Deadly Detail

by Don Porter

  “Good morning, Alex. What’s the problem? You have a raccoon treed?”

  “Hey, sorry about that. What can I tell you?”

  “No, you did the right thing. We can’t all be smart. How may I waste the state’s time and resources on you today?”

  “Did you have any luck tracing David Marino?”

  “Oh, yeah, lots. None in Alaska, but nationwide there are nineteen thousand of them. Would you like the David A’s, David B’s…I even have a David Z here, so take your pick.”

  “How about the Detroit area?”

  “Yep, two hundred and nineteen and no David Z, so that narrows it right down.”

  “Thanks a lot. I don’t know what I’d do without your cooperation.” The phone beeped for another quarter, but I decided Stella wasn’t worth it.

  I stomped next door to the bowling alley and plunked down at the counter. I’d already wasted most of the morning, might as well finish the job. The fry cook was also manning the counter. Most of his gray hair was under his cap, and his apron was probably clean yesterday. He was smoking a cigarette while he cooked, but was careful with the ashes. I ordered a cheeseburger and coffee.

  Angie had produced Wheat Chex and milk for breakfast, and toast topped with her homemade blueberry jam, so we ate like royalty, but it was wearing off. A few people were bowling and the crashing pins suited my state of mind.

  The thing that was bothering me was Celeste’s statement that Marino had shown up three weeks before, but the over-billing scam had been going on for months. The Otter would have passed its Hobbs meters six months ago if the hours that were billed had actually been flown. But, if Celeste was a thief, and she obviously was, then why trust anything she said?

  Did Marino really wipe his glass clean, or did Celeste do that to cover for a partner? Was Celeste plotting to have me killed while we were dancing? Even more pertinent, would she succeed? That thought was hard to take. So was the coffee, but the cheeseburger was fine and the fries no more soggy than noodles. I mixed Tabasco with the catsup for the fries. That helped.

  When I stepped outside, I was slapped in the face with blowing dust, and by the time I got to the car it was mixed with tiny snowflakes. I took a drive out to the airport. The Otter and Skyvan were both tethered at Interior. Reginald and Celeste were parked in the lot, Marino was not. For the heck of it, I drove through the lot at the passenger terminal, but no black Cadillacs jumped out at me. I got to thinking that Fairbanks was a small town so maybe I could drive around and spot Marino. That wasted the afternoon and I was fifteen minutes early to pick up Angie. By that time the snow was sticking and I was peering out of the double arches the wipers made. I got out and cleaned the back window and mirrors, but they were covered again by the time I got back in the car. Before my hands were warm, the evidence of my efforts had disappeared.

  Angie came out wearing a long gray coat that almost covered her nylons. Her collar was turned up, but the coat was hanging open, flying in the wind. She had a cute little matching stocking cap perched on her head like a crown. She pulled the cap down tight, but opened her arms to embrace the snow before she bent to open the car door.

  “Oh, Alex, isn’t it beautiful?”

  “Real white,” I agreed.

  “But it covers everything, all the ugliness in the world is clean and sparkling.”

  “Yep, including our rear window and the mirrors.” I rolled down my side window, braved the blast to stick my head out and look back. Snowflakes melted on my face and watered my eyes. I let one taxi go by and pulled into traffic.

  On Hot Springs Road, the snow was streaking by sideways. Leaves were gone from the trees, the branches black, but they did have snow plastered against them. Maybe they were ridged inch deep with pearl, but it looked to me like a creeping fungus that was attacking the world.

  Turk was in the lane to meet us, but he was distracted, snapping at the flakes. He turned around and around, shaking his head when flakes piled up on his fur. Angie gave him a pat and brushed snow off his back. He was busy trying to figure out where the white things were coming from.

  I went around back and started the generator. Ice was flowing steadily in the river, and snow had turned it white. It was a pinto effect, white shapes on black water. Turk gave up biting the snow and crawled into his house. I went inside and cranked up the furnace.

  Angie was watching the snow through the window, humming to herself. She had two gigantic orange salmon steaks on the cutting board. “Feast tonight, Alex. These are king salmon, almost fresh from Emmonak.”

  “Little out of season?”

  “They were flash frozen an hour after they came out of the Yukon, and they’ve been frozen until I set them out this morning. They’re almost fresh, and this guy is so fat he doesn’t need the pan lubricated.” She fired the propane broiler on the cook stove, set the salmon steaks on a cookie sheet and shoved them under the flame. She went to work grating pickles and onions to make tartar sauce.

  “Can I help? Peel potatoes or something?”

  “Potatoes are boiling in that pot, but there’s a bottle of chenin blanc on the back step. You can check if it’s cool enough.”

  I judged that it was, brought it in and found a corkscrew in the silverware drawer. That salmon smelled so good my mouth was already watering. Angie pulled the sheet out with a hot mitt, flipped the steaks over with a spatula and slathered mayonnaise on them before she stuck them back under the flame.

  “Here, mash these.” She took the potatoes off the fire, dumped the boiling water and ran cold over them, then dumped that and handed the pot to me. An old-fashioned potato masher like my mother used was peeking out of a squat ceramic jar full of knives and spatulas. I had the spuds half mashed when Angie dropped in a stick of butter and went to set the table.

  It was magic, salmon steaks, homemade tartar, asparagus, potatoes, and wine. Angie lit candles and turned off the overhead light.

  “The candles aren’t for me, Alex. They’re in honor of the salmon and the snow.”

  I was thinking that was the best meal I’d ever tasted and snowflakes by candlelight aren’t too bad, so long as they’re outside and I’m in. It didn’t seem right to talk, we were having a religious experience. I stuffed myself miserably full, but could not stop until my plate was polished. It didn’t seem possible, but Angie stayed right with me.

  When we finally leaned back to sip the last of the wine, I was in a golden haze.

  “Angie, this is heaven, and you’re an angel on earth.”

  Her eyes popped wide open, she burst into tears, and ran for her bedroom. I was flummoxed. That might have been the first really sincere compliment I’d ever paid anyone. She’d left her door open, and was lying on her bed, hugging a pillow and sobbing her eyes out. I went in and fidgeted beside the bed.

  “Angie, I’m so sorry, I meant…I didn’t mean….”

  She reached out to take my hand and smiled through her tears. “It’s okay, Alex. I know what you meant. It’s just that your compliment was exactly what Stan used to say. Oh, damn, I’m not sure I can make it, Alex. I’m not entirely sane, you know? I kept thinking I was preparing dinner for Stan. It was his favorite and I’d been saving the salmon for some special event with him. Then you sat back, just like Stan would have, and said what he would have said, and I just lost it.”

  I sat on the edge of her bed, released her hand and kneaded her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, Angie. Why don’t I take you back to Crooked Creek? You could visit your mother, get your feet on the ground.”

  “I don’t know, Alex, I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I think I should sell the house and start over, but then Stan is here and I couldn’t leave him.” She buried her face in her pillow and bawled.

  I kept massaging shoulders, making soothing noises. Eventually her sobs lessened to the occasional hitching breath and she was asleep. I tiptoed out, rinsed the dishes, and left them in the sink. I sat on the couch. The snow continu
ed to fall. Maybe it was covering the ugliness outside, but it couldn’t touch the ugliness inside people. I knew what I had to do. I didn’t have all the answers, but enough to know what was rotten. I paced for a while, then just sat down and stared out at the snow.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Angie woke me with a fragrant cup of coffee, so I must have slept. “Thanks for last night, Alex. You’re the best brother a girl ever had. I am going to be fine. I took your suggestion and talked to my mother last night.”

  “You what?”

  “Had a chat with Mother, never mind the details. I told you, me Indian medicine woman. Mother reminded me that she’s lost two husbands, and she loved them both. When it happens to other people, we expect them to deal with it. When it happens to us, we flop around like a fish out of water. Mother would have been ashamed of my performance last night, so it won’t happen again. Wonderful of you to help me over the rough spots, but now let’s stop all this maudlin foolishness and get to work.”

  Snow had stopped falling, but the world was white and it was going to stay that way for the next seven months. I dropped Angie at the station and drove out to the airport. Reginald and Celeste were parked in their usual spots, and Dave Marino’s car was in the lot. The Otter and Skyvan were tied and covered, so all of the principals were in that building. I used the pay phone at the entrance to call Stella.

  “Jim, I’ve got a whole tree of raccoons cornered. I don’t know all the answers, but I know how to find out. Can you very quietly get into the freight shed at Interior Air Cargo in the next half hour?”

  “You won’t even see me slip in.”

  “Good, stand beside the connecting door between the warehouse and the office, and I think you’ll hear everything you want to know.”

  “I’m on the way.” He hung up, so I did, too. I waited twenty minutes, hoping Dave Marino wouldn’t leave, and wondering how I was going to lure him back if he did. Just for insurance, I parked the Power Wagon so it blocked the lot entrance.

  Celeste gave me her smile, but didn’t rush to the counter. I raised the leaf and invited myself in. She didn’t seem happy to see me, but she wasn’t surprised, so she apparently didn’t know I was dead. The brunette turned around and did a double take when I stepped through the counter uninvited, but turned back to her desk and buried her nose in papers. It seemed I just wasn’t her type.

  “Hi, Celeste, can I tear you away from your ledgers for a minute?”

  “Sure, what’s up, Alex?”

  “We need to have a chat with Reginald. Is he in his office?”

  “Yeah, he’s in, but he’s meeting with Marino at the moment. Maybe we shouldn’t interrupt them?”

  “This will just take a couple of minutes. Maybe Freddy could join us?”

  “Well, I don’t know….”

  “Aw, come on, invite him. He might feel left out.”

  She picked up her phone and pushed buttons. Freddy came out of his office and did a double take. He was surprised to see me, but he didn’t register the shock I was expecting. If he had thought I was dead he was a consummate actor. He shook his head to clear it and recovered admirably. “Hi, Alex. I thought the storm would chase you back to Bethel.”

  “Very soon. We just need to touch base with Reginald.” Celeste was still seated. I took her arm, half urged, half lifted her to stand and gestured for her to precede me. Freddy shrugged and stepped over to tap on Reginald’s door. I shepherded Celeste ahead of me, and opened the door to the warehouse as I passed. The warehouse was silent. I hoped Stella was as good as his word. I left the door to Reginald’s office open when we entered.

  Reginald and Marino were hunched over the computer. Reginald looked up with a flash of annoyance, but he instantly shifted to campaign mode. “Hello, people, what’s up?” Marino backed away from the computer and stood in front of the Nixon photo.

  My throat was constricted. I had to clear it. “I’m afraid I called this meeting. The five of us need to go over some details of flight scheduling and billing.”

  Reginald stood, Marino backed toward the end of the desk, and Celeste looked ready to cry. I glanced down and noted that Marino was wearing black oxfords.

  Reginald was prepared to bluff it out, an expression of concern and perplexity on his movie star mug. “What’s wrong, Alex? Didn’t you get paid for your flight hours?”

  “Yes, I got paid for the hours I flew, but not for the sixteen hours that have my name on them that I didn’t fly. Maybe Freddy can explain how the Otter got over a thousand hours of billing but only three hundred on the Hobbs meters?”

  Freddy was shaking his head. “Did the Hobbs meters fail? Probably a blown fuse. You can check the aircraft log if you like.”

  “No, I’m sure the log matches the billing, but the meters worked perfectly when I flew the bird, and I personally saw the Otter tied down half a dozen times when flight tickets said it was flying. Let me guess. Interior is bilking the consortium out of a million or more a year. Anyone doubt that?”

  I was expecting a reaction from Marino, but he didn’t flinch. Reginald seemed to be having a heart attack. “What the hell are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?”

  “I’m talking about several hundred thousand, maybe a million dollars’ worth of fraudulent billing.”

  “Get out of my office. I’m calling the cops.” Reginald reached for his phone. Freddy stepped forward and waved his hands like an umpire declaring a runner safe.

  “Calm down, Reginald. You’ve been so wrapped up in that governor scheme, you wouldn’t know if the business was bankrupt. Alex what the devil are you talking about?”

  I was standing with hands behind me, but had a grip on my pistol. “I’m talking about a scheme to rob the consortium. I’m talking about hired assassins who killed Stan and have been trying to kill me. Don’t play dumb, Reginald. I know Marino and Celeste have been blackmailing you, but that’s going to end right now.”

  Reginald bent over and opened the desk drawer. He fumbled through papers, but came out lifting a nickel-plated .38 revolver.

  I jerked my pistol out and had it pointed at his face. “Drop it, Reginald. Leave the gun in the drawer. Don’t make me shoot you.”

  “Alex, I don’t know what you’re up to, but there’s too much at stake, the governorship, the business. I can’t let you stop me. Freddy, if Alex wants money, give it to him. Don’t endanger my reputation.”

  I took one step forward, letting Reginald look down the gun barrel. “Reginald, you’re forgetting one detail. This isn’t about money. This is about conspiracy to commit murder. I don’t care how many millions you make, they are not worth Stan’s life. You imported assassins and had him killed.”

  Freddy groaned. “Alex, that was an accident, not my fault. I answered an ad in a magazine, just looking for some muscle. All powerful men have their enforcers. Do you think Nixon didn’t? I just wanted to protect Reginald. I thought his boyfriend might cause trouble, or there might be a union problem. I wanted some muscles who could threaten and intimidate. I didn’t realize those guys were killers.

  “When your friend overheard them talking, they said they’d take care of him—well, I didn’t know they meant to kill him. I told them it was all a mistake and I didn’t want to hire their services, but they told me to get stuffed. No way could I control them.”

  “So, it wasn’t your idea to have me and Angie killed?”

  “Alex, I didn’t know anyone was going to be killed. I didn’t even know the connection between you and the pickup explosion until the night you introduced Angie, and then the two mercenaries got killed. I thought that was the end of it.”

  “But two more showed up from Seattle to take their place.”

  “I know, they charged their tickets to the company, but I had nothing to do with that and I never even saw the second two.”

  “So, you’re just an innocent victim of circumstance?”

  “Alex, millions are being wa
sted on the pipeline. It just makes sense to grab our share while we can. If Reginald becomes governor and leaves the business for me to run, we’ll all be set for life, you’ve got to see that.”

  “What I see is that Marino and Celeste were blackmailing Reginald, but you were all in it.”

  I was expecting Marino to make a try for me, or pull a weapon of his own, but it was the brunette who stepped through the door and stuck a gun in my back.

  “Come on, Freddy. Grab the phone, jerk the wires out of the computer, and let’s lock them in the office. All we need is enough time to get to Canada in the 310 and we’ll be home free. I stashed a fortune in the Caymans while Marino dithered around trying to connect Reginald to the scam. Couldn’t believe that a mere woman could do it, could you, Marino? Alex, drop the pistol or you’re dead.”

  I glanced down at her feet and saw open-toed sandals. I dropped the pistol. That two-pound chunk of steel landed on her toe. She screamed and bent over. I grabbed the pistol out of her hand when it went by. Freddy lunged, grabbed the barrel with his right hand, my wrist with his left and used his momentum to swing me around. I didn’t fight him; I helped him, and tripped him as he went by. When my gun wavered, Reginald jerked his up and shot. I don’t know if he was shooting at Freddy or me, or just shooting from sheer frustration, but the bullet hit Freddy in the shoulder.

  Freddy’s head slammed into the wall. He lost his grip on my arm and slid down. Reginald had dropped his gun to his side, not understanding what had happened. When he raised it again, I shot it out of his hand. He shrieked and stuck bloody fingers in his mouth. Freddy was trying to get up, so I stood on the middle of his back. The brunette was bent over whimpering and rubbing her foot. Her big toe was turning purple and blood seeping out around the painted nail.

  I snapped my attention back to the desk. “Marino, get your hands up. If you go for a gun, I might miss it and hit your heart. Celeste, get over there beside him. You’re in this up to your pretty little false eyelashes, and your signature is on papers that will put you away for twenty years.”