Demon Spirit, Devil Sea

by Charlene D'Avanzo

  “I’d like to talk about what happened with my two colleagues.”

  “I understand that. Just the three of you. If you learn or remember anything, contact me right away. Don’t worry if it’s important. Just contact me.”

  The chair scraped on the wooden floor as I stood. “One more question, Sergeant Knapton.”

  He pushed stray strands of hair off his forehead. “Yes?”

  “Am I a suspect?”

  He looked at me straight on. “We don’t know how or when William died, like I said. That’s up to the coroner. As scientist, Dr. Tusconi, you pay attention to details and patterns. You puzzle things out. For William’s sake—not because you might be a suspect—why don’t you apply your talents to this problem?”

  “William seemed like a terrific guy. I’ll certainly do that.”

  “If you learn or even surmise anything, pass it along to me. And only me. Don’t take any chances, do anything rash.”

  I slowly nodded. “Yes, and please call me Mara.”

  Harvey, Ted, and I joined the dozen people who watched as William’s body was carried across the pier, down to the float, and onto the waiting RMCP boat. We’d learned that his parents lived on the mainland. It was impossible to imagine their grief as they watched their son borne from the police boat in a body bag. Did William have siblings who’d stand next to the weeping parents? I didn’t know.

  Gene, red-eyed and tight-mouthed, had his arm around Anna’s shoulder. Her sobs were muffled, but when the boat pulled away, she buried her face in Gene’s chest and cried without reservation. Her grief was heartbreaking.

  As outsiders, we stood apart from the rest. The others slowly left, but we stayed down on the beach, silent until the boat disappeared from view.

  “I simply can’t take this in,” I said. “William, so vibrant and happy just a few hours ago. And now he’s dead?”

  Ted shook his head. “It is awful, but young people do die. When I was in college, a football player had a heart attack during practice. He caught a toss, clutched his chest, and fell onto the ground.”

  Harvey toed a loose stone. “It’s possible, of course, that William’s death was natural. But maybe he was drinking and he drowned in the pool. In the States, alcoholism is an enormous problem with Native Americans.”

  “Perhaps, but I didn’t smell alcohol, and he doesn’t seem like the drinking type,” I said. “Seems to me it’s a pretty big coincidence he died before he was going to defend the iron project to the Environment Council. I mean, right before their vote.”

  Harvey turned toward me. “Come on. You’ve been reading too many spy novels. Someone kills William because he supported Roger Grant?”

  “Think about what Jennie told us. There’s a real struggle going on here. One side wants control over their waters. I’m guessing the other wants nothing to do with rich white outsiders. Powerful stuff.”

  She tipped her head and scrunched up her lips.

  “Christ,” I added after a moment.

  “What?”

  “It’d be dreadful if we had something to do with this.”

  Harvey stepped back. “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe our being here brought something to a head.”

  “Mara,” Ted said. “That sounds crazy.”

  “At the risk of turning the Haida into gentle Indians, the ones we’ve met seem like kind people who respect each other,” Harvey said. “I can’t imagine one of them killing William.”

  “That Caleb character and the woman who screamed at William didn’t seem so kind,” Ted said.

  Harvey put her hand on Ted’s arm. “What woman? What’re you talking about?”

  We described Lynne’s accusations.

  “Hard to know what to make of that. Young love’s bewildering and can really hurt.”

  It occurred to me that older love was equally baffling. “I really want to understand what happened to William, but it’s just too sad and my brain’s in a jumble.”

  Harvey nodded. “And we have work to do.”

  We headed toward the path to the bathhouse area. “Only two more days left,” I said. “We still have to do plankton tows, sample kelp on tomorrow morning’s scuba dive, and the big council meeting’s tomorrow afternoon. We fly to Vancouver and home the day after that. We’ve got to plan what we’re doing.”

  “This morning we should work on the UN report. I’ll see if Gene’ll take us out later so we can sample plankton close to shore,” Harvey said.

  “The smaller net and bottles are in that canvas duffle in the longhouse,” Ted added.

  We stepped onto the trail and followed it up. “We’ve each got our computers, so we can outline the report and start working on our sections,” Harvey said. She stopped and gestured toward the forest. “And despite what’s happened, we’re still in one of the few protected temperate rainforests in the world.”

  The dining building was the only place where we could work. It wasn’t long before my back ached from leaning over to type and my bottom hurt from the hard seat.

  I rolled my shoulders. “Ugh. I’m going outside for a walk. Be back soon.”

  Harvey looked up from her computer. “Just be careful out there.”

  I stepped from the outhouse and nearly bumped into Charlotte.

  “Mara, you study nature. My plant collection would interest you, I think.”

  Charlotte’s braids fell nearly to her waist and her eyeglass chain featured a long-beaked bird spearing a fish. Over her glasses, she fixed almond-shaped eyes on mine. Again, I sensed this was a woman people listened to. It’d be a good idea to spend a little more time with her.

  “We’re working on our report, and I’d love a break. Thanks for the invite.”

  I followed Charlotte to her cabin. There was an identical one closer to the dining building. “Whose is that?”

  “Gene’s.”

  Charlotte’s cabin was small—a tiny porch, one large room, and a smaller room I glimpsed through a partly open door. The big one served as dining room, living room, plus kitchen. It looked and smelled like an old-fashioned laboratory of a doctor or scientist. A wooden bookcase half the length of one wall held hundreds of glass bottles, each bearing white labels and black lettering in the same cursive script. Another wooden case covered the rest of the wall. It had deep shelves stuffed with large sheets of paper, some separated in oversized folders. This was a herbarium—a collection of dried plants pressed and identified to genus and species—and most likely the source of the mothball aroma that perfumed the room.

  She motioned to a wooden table that looked too big for the room. “Would you like some herbal tea?”

  “That would be nice.”

  Charlotte opened the bottom spout of a big glass water jug and filled a metal kettle. She carried the kettle to an ancient gas stove, lit a burner with a match, and pulled down a tin from the shelf above.

  There were two wooden chairs on either side of the table. I took the one nearest the door. Charlotte shuffled back and slowly lowered herself into the opposite chair.

  “When you get old, Mara, I hope you don’t get creaky like I am.”

  “Can I help with the tea?”

  “Yes.” She motioned toward the stove. “When that kettle boils, there are cups and a teapot on the shelf there.”

  “You have bottled gas but not running water?”

  “There’s electricity from a generator.”

  I nodded. “Charlotte, tell me about your collection. You have so many labeled samples, and your herbarium is impressive.”

  She leaned back and, with a little smile, looked over my shoulder at her dried plants. “I collected it all myself over the years. We have many rare ones on the islands.”

  “I’ve read that the archipelago was a refuge for plants and animals during the last ice age.”

  “As I tell my students, there are a few ways to think about the great many kinds of creatures. The ice age, like you said, that’s one. We also have very different place
s for things to grow—the rainforest, wet spots, mountains, and the ocean. And, of course, there’s the Raven who filled the forests and rivers with life.”

  The kettle was boiling. I got up, turned off the gas, and took down a black teapot and matching cups. There was a spoon on the counter. “How much tea should I use?”

  “About a tablespoon for that pot. But I don’t think I’ll have any.”

  I returned with the teapot and mug. “You don’t want tea?”

  She waved her hand. “Had some Labrador tea this morning. Let that steep for a minute. Not too long.”

  I was about to ask why two cups of Labrador tea was one too many, but maybe Charlotte had a medical condition.

  She put a hand on the table. “Tell me about Maine—what it looks like. I’ve never been there.”

  I stared out the window. “It’s like this in some ways, very different in others. New England’s been repeatedly glaciated, of course, but it’s not actively tectonic like here. Maine’s a landscape of smoothed mountains, deep troughs, and ground-up rocks dumped on what’s now the coast. You’ve probably seen photos of our coast with waves crashing high into the air around enormous boulders. Inland is so different. When you read Thoreau’s essays about the immense Maine forest, you can smell the spruce and pine.”

  “Wasn’t it Thoreau who said ‘It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see’?”

  Swirling the teapot, I realized, again, there was more to Charlotte Weber than you’d guess from just looking at the ancient woman seated before me. “That’s a great quote. I’ll have to remember it.” My nose took in the musty, grassy bouquet of old books. “You must know an awful lot about your plants.”

  “Yes. In this room and here,” she touched her forehead, “there’s a library of knowledge. I pass on this sacred wisdom to a few of the younger Haida.”

  “Was William one?”

  Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes. He was very special, a gifted student.” She pointed to an antique dissecting microscope on one of the herbarium shelves. “See that microscope there? He spent hours looking at plant parts.”

  I poured the tea into the cup. It smelled spicy. “I’m so sorry about William.”

  She shook her head. “It’s done now.”

  “He was your most promising student?”

  “Oh, yes. Bright, thoughtful. He cared.”

  “But he championed a project that seems so opposed to everything you love.”

  The muscles around Charlotte’s eyes tightened. She stared past me like she was witness to centuries of Haida disappointment and pain. She nodded slowly. “Yes. That man—Roger Grant—seemed to know just what to tell William. Things like the Haida would be famous in the fight against global warming with a new way to get carbon credits. And all the good we could do with the money. Better hospital, schools, all that. He had, as they say, William’s number.”

  I cradled my mug. “Didn’t you try to argue with William?”

  She sighed “Maybe I should have, but it’s not my way to tell my students what to think. I asked questions about Grant and why the iron would work—that kind of thing. William talked about a study on iron and salmon that Grant showed him. It was obvious William was committed.”

  I realized Charlotte had never stated her opinion about the iron project. “And what did you think about Roger Grant?”

  “That is something I would not say aloud to outsiders.”

  My hands tightened around the mug.

  Perhaps noticing my reaction, Charlotte opened the door a crack. “What you’ve been telling us affected William.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “William listened carefully to everything you said. He knew you had years of education to get where you are, and your arguments were based on science and research, lots of it. The contrast between the three of you and Roger Grant became very obvious.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know that.”

  “He didn’t let on in public, but he finally saw Grant for what he was. He talked to me about the hard decision he had to make before the next Council meeting vote in a couple of days. That’s between you and me.”

  I ran my finger around the rim of my cup, let that revelation sink in, and waited for Charlotte to say more.

  She fingered the long-beaked bird on her eyeglass chain, glanced over at the microscope, and pressed her lips together.

  I changed the subject. “This tea is good. Different from anything I’ve had.”

  “I make hot drinks from plants I collect.” She smiled. “Except hot cocoa. William especially liked cocoa.”

  “What do you use the plants for? Besides tea, I mean? Medicine?”

  She leaned back in her chair and twirled the band at the bottom of one braid. “All these plants contain chemicals. You know about that. Wax myrtle leaves for fever, boiled cedar leaves for cough, willow for night sweats, blackberry for mouth ulcers.”

  “Some are poisonous, of course.”

  “Plants do so much good, but they can be dangerous. You have to know what you’re doing. I’m happy you like the tea.”

  I took another sip, put the mug down, and tried again to get my hostess to open up. “What Jennie said about the Haida taking control with the iron project—that was interesting. But it didn’t jibe with your working with Roger Grant. He’s an outsider and, in my view, a schemer. Everything the Haida would disdain.”

  Outside a crow cawed.

  “I agree. It’s a puzzle.”

  I studied Charlotte’s face for more information, but like a priest who’d just left the confessional, she gave away nothing. I sipped my tea and waited.

  Charlotte ran a hand down one of her braids and leaned forward, veined hand on the table. “There are three truths you must know about Haida Gwaii. First, the sea shapes everything. The land plants I collect had to learn how to survive salt and storms. Even the earth beneath our feet rose from the depths. For thousands of years the sea has given us salmon, cod, crab, and other creatures, basket reeds, fish bone, gull guano, salt, so much more.”

  She studied my face. It was hard to not look away. I blinked. “And the second truth?”

  “An angry sea is a dangerous sea. You saw that anger off Augustine Island before William saved you.”

  “So William told you about that.”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t need to.”

  A chill ran down my arms.

  “Maybe an example will help you understand the third truth,” she said. “Rivers that flow into the sea are transformed, and they are not. River water remains water, but it is different. So it is with people, animals, and what you call the supernatural. They flow into each other. Different, but the same. You saw that with the bear dance. Man is bear is man.”

  Given what had happened with Ted and the horror with William, I’d forgotten about the bear. What Charlotte said made no sense. With my vivid imagination, surely I’d gotten caught up in the mesmerizing dance.

  I tapped my mug. “You’re right, Charlotte. I don’t understand. For me, what I touch, see, smell, and hear—that is real and all there is.”

  “Yes, I thought so, and I am sorry for you.”

  11

  I returned to the dining building.

  “You’ve been gone a while,” Harvey said.

  “Charlotte invited me to her cabin for a cup of tea. You should see the place. It’s an old-fashioned botanical museum. Reminded me of the days when women collected marine specimens in those long skirts, white puffy shirts, and big hats.”

  Ted stood and stretched one arm straight up. “These chairs aren’t the best. Did Charlotte say anything interesting?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t understand some of it.”

  He stretched the other arm. “Like what?”

  “People and animals become one another. The same but different.”

  “Good for fables,” he said.

  “Gene stopped by, and told us about a place called Ninstints,” Harvey said. “It’s a g
ood location for the plankton tow, and he’s happy to show us around afterward. He says there’s more standing ancient Haida totem poles in Ninstints than anywhere else. He wants to communicate with his ancestors about William.” She looked at her watch. “We leave in a half hour.”

  I powered off my computer. “Sounds great all around. After we get back, I’ll finish telling you what Charlotte said.”

  Twenty minutes later, standing in the stern with one hand on the motor’s tiller, Gene pulled up to the Kinuk dock in a twenty-five foot inflatable boat. Anna was seated in the bow’s one-person seat. I hadn’t expected to see her and hoped the trip would lift her spirits.

  I stepped aboard and straddled the backseat. Ted handed me the plankton net. We’d already attached the towline and first bottle. The box of collecting bottles was next.

  I stashed the gear between the seats. “Nice boat, Gene.”

  “Too rich for me.” Gene looked sideways as we left the dock. “Belongs to Parks Canada so the Watchmen can monitor the islands, things like that.”

  “Tell us about the Watchmen.”

  Ted and Harvey got settled and Gene increased our speed. I turned around to face the bow.

  “In the early eighties we started a volunteer program to protect the islands from vandalism.” Gene cranked the motor and yelled behind me. “People, even some Haida, had damaged totem poles and dug up artifacts. About ten years later, Haida Gwaii became a National Park. Watchmen were hired to protect important sites like Ninstints and educate visitors about the cultural and natural history. I oversee the Watchmen. Some of ’em are women, by the way. William was great at it.”

  At the mention of William’s name, I stared out at nothing, the outboard’s steady drone a backdrop.

  Gene went on. “Ninstints is a twenty-minute boat ride from here. It’s the southernmost island in the archipelago and a World Heritage Site. I’ll tell you all about it when we get there.” We’d reached the opening of Kinuk Bay. Gene called out, “See the island a few miles dead ahead? That’s it.”

  Gene let loose the motor’s throttle. The inflatable bounced through oncoming waves. I held onto the plank seat with both hands. Next to me, Ted grinned when we hit a big one and seawater sprayed us. Our foul-weather gear and life jackets kept us dry, but the cold water and wind stung my face. Ted reached over to wipe off my cheek. I returned the sweet gesture with a squeeze of his hand, tried to ignore my churning stomach, and wished I could fix on his soothing presence instead of my messy sea of uncertainty.