by Henry, Sue
“I put some pretty good pressure on your getting answers in this thing. Have we got some?”
“Not much, but a couple of ideas. I’ll pull a Caswell and get back to you. Okay?”
“Yeah, but soon. Keep me up to date, so when what’s-his-name makes the stink I know he’ll try, I’ve got something to toss back at them.”
“Right. I’m gone.”
But being gone took just a little longer. Stopping in his office before heading for Anchorage, Jensen sat down at his desk to make a couple of quick phone calls. Spreading out his notes on the insurance policy Chelle had shown him the day before, he thumbed through the phone book for the number of the company that had sold it to Norm, called it and asked to speak to the agent that had been listed on the policy.
“Nicholas Martin.” The voice was pleasant and lightly flavored with a Texas accent.
Alex explained who he was and the identification of the policy about which he was calling, but the agent regretfully reported that information concerning specific policies was strictly confidential.
“Mr. Martin,” Alex explained, “I have already been shown a copy of the policy by Mrs. Lewis, the benefactor. We know Mr. Lewis bought it. I don’t need you to break confidence. But Norm Lewis disappeared in his plane last fall and we have reason to believe he may be dead. I can get a warrant if I have to, but all I want to know is what you remember about the purchase of this insurance. Did he give you any information about why he needed it, for instance?”
“Well, if it’s not about direct details…” Martin replied, thoughtfully. “He told me that he was about to fly a few charters that were more hazardous than usual, and wanted to make sure that his wife was completely taken care of in case of an accident. He asked a lot of questions and finally took the policy you have because it could be dropped and prorated when he had successfully completed the contracts he was concerned about.”
“Did he seem upset or nervous about it?”
“Not that I remember. He was just seriously interested in protecting his wife and their business. Seemed pretty levelheaded to me. Listened carefully and made good choices.”
“So it wasn’t an ongoing policy?”
“No. A short-term one.”
“How long did he want it to be effective?”
“Well, I think it was six months…usually is. I’d have to pull out the paperwork, but it was extra life insurance for no more than six. Less, if he came in to cancel it before it ran out. It’s on the policy, second or third page.”
Alex found he had noted the dates.
“September twenty-first through March twenty-first?”
“Sounds about right.”
“So, if he was killed, or involved in a fatal accident during that time period his wife is entitled to the amount shown here?”
“That is correct. But you said he disappeared and that you believe he’s dead. We would have to be certain of that, and the cause of death before paying the premium.”
“If he was murdered?”
“Yes, but not suicide, or if he was killed while committing a crime.”
“He knew that?”
“Yes. I explained all the contingencies to him carefully.”
“Anything else you can tell me?”
“Can’t think of any. Just tell Mrs. Lewis she should be in touch as soon as you know what happened.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks a lot for your time.”
Hanging up the phone, Jensen sat staring at the insurance papers on the desk in front of him. So Lewis knew when he bought this temporary insurance that his death and its cause would have to be proved. It seemed to establish that he knew the flying he was going to do entailed more than average risk. Working with Karen Randolph could be the answer to that, and so could working with the poachers. But he had known crime would cancel out the obligation of the insurance company, and suicide was obviously not on his agenda. Credibility couldn’t be stretched that far. Randolph’s undercover work might have been part of his plans, however. That made more sense, if it could be proved.
Picking up the phone again, he called the Fish and Wildlife office in Wisconsin. In less than five minutes, he had what he needed, Karen Randolph’s unlisted phone number: 608-264-5732. It matched the number Chelle had found in the box from Norm’s closet. And established a direct link between the two.
Slowly he punched in the numbers and waited. “Two-six-four-five-seven-three-two. Talk to me.” The voice of a woman dead for six months seemed slightly unreal, even if the Fish and Wildlife officers had left it in service, hoping someone would leave a message with a clue to where and how she had vanished. When the beep sounded the machine’s readiness to record a message, Jensen hung up and sat for a minute frowning at the phone as if it were haunted, before turning to the business at hand.
He was about to let Caswell know with a phone call that he was on his way, when the instrument rang under his hand.
“Alex? Are you headed in?”
“Yeah. Just reaching to call you. An hour?”
“Better make it less if you can. I just tried to call Rochelle Lewis. She doesn’t answer. APD says she left early and her plane’s gone from Lake Hood.”
“It’s okay. She said she had a charter to fly today.”
“I don’t think so. She filed a round-robin flight plan, saying she’d report within a week. It listed Beluga Lake as destination.”
“Damn it. I knew there was something she wasn’t telling me last night, but I didn’t really think she’d take off on her own this fast.”
“She might have taken that brother of hers with her.”
“Call and see if he’s home. I’ll head out right now. She’s probably fine, but I’d like to make sure.”
“On it.”
The phone went dead and Jensen sprinted for his truck.
So, it was two hours later, just after noon, before they were finally aloft in Caswell’s Maule M-4, heading for the other side of Mount Susitna, having established that Chelle was indeed alone and had not included Ed Landreth in her expedition.
There had been no answer to his phone, but repeated knocking on the door of his second-floor apartment had finally resulted in waking him to answer it, grudgingly. “Knock it off. Stop that pounding. Who is it? What do you want?”
A couple of locks snapped back and Ed opened the door to stand resentfully yawning and squinting in the bright morning sunshine, clearly suffering from a late night.
“What the hell do you want?” he snarled.
“Have you seen or heard from your sister?” Jensen asked him, taking a step back as the evil odor of Landreth’s morning-after breath reached him in an invisible cloud. “Could have scorched the paint off my truck,” he later commented to Caswell.
“Not since day before yesterday, when we flew out to where you found the plane.”
“She hasn’t called you?”
“No. Why?”
“She’s gone with her plane. We thought she might have wanted to take you with her.”
“Well, she obviously hasn’t, has she? Didn’t even know she was going anywhere. Probably had a charter booked.”
“Her flight plan indicates Beluga Lake as her destination.”
“Oh hell. Goddammit. Come on in.” He turned and walked away from the door, leaving it open for the troopers to follow him inside. “Damn it. She’s gone out looking for Lewis, hasn’t she?”
“We think so. Did she say she was going to?”
“Not today. On the way back the other day. Told her I wouldn’t help. She knows I think he screwed her over. She doesn’t tell me everything, you know. We live our own lives. I don’t need a mother anymore. She’s had to get used to that. That clown, Lewis, wanted her to cut me out completely. I don’t miss him.”
“Would she have left a message? You have an answering machine? Your mailbox?”
“She knows I won’t answer the thing in the morning. But…yeah. She might have left me a note. She sometimes does.”
&
nbsp; Landreth pawed through a bowl on a bookcase near the door and came up with the downstairs mailbox key. “Here. Check it out, if you want. I’m going to make coffee.”
Caswell traded glances with Jensen, shrugged, and took the key back through the front door toward mailboxes they had passed near the street entrance on their way up.
“Hey,” Ed yelled after him. “There should be a paper down there. Grab it too, as long as you’re going down.”
The note was there, telling them what they had already surmised. They left Landreth to nurse his hangover as he pleased and headed for Caswell’s plane.
As soon as they were gone, Landreth went straight to the phone and made a hurried call. Damn Chelle, he thought, as he listened to the ring on the other end of the line. Always giving me grief, one way or another. An answering machine clicked in and he slammed the receiver down. This was not information to leave for just anyone to hear. He picked it back up and dialed a second number.
“Yeah.”
“Darryl?”
“Yeah. Who?”
“Landreth. You got any idea where I can find Tom? Called his number and got the damn machine.”
“Haven’t seen him. You leave a message?”
“No. I got to talk to him. I got some information he wants.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He’s headed out of town.”
“He going across the inlet?”
“What the hell do you know about that?”
“Hey, man. Nothing…nothing. He just said he had something going on over there. Okay?”
“Not okay. You better keep your fucking mouth shut about Tom’s business, Landreth.”
“All right. No problem. I don’t care where he is. He wanted to know if my crazy sister took off to look for that missing husband of hers. Well, she did. This morning sometime…early. Just tell him that if you talk to him. She’s headed for Beluga Lake with the cops right behind her.”
“Oh fuck. He’ll be really pleased with that information.”
“I can’t help that. She didn’t tell me she was going, just left a note in my mailbox. Goddamn troopers woke me up looking for her. Somebody better let Tom know.”
“No shit, Sherlock. He’s got a client coming in on a noon plane that he’s supposed to take right out there. The last thing he needs is the law.”
“Where can I find him?”
“Stay out of it. I’ll track him down. You’d just screw it up again somehow. Got that?”
“Yeah, I got that, you son of a bitch. Go to hell.”
Landreth threw the phone back in its cradle and went to find something for his headache.
As Alex and Cas had driven around Lake Hood, they had passed Rochelle’s Subaru parked next to the empty space for her Cessna. Two spaces from it, Cas pointed out a smaller aircraft rocking next to the bank.
“Hey, see that one?”
“Yeah.” Jensen took another, closer look. “It’s like yours, only a different color. Right?”
“Right. You remember asking me, when we were in Nome, who had taught me to fly? That time we barely made it in after getting blown all over the sky in that blizzard?”
“Oh…yeah. You said it was somebody really good here in Anchorage. I don’t remember the name.”
“Bunker. That’s his plane. I bought mine because I liked the way his handled.”
“Funny, it being right next to the Lewis spaces. But Johnny Raite said they were tight.”
“Just a coincidence, but if he knew Norm Lewis, he probably knew Chelle, too.”
“Wonder if he noticed anything before Lewis disappeared. Like, maybe, he would have seen Randolph, if Norm was flying her.”
“Might be a good idea to ask, when we get back.”
They drove on to Caswell’s Maule and were surprised to find a rental car near it, parked considerately out of Ben’s obvious spot. As they pulled up, a husky man in a tan jacket, blue denims, and heavy boots stepped out and came toward them.
“You Jensen?” he asked, reaching Cas first.
“Nope. Him.”
“Ernie Tobias.” He held out one hand with the introduction, flipping open his wallet with the other to flash his identification. “Wisconsin Fish and Wildlife.”
The expression on Jensen’s face as he shook the proffered hand betrayed his reluctance to have any more to do with federal agents at the moment—perhaps ever. Nevertheless, he nodded guardedly and introduced Caswell.
“I understand you investigated the location where Karen Randolph’s body was found?” Tobias questioned, a concerned frown drawing two heavy lines in his forehead. There was no hairline to distinguish that forehead from the bald top of his head. A thick chestnut fringe covered the sides and back of his skull at a level with his ears, the same color as the modest mustache that concealed his upper lip.
“We did.” Coolly. “As I told your partner at the Palmer detachment office, earlier this morning.”
“Partner?”
Jensen kept his face straight. “A Mr…. Rogers, I believe.”
“Oh…right. Well, not exactly.” Tobias frowned, and from his uncomfortable expression, Jensen could tell he was not particularly pleased to be linked to the other agent, but didn’t want to say so outright. Well, he couldn’t exactly be blamed, could he?
Alex waited while he paused, looked at his feet, then back up, to explain.
“Ah…I’m not official…on personal leave. No one sent me. Karen was my partner. When we got word yesterday that you’d found her, I took time I had coming and hopped a plane. I just want to know what happened. Your commander…a guy named Swift?…said I might catch you here.”
“You talked to Ivan?”
“Yeah. He didn’t say anything about another agent, though.”
“Wasn’t too happy with the guy’s attitude. I think he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t exist. You see Swift?”
“Telephone. He checked with your Fish and Wildlife people. They know me. I was here for the Brooks Range operation.”
Jensen caught Caswell’s attention and raised an eyebrow, alert to the possibilities of help from this man’s personal knowledge of the sting that had obviously killed Randolph and had something to do with Lewis. Cas shrugged and continued to ready the plane for takeoff.
“Well, now,” Alex said, lifting one booted foot to the front bumper of the truck and pulling out his pipe and tobacco. “That makes some kind of difference, doesn’t it. We’d better talk. You ever hear of a guy named Norman Lewis?”
15
THEY SPOTTED CHELLE’S CESSNA AT THE SMALL lake where Alex had suspected she would start her search and were not surprised to see, as they flew once over the lake before landing, that it appeared to be solidly secured and there was no one in sight on the bank.
Jensen shook his head in frustration and spoke to Caswell through the second headset. “She’s had plenty of time to head out by now. Let’s go down and see if we can figure out exactly where she went.”
He pointed down, indicating the location to Tobias, who sat in a single seat behind them, but had no communication equipment. Hearing they were headed for the place Karen Randolph had been found, he had asked to come along, and after talking with him, Jensen saw no reason why not. Official or not, he had asked, not demanded, and was plainly more interested in any information that would forward the case and help him understand what had transpired than in closing it. From their conversation it was plain that he knew less than they did about the wrecked plane, Norm Lewis, or exactly who might have been inspired to shoot it out of the air.
“I was up north—undercover in Stoffel’s Brooks Range camp, to hunt sheep, caribou, and bear. Karen was to go into a temporary camp on the bench the other side of Susitna for four or five days. They had promised her a record grizzly. I left first and was gone a week. She was supposed to go the next day. When I came back she wasn’t there and we never heard a word from her after that.
“Stoffel’s cover operation swore she never showed f
or the hunt and we couldn’t prove otherwise. There was nothing—absolutely nothing. She just vanished. Some personal stuff left in the hotel looked like it might have been tossed, but we couldn’t really tell. What worried me was that I couldn’t find her notes. There was some pilot she was working with, but she kept his name to herself. I would have gone looking for him if I’d had any idea who he was.”
“She kept notes?” Jensen had asked.
“Oh yeah. We both did. But she wouldn’t have taken them with her out there. Her real ID was locked in the hotel safe, but not her notes, so we didn’t even know who had flown her out…if she went. She might have been blown and snatched from Anchorage and never got out there at all. But she evidently did, since that’s where you found her. I want to know what happened…for myself…and for her. She’d have wanted it for me, if I was missing.”
He had looked very straight at Alex, then at the ground before asking his next question in a tone that had revealed to the trooper that the answer mattered a lot.
“Was she hurt bad?”
With a quick glance at him, Jensen had clenched his pipe in his teeth and thoughtfully taken the time to light it.
“I’ll go load the rest of the gear,” Cas decided, and left them to the unpleasant discussion he knew was coming.
“Partner,” Jensen mused, when he had gone. “She was your partner?”
“Well, sort of, as much as we have regular partners, and since we were the only two up here from Wisconsin. We’d been working together for years and were close friends, not partners like the police are partners, but…you know.”
Alex did know what kind of caring trust that kind of relationship implied. Someone outside of law enforcement might have assumed that Ernie Tobias was referring to a romantic or sexual friendship. That could also have been true, but Jensen knew that what he really meant was something quite different. If romance had been part of the equation, it was not what Tobias was currently referring to.
Trusting your life to someone else created partners of the people involved in a way that was difficult to define to those who had never experienced it. Firemen understood. So did veterans of military combat, and emergency medical people spoke a similar language. When that kind of partner was hurt or killed, something of the other was injured or died as well. The question Tobias had asked was very personal and required a careful, honest answer. The man was not looking for information that would save his feelings. He already understood the violent nature of the world in which he worked, needed to know the truth, and deserved nothing less, painful or not. Taking care of your own was a phrase with as many meanings as the word love, Alex thought suddenly.