A Green Place for Dying

by R. J. Harlick

  Although the wind carried the coolness of fall, the day was sunny, a good day for working outside. I clipped the perennials in the flowerbeds and pulled spent plants from the vegetable garden, dumping everything into the compost. I weeded, racked, and churned the soil, readying it for next spring’s planting. Afterwards, I walked back and forth with armloads of firewood between the woodshed and back porch. During the cold months I wanted a handy supply of wood without having to traipse through the snow to the woodshed.

  Wherever I went I kept the portable phone within easy reach for George’s call. He didn’t call until after five. By then I was getting anxious that he’d been delayed another day.

  “Sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner,” he said in his gravelly smoker’s voice. “But I had to drive my client into Somerset. Wendy says you been asking about the fishing camp with the green parrot, the one called Sunset Lodge.”

  “You work there, don’t you?”

  “I guide there, off and on. Used to do more a few years back. I hear you think that’s where Fleur is?”

  “And Eric.”

  “Eric? What’s he doing there?”

  Apparently, Wendy hadn’t had a chance to tell him about his chief’s disappearance, so I filled him in.

  At the end he said, “That crazy guy. Why can’t he just leave things alone, instead of always trying to save the world?” He chuckled. “But, jeez, if he hadn’t kept at us to clean up our act, we’d be just another broken down rez.”

  I had to agree. In the close to ten years since Eric was first elected band chief, he’d coaxed and cajoled the band into buying into more improvements to the community than had been implemented in the hundred and fifty years since it had been made a reserve.

  George continued, “You know, I’m not surprised about the hookers. I knew funny things were going on up there. Ten years ago it was a great place to guide, plenty of fish, a lot of keen fisherman and top-of-the-line gear. Nowadays, the gear ain’t in good shape. They’ve overfished the lakes and haven’t bothered to restock them. And the few guys I take out don’t know a hell of a lot about fishing.”

  “I understand it was bought out.”

  “Yeah, Pierre sold out about five or six years ago.”

  “Do you know the new owners?”

  “Nope. Some foreign company, that’s all I know. Only guy I know is the manager. He used to work for Pierre, but I never cottoned on to him. Smooth as silk on the surface, but underneath a mean son of a bitch. He’s really why I don’t do much guiding for them now.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Etienne, Etienne Frazer. Comes from around Val d’Or.”

  “Is he the kind of person that would run a brothel, even kidnap girls for it?”

  “Yeah, I could see him doing it. Before he worked for Pierre, he was in jail for stealing from old ladies. Pierre took him on because he was going out with the guy’s sister. I think his brother’s a member of that biker gang, Les Diables Noirs.”

  Bingo.

  “You don’t happen to know the brother’s name, do you?”

  “Yeah, François. They call him Fran.”

  Another bingo. I doubted there would be many Black Devils by the name of Fran.

  “He’s another mean son of bitch, just like his brother. He came out fishing with me once. Couldn’t fish worth a damn. I kicked him off my boat after he hooked me one time too many with his godawful casting. He was so mad he almost dumped the boat. He liked to play it rough with the ladies too. Pierre had to evacuate one of the staff girls, a young Cree from the local reserve, after he beat her up. Pierre wouldn’t let him back at the camp after that.”

  And this was the man with whom Doris had fallen in love.

  “Can you give me an idea of the layout of the lodge?”

  “What do ya want to know that for?”

  I felt there was no point in pretending otherwise, so I told him about our plan to fly in tomorrow.

  “That’s a job for the police. What do ya want to do that for?”

  “They haven’t exactly been rushing off their feet to mount a rescue.” I told him about the brick wall of inaction Will and I were running into.

  “Figures, damn cops can’t see beyond their stuck-up white noses.” He paused. “Sorry there, Meg. I don’t mean no disrespect. Tell me again how you plan to do this craziness.”

  This time I provided more detail, including going undercover as travel reviewers.

  The moment I finished, he shot back, “It ain’t gonna work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Women don’t go there on their own. It’s just not that kind of place.”

  “But as I said, we’re going to pretend we’re travel reviewers.”

  “This kind of place don’t get reviewed. Etienne’d be suspicious the minute you landed.”

  My heart sank.

  “I got a better idea.”

  “Good. Tell me.”

  “It’d be better I come over to your place. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  “Can you pick up Teht’aa on your way? She should be a part of this discussion.”

  Within twenty minutes I could hear the two of them tramping up my front stairs. Teht’aa’s model height might have overshadowed George’s wiry thinness, but the look of determination on his face would be enough to cow anyone.

  “But it’s not your problem,” Teht’aa was saying as they joined me in the screened porch.

  “Damn right it is. It’s our people you’re talking about.”

  I intervened. “Okay, what’s going on?”

  They both spoke at once, garbling whatever they were trying to say.

  “Please, one at a time. Teht’aa, you first.”

  “George says he’s coming with us, but he can’t. It’s too —”

  I cut her off and turned to the guide, his bronzed face bristling with stubble from his recent fishing trip. “Is that right, George? You want to come with us?”

  “Yeah. You gals don’t know the place. I do. You’d get yourselves in a shitload of trouble for sure.”

  “But you coming with us would put us in greater danger,” Teht’aa retorted. “Alone we can pretend we’re travel reviewers. But if we’re with you, they’d never believe it.”

  “But I told ya, the reviewer story ain’t gonna work. Etienne wouldn’t believe ya for a minute.” George’s voice had risen a decibel or two.

  “Sit, both of you, and let’s discuss this calmly.”

  I motioned them to take two of the wicker chairs, while I sat down in my usual spot, the old bentwood rocker. The sudden roar of a plane coming in for a landing on the lake froze the three of us into silence, while we watched it bump along the surface, safely land, and plough through the water in the direction of the Forgotten Bay Camp.

  “Okay, George. You mentioned you had a better idea. You might as well tell it to us.”

  “Like I says to Teht’aa, I’m comin’ with you. It’s the only way we’re gonna save Eric and Fleur.”

  Teht’aa was about to interrupt. I raised my hand to silence her. “Go on, George.”

  “Etienne’s gonna suspect you no matter what story you give him. We’re gonna have to sneak into the place at night.”

  “But the plane can’t land at night, and besides, the noise it makes would wake up a hibernating bear,” I said.

  “We’re gonna go in by canoe. I know of a lake a half day’s travel away where a plane can land. There’s a connecting river. It’s got some rapids, but I figure you gals can handle them.”

  Teht’aa cast questioning eyes in my direction. Last time we’d been together in a canoe, we’d battled not only rapids but also a forest fire. Although I was no great lover of whitewater, having survived that terrifying trip, I’d at least gained a degree of confidence and a certain dexterity in the art of whitewater paddling. “Sure, no problem. But won’t it be trickier searching the grounds at night?”

  “I have some ideas on where they could be holding our people. There’s an
old staff quarters behind the main lodge that was empty for a long time. I noticed they’re using it again. I seen some of these young girls coming outta there. But I figure they can’t be holding Eric there or close to where people could see or hear him. There’s a huntin’ cabin further along the shore, around a point. I figured that’d be a good place to hide the Chief.”

  “What if they have guards?”

  “As far as I know, they only have one guy on at night. He makes the rounds a couple of times during the night, but since they’re so far from anywhere, they don’t worry about people coming in to steal. Just the bears they worry about.”

  I turned to Teht’aa. “Okay, I think it’s doable. What do you think?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I think it’ll work. But we’ll need at least two canoes to hold the five of us.”

  “I have an eighteen-footer that’ll hold three easy. Plus you guys can take my sixteen-footer.”

  “Or we can take Dad’s.”

  “Whatever you feel comfortable paddling.” George turned to me. “Hope you got the Beaver coming in for you tomorrow and not the Cessna.”

  “Bernie said he was bringing the Beaver.”

  “Good, that’ll hold the two canoes and the five of us easy. And it’s good you got Bernie. He knows that area better ’n any bush pilot I know and can fly in any kind of weather.”

  “George, I just realized I only have the plane booked for tomorrow. Since you’re talking about doing this at night, then I guess I’d better make sure Moose Air can pick us up next day. And do we still need to leave early in the morning?”

  “Yeah, it’ll take us most of the afternoon to paddle upriver. Current’s pretty strong in parts and we’ll have to line the canoes around two sets of rapids with a long portage around a falls,” George replied.

  The two of them continued planning while I called Moose Air. Bernie was able to adjust his schedule to handle the pick-up on the following day, but the earliest he could fly in would be around three. We would need to leave almost immediately if we were going to get back to Echo Lake before dark. Although he had no difficulty with the change in destination, he would need to make a gas stop at a cache on another lake. He’d been planning on gassing up at Sunset Lodge. He was considerably more optimistic with our change in plans, and upon learning the real reason for our visit to the lodge, fully supported the fishing guide joining us.

  “George is one top-notch guide. Not only can he find fish where they’re not supposed to be, but he’s very handy with a rifle. I suggest you take one along. You just might need it.”

  I returned to the porch to find Teht’aa compiling a list of required gear. When I suggested a rifle, neither blinked as Teht’aa pointed to it on the list.

  It was all right for them to treat a rifle with such indifference. I knew Teht’aa had been hunting since she was a child living on a reserve in the Northwest Territories. And using a rifle was probably second nature to George. But I’d never held a rifle in my entire life, let alone fired one, and I wasn’t about to change that. So if things did reach a point where a rifle was needed, I would just have to rely on their expertise. I prayed I wouldn’t need to.

  Chapter

  Forty—Nine

  Rays from the rising sun were streaking over the cliffs of Forgotten Bay when I stopped my truck in front of the main lodge of the fishing camp. George had already unloaded his gear and canoe onto the camp’s narrow beach, the sand damp with overnight dew. While he helped Teht’aa remove Eric’s red canoe from atop the Jeep, John-Joe, a staff member and a friend I’d once helped out of a tricky situation, carried her pack and rifle case down to the beach.

  My morning greetings were drowned out by the sudden howl of a white floatplane swooping over the ridge. “L’Air de l’Orignal,” with a cartoon of a laughing moose with wings, was stamped in red along its sides. The plane circled overhead then zoomed in low for a landing, barely missing the lodge’s cedar shake roof. It shattered the reflected mirror of the fall palette of the surrounding forest and splashed along the smooth surface to where Three Deer Point lay hidden from view, then it turned around and motored back to the lodge. By the time Bernie had run the plane’s pontoons onto the beach, I, with the help of John-Joe, had my pack, paddle, and PFD propped against George’s green canoe.

  I’d been worried I would be late. Dropping off Sergei at Jidamo’s aunt’s place had taken longer than expected. Because the two of them hadn’t seen each other since Jid had gone to Montreal, which was all of three days ago, there was a certain amount of boisterous play that had to take place before they settled down enough for me to pass on instructions.

  After refueling the plane, Bernie, George, and John-Joe loaded the gear into the back of the cabin and were now strapping the two canoes, the smaller one nestled inside the larger, onto a pontoon. I was standing on the other pontoon, waiting for Teht’aa to climb into the plane, when I heard a crunch of gravel and the rumble of a truck engine. I turned around to see a muddy extended cab truck pulling alongside mine, one I recognized with foreboding.

  Will Decontie had come to stop us.

  After parking my truck in the camp’s parking lot, I’d left a message on his voice mail telling him our plans and asking him to send the SQ to Sunset Lodge should we not be back in two days. I’d added an extra day in case the rescue didn’t go as speedily as planned.

  The speed with which Will had responded surprised me, since I’d left the message barely ten minutes ago. Moreover, I hadn’t provided a departure location. But since the fishing camp handled most of the local floatplane traffic, I supposed it wasn’t difficult to guess.

  I nudged Teht’aa.

  “Oh shit,” she said. “No way. He can’t stop us.”

  I agreed. Since I was paying for this plane, I had every right to fly it wherever we wanted it to go. But when he stepped out of the cab clad in hunting camouflage instead of his uniform and pulled a pack, a life jacket, and a rifle case from the back of his truck, I wondered.

  And when neither George nor Bernie seemed the least surprised at his sudden appearance, my suspicions were confirmed.

  “Morning, ladies.” Will dropped his gear on the sand by the plane. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Who squealed on us? George, Bernie?”

  “Both, actually.” Decontie grinned.

  I heard several confirming grunts behind me.

  Bernie spoke. “I was worried about you gals. And when George here told me about the danger, I thought Will should know about your plans. I don’t want you gals getting hurt.”

  George added, “I figured Will needed to know.”

  “Don’t get angry with them,” Will cautioned. “They had every right to tell me. You could be flying into a hornet’s nest. I can’t have you doing that on your own.”

  “So why come with us rather than stopping us?” I asked.

  “I’m just as concerned about Eric and Fleur as you two and just as disgusted by the heel dragging of the SQ. I’m glad you’re doing this. I wished I’d thought of it myself.”

  “So I gather this isn’t in an official capacity.”

  “I’m on vacation, guys, off to join my friends for a bit of hunting, eh?” He passed John-Joe his gear before continuing. “There’s something you should know.”

  If the mood had been tense before, it was now rigid with anticipation.

  “I got a call late yesterday afternoon from the manager of our bank in Somerset. As you know, that’s the bank that handles the reserve’s financial affairs. Anyways, Xavier called wanting to know about Eric. Apparently he’d just received a strange call from a man claiming to be Eric, asking that money be transferred from one of our accounts to an account at a foreign bank. He was —”

  Teht’aa cut-in, “Oh my God, was it really Dad?”

  Will nodded grimly. “Xavier thinks so. Although the line wasn’t all that clear, but he was fairly certain it was his voice, and he knew things that only Eric would know, like account numbers and the —�
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  “But what does this mean?” Teht’aa cut in again. “Is he not really missing?”

  “Calm down and hear me out. From the news reports, Xavier knew your father was missing, so he was very surprised by the call. Apparently, Eric’s answer to his question was to say that he’d been out of contact while on a northern Quebec canoe trip for the past couple of months. But Xavier didn’t entirely believe him. He thinks he was being coerced into making —”

  It was my turn to interrupt. “They want money. That’s what this is all about, access to band funds.”

  Will removed his cap and ran his hand over his bristly hair. “It looks that way. Eric tried to alert Xavier by giving the wrong password. But more importantly, Eric knows full well that any transfer of funds requires two approvals, his and Jeff Lightbody’s. So Xavier was suspicious from the get-go.”

  “But if these guys wanted the money, why wait until now?”

  “Easy. The quarterly deposit from the feds for health care and education was deposited yesterday. It’s over two million.”

  So this was all about money and had nothing to do with his investigation into a prostitution ring. “Does this mean he wasn’t kidnapped by the Black Devils? And he’s not at Sunset Lodge?”

  “Not so fast. I’m interpreting his mention of a northern Quebec canoe trip as a hint to his current location. Besides, he happened to let slip something to Xavier about matches. I interpret this to mean the ones with the green parrot found in his suitcase.”

  “So what are you doing here? Surely this is enough evidence for the Quebec police to finally mount a rescue operation?”

  “They’re already working on it. But they’re gonna be too slow. I’m worried about Eric. Xavier gave him some excuse about having to verify a few things before he could transfer the money over. Eric’s supposed to call him back this afternoon. Once these guys learn that they’re not getting the money, Eric becomes a liability. If we want to get him out of there alive, it has to be today. So let’s get this sucker loaded up and we’re outta here.” He hopped onto the pontoon.