“You think there’s a chance they’ll change their minds?”
“No. Absolutely not. We had a big argument about it last night and another one this morning. They made it clear that if I marry Waycross, they’ll have nothing to do with me, or him, or the baby, for the rest of our lives.”
As Tammy softly wept into her tissues, Savannah considered her next words thoughtfully. “I’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart.”
“I know they’re wrong. But I just can’t bear to hurt anyone, let alone someone I love. Now, no matter what I do, I’ll hurt some of the people I love most. How can I do the right thing when, no matter what I do, someone’s going to be harmed?”
Anger, hot and all-consuming, poured through Savannah’s veins, quickening her pulse and turning her cheeks red. At that moment, all she wanted was to give Mama and Poppa Hart an enormous piece of her mind.
“I understand the way my parents feel,” Savannah heard Tammy saying. “Their parents had a lot of money, and my great-grandparents before them. People with a lot of money live in a different world. They’re rich and—”
“No!” Savannah interjected. “It’s not about that. ‘Rich’ has nothing to do with it. I’ve known plenty of people who probably have more wealth than your parents could dream of, but they respect their children’s choices. They would want what’s best for their sons and daughters, even if it meant that they married outside their social circles. Even if it meant they held a menial job, if that’s what their hearts required to be joyful.”
Savannah drew a deep breath and then dove back into the deep end. “This isn’t because your parents are wealthy. This is because they’re putting their prejudices ahead of their child’s and grandchild’s happiness. It’s narrow-minded bigotry, plain and simple.”
Tammy nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true. If that’s the way they choose to think, nothing I say is going to change their minds.”
“Then that’s their choice. Unfortunately, they’ve put you in the position where you have to choose, too. What is your choice, Tammy?”
“I don’t know. What would you do?”
Shaking her head, Savannah replied, “I can’t tell you what to do, Tammy. If I did, I would be no different than your parents. You aren’t a fifteen-year-old girl. You’re a woman. Soon you’ll be a mother. You have to make your own choices and then live with them. That’s the worst and the best part of being an adult.”
Tammy thought for a long time. Savannah watched her, her heart in her throat, wondering if her words had helped or harmed.
Then, to her relief, Tammy lifted her chin, straightened her spine, and threw off her protective blankets. “I know what I’m going to do,” she said with the determination of a queen readying her armies for war. “I’m going to make my choice based upon what’s best for the one person who doesn’t have a voice yet. My baby would want to be raised with the people who love it most, its mom and dad, and that’s what’s going to happen.”
She rose from her chair, a bit awkwardly considering her added burden, and said, “Sorry, Savannah, but I have to leave you now. There’s something important I have to do. Something I should’ve done about six and a half months ago, when I first realized I was pregnant.”
As Savannah watched her friend hurry down the deck in the direction of her fiancé and her new, chosen future, she whispered to the bright blue sky, the dark crystal-clean waters, the emerald forests, and the mystic mountain range in the distance, “Ah, did you see that, Alaska? A gorgeous miracle, just like you. Our Tammy just became a woman.”
Chapter 17
“Okay,” Savannah said when she called Dirk from the ship’s gangway. “We’ve got that particular family fire put out, it seems, and I’m now leaving the ship to come join you. Where are you?”
“I just left the service station,” he told her. “The rest of the gang’s out and about, scouring the town for Olive. I’m on my way to the taxi office. Want me to swing by the pier and pick you up?”
“Does Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream have nuts and chocolate?”
She heard him laugh. “Hurry on down to the road and stick out your thumb, babe. Your ride will be there in less than one minute.”
True to his word, Dirk and the nasty old Bronco came sailing down the road in her direction fifty seconds later. As he drew near, she stuck out her hitchhiking thumb and one hip in a seductive pose. Early in life, she had discovered that particular gesture never failed to put a smirk on a man’s face. Though she only used it on men she knew extremely well . . . like husbands.
As she jumped into the truck, he asked the predictable question. “Hey, good-lookin’, where you headed?”
“Wherever you’re going, darlin’, is just fine with me.”
They drove a block or two, then he said, “I’m really happy to see you feeling a little better, Van. I was worried about you.”
“Tammy and I had a good talk,” she replied. “I think it helped her, and I know it helped me.”
“What’d you talk about?”
“Choices. How part of being an adult is making them and then living with them. I was feeling really bad about what happened to the Van Cleefs. I still do. But it was their choice to leave that suite, that ship, this morning without protection. So, whatever happened—”
“They have to live with it.”
“Or, sadly . . . not.”
* * *
The taxi “office” turned out to be little more than a lean-to shack nailed to the side of an old-fashioned saloon named Bottom of the Barrel. Inside Savannah and Dirk found a cranky middle-aged woman wearing a T-shirt with the image of a grizzly bear poised to bite a hunter in half. It read: LUNCH-TIME IN ALASKA.
She was sitting at a rickety desk with a stack of rumpled papers, a badly chewed pencil, and a landline phone in front of her. She was gnawing on a plug of tobacco and spitting into an empty beer can.
At least, Savannah assumed and hoped it was empty.
Savannah had heard the saying, “Alaska women are as tough as Alaska men.” While she was sure that there were plenty of perfectly lovely, feminine, girlie-girl women in the state, this gal wasn’t one of them.
“What?” punctuated by a spit, was the only greeting they received when walking into the room, filling the tiny space with their mere presence.
As always, when he felt he was being disrespected, Dirk reached for his badge. A gold detective shield impressed most folks and brought out their best behavior. With some others, it had the opposite effect.
This sweet damsel of the North was one of the “others.”
“So what?” she said. “I don’t know you, and you’re not a state trooper. So that means you don’t have any authority around here.”
“Be that as it may, we’re investigating a potential homicide,” Dirk told her in his half-an-octave-lower-than-usual voice.
“And?” Another spit.
Savannah said, “We need to speak with one of your cabbies.”
“Go stand on the queue down by the pier and hire one. That’s how it’s done around here.”
“We have one particular driver in mind,” Savannah told her. “His taxi is number 592.”
“That’s Jake. He’s busy.”
Dirk leaned over and pushed the landline phone toward her. “How’s about you give busy Jake a call and tell him we need to speak to him.”
“He’s had a bad day. Got stuck in traffic up there by the glacier. Some stupid tourists ran themselves off the road. Again.”
Savannah gave her a hard, blue, laser stare. But instead of being intimidated, Miss Tobacco Breath returned her glare and said, “What? Is that the so-called ‘homicide’ you’re investigating? That wasn’t murder. That was you forty-eighters coming here on vacation and being stupid. We don’t go around killing folks up here, the way you fools do down there. We got grizzly bears, thin ice, airplane accidents, and the bitter cold to do that for us.”
“I’m sure you do,” Savannah said. For a moment, when
the cantankerous woman had spoken the words “airplane accident,” Savannah had seen a look of pain cross her wrinkled, weather-damaged face. Savannah wondered whom she had lost, and whether it was mechanical failure, poor climate conditions, or pilot error that had taken her loved one from her.
Not that it mattered.
Gone was gone.
“But, you see,” Savannah continued, “we knew those stupid forty-eighters who died out there today, and we just want to make sure that it was their own error of judgment that cost them their lives and not somebody else’s cruelty.”
She paused for a moment, allowing her words to sink in. Then she said in her kindest, softest voice, “If you lost someone you cared for in an accident, you’d want to make sure it was an accident. Wouldn’t you?”
For a moment the woman said nothing. She just sat still, not even chewing her tobacco. Then, abruptly, she reached for the telephone, picked up the receiver, and punched in some numbers. “Yeah, Jake. It’s Myrtle. Come ’er.”
She paused a moment and listened. Then shouted, “’Cause I told ya to!”
Slamming down the phone, she turned to Savannah and Dirk. “He’ll be ’round in a minute. Wait outside. You’re suckin’ up all my air.”
They quickly obliged, and before long, they were standing on the edge of the street, waiting, watching for a yellow cab, number 592, driven by a guy named Jake who was apparently pretty good at doing what he was told.
“Boy, she’s a nasty bitch,” Dirk observed.
“Naw, Myrtle’s cool. I like her.”
He gave her a look that suggested he doubted her sanity. “O-o-o-kay. I suppose there’s no accountin’ for taste.”
Savannah spotted a cab coming toward them, then as it neared, saw the number on the front fender. “It’s our guy,” she said. “Let’s hope he has more to say than his boss lady.”
“And has better aim if he’s spitting in a beer can.”
“One can always hope.”
The driver rolled down the passenger window and said, “Hey, are you the reason Myrtle yelled at me?”
“Yeah,” Dirk told him.
“Actually, we just asked her if we could talk to you,” Savannah clarified. “She chose to yell at you all on her own.”
Jake sucked air through his teeth and nodded. “Yeah. Myrtle’s like that.” He pointed to the backseat. “You wanna get in and ride around while we chat, or you want me to get out and us go inside with Myrtle?”
It took five seconds for Savannah and Dirk to climb into the taxi, and another two seconds for him to spray gravel and get the car back onto the road.
Two minutes later, they were on the outskirts of town.
Jake pulled the cab onto a wide spot beside the road that overlooked a charming, rock-strewn brook, flowing through a dark, fog-shrouded valley. “This here is Copper Creek Road,” he said. “That down there is Copper Creek.”
“Yeah,” Savannah said without enthusiasm. “We’re familiar with it. Spent some time on it already today.”
“Farther up though,” Dirk added. “Near the glacier.”
“Huh. Me too.” Jake unbuckled his seat belt, reached over to a small cooler on the front passenger’s floorboard, and opened it. “Want one?” he asked, pulling out a soda.
Dirk grabbed the can, but Savannah declined. She was already deeply regretting all the tea she’d had at the café. What went in had to come out. Eventually. She scolded herself for not remembering Stake-out Rule #1, about watching your fluid intake if bathrooms weren’t plentiful. If they spent too much time out here in the wilderness, she might have to take a hike into the forest, find a secluded pine tree, and water it.
“What is it that you two wanted to talk to me about?” Jake wanted to know as he popped the top of his cola can. “You want an all day tour around town and the vicinity? I’ll make you a deal. A lot cheaper than one of those bus tours and a lot more comfortable.”
He shot them a wide grin that was missing a couple of teeth. “Plus you get the joy of my company.”
“I’m sure that’d be great,” Savannah said, “under different circumstances. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to take any tours right now. In fact, we have a few questions to ask you. Important questions.”
“Yeah.” Dirk leaned forward and propped his forearms on the back of the front seat. “You said you were up by the glacier yourself earlier today?”
“Yes.” Jake took a swig of his soda. “That was a fare I won’t soon forget.”
“How so?” Savannah asked.
“For one thing, she was a hottie. Not overly bright, but cute and friendly. Not like the usual grumpy old lady tourists I haul around every day.”
For a moment, Savannah thought of the numerous “old ladies” that she knew and loved—their humor, their wisdom, their loyalty, their kindnesses. She decided that if Jake’s elderly female patrons were “grumpy” it might have more to do with Jake than his fares. But since she wanted to stay on his good side, she decided to keep that particular observation to herself.
“We happen to know the young lady in question,” Savannah told him. “We pretty much agree with your assessment of her. But right now, what we need to know is exactly what happened this morning from the moment you first had contact with her until she was out of your sight.”
Suddenly, Jake seemed a bit wary. “Why should I tell you guys about one of my fares? Who are you people anyway?”
Once again, Dirk dragged out his badge and identified himself as police.
Jake looked at Savannah, evaluating. “Are you a cop, too?”
“Used to be,” she replied.
“She’s a private detective,” Dirk snapped. “Close enough. Let’s get on with this. How did you happen to pick this gal up? Did she call you?”
“Nope. I was driving by the pier and she flagged me down. I was on my way to get some breakfast, but one look at her, and I decided to stop.”
“What time was that?” Savannah asked.
“I don’t know for sure. Shortly after eight. That’s usually when I get hungry and need some serious food.”
Dirk was digging in his jacket pocket for his notebook and pen. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, “but we need to know the exact time. You cabbies write that stuff down, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I wrote it down. Myrtle would have my hide if I didn’t.” He searched among some paper litter on the passenger seat until he found his logbook. He looked it over and found the entry. “Picked her up at eight-ten.”
“What did she say when she got in?” Savannah asked.
“She asked me if I could take her more than one place. If that was against taxicab rules. I laughed, ’cause that’s kind of a dumb question, but she asked real cute. Like maybe she’d never taken a cab before in her whole life.”
“Okay.” Savannah was beginning to lose patience with Jake. If he said the word “cute” again, she might have to file a complaint with Myrtle. “Where did she say she wanted to go?”
“First she said she wanted to stop by a service station and buy a gas can and get it filled up. I asked her if her car was broke down somewhere and outta gas. She said, ‘No, and don’t ask me about it. I can’t tell anybody what it’s for.’”
Jake paused to drain half of his soda can. Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and continued. “So I took her over to Fred’s service station, and Fred not only sold her a can, but he filled it up for her, too. And that shows you how hot she was. I went to school with Fred, and I’ve known him practically our whole lives. I’ve never known him to do anything for anybody. But he filled that can for her. Fred never would’ve done that for some cranky, ugly, old tourist lady.”
Once again, Savannah’s hackles rose a few notches, but, as before, she filed her indignation away for future reference. “After Fred filled the hottie’s tank, what happened then?”
“She wanted to haul it back there on the floorboard next to her. That’s just what I needed, a smelly gas can stinking up my interior. I told
her if she wanted me to transport gas for her, it had to be in the trunk. She agreed, and I stuck it back there for her.”
“All right,” Dirk said. “Now we’re getting to the good part. Where did she have you take her?”
“Up to the glacier.”
Savannah’s heart soared. She could almost hear that puzzle piece click into place. “You dropped her and her gas can at the glacier?”
“Not at the actual glacier. You have to hike on trails for a ways to see that. I dropped her at the Visitor Center.”
“Didn’t that seem a little odd to you?” Dirk asked. “Just a woman and her gas can, out there in the middle of nothin’?”
“Yeah, I guess. A little bit.”
“You didn’t think to ask her what she needed it for?” Savannah said.
Jake shrugged and looked a little sheepish. “No. Can’t say that it crossed my mind. Like I said, she was really hot and cute. It was kinda distracting.”
Dirk drew a deep breath and shook his head. Savannah could feel his impatience brewing like a thunderstorm on the horizon. “So that’s it? That’s all? She didn’t say anything about what she was going to do with the gas?”
“Not a word.”
“What time was it,” Savannah asked, “when you dropped her off?”
Jake glanced again at his driver’s log. “That was at eight twenty-eight.”
“So, what you’re telling me is,” Dirk continued, “she just climbed out of your cab, you got out and handed her the gas can, and she went into the Visitor Center, carrying that thing like some kind of weird purse?”
Jake paused before answering, thinking it over. “Now that you mention it, that was a little weird.”
“I reckon it was,” Savannah said. “I’m pretty sure you’re only supposed to carry gas can purses between Easter and Labor Day.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. The weird part was that she didn’t go into the center at all. When I turned the cab around to leave, I saw her in my rearview mirror. She was walking away from the center, back down the road we had come, and I remember thinking right then, she might be as hot as a pistol, but that gal’s a bit odd.”
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