin, or would he realize a snow machine would be faster?”

  “Play it by ear, but I suspect he’ll buy whatever you’re selling. Do them both a favor, though, and get him outfitted in better clothes first. Barb wouldn’t want her first customer frozen solid.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to Barb if you’ll call Bill.”

  Bill was onboard, always happy for a chance to put one over on an “outsider.” After almost forty years in Alaska, the last six in Seward, Ursula had earned “insider” status with him, but only because Betty and Penny had vouched for her.

  “I’ll call Terry,” Ursula told Bill. “He can dig up a used guidebook and a flyer for one of the lodges on Kodiak. I have a guest coming, so I can’t leave right now, but I’ll ask Barb to pick it up at the store. Then she can hide it on her sled and plant it in your cabin for the reporter to find.”

  “Tell her to circle the phone number on the flyer in case this reporter’s not so bright,” Bill suggested. “On second thought, I’ll get the book from Terry. I’ve got skis on the plane. Once Barb’s got that reporter on her sled, I’ll hop over and leave the book on the kitchen table for them to find.”

  “You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”

  “I need to check it out, anyway, make sure no critters have moved in. My brother-in-law wants to use the cabin next week. I’ll see about leaving a few more clues around the place. What shoe size does this writer fella wear?”

  Somewhere along the way, Ursula lost all control. She just had to trust her friends and neighbors could pull this off. Once she’d checked in her guests, who didn’t arrive at two as promised but closer to three thirty, she called for an update. Penny verified that the reporter was riding in the basket of Barb’s dogsled on a snipe hunt and Bill had taken off in his plane to ready his cabin.

  She looked up the National Bugler. It seemed to be an online gossip column, mostly centering on innuendo and unflattering photos of celebrities. Their archives showed several blaring headlines speculating about the Andi Macleod case. Ursula felt justified in thwarting their reporter.

  The next day, Ursula had just sent her guests out for a trip to Seward when Barb herself called with the good news. “It worked like a charm. Between that book on the table beside the empty pickle jar and the tracks Bill left, the guy was convinced he was hot on the trail. We made it back to town about midmorning, and before I even got the dogs stopped, he was on his phone scheduling an air taxi from Anchorage to Kodiak.”

  “Good. I’ve talked to the innkeeper there.”

  Barb giggled. “Poor guy. He did seem to enjoy mushing, though. Maybe he’ll write about that instead.”

  “And you’ll be famous,” Ursula predicted.

  Several more people checked in with Ursula throughout the morning, congratulating themselves and each other on a job well done. It was early afternoon when Mac appeared on her doorstep, grinning. “Penny tells me it’s safe to come out of hiding.” Beside him, Blossom wagged her tail as though she thought it a fine joke.

  Ursula ushered them in.

  “I can’t believe you pulled this off.” Mac hung his coat on a hook by the door. “So far, I’ve only gotten hints. Tell me the details of this devious and brilliant plan of
yours.”

  She laughed. “It wasn’t that brilliant. When the reporter stopped by asking for you, I sent him to Marge, at the Caribou. She told him you’d talked to Penny at the Tourist Information Office.”

  “Which is why I got the call from Penny telling me about a cabin owned by someone named Bill.”

  “Right. Bill has a remote cabin about fifteen miles in. On Penny’s recommendation, the reporter hired Barb, a local musher, to take him to the cabin. Meanwhile, Bill flew out and planted a guidebook about Kodiak Island, bookmarked by a brochure with the name of a lodge there. Also, an empty pickle jar. According to Terry, the owner of the used book store, you’re well-known for your love of pickles.”

  Mac chuckled. “I happened to mention in some interview I was fond of baby dills. Next thing I know, people from all over the world were sending me jars of their favorite pickles. I was even asked to judge the pickles at the Oklahoma State Fair. Everybody seems to think I spend all day eating pickles.”

  “Well it worked. Barb says he swallowed it hook, line and sinker. The story, not the pickles, although he got excited when he saw the jar. He scheduled a flight out of Anchorage and he’s on his way to Kodiak Island.”

  “And what happens when I’m not there?”

  “The innkeeper is a friend of mine. He’s going to say a guest of your general description was tired of winter and talking about going to Seattle or possibly Hawaii. Which is true, except the guest happened to be an old friend of his from Anchorage.”

  “I can’t believe they went to so much trouble to help me out.”

  “It wasn’t completely altruistic. Barb got paid for mushing him to the cabin. She’d been playing with the idea of doing tours and so this was a trial run for her. She says it went great. Nate at the outfitters sold him bunny boots and arctic gear. And Bill has sprained his arm patting himself on the back about his success in setting up the cabin.”

  “I suppose the only drawback is that now they all know I’m here.”

  “Oh, they already knew. Terry says he spotted you buying groceries weeks ago. Word got around. It’s just that Alaskans figure if you want privacy, they’ll leave you alone.”

  He chuckled. “All but you, I guess.”

  Ursula shrugged. “I couldn’t just leave that eagle stuck in the fence.”

  He stepped closer, his eyes fixed on her face. “No, if you see trouble, you just can’t help wading in.” He reached out to touch her cheek. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Some magnetic-like force swayed her forward and she found herself wrapped in his arms. The scent of sawdust clung to the soft flannel of his shirt. She had a fleeting thought that she’d sworn not to let this happen again just before his mouth met hers. Then all thoughts fled. Warmth crept through her body, sweet and comforting.

  When he finally broke the kiss, she felt disoriented, as though hours might have passed without her noticing. She should put an end to this. And yet, she couldn’t seem to look away, much less step out of his arms.

  Blossom finally broke the spell. She squeezed between them, strategically placing her head under Ursula’s hand. Ursula laughed and scratched her ears. “The school bus will be here anytime now. Rory will be happy to see you.” She looked up at Mac. “Both of you.”

  “How is Rory?”

  “Good, I think. She’s been eager to go to school lately. Regular teacher conferences are this week, so I’ll find out tomorrow if she’s doing better in class.”

  “She was having trouble in class?”

  “Sometimes. Her teacher said she’d draw pictures instead of working on her assignment.”

  “What kind of pictures?”

  Ursula stopped petting Blossom and thought about it. “That’s a good question. I don’t know. I’ll ask tomorrow.”

  Footsteps rushing across the porch alerted them to Rory’s arrival. Blossom broke away to meet her at the door. Rory squealed. “Blossom. Hi.”

  Ursula took her coat and backpack. “How was school today?”

  “Good. And guess what? Maddy Wilson is having a birthday party in two weeks and she’s gonna invite me.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Hi, Mac.” Rory didn’t seem as surprised to see him as she was the dog. “Did you see the northern lights last night?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “It’s been a fine year for it,” Ursula said. “And this weekend is supposed to be high activity.”

  “They were really bright last night,” Rory said. “Their other name is Aurora, like me.”

  “Aurora borealis. I’ve heard of them but never seen them.”

  “Never?” Rory and Ursula asked in unison.

  “Don’t you go outside at night?” Rory asked.

  “I do to let Blossom out before bed. I guess I’ve never looked up at the right time.”

  He never looked up. That pretty much summed up Mac’s existence since he’d been in Alaska. All this beauty around him, but he was so weighed down by grief and guilt, he refused to look up and recognize it unless someone forced him.

  Ursula pulled out her phone and checked the long-term aurora forecast. “What have you got going this weekend?” she asked Mac.

  “What?”

  “Plans? Appointments? Anything?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Good. Rory’s teacher conference is tomorrow. It’s supposed to be clear and cold across the state. I think we should take the train to Fairbanks Saturday and see the northern lights the way they’re supposed to be seen.”

  “They’re not the same as here?”

  “No. Here they’re usually low on the northern horizon. Fairbanks is farther north, so they’re more overhead. I have a friend who runs a B&B there. She’s stayed with me several times, and she keeps asking me when I’m going to let her return the favor. We can catch the train in Anchorage and fly back.”

  “What about Blossom? I don’t want to leave her in a kennel.”

  “My friend Catherine always fills in for me at the inn when I’m away. Blossom can stay with her here. Catherine loves dogs. Actually, you met her when you came by to bring those flowers.”

  “Come on, Mac. Let’s do it. I never rode a train before,” Rory said.

  He looked from one of them to the other. “Well, if Catherine is available to take care of Blossom, I guess we can go.”

  “Yay!” Rory danced around the room with Blossom chasing after her. “We’re gonna ride a train to Fairbanks.”

  * * *

  MAC ROLLED A sweater and added it to his suitcase. Ursula had warned him to pack warm, that Fairbanks was considerably colder than Anchorage. He was adding wool socks when his phone rang. Chandler, from the detective agency.

  “This is Mac.”

  Chandler didn’t waste time. “I may have a lead.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been talking to the neighbors from where he lived growing up. Most moved in after Thaine left, but one remembered he had a half-sister he used to visit and where her family lived. It’s a small town about forty miles out of Tulsa. Anyway, I chased it down and found a teacher there who kept in touch with the sister. She knows where she lives, way out in the boonies. So I’m on my way to see what she knows, if anything.”

  “Good. Keep in touch.”

  “I will.”

  Mac set down the phone and took a deep breath. This might be it. The police hadn’t been able to find the sister at her last known address. It was quite possible her brother was hiding out with her. It was hard to believe anyone would hide a murderer, but maybe he’d convinced her he was innocent. He seemed to be quite good at hiding his true nature.

  Mac should cancel this trip to Fairbanks. If they did locate Andi’s murderer, they might need him to fly down and...what? Testify? It would be months or years before it came to trial. They had enough eviden
ce to make the arrest.

  Still, he felt as though he was letting Andi down. Again. Going off for a fun weekend when her killer was still on the loose. What kind of a father was he?

  Blossom padded into his bedroom from wherever she’d been napping and dropped a ball. Nothing subtle about her. “You want to go outside and play?” The dog wagged her tail and nudged the ball closer to his foot. “You need Rory here. She’d play with you all day.”

  Rory would be disappointed if he didn’t go with them to Fairbanks. He checked his watch. She and Ursula would be at the teacher’s conference right now. He hoped they were getting good news. Rory was such a great kid. She deserved a break.

  Maybe he deserved a break, as well. As Ursula said, guilt and blame couldn’t change the past. He owed it to Andi to catch her killer, but that wouldn’t bring her back. Spending a weekend in Fairbanks with an energetic little girl and her godmother might be the most productive thing he could do right now.

  * * *

  RORY COULDN’T HIDE her excitement. If Ursula hadn’t been holding tight to her hand, she might have bounced right off the rail platform. “Are we gonna ride in this car? Will there be other kids? Do they have a bathroom?”

  Ursula patiently answered each question. “Yes, this car. I don’t know. We’ll have to see who else is in our car when we board the train. Yes, there are bathrooms on the train.”

  “Where do we eat? Do they know I don’t like lima beans?”

  Mac laid a hand on her head. “I’m sure they’ll have something to eat that doesn’t involve lima beans. Here, I have something for you.” He pulled a paper sack from his pocket.

  “What is it?” Rory pulled the sack open.

  “A disposable camera. So you can take your own pictures of the trip.”

  “Cool.” She gave a little eye roll in Ursula’s direction. “Since I don’t have a cell phone.” Mac knew from experience those eye rolls would become ever more frequent in the next decade.

  Rory pointed the camera in their direction. “How do I take a picture?”