“She hasn’t been well since, well, you know.” Earl rubbed his neck. “Let me go see if she’ll come out.”
“It won’t take a minute,” Meghan said.
She wanted to see what changed in the bedroom Cecil shared with Christine. It had to wait.
It took a few minutes before Joane appeared. She looked like a broken ghostly version of herself. She didn’t have a lot to offer her children. Cecil needed a new winter coat that fit him. They had unbalanced meals. The place was messy, and Joane wasn’t functioning at her best because one of the two precious things that mattered most in her life had disappeared. Meghan knew the children, for all they had, were cared for and loved. It was evident in Cecil and Christine’s bedroom. Someone spent more time cleaning their room over the rest of the house.
“Hi, Joane,” Lester said. “We needed to ask you a few questions.”
“Is this about Chrissy?” The moment she quickly said her daughter’s name, Joane buckled with the word. It physically assaulted her.
“This is about the house where Eugene lives on Rurik Way,” Lester said. He looked at Meghan to take over.
“Lester took the time to check with the title company regarding the legal owner of the house.”
“Eugene owns the place,” Earl said. “He got it from Cliff when he died.”
“Do you know if he has any paperwork for the property?” Meghan asked. “Something like a quitclaim deed?”
“What’s that?” Joane asked after she sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robe.
“Its legal paperwork in Alaska used to transfer real estate property between two parties. The grantor gives away their interest in the property to the grantee.” Lester explained the principle using his hands, gesturing from left to right representing the transaction. “I checked the title company to see if they had a quitclaim deed on file. They couldn’t find any in the property listing. If that is something Clifford did with Eugene, maybe Eugene has a copy of it.”
“So, I don’t understand. What does it matter?” Joane asked.
“Lester also checked with the courts to see if you filed a divorce decree or annulment.”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “We separated, but never got around to getting a divorce. Is that a problem?”
“No, no, you’re fine. You might have entitlement to benefits if Clifford had anything through his work. Something for the children,” she said and waved her hand. “What I’m, I mean, Lester wants to know is if you can give him access to enter the house.”
“That’s Eugene’s house,” Earl said.
“No, not legally, not if it’s still in Clifford’s name. Which it is,” Meghan said. “And technically, since you and Clifford never got divorced, the house belongs to Joane as the legal owner to Clifford’s estate.”
“Is that true?”
Lester nodded. “Right now, we need your permission to enter the house as the legal owner. If you want to dispute Eugene living there, we can handle that another time. Right now, we want to go into the house and talk to Eugene.”
“Is there something wrong with him?” Joane asked.
“He may be intoxicated,” Meghan said. “We want to do a welfare check on him. If you permit us, we can go in and see if he’s okay. We can look around the house, too, if that it’s okay with you.”
Joane waited to answer. Meghan held her breath. It hinged on her because there was no other way for Lester to get a warrant. He’d have to wait for Eugene to leave the property with the empty bottles visible. Lester had no way to stop and frisk him unless Eugene was publicly intoxicated.
Joane slowly absorbed the information. Meghan saw the realization open up her face like a flower reaching for sunlight.
“Gene told me Cliff gave him the house. I asked because I know the mortgage is about $500 less a month than living here. Back when Cliff and I separated, he talked about moving to Anchorage because the construction business ended in Kinguyakkii. There was a contractor who wanted to hire him to travel for work.
“Then Gene moved in with Cliff not long after he got back. Then Cliff drowned.”
Joane’s faced a lot of hardship in her life. Meghan read the history in the way the woman caught up to her words. She shook her head.
“Where did Eugene come back from?” Meghan asked.
“Gene lived in northern California for a few years,” Earl said. He rubbed on Joane’s shoulder, enveloping her under his arm and held her. “He went down to rebuild houses after those fires. Then he ran into some troubles, I guess, and Cliff had him come back here.”
“What kind of trouble?” Meghan asked, pressing the envelope.
“Can we have your permission to get into the house?” Lester asked.
Meghan held off. He worked with her long enough to know Meghan multitasked on the job. She went down several paths at once and eventually came back around. Meghan knew they had pressing matters and had to prioritize.
“Yes, of course,” Joane said.
“Thank you, Joane.” Lester shook hands with Joane and Earl. “Come to the department sometime soon. We can go over the proper way you can claim the house if you want it.”
“What about Gene? He’s lived there a long while after Cliff died,” Earl said.
“He deceived you,” Meghan mumbled. “That seems like a good reason to have things done legally.”
“If you have a lawyer, it’s a good idea to let them know. They can draft a writ, and I can execute the duties to evict Gene from the property.”
Joane nodded. There was a lot more to absorb. By the look of the sleeves on the robe, Joane wasn’t able to absorb much else after all the crying.
“Listen, Joane, is it okay if I peek in on Cecil?” Meghan asked. She caught the scowl on Lester’s face as he turned to leave. “It will only take a minute.”
Meghan didn’t wait for Joane’s response. She stepped to the bedroom door and rapped lightly on it. She heard Cecil call from inside the room.
“Come in,” he said.
Meghan opened the door gingerly as if expecting it to break apart. Inside the room, Cecil had a small desk lamp on the nightstand by his bed. It wasn’t sufficient light for reading, but Cecil had a book open, sitting on the made bed with his back against the wall under the bookshelf.
“Hey, Cecil, I wanted to see how you were doing.”
She stood just inside the doorway. Cecil’s bed took up space next to the closet on the other side of the small bedroom. To Meghan’s immediate right was the divided area where Christine’s bed had a unicorn print pink comforter. The blank walls and the empty dresser top told Meghan that likely Cecil began housekeeping. He removed Christine’s posters. He cleared off the girly stuff that cluttered the dresser top. The immaculate room and the organized closet told Meghan that the brother grieved differently than the rest of the family.
A closet without a door wasn’t surprising in a place like a rundown apartment complex. At least, in Meghan’s view, the walls didn’t appear to have any noticeable holes. Many of the clothes that once occupied the hangers left gaps on the left side of the closet. Meghan wondered if she’d find differences in the dresser drawers. Some of the apparel belonged to Christine. A limited amount removed from the closet, more possibly removed from the drawers, but not all the clothes.
“So, I am just checking on you,” Meghan said. She took a step deeper into the room. Lester shuffled his boots by the door in an attempt to get Meghan’s attention. She ignored him. “I heard Christine liked to draw.”
Cecil had the book open across his knees. When he heard Meghan’s question, he looked up from the novel and nodded. “Yeah, she likes drawing a lot.”
“She didn’t hang any of her drawings around? I see you took down the posters she had on the walls. Did she ever draw for you?”
“Yeah, sometimes,” he said.
“Can I see something she drew for you?”
“Can we go now?” Lester asked.
Meghan understood th
e urgency. Catching Eugene before he destroyed the evidence lent to a better case and a solid conviction. Meghan felt Cecil’s interaction meant more than a little bootlegging, at that moment.
Cecil dropped a bookmark in the leaves of the book and closed it. He placed it on the bedspread and climbed off the bed. Meghan saw him open the bottom drawer of the nightstand. He removed a school folder with robots firing lasers from their eyes. He carried the folder to Meghan and handed it off.
Meghan spent the next four minutes going through the file. Christine had talent. At ten years old, she understood depth perception. She understood shadowing and shadow, light perspective, and clean, sharp edging.
“Oh my,” Meghan said.
It was unlike her to express surprise. Meghan saw a lot in life, far too much to find surprising things. The girl had talent. She felt her insides heat up. A talented individual with so much potential and infinite possibilities ahead of her, Christine lost her life before she’d reached her prime before she saw an opportunity.
The first picture was a cat. The next, a dog playing catch, and the other picture was Cecil, sitting on the bedspread reading his book. Christine got the detail of his pants. She captured the wispy strands of black hair that clung to the wall because static pulled at his scalp.
Meghan closed the folder and handed it back to Cecil.
“You should frame those pictures.”
Cecil shrugged and returned the folder to the desk drawer. He closed it gently and returned to the bedspread.
“So, doesn’t Christine have a drawing pad she used for her work?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“I saw the pictures in the folder have the same textured paper—the kind used from a drawing pad. The top edges of the pictures have perforation, where the pages clung to the ring. Did she have more than one pad? I’d think your sister had so much inside that she wanted to get it all down on paper.”
“I think she has a drawing pad.”
“Did she have more than one?”
“I think so, why?”
“I wanted to see what she drew.”
“I don’t know where they are,” Cecil said. He made a face that looked like he had an upset stomach. “I could ask mom.”
“No, that’s fine. Maybe some other time, if you happen to find them, I’d love to see more of her work.”
“Okay.”
“I am so sorry that something happened to Christine. You can call Lester any time if you want to talk about it. I know it’s hard sometimes talking to people about that stuff. But we’ve all had someone close to us who isn’t here anymore.”
Cecil frowned. “You gave me your business card. You’re not around anymore?” He compared Lester’s uniform to Meghan’s civilian clothing.
“I’ll be around for a few weeks, maybe. But I might be leaving Kinguyakkii.”
“Did you get into trouble?” he asked.
“I did, yes.” Meghan felt dealing with children when they heard honesty; it made them feel better. Most kids got used to hearing lies their whole lives that when an adult condescended to a child, they learned to accept it without putting it to mean anything useful. Meghan knew children respected adults who didn’t tell lies. The Easter Bunny, Santa, the little harmless things sometimes led to more elaborate tales that didn’t serve a purpose or point a child in the right direction.
“What happened?”
“We need to go,” Lester said. He tugged on Meghan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Cecil, you take care of yourself.”
“Thank you, Chief Sheppard.”
“It’s only Meghan now.” She smiled at him and closed the door.
Chapter Nineteen
Lester drove back to the house on Rurik Way, using more turns than he needed. Meghan understood he avoided the main roadways. He went around businesses and homes where people lived and worked for the city. They were the kind of people who knew Meghan on sight and might phone in a sighting if they felt she needed to leave well enough alone. Meghan didn’t want another dispute or clash with the mayor.
“I’m worried someone will see me and call Duane,” Meghan shouted over the drone of the engine.
“What are they going to do?” Lester asked. “I’m all they got.”
“I am disappointed Oliver quit and left you working alone.”
“I’m still mad you had a pissing contest with the FBI and lost.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t mind the occasional ogling, but when it comes to touching, that is a privilege one needs to ask for before they do it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I’m talking about handling Christine’s Missing Person’s case and letting your friend move in and take over like it was all her idea.”
“Well, I don’t have any excuses for Dana. She’s always been a little high strung. But, like you, all that took me by surprise.”
“I saw how she acted and talked down to us. I’ve seen that from time to time. People think we’re a bunch of inbred Eskimos up here. They see the color of our skin and the shape of our eyes and they think we’re unable to formulate intelligent conversations. They think we’re stereotypes, or simpletons. We’re incapable of being active people.”
“Once upon a time, I’d argue against Dana showing racial tendencies. Now I see a woman who doesn’t grasp the sense of the world around her. I feel like she doesn’t see how much she doesn’t get what’s going on and thinks it’s okay to take over.” Meghan gripped the back rack on the four-wheeler as Lester went around the corner, gravel spit along the side. “I can’t apologize for her. But I understand how you feel.”
Lester pulled up short and skidded to a stop in front of the house. He dismounted quickly, bumping Meghan before she could move out of the way. He took the few steps to the top and opened the front door.
Meghan followed Lester into the house. There was a point where she thought backing up Lester meant to protect him. Once he got on the scent of alcohol in his town, she knew to protect Eugene from Lester. He did not want booze in his town. They arrived in time to see Eugene leave the bathroom. He still wore the boxer briefs that looked a few months old without washing and a t-shirt. He looked at them with genuine surprise.
“Eugene, where did you get the booze?” Lester asked.
He stepped away from Meghan before she hooked a hand around Lester’s elbow.
“You can’t come in here,” Eugene sputtered. He waved a pointed finger at Lester. “You get out—ouch!”
Lester grabbed Eugene’s arm by the wrist in a move Meghan taught him. He tweaked the wrist, forcing Eugene to turn away. Lester leaned into him, pressing Eugene against the wall. He pulled the right arm up between Eugene’s shoulder blades with one hand while driving his left elbow against the man’s neck. It forced Eugene’s face against the drywall.
“Please don’t break his arm like the last guy,” Meghan said. There wasn’t a last guy for Lester. Planting the idea in someone’s head was mean, but drinking in a dry town was illegal. It was cruel, but Meghan knew she couldn’t get fired twice.
Eugene repeated the words Meghan said, only it came out, “Mass my?” because Lester had Eugene’s lips against the wall.
“So, Gene, it appears you’ve been drinking,” Meghan said.
She moved around Lester’s feet as he pinned Eugene in the hallway. She went into his bedroom and retrieved the plastic bottle of cheap whiskey—the bootlegger favorite for Kinguyakkii, purchased by the case in Anchorage and smuggled out to the villages. The 750ml bottle sold between $250 and $300. It was a lucrative and thriving business. In all the time, Meghan worked as Police Chief, she never plugged the hole where the creeps go into town.
Meghan collected the bottle in Eugene’s bedroom. She made a ‘random’ search of his jacket on the coat rack by the front door. Meghan carried both bottles to the side table near the front entrance.
“Where did you get them?” Lester asked.
As Eugene made noise, Lester put pressure on hi
s neck. Meghan walked back to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Blinded by rage, Lester fought two demons, himself, and the bootlegger who continued to poison the North Slope.
“You can’t come into my house. You ain’t got no right,” Eugene said.
“Actually, this isn’t your house, Gene,” Meghan said.
While Lester kept the man in check, she continued to scan the rest of the house. She found another bottle of gut-rot whiskey in the kitchen cupboard next to the box of cookies and cereal. It still had a seal, full and unopened. Meghan carried it back into view of Eugene. She saw Lester look at the bottle. There was a change in his eyes. Meghan moved it from his sight.
Lester handcuffed Eugene and pulled on his elbow to make him sit on the couch. Meghan collected the rifle from the hall closet. She pulled the bolt and emptied the chamber of the bullet. Meghan put the bullet in her coat pocket.
“So, you’ve got an unopened bottle of booze, Gene. You know what that is?” Meghan asked.
“It’s one to five years for bootlegging,” Lester said. He was out of breath. Meghan suspected it was stress more than the arrest.
“It’s my bottle; I wasn’t going to sell it.”
“How do we know that?” Lester asked. “The way I see it, we charge you with possession, bootlegging, and distribution.”
“I didn’t sell any booze,” he said. Eugene whimpered.
“What about the other guy drunk downtown?” Lester asked. “Did you see him buy the bottle?”
Meghan waited, watching Eugene. There was recognition on his face. Lester didn’t tell her he arrested someone else for alcohol possession. She wasn’t a cop anymore, so it wasn’t any of her business.
“Where did you get the booze?”
“This is stupid. It’s legal everywhere else.” He squinted at the two of them. Meghan suspected Eugene saw more than two people standing in front of him.
“What have I always said, Gene?” Meghan asked. “Every time we have a social event that gets everyone together, what do I always say to everyone?”
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