Alaskan Legal: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  Vann was a man with dark orange hair that appeared almost brown in the less well-lit images. He’d gone with a combover with a sideways part, a style that had never been fashionable and never disguised the growing bald patch. His face was cleanshaven, and his body was lean. Despite the combover, Vann appeared to have taken great care in his appearance. I noticed a lot of color coordination in his wardrobe, and I wondered if that was simply who he was or if he’d made the effort to look good for the camera.

  “When did Vann hand you the key to his house?” I asked as I turned back to Yura.

  “He didn’t hand his key to me,” Yura answered as she studied me. “He gave me a copy.”

  “Does Ronan have a copy, too?” I asked.

  Her answer would tell me a lot about Vann and his relationship to his employees. Yura seemed to understand that as well, and I could see her weighing how much to tell me.

  “Ronan doesn’t have a copy,” she answered. “My turn.”

  Ah, this was the game we were going to play. At least I’d get something more than suspicions and lies out of this, or so I hoped. I gave her a grin and sat down on the armrest of the sofa.

  “Go ahead,” I said.

  “What’s Austin’s story?” she asked. “I mean, he’s clearly not admitting he did it.”

  “He said he climbed aboard Vann’s boat, and the two got into a fight,” I replied.

  Yura’s loud, powerful laugh interrupted me, and I could see why Vann had given her a key. Joy made her more attractive than she already was, and I could picture the two of them on the couch watching a comedy together.

  “A fight?” she wheezed when she was able to speak. “Between Austin and Harrison? I know Austin’s a bigger guy, but big doesn’t mean strong. Harrison would have easily destroyed him.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “Mr. Morris does look like he’s been destroyed. He’s currently in the hospital for his injuries.”

  Yura frowned at that and shifted uneasily from foot to foot. She seemed to sense that she’d somehow stepped into a trap, though she wasn’t quite sure how or why.

  “Actually,” I continued. “He’s being treated for a concussion. He claims Vann pushed him, and he fell backwards. He hit his head and was knocked out. When he came to, he found Harrison’s body already in the water. Based on what you just said, does that seem plausible to you?”

  Yura glared at me, and I wondered if this was the end of our information exchange game.

  “Only one question at a time, Reese,” she reminded me. “Is that really the one you want to ask?”

  Impressed, I laughed and shook my head.

  “No, not at all,” I answered. “Why did Vann entrust a copy of his house key to you, but not Ronan?”

  “Harrison and I were lovers,” she replied as she moved to sit on the opposite end of the sofa. “We weren’t open about it since it wasn’t anything serious.”

  Her face took on a far away look as she said this, and I knew she was lying, at least as far as her feelings went. Besides, I didn’t know a lot of casual relationships that involved the sharing of house keys, but it wasn’t my turn to ask a question.

  “What was on the boat?” Yura asked.

  “As you probably guessed, I found the tow line,” I said. “There was also a wine glass on the deck and an opened wine bottle below.”

  She suddenly sat up straight, and I could see her mind working quickly.

  “Was the wine bottle knocked over?” she asked. “Did it look like a fight had happened down there?”

  “Only one question at a time, Yura,” I reminded her as I waggled my finger.

  She sighed and slouched down onto the sofa as she waited for my next question. She glared at the TV screen, and I wondered what the significance of the wine was to her.

  In truth, I had a whole string of questions for Yura, and the list only grew longer with each answer she gave me. I started to trace the scar on my nose as I tried to decide what to ask. There was always the chance that I only had two questions left and that Yura would end the game after she’d asked her question about the wine bottle. So what did I want to know?

  I wanted to know about Vann’s drinking habits, and that involved two questions. Was he a blackout drunk, and was he a social drinker? Another subject I needed to address was the jet ski. Had Harrison done something with it prior to last night, such as selling it? Was there any plausible explanation for its current disappearance outside of someone riding it away from the boat? I was also curious about Yura’s sudden departure from the docks. Why had she left to come here? Finally, I wanted to ask her about fishing in the Arctic Ocean to see if Vann had told her about Morris and his fishing crew. I definitely had more questions than I did turns, and I felt like every question was important.

  “What happened to Vann’s jet ski?” I asked.

  She frowned at the question, and her gaze drifted in the direction of the garage.

  “That’s what I came here to check,” she admitted. “When you asked me the question about the tow line, I figured the rope was still tied to the boat. But the jet ski’s not in his garage, which means it should be with his boat.”

  I nodded at this, excited by both her response and the fact that she had unknowingly answered two of my questions.

  “You think someone else was on the boat, and they killed Harrison and took his jet ski,” she said, and her frown deepened. “But that can’t be it.”

  “And why’s that?” I asked.

  She shook her head, and this time, it was her turn to waggle her finger.

  “Not your turn,” she said. “Was the wine bottle knocked over?”

  “It was not,” I answered. “Nothing was out of place down below.”

  “Well, there you go!” she exclaimed as though that proved something.

  I waited for her to elaborate further, but she grinned at me as if it was perfectly clear. I shrugged at her and offered a confused look in the hopes she would explain the point I was supposed to understand.

  “If the wine bottle wasn’t knocked over, then the fight didn’t start there,” she explained.

  She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it was. But I’d never said the fight between Morris and Vann had started below deck. I still couldn’t see the point she was making, and my lack of a reaction told her this.

  “This means that Vann was drinking with a friend,” she said slowly as if explaining something to a small child. “He had some wine with a friend, probably Ronan, and then that friend took the jet ski when they left. Harrison would let people use his stuff all the time. I bet someone will show up with the keys to his jet ski any minute now.”

  I smirked, which elicited an eye roll from Yura.

  “Interesting theory,” I replied. “So you think a third person was on the boat?”

  I was hoping she was more interested in convincing me of her idea than continuing our question game, and the nod she gave me seemed to confirm that.

  “Yes, but not at the same time as Austin,” she explained. “They must have had a drink with Harrisson and then went home before Austin arrived.”

  “Okay,” I said as though I was entertaining the idea. “But then why would he be out at sea all alone? Did he enjoy drinking by himself?”

  Yura chuckled at this.

  “God, no,” she answered. “Harrison loved being around people. He liked being the center of attention, and it was fun when he was.”

  She stared down at her hands and smiled at what was likely a memory of Vann.

  “Not very introspective, then?” I laughed.

  Her smile widened as she shook her head.

  “Not at all,” she confirmed. “Thinking was his least favorite activity.”

  She laughed again, and I let her enjoy the moment a little longer before bringing her back to the issue at hand.

  “But that means he wouldn’t have been alone until Mr. Morris arrived,” I mused.

  “Fine, then he was with a friend t
he entire time,” she groaned.

  “But that would make this friend an accomplice,” I pointed out. “I also don’t think Mr. Morris wouldn’t mention something as important as another person on the boat. Why would he let the police pin this on him if he knew there was someone else there? Especially if he was unconscious. Wouldn’t it make more sense to tell the police that this other person was there when he arrived and gone when he woke up?”

  “Well… Maybe… He….” She scrambled for another theory and then stopped to bite her bottom lip.

  She was deep in thought, but I needed answers now. Time was ticking.

  “If he wasn’t much of a thinker, then was Vann much of a drinker?” I asked.

  She glared at me, but I gave her my most patient look.

  “You think he drank so much he ended up killing himself,” she said with disgust and shook her head. “Would never have happened.”

  She sniffed and looked away from me. Her eyes seemed to focus on the blank TV screen, and I could see her trying to come up with another possibility. Her eyes widened suddenly, and I waited for her to offer her latest theory.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she gasped. “Maybe Austin does have an accomplice.”

  I considered that for a moment and then shook my head. “That doesn’t make any sense,” I said.

  “It does if his accomplice is someone he doesn’t want to go to jail,” she countered.

  “I thought Mr. Morris and Vann didn’t get along,” I replied.

  “Yeah, they didn’t,” she confirmed.

  “Then who would they both know that fits the role you’re describing?” I asked. “You’re arguing that Vann was close enough with this person to invite them onto his boat, but at the same time, they hated him so much they helped murder him.”

  She gasped, covered her mouth as some new theory appeared in her head, and then moved her hands to cup her cheeks.

  “Or it wasn’t a friend at all,” she whispered. “I bet Harrison thought he could undermine Austin’s crew by trying to convince either Luke or Marleen to work for him.”

  My eyebrows shot up at this idea, and I had to admit, it led to some interesting possibilities.

  “But they’ve worked for Austin for years,” I countered. “Why would they ever consider an offer like that?”

  “They wouldn’t,” she said. “I told you that Harrison wasn’t much of a thinker. He had nothing he could lure them with. If anything, all they would get is a pay cut. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try just to piss off Austin.”

  “A pay cut?” I said.

  “Yeah, we handle money differently in our crew,” she said. “After every successful fishing trip, we set aside four hundred dollars for the boat and then divide our pay. Ronan is in charge of that. Austin’s crew, however, doesn’t set any money aside for their boat. They divide the pay as is. There’s an unspoken rule that Austin will use part of his pay for taking care of the boat.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “Because of Marleen,” she said with a laugh. “She complains about it all the time at the bar. She goes on and on about the boat turning into a deathtrap, and yet she continues to fish on it.”

  The intriguing woman sitting next to me rolled her eyes and shook her head. I made a mental note to ask Austin about the boat and the pay, and then I turned to Yura.

  “So why does she stay?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t matter how loud she complains,” Yura replied with a grin. “Everyone can see she likes her pay too much to do anything about the condition of the boat. Obviously Austin knows how she feels, and he knows she wouldn’t leave. So that means he must have chosen Luke to help him murder Harrison. Besides, everyone knows that Luke and Austin are close. Marleen’s definitely the third wheel.”

  Her theory was more plausible than she thought, but not for the right reasons. She had said that Vann had nothing to offer them, and that statement made it clear she wasn’t aware of the Arctic Ocean incident. Because if she were, then she’d know it would have been the perfect lure for Morris’ workers. If Vann invited Luke or Marleen on his boat to blackmail them into working for him, then that gave them a motive to kill him.

  Yura’s belief in Morris being the killer blinded her from the inconsistencies in her proposed scenario. Since Vann would be trying to steal a worker from Morris, Vann was the one who determined the accomplice in his own murder, not Morris, so it could just as easily be Marleen.

  Regardless, Luke and Marleen weren’t really potential accomplices in my eyes, though I could see one of them acting on their own. And based on what Yura had told me, Marleen seemed the most likely of the two to have killed Vann, not Luke. Upon finding an unconscious Morris and a badly injured Vann on deck, she had an opportunity to get rid of her blackmailer and greedy boss. Two birds with one stone.

  If Luke felt the same way about the boat as Marleen did, then it was possible he was the killer, too. Yura made it sound like Luke and Morris were close friends, though, so Luke might have been more inclined to report on Vann’s blackmail attempts to Morris. Or maybe, Luke would have decided to handle the situation on his own.

  “Have I convinced you?” Yura asked and gave me a proud smile.

  “Convinced me of what?” I asked.

  “That Austin is guilty,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

  “No, but you’ve definitely convinced me of something,” I laughed.

  “And what’s that?” she asked.

  “That I need to go back to the hospital and talk to Mr. Morris again,” I said as I stood up.

  She quickly stood up as well and followed me the short distance to the front door.

  “Are you going to ask him who was on the boat with him?” she pressed.

  “You’re convinced he’s guilty,” I sighed. “Did Mr. Morris and Vann hate each other that much?”

  She folded her arms across her chest and stared at the pictures that hung on the wall. I interpreted her silence as being deep in thought about my question, but the silence between us lasted for so long that I began to doubt she had any intention of answering me. I turned to open the door when I felt her grip on my arm. I looked back and found myself far too close to her.

  “To be honest, I have a hard time seeing Austin drowning Harrison,” she finally admitted. “But I have a hard time seeing anyone in this town trying to kill him.”

  She released my arm, folded hers across her chest again, and took a step back. A red flush stained her cheeks, and she looked away for a moment as she gathered her arguments.

  “But he’s dead, and someone killed him,” she continued. “I have to accept that anyone’s capable of murder, and I hate it. It’s easy for you to consider everyone a suspect because you don’t know them like I do. They’re just another name on a list to you. Even me, right? I could be the killer.”

  She laughed suddenly, but the earlier humor wasn’t there. She waited for me to deny it, but I remained silent.

  “Me, the killer,” she mocked, and then another harsh laugh escaped her.

  “The idea isn’t as ridiculous as you think,” I argued. “You’ve shown some odd behaviors just in the short time I’ve known you.”

  Her smile fell away, and she took a step toward me again. I could feel her breath against me, and I took a half-step back.

  “Like what?” she demanded.

  “Well, it’s a little suspicious that after I ask you about the tow line, you then suddenly leave the docks,” I explained. “You leave the docks and appear here in Vann’s house. That makes me think you have something to hide. Maybe there’s some evidence in this house that would connect you back to the murder scene, and you came here to get rid of it. Maybe the jet ski was here, and you moved it. Better to have me chasing after a jet ski than looking into you.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” she shouted. “Don’t you think someone in this neighborhood would have seen me moving the jet ski around? I can’t exactly sneak around with something that large, especiall
y when I don’t have the darkness of night time to help me.”

  “That’s true,” I admitted. “But even without the cover of darkness, you can still take advantage of people sleeping. You can take advantage of the fact that you moving Vann’s jet ski probably isn’t out of the ordinary, and the people around here wouldn’t think twice if they saw you drive off with it in tow.”

  She shook her head passionately but said nothing.

  “You also said Vann enjoyed drinking in the company of others,” I continued.

  “Yeah, and he would have had a drink with Luke,” she insisted. “Maybe he thought some alcohol would make Luke receptive to the job offer.”

  I grabbed my chin while I pretended to be deep in thought.

  “But wouldn’t it make more sense for him to enjoy a drink with someone he likes, like you or Ronan?” I questioned. “It would make even more sense to do it with you. A romantic night with some wine on the Chukchi Sea. Sounds like a good time. Well, minus the murder, of course.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t ready to give up her theory just yet.

  “Okay, then what’s my motive?” she asked.

  “Ah, you got me there,” I sighed. “But I’ll figure it out.”

  “No,” she groaned. “You shouldn’t be trying to figure me out. I’m not the killer. It’s obviously Luke and Austin, and you should be heading to the hospital to make Austin admit this. Tell him you can get him a plea deal.”

  “You don’t believe for a second Luke or Marleen killed Vann alone?” I asked.

  “No,” she answered. “Austin was there on the boat.”

  “Yes, but he was unconscious,” I countered.

  “I don’t believe that bull,” she scoffed.

  “But you believe Austin would risk going to jail for one of his workers?” I asked.

  She widened her eyes, and once again, I watched her examine each possibility.

  “Oh, my gosh,” she whispered. “No, I don’t think he would do such a thing. He likes Luke well enough to hang out at the bar with him, but I don’t think he’d go to jail for him. And Marleen…. Well, it’s Marleen. So, it has to be either Luke or Marleen, then, and they set up Austin.”

  “Maybe,” I said with a shrug.