Die a Stranger: An Alex McKnight Novel

by Steve Hamilton

  “You don’t have a choice, so just go back and—”

  “You get on the plane,” he said. “I’ll take the ferry.”

  “What?”

  “You go and check things out. I’ll take the ferry and meet up with you. That way, we’ll have some heat and we’ll have wheels, too.”

  The woman behind the desk told us we’d have to get on the plane if we were going. In the end, it was the car business that tipped the scales for me. It was a big enough island, after all, and it wasn’t like Mackinac. You could actually take your car over and drive there. You didn’t have to rely on horses or bikes.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll go start looking around. Or asking around. Or whatever the hell it is we’re gonna do there. You bring the car over and I’ll meet you at the ferry dock. If I’m not there, give me a call on my cell phone. Do you have my number?”

  We took another minute to get that straightened out. Then I bought my ticket and hurried through the metal detector and the door and then I was outside, back in the bright sunlight, looking at a little six-seat Piper Aztec with a prop on each wing. I couldn’t help thinking it was just like the plane I’d seen at the Newberry airport, back when this whole thing started. Only this plane wouldn’t be stuffed to the rafters with marijuana, and when I got on the ground I could only hope there wouldn’t be men with guns drawn, waiting for me.

  *

  It was a quick flight. I was one of three passengers. I sat directly behind the pilot, and as the little plane rattled down the runway I couldn’t help remembering how much I disliked flying in these things. You feel like every gust of wind is going to turn you right over. It was still a crystal-clear day so at least I got a good look at the lake and then at Beaver Island as we got closer to it. It was the largest island in Lake Michigan by a long shot, that much I remembered. It was flat and sandy, sort of oval-shaped, and it kind of looked a little out of place, like it should have been out in the ocean instead. There were trees as you got in close to the middle of the island, and there were even two fairly substantial interior lakes. Lakes within an island within a lake.

  The island had some unusual history, what with this man named James Strang bringing over a group of Mormons in the nineteenth century and declaring himself king. He ended up getting killed by some of his subjects, but the one main town on the island is still called Saint James. There’s a lot more to the story, I’m sure, but that’s all I know about the place. As the plane coasted in, I thought about the smugglers’ plane again, and how the pilot was able to turn on the airfield lights automatically, even though it was the middle of the night and the place was deserted. I was about to ask the pilot just how that worked, but he was getting ready to actually land our plane, so I left him alone. He brought it in right on the grass, completely avoiding the paved runway for whatever reason. We bumped along on the grass for a few hundred feet, then he turned and brought it around to the airport, which wasn’t even half the size of the airport we’d taken off from.

  I got out with the other two passengers and stood blinking in the sunlight. The airfield was surrounded by trees and I couldn’t have told you how close it was to the town of Saint James. The other passengers had cars waiting for them. I was about to ask one of them for a ride when the woman inside the terminal came out and told me she was going into town. I thanked her and got into her car.

  “What brings you out here?” she said to me as she drove. She was young and attractive, and I couldn’t help wondering how she’d ended up here on this island, working in this tiny little airport.

  “Just paying someone a visit,” I said. “They were supposed to pick me up, but I guess they must have lost track of time. I bet you even know them. You probably know everybody on this whole island.”

  “I probably do.” She was driving maybe a little too fast on the narrow road, but I figured she knew this place so well, she could probably do it with her eyes closed. “I grew up here, after all. I tried moving to the mainland, but it just didn’t work. I had to come back. The pilot who flew you in is my husband.”

  She was talking fast. I was waiting for my opportunity, and when she finally paused to take a breath I asked her the big question of the day.

  “It’s the Kaisers,” I said. “The people who were going to pick me up. Do you know them?”

  She frowned as she thought about it. “Are they summer people?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “Oh, well, if they’re summer people I might not know them. I’ve probably seen them at the airport, but I don’t recognize the name.”

  “Harry and Josephine Kaiser,” I said. “They look like a couple of old hippies.”

  “Okay, that sounds familiar. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen them.”

  I didn’t know if she was just being agreeable, or hell, how many couples look like old hippies, anyway? I had no way of knowing if these were the actual Kaisers she was talking about. The possibility that this was all just a wasted trip was still very much on the table.

  “Where are you going, anyway? Main Street okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s perfect. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem at all. I was heading to the grocery store, anyway. Are you wondering which one?”

  I looked over at her, not sure what she meant.

  “That was a joke,” she said. “We have one grocery store on the whole island.”

  I couldn’t help wondering if everybody on the island was like her. Friendly and outgoing and just a little bit batty. Either way, she was taking me a good five miles north of the airport, running along the east side of the island until we got to the town. There was a natural inlet there, protected from the lake, and that’s where the ferry dock was, along with the grocery store, the post office, a couple of bars and restaurants, and pretty much everything else you’d ever need if you were lucky enough to live here.

  She parked by the grocery store. I got out and thanked her again. Then I walked across the street to the dock. I looked at my watch. It was almost three o’clock. That meant the ferry was probably clear of the drawbridge, but still a good hour and a half away.

  I sat down on a bench for a while, just getting the hang of the place. This was the main street in town on a perfect summer day, and there were people walking up and down the street, but it wasn’t anything like Mackinac Island, where there’d be ten times as many people. Not to mention a hundred horses, two hundred piles of horseshit, and five hundred bikes. There were cars on this island, and I sat there and watched a dozen different people park on the street and then go do whatever it was they were going to do, not bothering to lock their car doors. It kinda figured, because who’s gonna steal your car when there’s no place to go?

  I watched the woman who had given me a ride come out of the grocery store, get into her car, and take off. She waved to me as she passed. I waved back and smiled.

  That’s right, I told myself. Keep smiling. Try to look like you belong here, like you’re just another one of these people enjoying the beautiful summer day on the island. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you start grabbing people and interrogating them, asking them if they know where the Kaisers’ house is. Or the house they’re renting for the summer.

  Damn, this is not gonna be easy, I thought. Once again, you fail to think things through before you act. Story of your life.

  I got up and walked into the first restaurant on the street. I ordered a Coke and stood there watching the people sitting at the tables. Some of them were reading the paper. Most of them were talking. Every time someone new came in the door, there’d be someone else there to welcome him or her by name. Usually two or three people. That would get a new conversation started, and it didn’t take me long to realize that most everybody on this island seemed to know everybody, and that once again I was an outsider.

  I kept the little smile on my face. I made myself walk slowly. I listened carefully to every conversation I could hear, waiting for a name to drop. I saw Harry today. I r
an into Jo. That’s all I needed. Just one mention of one name. But I was coming up empty.

  I spent about a half hour doing that. Just walking around, listening, acting like I was out for a stroll. Looking at my watch like a good friend would be meeting me for coffee any minute now. While actually I was counting down the minutes until the ferry got there, when Lou would get out with the car and we’d be able to cover more ground. Drive around and look at mailboxes, look for Kaiser or, hell, maybe they’ve got some cute pothead nickname for their cottage. Purple Haze or High Times or whatever the hell else.

  And then what? Knock on the door? Ask if Vinnie and Buck are inside, hiding from killers?

  One step at a time, Alex. Just figure out if they’re really here. Then you can decide what to do about it.

  *

  Another half hour passed. I noticed a lot of people were going into the post office. They’d leave with handfuls of mail and smiles on their faces. Even bigger smiles than when they went in, I mean.

  That gave me an idea.

  I went into the grocery store and picked out a big fruit basket, one of those things with the shrink wrap and ribbon wrapped all around it. Ten dollars’ worth of fruit and a ten-dollar basket, so of course the thing cost seventy bucks. But it was exactly what I needed. I went to the cashier and put the thing down on the counter.

  “Somebody’s getting a nice present,” the woman said.

  “Yeah, the Kaisers,” I said. “I’m on my way over there now.”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “You know, the Kaisers’ house. Over by the…”

  I let that one drift off. I waited for her to pick it up, but she just looked at me and blinked a few times.

  “Thanks,” I said, leaving with my big basket of fruit.

  I walked down to the post office and maneuvered my way through the door, almost knocking a few people over with the basket. When I got inside, the operation was even smaller than I had imagined. One counter with a roll-up gate, a number of post office boxes taking up two of the other walls. One little desk for people to put packages on while they taped them closed and stuck on their stamps.

  “Who’s the lucky duck?” the postmaster said. She was one of those old yet ageless ladies, with the perpetual twinkle in her eye.

  “I’m a little lost,” I said, putting on my best slightly daft, totally innocent, completely trustworthy face. Looking like a true Michigander, in other words.

  “You can’t get too lost around here,” she said. “You just keep walking until you hit water. Then you know to stop.”

  I gave her a good laugh on that one.

  “I’m meeting my friend on the ferry,” I said. “And then we’re going out to some people’s house. These two people he knows. But he won’t be here for a while and I was just hoping I could—”

  “What’s the name, hon?”

  “Kaiser.”

  “No, don’t know them. And believe me, I know everybody on this whole island. Are you sure you’ve got that right?”

  “They might just be renting the house for the summer,” I said. “Harry and Josephine Kaiser.”

  She looked up in the air, shaking her head. “Nope. Sorry, hon.”

  I felt the whole thing falling apart then. I still had a half hour to wait. Then I’d tell Lou this whole thing was a bust and we’d have to go back and start from scratch. Our only consolation would be a basket of fruit to eat on the way back to Paradise.

  “Wait a minute, you don’t mean Harry and Jo Kennedy, do you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, who are we talking about?”

  “You know, Harry and Jo,” she said. “With the hair? And the clothes? Like they went to Woodstock and never made it back?”

  She started laughing again and I tried to laugh with her. It was hard to do while my mind was racing ahead. A different place, a different last name. Same first names. A classic soft alias for people doing something criminal and making a token effort to cover their tracks.

  “She was just here,” the woman said. “Ten minutes ago. You just missed her.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” I tried to replay the tape in my head, me standing outside on the street, watching the people walk by. I’d probably looked right at her.

  “They’re renting the Hoffmans’ place,” she said. “You know where that is, right?”

  “I think so. It’s right up over by the…”

  I let it trail off and this time it worked. She filled in the gaps and led me right to the house, over on the western side of the island. She even drew me a map. I thanked her a dozen times on my way out the door. As soon as the door closed, the happy little fake smile on my face was long gone.

  I spent the next few minutes back over by the ferry dock. I was looking at my watch. I was counting down the minutes until that impossibly slow boat decided to finally turn the corner on that inlet. Even when I saw it, I knew it would be another several minutes before it docked, and then even more minutes until the cars were driven out of the hold. I couldn’t stop thinking about all those cars on the street behind me, all those unlocked cars left there by happy carefree islanders, some of them with the keys still dangling from the ignition.

  Thirty more minutes, I told myself. Thirty minutes and you’ll have backup.

  I was still holding the fruit basket. It was getting heavy. I was just about to put it down. That’s when I felt something jab into my ribs.

  “Don’t turn around.”

  A woman’s voice. She was right behind me. Just inches away. I felt her breath on my neck.

  “Nobody can see this gun,” she said. “But if I have to I’ll shoot you right through the gut. Do you believe me?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t care how much of a scene it would make. I’ll shoot you dead and then I’ll just start screaming and I’ll pretend the gun is yours. That you tried to abduct me and somehow it went off. Are we clear?”

  I nodded again.

  “Good thing I happened to stop back in the post office, huh? Flo told me you were looking for me.”

  I felt her free hand slip around my waist. She was giving me a quick, expert pat down.

  “Silly me,” she said. “You’ve got your gun in the fruit basket, right? I’d like you to drop it now. Do not bend down, do you understand me? Just let it drop.”

  I did as I was told. The basket hit the pavement and half the fruit started rolling away. Oranges. Apples. Grapefruit. All ruined.

  “That’s a shame,” she said. “But we’ll get over it.”

  I still hadn’t seen her face. I stood there looking out at the water. In the distance, I could finally see the ferry. It was still a good mile away. Maybe two.

  “Okay,” she said. “Whoever you are. It’s time for us to take a little ride.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “This is how it’s gonna work.” She had stepped away from me. Now she was four feet behind me. Maybe five.

  “You’re making a mistake,” I said.

  “Shut up,” she said. “Not another word, do you understand? I’ll drop you right here and nobody will have any idea what happened. I’ve got the gun inside a plastic grocery bag right now. Don’t turn around, just take my word for it. It’s inside this bag and if I need to shoot you I will. Everybody will start screaming. Nobody will know what the hell is going on. Nobody will see the gun. I’ll just drop the bag and run away, like everybody else. You get what I’m saying? Just nod your head if you do.”

  I nodded.

  “All right, then. There’s a parking lot next to the post office. Across the street. You’re going to turn around and you’re going to walk to it. You’re not going to make a sound. You’re not going to look at anybody. You’re going to look straight at the ground. If you so much as take one step in another direction, or if you so much as raise one hand … If you do anything that isn’t one hundred-percent perfect and cooperative … I will shoot you without even blinking. Again, are we clear?”

  I
nodded.

  “There’s a black Jeep Cherokee on the left side of the lot. When you get to it, I want you to open the driver’s-side door and get in. Sit with your hands in your lap and don’t do anything else. Last time, are we clear?”

  She’s talking a good game, I thought. But I can’t imagine she really wants to shoot me. Not unless she’s a psychopath or something. Problem is, her finger’s no doubt on the trigger. She probably has the damned thing half-squeezed already. If I do something stupid, she might react without even thinking about it.

  As I turned slowly, I got a quick look at her. She was a little older than me, one of those women who say the hell with it and let their hair grow down over the shoulders, no matter how gray it is. Green tie-dyed summer dress with a black belt. Her eyes were sharp and quick and she had probably been attractive in some other decade, but even I could have told her that green was the worst possible color on her. It made her pale skin look purple and the ugly sandals didn’t help one bit. Not that she would have cared one little bit what I thought of her appearance. I or anyone else. No makeovers for this woman. She had the hard-set mouth of someone who stands around sucking every last ounce of poison out of a cigarette and complaining about life.

  “Nice and easy,” she said as she moved around behind me. “You’re doing just fine. I’m glad you’re not as dumb as you look.”

  I crossed the street and headed for the parking lot next to the post office. Give her a minute or two, I thought. Until we’re in the vehicle and she gets a little more comfortable. Maybe even relaxes the grip on her gun. Then try to talk to her.

  “All right, everything nice and slow now,” she said as we got closer to the black Jeep Cherokee. “Remember, open the door and get in. Do it in slow motion. Then just sit there and keep your hands in your lap.”

  I did as I was told. I sat down in the driver’s seat and put my hands in my lap. I took one quick peek back across the street. The boat was still a few minutes from docking. There’s no way I’d be able to stall her, and even if I did, Lou would have to hit shore and somehow notice me sitting over here. And then actually do something about it.