Murder at five finger light

by Sue Henry

  “Why did they leave the cocaine here?”

  “They didn’t think they had, but they were in such a hurry to leave that they didn’t check till later, so they didn’t know that Whitney had pulled a switch on them. They had turned around and were headed back when the Coast Guard caught up with them. Whitney is probably lucky they didn’t make it. You saw how they dealt with Curt—and he’d been helping them use the lighthouse as a stash on the run north from Seattle, or Canada.”

  “So,” Jessie said thoughtfully, “Laurie was right about someone being here when they weren’t. She wanted to talk to you about it, Alex.”

  “She has, and I reassured her it wouldn’t be happening again. Jim was pretty angry about it.”

  She turned back to Cooper with another question.

  “Karen was never your girlfriend, was she, and you never beat her as she claimed?”

  “Never.” His tone turned bitter. “My taste runs more to human beings. I don’t hit women—even her kind.”

  “She seemed truly terrified of you.”

  “She had reason to be. She’s been running and I’ve been following and watching her run for—long enough. She knew I knew everything about her. But I waited, hoping she would lead me to the rest of the group. Unfortunately, I waited too long and Tim paid for it.”

  “You think she killed Tim? She said he was her friend.”

  “He was—once—a long time ago in Ketchikan, before I told him what she was into. Then he wouldn’t have anything to do with her. She really cared about him, so that’s what made her hate me. Yes, I know she killed him. Who else would have? She must have thought she was killing me because he was wearing my jacket after I took his by mistake that night. She tried once before, so it makes sense that she would again, the moment she had an even chance. She thought she had one—that it was me, not Tim.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed and he nodded slightly to himself. It was one important question he believed Cooper had answered correctly.

  “A woman scorned,” he commented, and Cooper nodded.

  “Would you have killed her?” Jessie asked hesitantly.

  He stared out across the waters of Frederick Sound to the mountains on the islands in the distance, but Alex thought he was seeing little of the view.

  “She’s not worth killing,” he said finally in a level and controlled tone that displayed his abhorrence more coldly than if he had raised his voice. “I hope she’ll get what she deserves in a court of law. But if she’s true to form she’ll probably give up the rest for some kind of consideration. She has no loyalty whatsoever to anyone but herself.”

  Later that evening, when everyone was gone, including Joe Cooper, Jessie and Alex, after an enjoyable and relaxing dinner with Jim, Laurie, Sandra and Don, slipped out to spend a few minutes by themselves, settling side by side on the steps of the helipad. Tank padded along behind, refusing to be separated from Jessie, and lay down at her feet.

  Alex took out the pipe he had brought along and was soon puffing clouds of his favorite and familiar tobacco into the still air.

  “You really had me spooked with that move you made in front of that pistol,” he told her. “Wish you wouldn’t do that kind of thing, Jess.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I felt I had to do something. It was the only thing I could think of—and it worked.”

  “Just barely—and because I was ready for it, and quick.”

  Jessie was quiet for a short time, looking up at the stars that were faintly beginning to appear in the darkening sky over their heads.

  “You know,” she said, “I’m sorry for Aaron. He’s really a nice kid and I don’t understand how he allowed himself to get sucked into the whole thing.”

  Alex shook his head and shrugged. “I believe he was less sucked into it than suckered. Whitney knew he was Coast Guard—saw that he was interested in her. She played him and took advantage of an opportunity for good cover. She and that Karen are two of a kind—takers.”

  “Karen,” Jessie said flatly, “is worse. She’s a piranha. She grabs whatever she can get, blames everything that goes against her on someone else, and thinks the world owes her.”

  “She certainly has getting what she wants down to a science—most of the time, at least. Makes you wonder what background made her the way she is, doesn’t it?”

  Jessie reached down to scratch Tank’s ears and croon endearments to him for a minute or two. Then she leaned back on her elbows and watched the clouds rolling slowly in over the eastern hills for a minute or two.

  “I think,” she said finally, “that actually she was afraid of just about everything.”

  “Hmm-m—that could be true, I guess.”

  “I think she couldn’t stand what she thought of herself, so she blamed other people for it.”

  He nodded and puffed a small amount of smoke into a ring that drifted off into the night.

  “I’ve been afraid of things I should have let go of a long time ago too,” she said presently.

  “Oh, you aren’t afraid of much. I think you proved that again today.”

  “Not much maybe, but of some things that shouldn’t matter anymore.”

  “Like?”

  As it grew dark enough, the light in the tower suddenly came on automatically and began to revolve, casting the circle of its warning light out over Frederick Sound.

  “Like that.” Jessie lifted a hand toward it. “Its constant purpose is preventing disaster, whether there’s anyone at risk or not. It’s the only way for a lighthouse to function, of course. There’s no way for it to detect whether or not there is anyone in need of warning, so it’s built to operate whenever it’s dark, just in case.

  “I’ve been like that. Concerned with preventing possible disaster, whether there’s a real risk or not—just in case. I’ve been like that with our relationship, haven’t I, Alex.”

  “So you think we might be headed for disaster?” he teased, chuckling at the comparison.

  She aimed a fist at his shoulder. “No, you idiot! I mean that I don’t think we are, and it’s time to stop circling with warnings and waiting to see if we might be.”

  He caught the fist before it landed and used it to pull her into the shelter of his arms, where she leaned against his shoulder and settled contentedly to listen as he answered.

  “If you’re circling, then it’s not up to me to convince you it’s unnecessary. You’ll figure that out when you’re ready. I’m just here now, to stay—and not in any danger, that I know, of running onto the rocks.”

  He puffed on the pipe, then spoke again softly.

  “And you do make a lovely light.”