Larsgaard alone showed no sign, of approval, or anything else. He waited, silent and wary. His straight black hair fell across his forehead and shadowed his eyes, so that Liam couldn't get a read on what he was thinking.
“Who owned this boat?” Liam said. “I see that her home port is registered here.” He pointed at the stern,Marybethia,and below thatKulukak, Alaska,in no-nonsense lettering, spare, neat, easy to read, no unnecessary serifs or flourishes. Some of the names painted on the sides of boats were so elaborately curliqued they were next to impossible to decipher. This boat even had the state registration number lettered on the bow beneath the name, something you almost never saw on anything bigger than a skiff.
“David Malone,” Larsgaard said, after a pause just short of inviting a repeat of the question. “And yes, the Malones live here.”
Or did, his eyes said.
“Who does he fish with?” Liam said, thinking of the number of bodies he had seen littering the galley.
“His family,” one of the elders-Andrew or Ekwok-said.
Liam's heart sank. “His whole family?”
The elder nodded. It was Ekwok, the shortest and fattest member of the group. He had round black eyes set in a round brown face, and he peered up at Liam with all the curiosity of a fiveyearold child meeting his kindergarten teacher for the first time. At six-three, Liam felt like a clumsy giant, and repressed an impulse to squat down so he could meet Ekwok at his own eye level. “The first thing you do upon arrival at a crime scene is to establish an air of authority,” his instructor had told him at the academy. “You are the law on two legs. Let people know that up front and don't ever let them forget it.” Somehow Liam felt that squatting on his haunches would be counter to that directive.
“His wife, his brother, his two children,” Ekwok said.
“And two deckhands,” a second elder-Kashatok?- volunteered. “Gussuks.”
“They were allgussuks,” Ekwok said with an impatient look. “So what? They were our neighbors.”
Everyone looked at Larsgaard, as if expecting him to contradict them, and then studiously away again. The raven mocked them from the top of the light pole. “Oh shut up,” Liam said without thinking. The older men looked up at the raven, back at Liam, down at their feet, almost as if-what? Liam thought. As if what? They looked respectful and wary at the same time, on the alert, ready for action. It was very odd. It also wasn't anything he had time for.
“Do you want to see the Malones' house?” Larsgaard said, still without emotion.
“Yes,” Liam said. “Later, after…” He waved a hand at the boat. They understood.
Ekwok's cherubic face hardened into purposeful lines. “Do you want help, moving them out?”
Liam forced a smile. “Thank you. We'll get them out on deck. Afterward, we could use help in getting them to the plane.” He nodded at the Cessna, its floats run up on the wooden skid fastened to the end of the slip closest to the mouth of the harbor. Prince was closing the door, a bundle of heavy black plastic under one arm. She came toward them, long legs eating up the distance. They all turned to look.Gussukthough she was, Diana Prince was worth a look. She was, Liam thought, surveying her critically over the heads of the other five men, one of the few women he'd met who looked good in a uniform. He knew a mild urge to rip it off her, and glanced at the faces of the other men to see if they shared in the impulse. Impassive expressions or no, he was pretty sure they did.
If she was unnerved by the steady, unwinking regard of six pairs of male eyes, she didn't show it. She looked controlled and very much in command. She halted in front of them. “ Gentlemen,” she said crisply, looking each one of them straight in the eye, one at a time.
Liam groaned to himself. “We have to bag the bodies,” he told the council, unable to dull the harsh effect of the words. “We also have to take pictures and notes of the scene. It'll be a while before we can move the bodies to the plane, and after that I'd like to see the Malones' house and talk to their neighbors. If you could come back in a couple of hours?”
He got a curt nod from Larsgaard and another grave bow from Ekwok and Andrew. The five men turned and moved off in a group. Liam watched them go, noticing they were not speaking to each other as they went.
He turned to Prince. “It's best not to look village elders in this part of the state directly in the eye.”
She thought it over. “Because I'm a woman?”
“Mostly. Plus you're a trooper, an employee of the state government. People in general don't like cops, and people in the Bush don't like the state.”
“A double whammy.”
“Yes. It behooves us to walk very softly.” He didn't say anything about a big stick.
“I'll remember.” Prince handed him a white cloth mask.
“Thanks,” he said, although he doubted anything less than a rebreather would help. He doffed cap and jacket, hoping to keep them free of the smell, put on the mask and the pair of rubber gloves and reopened the door to hell.
Ninety minutes later they had seven body bags out of theMarybethia.Between the two of them, they managed to carry the bags one at a time to the Cessna and stack them inside without calling for extra help. The bodies had been so badly charred that identification was impossible, but the two smaller ones were obviously children and one of the bigger ones was equally obviously a woman.
“Why did you become a trooper?” Wy had asked him, so long ago now, three years and change. It had taken him a few moments to come up with an adequate response. “Because I like rules,” he had said finally. “I like order. We're animals, Wy, plain and simple, even the best of us, and we need rules so we can live with each other. Sometimes somebody breaks the rules, and that's where I come in.”
He could have added that his job let him wear a uniform not of his father's service, in itself a big draw, but he didn't. He didn't talk much about his father to anyone.
“Did you see it?” Prince asked, letting her mask dangle from one ear. Her face was pale but her eyes were bright as she stripped the gloves from her hands.
The game's afoot, Liam thought, looking at her. It was the moment every law officer waited for, when the disgust and dismay of the crime scene had receded and the thrill of the chase began. “I saw it,” he said, making an effort to shake off his revulsion. Later he, too, would be outraged, filled with a white-hot determination to bring the perpetrator or perpetrators to justice, but for the moment he was just trying to keep from vomiting.
The fresh air helped some, and he breathed deeply, fixing his eyes on the green, rolling hills of the shore, hidden and then revealed and then hidden again beneath the bank of drifting mist. The world was still there, and it was not all of it a charnel house, a stage for the perpetual reenactment of man's inhumanity to man. If you keep saying that to yourself, he thought, one day you might even come to believe it.
“A depression in the left temple of one of the male victims,” she said.
“Looked like a bullet hole to me,” he said. “I smelled the gas, too, although that doesn't prove anything on a boat.” He thought of the faint gas smell he woke up to every morning on theDawn P.“But we won't know for sure until we get the results back from the M.E., and that'll take a day or two, and that's after the bodies get there. In the meantime-”
She all but went on point, quivering with eagerness to be on the scent. “In the meantime, we question the family-”
“Doesn't look like there are any left to question.”
“-the villagers-”
“Beginning with the council. They're bound to know everything there is to know. Always assuming they'll talk to us.”
“-and start gathering evidence.”
He almost smiled, but the effort proved too great and he abandoned it. “First things first. You take the bodies back to Newenham.”
She opened her mouth to protest and he said, “The bodies are our first evidence. We can't allow them to decay any further. And you're the only pilot around here with the on
ly plane I see.”
She couldn't argue with that, and closed her mouth again, disappointment clear on her face.
“You're sure you can make it in one trip?”
Her nod was confident. “Not a problem. Not enough weight to overgross the plane.”
“Okay, get them to Newenham and on the next available flight to Anchorage. Call the M.E.'s office-the number's on the Rolodex on my desk-and tell them they are on their way. Tell Brillo Pad we need results as fast as he can get them to us.”
“Brillo Pad?”
“Dr. Hans Brilleaux, the M.E.”
“Brillo Pad?”
“Have you ever seen his hair?”
“I've never met the man.”
“Wait until you do. Anyway, tell him I said to giddyap.”
“And then?”
“If nothing has blown up back at the post, come get me. If you can't”-he took a deep breath- “call Wy Chouinard at Nushagak Air Taxi and tell her to come get me. We've got a contract with them.”
She nodded, and looked perilously close to saluting. “Get a move on,” he said, before she could.
She stuffed her notebook back in her pocket, picked up her jacket and hat and marched off, passing Mike Ekwok on her way. She slowed and half turned, catching Liam's eye. He shook his head and waved her on. He waited until Ekwok reached the side of the boat. “Mr. Ekwok,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.
“Trooper,” Ekwok said, equally grave. He looked up at the raven, still perched on his light pole, his deep black feathers outlined against torn wisps of white mist. Liam wondered when Sam Spade was going to wander in out of the fog.
The Cessna's engine coughed into life and taxied out of the harbor. Liam heard the engine roar and watched it rise into the air and disappear into the fog. All was quiet again. There was nothing quite like the hush of an Alaskan Bush community. An occasional airplane, a truck with no roads on which to get above third gear, a boat engine turning over, seagulls squawking, ravens talking, and the rest was silence. Except for the odd rifle shot, and Liam saw again the round depression in the blackened temple of one of the bodies on board the plane speeding toward Newenham.
“Mr. Campbell,” Ekwok said, “I know-”
“Could you hang on just a second, Mr. Ekwok?” Liam said. He turned to look toward theMary J,moored to the third slip over from theMarybethia,and beckoned. Larry, legs dangling in the hold as he spliced an eye into the end of a line, nodded acknowledgment. “Dad! I'm going next door for a minute.” There was a muffled assent from inside theMary J's cabin and for a moment Liam saw Darrell's face pressed whitely against the porthole. TheMary Jwas a white, thirty-two-foot Bristol Bay gillnetter with a hot pink trim line, fancy lettering in matching pink spelling out her name on both sides of the bow and across the stern. Her home port, Newenham, was listed on the stern, too, also in pink. Darrell's wife had insisted on the trim being that particular shade of pink, right before she kicked Darrell out and took up with a seiner from Togiak.
Larry, Darrell and Mary's only son, was a taller, fitter edition of his father, with more hair and a nose less bulbous in shape and less red in color. Like his father, Larry did his share of drinking, in tandem with lifelong friend Kelly “Mac” McCormick, but Mac had gotten out of the hospital just in time to go to jail for shooting up the Newenham Post Office, which charge he had not contested in exchange for a shortened sentence. Fortunately, he hadn't put holes into anything except a couple of windows, and also fortunately, at the time of his sentencing the postmaster was in the middle of resigning and had no time to testify against him. Mac would be out in six months, and in the meantime, his incarceration did Larry's liver no harm.
“Larry,” Liam said, nodding. The people in Liam's world were divided into those he had arrested and those he hadn't. The former he addressed by their first names, the latter by their surnames. Sometimes the former worked their way back up to being mistered. More often they did not.
Larry Jacobson was still on probation, and he knew it. “Trooper Campbell,” he said formally. “Are we done here? There's an opener in Togiak tomorrow and we need to take on fuel.”
“Sure,” Liam said. “I'll be in touch if I have any more questions. Anything else you can think of to tell me? Anything you saw, no matter how trivial, could be important.”
Larry shrugged. Liam was glad to see that while maintaining his decorous manner Larry was neither defensive nor hostile; he'd apparently come to terms with the events of the previous May, and with Liam's part in them, and had moved on. “Not much else to tell. We saw her drifting and went after her. There'd been a fire, we saw that right off. The plugs had been pulled, and she was about half down in the water. If the drains hadn't plugged up with fish guts she probably would have gone right down to the bottom. Lucky.”
Liam could have thought of other adjectives to describe the fortunes of the crew of theMarybethia,but he held his peace.
“Anyway, the bilge turned over first thing. After that, we took her in tow and brought her into Kulukak. No luck this period, anyway,” he added parenthetically, leaving Liam to understand that if theMary Jhad been fortunate enough to fish her limit, they would have been well on their way to the cannery, and theMarybethiaabandoned to her fate.
“Did you go inside?”
“No. I got as far as opening the door. I could see the bodies from where I stood. I didn't want anything to do with them.” He shifted a wad of chaw from one cheek to the other and spat over the side. “Death at sea is bad luck.”
Violent death is bad luck anywhere, Liam thought. “You see any other boats in the area?”
Larry shook his head again. “Not by then; most everybody had headed back in after the closing. It's a little run thereabouts anyway, we don't usually fish it, but this time Dad had a wild hair there might be some late reds hanging off the point. Wasn't, though.” He seemed more resigned to their bad luck than bitter about it.
“Go ahead, then. And good fishing.”
“Thanks. Dad's smelling an early run of silvers. Price is always higher on the first run.” He strode back to his boat. Darrell, who had been watching from the deck, started the engine, and Larry had just enough time to release the bow and stern lines and jump on board before the gillnetter pulled away from the slip and increased to a slow, no-wake speed.
As they pulled alongside, Larry cut power and let theMary Jdrift. “There was a skiff last night,” he called. “About ten o'clock, coming out from the village, going toward the head of the bay. One person in it. Dad saw him.”
“Did he recognize him?”
Larry consulted with Darrell, and shook his head.
“Did he recognize the skiff?”
More consultation. “Big New England dory, Dad says. Guy was standing up, rowing forward.” Larry shrugged. “Dad says that's all.”
“Okay, Larry,” Liam said. “Thanks,” he added, and meant it. Eliciting information was hard enough. Volunteers were always welcome. Always supposing the dory wasn't a figment of an alcohol-induced imagination, always a possibility with Jacobsonpère et fils.
TheMary Jheaded straight for the mouth of the harbor, a narrow channel between two arms of steeply piled rock. She made the entrance and picked up speed. Soon all he could see was the masthead.
“Mr. Campbell.”
Liam started and turned to Ekwok. “I'm very sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. What was it you wanted to say?”
“I know who did this,” Ekwok said, with a jerk of his head toward theMarybethia.“I know who killed them.”
FOUR
The white Blazer with the shield on the door was parked right in front of the post, and any hope Wy had had of just leaving a note (Liam, Dig gofer stabbed, body at X longitude, Y latitude, Wy) died aborning. She raised her chin, climbed the steps, opened the door and halted in her tracks.
There was a trooper on the phone behind the desk, but it wasn't the trooper she was expecting.
“Thank you,” the trooper said. “We'll
be waiting for your call.” She hung up the phone and looked at Wy. “Yes?”
“Who are you?”
“I'm Diana Prince of the Alaska State Troopers. Who are you?”
“Wyanet Chouinard. What are you doing here?”
The trooper looked amused. “I work here. More to the point, what are you doing here?”
“What do you mean, you work here?” Wy knew a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Where's Liam?”
Up with the eyebrow again, as if to say, Liam, is it? “Trooper Campbell is away on a case. How can I help you?”
The sick feeling eased. “He still works here, then?”
“Last time I looked.”
“He's still assigned to Newenham?”
“He is still assigned to Newenham,” the trooper affirmed gravely. “Now, how may I help you, Ms. Chouinard?”
“Call me Wy,” Wy said automatically.
Mercifully, Trooper Prince did not as automatically respond with Why not? Instead, she said, for the third time, “How may I help you?”
Her manner was so indulgent that Wy bristled. “I found a body.” She was pleased when the trooper sat up straight in Liam's chair.
“You found a body?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“On an archaeological dig about fifty miles south of here. Ten miles more or less west of Chinook Air Force Base.”
The trooper stood up and went to the map of Bristol Bay tacked to the wall. “Show me.” Wy showed her. “There's a strip there?”
“Not a strip, exactly. More like a flat piece of ground just long enough for a Super Cub to roll out before it falls into the river. I own and operate the-”
“Nushagak Air Taxi Service,” Prince said.
Wy turned from the map. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Trooper Campbell may have mentioned it.”
“Oh. I see. Of course. Ah.” What had she been saying? “Right. I'm on a three-month contract to the state to fly the people working on the dig in and out.”
So Sure Of Death Page 4