‘‘I’m very sorry about your son,’’ Nina said.
He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips and his face lengthened. ‘‘Alex? Or Jim?’’ he said. He looked down at photographs spread in front of him on the desk. ‘‘I’m trying to keep busy.’’ He motioned toward a cardboard layout for a brochure he had tacked to the wall. ‘‘Ski Paradise!’’ shouted the headline. Another version next to it said, ‘‘Paradise—come and get it.’’
They both watched out the window as, in the distance, a skier jumped a mogul, turned his body one hundred and eighty degrees in the air, and landed inches from the crags of a boulder. Nina held her breath until he scooted smoothly past.
To break the deadlock, she said, ‘‘I understand you were able to get to Alex just after the accident.’’
‘‘Not soon enough.’’
‘‘There was nothing you could have done.’’
‘‘At least I could have said good-bye to him. But he was already unconscious. Mrs. Sweet picked up the call on the radio in the cafeteria and called me. I was up on the Ogre looking at a possible avalanche area.’’
‘‘Alone?’’
‘‘What do you care? I met the Ski Patrol at the foot of the hill and climbed up with them to the bottom of the Cliff.’’
‘‘Sounds like you had been there before.’’
‘‘Only once. It was barely skiable. Too dangerous, with that drop-off. I told the boys long ago to stay away from there, but nobody listens. Have you noticed that? Nobody listens.’’
The phone rang and Strong picked it up. Staring at the wall, he spoke in a monotone. When he hung up, he still sat there staring at nothing. He was functioning, but only barely.
‘‘That call was something I have to take care of. Want to walk along with me?’’
‘‘Sure.’’
She heaved herself back out of the cushiony chair and put her coat back on. He put on a baseball cap with his jacket and instantly turned into another person, younger and better looking. She could see Jim in him now, in the high color of his cheeks and the square chin. Now he looked forty, though he had to be much older, in his late fifties probably. She thought of Sandy’s story about her mother.
The trail they took followed the flat groomed snowpack toward a weathered cabana. Next to it, a double lift rocked gently under its steel-supporting scaffold, its cables stretched out of sight up the mountain. Even through sunglasses, the snow was dazzling. The breeze had freshened into a frank wind.
‘‘You know why people like to ski?’’ Strong was saying as she trotted along beside him trying to keep up. ‘‘Because it’s just like flying. It’s freedom from gravity. It’s being a bird.’’
‘‘Hey, Phil, how ya doing?’’ said a skier passing them, and Strong waved without looking.
‘‘Alex was like that,’’ he went on. ‘‘A bird. Flying high on the wind. But now he’s gone.’’ Still walking fast, he lifted a fist, then opened it and blew on it. ‘‘Poof,’’ he said into a blast of cold air. ‘‘Gone.’’
They reached the cabana. The chairlift seemed to be broken. Skiers lined up, grumbled and complained, watched for movement, then, disgusted, pushed off again.
‘‘Give us just a coupla minutes, folks!’’ Strong shouted to their backs, marching over to talk to a young man in a Paradise jacket. While they talked, Nina stood off to one side and watched the skiers.
These people seemed not to have a care in the world beyond a lost glove or broken ski pole. Their expensive duds made them all look rich. In her dark clothes and idiotic nylons, she felt very incongruous out here. She shivered. Dense clouds showed themselves behind the mountain, climbing onto the sunny backdrop.
Strong and the operator pointed through a door at the lift machinery, waggling their fingers as they discussed some mechanical glitch. ‘‘Chuck, you know the drill!’’ Strong said, voice raised, annoyed out of proportion to the problem. Perhaps recognizing this, he took a breath and lowered his voice. ‘‘C’mon. Let’s go over it one more time.’’ They disappeared through the door.
Nina stamped her feet and crammed her hands into her pockets, remembering that she’d skipped breakfast because Bob had missed the bus. She had left in a rush to drive him to school. She was getting irritated. Did Strong really have something to tell her? After an interminable time, with a clank and a long, slow shudder, the lift shook back into action. Strong and the attendant came out, Strong’s arm resting on the young man’s shoulder.
A line formed instantly. Nina leaned against one of the supports and watched the attendant catch each chair as it came rolling in, slowing it for the skiers who stood with their heads craned back and knees bent. The seat caught two collegiate types at the back of the thighs and they sat down hard, then went swinging up, skis waving, whooping.
‘‘I have to supervise here for a while,’’ Strong said, adjusting his dark glasses. ‘‘So I guess we’d better get to it.’’ He cocked his head, gauging the ski lift operation.
‘‘Good plan.’’
‘‘Why did Jim hire you?’’
‘‘Come on, Mr. Strong. You understand I can’t answer that. No questions.’’
‘‘It was an accident, wasn’t it? Tell me! I have a right to know!’’ He was still looking toward the lift. She understood that this was such an important question that he couldn’t look at her.
Nina didn’t know how to answer. She shouldn’t talk about the case, but it seemed wrong to leave him full of torment. ‘‘Jim assures me it was an accident,’’ she said finally.
‘‘Then why did he hire a lawyer?’’
‘‘My chin’s numb, my feet are frozen stumps, I’m hungry, I came up here because you wanted to tell me something. Remember? So tell me. I’m waiting. For another thirty seconds.’’
‘‘You’re a tough little—’’
‘‘You try hanging around in this wind dressed like I am for half an hour, Mr. Strong. Then you can call me names.’’
He let out a surprised sound that almost resembled a laugh. ‘‘Sorry,’’ he said. ‘‘All right. Jim and I haven’t spoken since—since the accident. A friend of mine tells me Jim’s been somehow implicated in Alex’s death. That’s impossible. It was an obvious accident and a criminal investigation is beyond belief. Meanwhile, Heidi—Jim’s wife—hasn’t come to work for several days. I was lying down in the office yesterday morning when the phone rang. It was Heidi.’’
‘‘Keep going.’’
‘‘I know where she is. She’s worked here for a long time and she didn’t want to just walk out. So she called me.’’
‘‘What did she tell you?’’
‘‘She said that Jim threatened to kill Alex. She said she couldn’t stand to stay.’’
‘‘So,’’ Nina said, ‘‘tell me, Mr. Strong. How credible is Heidi?’’
‘‘I don’t know. She and Jim are having some problems.’’
‘‘What kind of problems?’’
‘‘Nothing to do with Alex.’’
‘‘Then let me get more to the point. Do you believe what she said?’’ Nina asked.
‘‘Of course not,’’ Strong answered. ‘‘Besides the fact that I find the whole idea insane, Jim had no reason to hurt Alex. Alex was—Alex didn’t tangle with Jim. He looked up to him.’’
‘‘Why aren’t you and Jim talking? It would seem to me you would be drawn together at a time like this.’’
‘‘Jim and I have some problems at the moment,’’ Strong said. ‘‘I don’t want to go into it. It has nothing to do with Alex.’’
‘‘That’s the second time you’ve said that. It has nothing to do with Alex.’’ She rubbed her arms with her bare hands, trying to create warmth through friction.
‘‘So? If it has nothing to do with Alex, it’s none of your business. Heidi is having a hard time and has let her imagination take over. I can’t believe her. But then, I don’t believe anything,’’ he said thoughtfully. ‘‘I don’t actually believe Alex is dead. He’s wan
dering around, still alive in some fashion. Look behind that tree over there. See that shadow?’’
She knew better, but she looked. Nothing.
‘‘Or maybe he moved behind the boulder,’’ Strong went on drearily. ‘‘I thought I saw him yesterday, out by the cave he used to play in with Jim. It’s gotten so I’m afraid to go to sleep. He comes to the foot of my bed and it’s a tremendous effort for him, he’s come from a very far place, but he keeps coming back. He’s lost, I think. I’m afraid of him now. I love what he was, but not what he is now.’’
‘‘I don’t think I’d care to know a whole lot more about that,’’ said Nina.
Strong grasped her arm. ‘‘I’m quite sure the spirit stays around for a while,’’ he said. ‘‘I had a dog once who died after twelve years with me. He always used to push open my bedroom door at night with his paw and come in and lie down in the corner. He’d make this scratching sound with his claws as he pushed on the door. Well, a week after he died, in the middle of the night, I woke up to a scratching sound. Something dark and low came in, went to the corner, and lay down. I was terrified. You see, it wasn’t my dog anymore. Think I’m nuts?’’ His mouth moved into a grimace like a smile.
‘‘No. Just—’’
‘‘Yeah. I am nuts. Nuts with wanting my son back.’’ His voice thickened. ‘‘Alex was so young. So talented. He should have had fifty more years.’’
‘‘I understand,’’ Nina said softly. ‘‘But I know Jim still matters.’’
‘‘Jim? There’s one problem with Jim.’’
‘‘What’s that, Mr. Strong?’’
‘‘He’s not Alex,’’ Strong said. Nina had an odd sensation as he said this, as if she was looking down into an abyss, the abyss Alex had left in his father’s heart, maybe. She didn’t like hearing these unguarded, painful things. She didn’t want to be affected by them. But she wondered about the three of them, the father and his sons, and Philip Strong seemed to want to talk.
‘‘No, he’s not Alex,’’ she said.
‘‘If only Alex hadn’t come back from Colorado. He’d still be alive. Alex probably dared Jim to ski the Cliff hill. He was still trying to catch up with Jim. When they were small boys, he’d toddle around after Jim, getting hurt because he wasn’t big enough to do the same things.’’
‘‘That’s how it is with younger brothers sometimes.’’
‘‘The little brother grew up,’’ Strong said. ‘‘He didn’t quite know it, but he was Jim’s equal in every way.’’
‘‘You seem to be angry at Jim right now,’’ Nina said. ‘‘I can’t understand why.’’
‘‘Angry? I’m angry at myself.’’
‘‘For what?’’
‘‘For my mistakes. Some of them are irrevocable.’’ His eyes, which had held a faraway look, came back to her. He frowned. ‘‘Forget it. I’m blabbering.’’
‘‘What about Jim?’’
‘‘I don’t have anything to spare for Jim right now. You clean up whatever the problem is.’’
She said matter-of-factly, ‘‘I’ll do that. Where is Heidi? That’s what you wanted to tell me, right?’’
Happy shouts filtered down the hill. Strong was standing stock-still, struggling with himself. He seemed to be so busy experiencing his angry grief that the outer world couldn’t get through to him very well. He had a living son in trouble, but he hardly seemed to notice.
‘‘Heidi is hiding in a hidey-hole,’’ he said eventually. ‘‘And she wants to talk to you. On one condition.’’
‘‘Let me guess. That I don’t tell Jim?’’
‘‘Right. You come alone. And don’t tell him that you’re meeting her.’’
‘‘Why? Why won’t she at least call Jim? He’s suffering. He’s sure if he could just reach her he could persuade her to come home. He loves her.’’ She felt as though she was arguing to a blank TV screen. Strong had absented himself again. ‘‘Can you ask her to reconsider?’’
‘‘I’ve said what I promised her I would say,’’ he said. ‘‘Talk to her yourself.’’
She thought about it.
‘‘All right, then. If that’s the only way.’’
A nod.
‘‘But why does she want to talk to me?’’ Nina said. ‘‘If she’s hiding from Jim, why talk to his lawyer?’’
He shrugged. ‘‘Maybe she wants to tell him something without having to face him? I don’t know. I’m just trying to do what she asked me to do.’’ He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘‘She’ll be there between three and four.’’
Nina read it. Jake’s in Tahoe City, all the way around the lake practically to the North Shore, over an hour of hard driving away. Heidi wanted to meet at a public place, and she didn’t want to get too close.
‘‘You know Jake’s?’’ Strong asked.
‘‘Mmm-hmm. What does Heidi look like?’’
‘‘Oh, tall. Buff. Blond.’’
‘‘Like everybody around here. One more thing,’’ she said, trying to sound casual. ‘‘I need the ski boots Jim was wearing on the day of Alex’s accident.’’
‘‘Why?’’
Good. He hadn’t heard about Clauson’s report. ‘‘He asked me to get them from you,’’ she said.
He thought for a moment, then said, ‘‘I suppose they’re still in the back of my Blazer, out in the parking lot. Alex had borrowed the Blazer the night before—the accident—for some errands. Jim drove it to the hospital, and I picked it up there. Jim dumped his boots in the back with some other things.’’
‘‘Has anyone been in your truck besides you since—’’
‘‘No, nobody. I haven’t looked, but I suppose they’re still there.’’
Lucked out again, Nina told herself, greatly relieved. She asked Strong to take her out to his truck. He sped down to the parking lot as if daring her to keep up. She wondered if he still skied, then thought, well, of course he did.
Then, on the wooded side of the lot, she saw a man who looked a lot like Jim moving rapidly between one tree and another. Alex? She blinked, refocused her eyes, saw only the usual patterns of shade and sunlight.
On the muddy carpet of the back seat, the red Tecnica boots were upright, stowed carefully along with some dirty clothes. Using a handkerchief, Nina gingerly guided the boots into her plastic bag.
They were heavy, enormous. She wondered how people could feel like they were flying while wearing such clumsy gear. Her idea of flying would be to take off her clothes and dive into a warm ocean.
‘‘Did you ever wear Jim’s boots, Mr. Strong?’’ she asked.
‘‘No.’’ He seemed to have no curiosity about her question, which must have sounded pretty odd. He stood off to the side of the car, hands in his pockets, watching a young couple unload skis from a rack on the back of a new red Volkswagen Bug.
He just didn’t give a fuck about Jim, that was obvious. She felt a stirring of contempt. He should make himself care. He should help. He was the father. He should be strong and do his duty no matter what he was going through personally.
‘‘Go home, Mr. Strong,’’ she said, straightening up, struggling with the bag and the briefcase. ‘‘Get some rest.’’
He shrugged. ‘‘I can’t leave Paradise.’’
The phrase struck her. All this joy around, and none for him. ‘‘You should rest. Get some sleep.’’
‘‘Oh, no. See now, that’s the mistake people make. They mistake sleep with rest. If you want rest, it’s best to stay busy. Move fast and you keep the demons off your heels.’’
Demons? she thought. He was grieving, yes, but there was something more complicated going on that she could not understand.
She wondered whether he loved Jim at all, when he wasn’t grieving about Alex.
‘‘Well.’’ Tilting his hand at his forehead, he gave her a kind of salute, turned, and walked away.
She drove west, back across the state line, along the string of motels, shops
, and ski rental places which stretched for miles. At Highway 89, which bordered the west side of the lake, she turned north. Her watch said one o’clock. She would be very early. She could eat at Jake’s before Heidi got there.
Hot sun had melted the snow on the asphalt, so she didn’t have to worry about the road. On the lake, a couple of cruisers were moving north toward the marinas on the other side of the lake, twenty-two miles away. Even the forest seemed luminous today, as if the snow on the mountains reflected enough light to light up even Tahoe’s darkest places. Most of the time, she had the road to herself.
As she drove on, clouds passed over the sun, casting long shadows with irregular borders. Her mood also darkened.
The highway passed personal landmarks. First she came to the turnoff to Fallen Leaf Lake and the Angora Ridge trail. She remembered a terrifying night when she had driven up there sick with fear, searching for Bob. Then the twists and turns above Cascade Lake came into view, and on her right she saw the thousand-foot drop to Emerald Bay with its jewel-like island. An orange kayak anchored off the island reminded her of Paul and the Markov case.
After that case, Paul had accepted a temporary position on the East Coast. It couldn’t be good for his agency in Carmel for him to be gone for several months. His move had been a decision to put distance between them. He had been a friend, an occasional lover, and a very good private detective. She could have gone on forever with their on-again, off-again relationship, but he had gotten tired of waiting for more.
She had pushed him away, justifying her behavior to herself by saying that Paul was a wild card. He’d been a homicide detective before he started up his agency in Carmel. Brilliant and exciting he might be, but he went too far, regularly, with everything he did. Swinging around a curve she gave the steering wheel a slap. She had handled it badly and left hurt feelings.
The cell phone rang, and she answered quickly, thankful for the intrusion.
Acts of Malice Page 9