‘More than you’d think,’ Derek said.
‘I sincerely hope that none of our men is in any way involved in this tragedy, but I want you to know that whatever the outcome we’ll do everything we can to assist you in the investigation,’ Klinsman said. ‘Now, you haven’t been here before.’ It was a statement rather than a question. He’d obviously checked the logs.
‘No,’ Derek confirmed.
‘It’s unfortunate that your first visit has to be in these circumstances. I would have invited you for an official tour once we were properly up and running but I hope you don’t mind my giving you an introduction now. It’s quite a show.’ The colonel’s eyes softened with pride. Faintly distasteful, Edie thought, but then you never knew with qalunaat. Odd bunch.
Klinsman launched in with a few facts and figures, finishing up reminding Derek and Edie, as though they needed it, that this was the first time that Joint Forces North had established a major operation as far north as Ellesmere. He was particularly looking forward to joint exercises with the local Rangers, he said.
‘My ex-stepson, Ranger Willa Inukpuk, is helping run the rappel training programme up at that spur camp you got a few kilometres northwest of here,’ Edie offered.
Klinsman smiled blankly. He finished his introductory speech and then led them along a boardwalk towards some tents and prefabricated buildings. Men in uniform strode purposefully along the walks, alone or in groups, sometimes talking as they went, otherwise silent. They stopped what they were doing as he passed, to salute. At the end of the path Klinsman turned and directed them towards a row of tents and module buildings.
‘Have you been up to this part of the Arctic before?’ Derek asked, by way of conversation.
Klinsman smiled politely. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s a pity we’re so busy, and now with this . . . I would have liked more time to explore.’
He waved them into a large domed building and showed them where to put their outerwear. He took them down a corridor and waved them to a seat in his office while he took the larger chair on the other side of the desk.
‘Before we go in to see Private Namagoose, I thought I should explain a couple of things. There are currently no military police on the site, but we are working within the framework of Joint Forces North protocols. You’ll understand that we will be taping any preliminary interviews conducted with military personnel whether on or off site. If this goes any further, we might require a legal presence. Just a formality. We’ll appreciate being kept up to speed, so far as is possible, with the progress of any investigation, whether or not it involves our personnel.’ He paused. ‘Obviously, we understand that this case is your jurisdiction.’
‘Of course,’ Derek said. ‘We appreciate that.’ From the look on Derek’s face Edie deduced he was as wary of this kind of talk as she was. Qalunatter, they called it. Abstract, formal, designed to dazzle.
‘I gave the victim’s family lawyer the same message,’ Klinsman added.
Derek rocked back on his chair. His face twitched. ‘Ellesmere Island Police doesn’t share Ms Gutierrez’s priorities right now.’
Klinsman looked unruffled. ‘The contract for the works at Glacier Ridge is between the hamlet of Kuujuaq and the Defence Department. We’re just the clean-up detail. I’ve made the department aware of the situation, but strictly speaking, this is between you and them.’
‘Thank you for making that clear,’ Derek said. He seemed a little dazed and it struck Edie – not for the first time – that she and Derek were both more at home with sled dogs and bear migration than with the language and formality of military protocol. ‘Maybe you could give us some background on Private Namagoose before we go in?’
Klinsman looked away. ‘Perhaps it’s best you just meet him. Then maybe you can ask any supplementary questions later?’ He stood. ‘Now, shall we?’
They followed him along a cramped corridor to a door marked with the number 3. Klinsman reached for the handle and they went in. The room was windowless and dominated by a large foldaway table behind which sat a thickset man in fatigues and khaki T-shirt, with his arms out in front of him and the fingers interlocked, nervously stretching himself. A video camera stood on a tripod in one corner.
Klinsman made the introductions. Jacob Namagoose blinked at his name but was otherwise expressionless.
They sat. Derek removed his hat and placed it down on the table. Namagoose stole a glance at it but did not look up.
‘We are investigating the death of Martha Salliaq. At this stage we just need you to clarify a few things.’
Namagoose nodded and folded his arms around the back of his chair so that his biceps flexed and you could see the hard fist of muscle rising up on each shoulder. On his right arm there were tattooed patterns Edie recognized as aboriginal totems and a motto, Facta non Verba, which she guessed meant Deeds not Words. His left arm was largely bare of decoration except for a tattoo at the top, only part of which was visible. From where Edie sat, it looked like a killer whale.
‘Namagoose. That’s a Cree name, isn’t it?’ Derek asked. Namagoose grunted. He had those deep hazel eyes through which you could see right down past generations. ‘Out of?’
‘James Bay.’
‘My mother came from down that way,’ Derek said. ‘Cree also.’
Namagoose blinked, an implacable expression on his face.
‘You been in the army long, Private Namagoose?’
Namagoose rocked in his chair. ‘Five years. Since just after I left high school.’
‘Private Namagoose has an impressive record,’ Klinsman interjected. ‘One tour in Iraq, two in Afghanistan.’
Namagoose spotted Edie looking at the orca tattoo. He flexed his shoulders and it temporarily disappeared. He seemed nervous, Edie thought, but was playing it cool. Relied on his size a lot, she figured.
‘Do you have a camera, Private Namagoose?’ Derek said.
The soldier frowned, puzzled. ‘No.’ He corrected himself. ‘There’s one on my cell phone. But there’s no signal up here, so . . .’ He tailed off.
‘So you haven’t taken any pictures.’
‘No.’
Derek took out a notebook. ‘Can you tell us what you did at the weekend?’
Namagoose removed his arms from the chair and leaned forward. ‘Like I already told Colonel Klinsman, Friday night I got a ride into Kuujuaq and had a couple of beers there in the bar with the guys.’
‘Anyone who can corroborate that?’
Klinsman confirmed that Private Namagoose had checked in with the sentry gate at 10.34 p.m.
Edie scribbled this down in her notebook. Namagoose went on. ‘Saturday was a free day so I went into town again. If you can call it a town.’
‘You seem to have left out the part about Martha Salliaq, Private Namagoose,’ Derek said. The man stared straight ahead, working his jaw.
‘I met her on my way to the store, that’s all. I asked her about the mosquitoes.’
Derek raised an inquisitive brow. ‘Did she look like an entomologist?’
Namagoose unlaced his fingers, rubbed the back of his head with his right hand and glared straight ahead.
‘I thought she was cute. It was just something to say.’
‘But you parted on bad terms,’ Edie said.
Namagoose glanced sideways at her.
‘I wouldn’t say bad terms. I was a little pushy and she got cranky with me, so I backed off. Big deal.’ Both hands were back on the desk now and he was using one to pick at the fingernails of the other.
‘What happened after you left her outside the store?’
‘I went to the bar. Sax was there so we shot some pool, had a beer. Then we went out on the land. Did some hiking, birding.’
‘This Sax, he a friend of yours?’ Derek asked.
Namagoose stretched his legs so that his left foot made contact with Edie’s. He met her eye, doing his best to unsettle her.
‘We hang together sometimes so I guess that makes us friends.’
&
nbsp; ‘He got a real name?’
‘Private Skeeter Saxby.’
‘So,’ Derek said, ‘you and Private Saxby went out bird hunting.’ Klinsman leaned forward and held up a hand, interjecting, ‘We don’t allow unauthorized hunting expeditions.’
‘I like birds,’ Namagoose said simply.
Edie shot Derek a look. He didn’t believe it either.
Edie’s chin flicked to the man’s left arm. ‘Facta non Verba. Deeds not words.’
‘Special forces,’ Namagoose said. He scratched at the tat with his fingernail. ‘They RTU’d me.’
‘Which is?’
‘Returned to unit,’ Klinsman cut in. ‘It’s a highly competitive entry process.’
‘But what Private Namagoose is saying is that he didn’t make it,’ Derek said. His eyebrows lifted. ‘Must have been a heartbreaker.’
Namagoose reddened and the cords in his neck stiffened. ‘I got over it.’
‘Have trouble keeping a cool head, Private Namagoose? Is that why you were RTU’d?’
Namagoose didn’t answer. The sudden anger seemed to have subsided into resentment.
‘Either you or Private Saxby see Martha after Saturday lunchtime?’
‘Nope. Leastwise, I know I didn’t. Don’t figure how Sax could neither, seeing he was with me the whole time.’
‘Privates Namagoose and Saxby checked into the gatehouse at nine forty-six on Saturday night,’ Klinsman said.
The interview went on, but Namagoose was either telling the truth or playing close enough to his chest not to give anything away. After an hour or so when they hadn’t got anything more out of him, they let him go. Klinsman escorted them in the direction of the sentry gate. A rainbow had appeared in the sky but it wasn’t raining.
‘We’d like to check in with Private Saxby,’ Derek said.
‘He’s out on exercises, but I can have him recalled. Won’t be tonight though.’
‘Tomorrow then?’
‘That’s fine.’ As they made to go, Klinsman held out a hand.
‘My personal opinion, Sergeant Palliser, is that neither Namagoose or Saxby had anything to do with the death of Martha Salliaq.’
‘Oh?’ Derek enquired, in a tone of polite interest.
‘If I were you, I’d be looking closer to home.’
• • •
Back at the detachment, Edie and Derek debriefed over hot sweet tea and seal blubber.
‘Well, now at least we understand Klinsman’s position,’ Derek said. ‘He’ll cooperate but he thinks it’s all bullshit.’
‘Namagoose was lying about the birds,’ Edie said.
‘Sure he was. But that doesn’t prove anything.’
‘The guy doesn’t have his own transport. Martha’s ATV was at home when she disappeared. If it was him, they must have walked out to the lake. Would she be likely to do that with someone she’d only just met?’
‘Maybe he ran into her there.’
‘And happened to have a knife?’
‘If he and Saxby were out hunting, sure. You wanna hunt birds, the cliffs are a pretty good place to do it. Charlie Salliaq said Martha walked out to the cliffs all the time. The lake’s not far from there.’
‘But Charlie didn’t think she’d been to the cliffs,’ Edie said.
‘He didn’t think she’d collected any eggs,’ Derek corrected her. ‘Maybe she went up there for other reasons.’
‘To meet someone?’ Edie thought about this for a moment. ‘In that case, I doubt it was Namagoose. Sam Oolik said Namagoose and Martha parted on bad terms. Namagoose admitted as much himself.’
‘More of a reason to want to hurt Martha.’ Derek stubbed out his cigarette. ‘I’m gonna call Ransom at home again, see if I can get him to move.’
While he was on the phone, Edie went over to the school building, hoping to catch Chip before he went home, but she found his door locked, and it wasn’t until she was leaving the building and her eye settled for a moment on the clock in the entrance foyer that she understood why. It was already 10.30 p.m. though the sky, sunny now, with a smear of high cirrus, gave no hint of night. In a few weeks from now there would come an evening when just after midnight the sky would shift, just a little, and then it would be fall and the darkness would come down.
On her way out, she spotted Markoosie leaving the town hall building across the way and went over to meet him.
‘How’s the family?’
‘Holding up.’ His voice grew solemn. ‘We’re disappointed that you haven’t kept us in the loop.’
So they’d heard about Namagoose. Derek had already warned her not to go into any details of the investigation but gossip moved as fast as a spooked seal here. How they were going to keep any of it to themselves, she had no idea.
‘Sounds like the Cree did it,’ Markoosie said.
‘We’re talking to a lot of folk, right now.’
• • •
Derek was still on the phone when she got back. The conversation didn’t seem to be going well. She went into the kitchenette and put on hot water for tea, remembering that, except for a little blubber, she hadn’t eaten since the fish heads this morning. It was too late now though. Derek’s face appeared around the door.
‘Any improvement on Thursday?’ She passed Derek a mug of tea and added six spoons of sugar to her own.
‘Apparently I’m supposed to be grateful that the lousy nose bot is willing to send anyone at all.’ He took a sip of his drink. ‘Any day now there’ll be yet another article in the Arctic Circular about the failure of the law enforcement agencies to tackle the rise in violent crime across the region and someone will put the blame on the native police forces. How are we supposed to investigate crime when the resources always go to qalunaat?’
Edie scoffed. ‘You really want me to answer that question?’
• • •
They said goodnight and Edie took her tea out to her tent. At the sleeping platform end she’d sewn a series of hooks into the canvas and from these she had hung sealskins which acted like curtains, shutting out most of the light and preventing the air from heating too much once the temperatures began to rise after what passed for the dawn. She lit her qulliq and burned enough seal oil to ward off the mosquitoes, then undressed. She was tired, but her mind whirred like a clockwork toy. For a while she lay staring up at the canvas. When she was a kid, after her father left, her mother would take her out into the night to look at the stars in the sky. She always said the lights were the spirits of the dead and it gave her comfort to be among them. They would sometimes stay for hours, taking it in turns to pick out the stars of their ancestors, before retreating into the warmth of the snowhouse where her mother would tell her about the old times, when people became wolves and wolves became people.
Things had changed since those days. Relations between wolves and people were clearer cut now, shapeshifting no longer held the same kind of magic as it did, and somewhere along the line she realized she had stopped believing that the stars were the ancestor spirits. For an instant she was filled with a bitter regret at how the world had altered and was changing still. But she was too exhausted for any feeling to last long and gradually, as her eyelids began to grow heavy, she felt herself moving to some deep place inside herself, and in the still spaciousness of sleep she imagined her father, Peter, smiling and stroking her hair; and opening her eyes she saw a face that did not belong to her father at all. It took a moment for Chip Muloon’s features to come into focus.
‘Hey,’ she said.
‘Hey. You were going to come over, remember?’
The softness of his mouth was on hers, a welcome heat spreading across her groin, and she reached out and began to unbutton his shirt, her hands cradling his chest, the fingers exploring the still surprising carpet of hair. There was a rush of cool air as he opened the sleeping bag and then the soft, spicy smell of his skin as he lowered himself in beside her. Her body turned automatically, one arm reaching up around his shoulders, fingers f
eeling for the tuft of hair at the base of his neck, while the other reached down. There was a brief, fleeting moment, when he looked at her and the blue of his eyes reminded her of the blank summer sky, but she brushed the thought away and allowed herself to drift into pleasure.
Afterwards, when their bodies were slick with sweat, they wrapped themselves in blankets, and went down to the shoreline, splashing about in the icy water, then returning to run their fingers along their goosebumped skin until they were shivering not with the cold but with pleasure once more.
And then they lay in silence on top of the sleeping skins, their bodies touching, wilfully lost to the world. Time passed. Eventually, Chip opened his mouth as if to speak. She raised a hand to stop him, unwilling to lose the closeness of the silence between them, but it was too late.
‘You went to Camp Nanook.’ His tone was matter of fact, as though he’d started a sentence and was expecting her to finish it.
She propped herself up on an elbow and caught those blue, expressionless eyes again. ‘You know I can’t talk about that,’ she said.
For some reason the answer seemed to unsettle him. He removed his gaze from her and sat up a little.
‘Do you think it’s this guy everyone’s talking about, the Cree?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘And I won’t be able to think at all unless I get some sleep.’
He shifted into a sitting position. ‘You know, you Inuit folks are always very eager to blame your problems on outsiders.’
She looked at him and saw that he was being perfectly serious.
‘I mean, it’s pretty messed up here, Edie.’
‘It’s pretty messed up everywhere,’ she said.
He laughed. It wasn’t a wholly kind laugh. ‘How would you know? You’ve never been anywhere.’
She turned to him, her eyes fierce now.
‘And you assume that you can see what northern life is like with those watery, southern eyes of yours?’ She saw him start, as though stung. ‘Maybe you’ve never been here, Chip, not really.’
His face grew dark. ‘You want me to go?’
She settled back into the sleeping skins and turned away.
‘Whatever,’ she said. Sleep was cresting over her like a wave. ‘I’m going to get some rest.’
The Bone Seeker: An Edie Kiglatuk Mystery (Edie Kiglatuk Mysteries) Page 9