On the longhouse path, I was on autopilot as my feet followed the dense circle of light cast by my flashlight. Anna’s insistence that William died an unnatural death unsettled me. Harvey, Ted, and I had tossed around the idea that William had been killed, but it was very different for Anna to insist that “it wasn’t his time.” She was from the archipelago, an insider.
Maybe grief had driven Anna to hear voices at Ninstints, but she didn’t appear to be hysterical or bewildered. Instead, she came across as a determined young woman seeking help. Also, she readily agreed it was reasonable to wait for the coroner’s report. Not the behavior of an obsessive. And, of course, anyone would want to know why a healthy guy in his twenties suddenly died.
On the other hand, a question about cause of death was very different from a claim the person was murdered. Anna had used some pretty strong words. Evil and wicked.
I pictured William—the dancing eyes, easy smile, eager expression. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to kill him.
By the time I stepped off the path, my head hurt.
Inside the longhouse, Harvey and Ted knelt on their sleeping bags, a flickering lantern between them. They were ghostly glows in a black space said to be visited by capricious spirits.
Harvey pointed to the lantern as I walked up. “The batteries in this thing seem to be giving out. Didn’t Gene say something about emergency candles near the front door if we needed them?”
“He did. And I’ve got matches in my survival kit.”
Harvey searched for the candles while I dug in my duffle for the kit. It was, of course, at the very bottom. I pulled it out, found the little tin of matches, and handed them to Ted.
Back with the candles, Harvey looked at the tin. “Waterproof. How does that work?”
Ted took the matches and candles. “Since this building is made of wood, naturally we need to be real careful with this flame.” He struck the match and held it to the wick. “You can make waterproof matches by coating strike-anywhere ones in paraffin and putting them in a container that won’t leak. Stormproof matches like Mara’s are longer than regular ones and stay lit in the wind.”
He handed me the match tin. So it wouldn’t rattle around, I stuffed it into the nifty waterproof pouch in my pants pocket.
Harvey slowly carried the lit candle over to a metal cup she’d put on the floor. Bending down, she looked like a spirit executing a ritual act. “There. When it melts a bit, the wax at the bottom of the cup will keep it upright. Of course we’ll blow it out when we turn in. So, Mara, what’s with Anna? I mean, if you can tell us.”
Anna hadn’t asked me to keep mum, and I needed help. So, with more than a twinge of guilt, I relayed our conversation—without Anna’s mention of the bizarre disappearing smoke.
Ted frowned. “Did she say who’d want to kill William and for what reason?”
“No, but she didn’t come across as hysterical or anything like that. Maybe, I don’t know, we should give her the benefit of the doubt.”
“Okay,” Harvey said. “Let’s just go with this. Who’d want William dead and why?”
“What about William’s old girlfriend Lynne?” I asked. “She was certainly out of control when she screamed ‘I wish you were dead.’”
Ted stretched out his long legs and rotated his ankles. “People say things like that when they’re really angry, but they don’t mean it.”
“True,” Harvey said. “But we read about revenge murder in the news. It happens, and we know nothing about Lynne.”
I sat cross-legged on my sleeping bag. “Don’t you think it makes more sense to go with the most divisive thing these folks have dealt with? A million dollars for iron fertilization? Lots at stake. There had to be some pretty heated debate.”
“Good point,” Ted said. “William championed the pro side. Who was with and who was against him?”
Harvey made a fist and stuck out her thumb. “Jennie must be on William’s side. She said the Haida had control over their waters. That’s one.”
“Then there’s Gene,” I said. “It’s hard to know whose side he’s on.”
Harvey’s forefinger joined her thumb. “I agree. Two.”
“Speaking of Gene,” I added, “while you guys were walking the beach before we left Ninstints, Gene asked what time I found William. Then he said William was alive at eleven. An hour before I found him dead.”
Harvey dropped her hand. “So he talked to William at eleven?”
I shook my head. “Saw him in the dark from a distance. William was on the path between the pools and the bath houses.”
Ted turned toward me. “Maybe it’s because were in ‘who-done-it’ mode, but that strikes me as kind of odd. Why would Gene tell you what time he saw William and where?”
I shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe he’s playing detective like we are.”
“Maybe. But still…”
I rubbed my eyes. “Let’s keep going with our list.”
“What about Charlotte?” Ted asked. “You talked to her for a while at dinner.”
“She said the ocean was more important than anything else. So that might make her opposed to the iron project. But she’s, what, eighty? And she acted like a kind grandma for both William and Bart. She’s a gentle soul.”
“What about your visit to her house? Did you learn anything then?” Harvey asked.
“I did, but Charlotte said it was between me and her.”
Harvey scrunched up her nose. “So you can’t say anything?”
“Um, well, you’d be pleased that William was paying very close attention to our arguments about iron geo-engineering. We were getting to him.”
Ted stood, walked around in a little circle, and turned to face us. “Don’t you see that probably changes everything?”
“Actually, I don’t see.”
“Keep going, Ted,” Harvey said.
“William championed the iron project. If he changed his mind and voted no, others would probably follow his lead.”
Harvey tipped her head. “Yeah, but William isn’t here to vote now.”
“Right.”
“Sorry, brother,” she said, “I’m not with you.”
“Maybe someone who really wanted the iron project to continue made sure William wasn’t around to vote no.”
I jerked upright, hand to my heart. “Oh my god. That never…Who would do such a thing?”
He crossed his arms. “I’ve no idea.”
Harvey tipped her head. “Mara, are you okay? You’re pale as a ghost.”
“It’s just that, um, William changing his mind because of us—it’s like we’re responsible, you know, for his death. All the more reason to figure out what happened to him.”
“Hey, girlfriend,” she said, “Take it easy. It’s a huge leap from William rethinking his vote to blaming us for his death. Right?”
“Uh-huh. Sometimes my imagination takes off on its own.”
She gave me a “like-I-don’t-know-that” look.
Ted said, “Could we finish our count? Charlotte was three. What about Bart? The stuck rudder, exploding rocks, yelling ‘shark’ when you’re leaning over the stern? And he tries to act tough.”
I pictured Bart’s sullen expression. “Suppose if I had to pick one person, he’d be it. Still—”
Ted stretched his arms over his head. “Not sure we’re making progress here. I’m bushed, and we’re diving in the morning. Let’s talk about this later.”
Just then, a click echoed in the long, empty space. Like the sound of a door closing.
Ted swiveled toward the front door. “What was that?”
I yanked my flashlight from my pocket. “Let’s go see.”
Outside, we played our lights across the clearing.
“There’s nothing out here,” Ted said. “Come here, you.” He pulled me close. His fleece pullover was soft against my face, chest warm. I closed my eyes and tried to let my body relax. It didn’t. Ted let me go and stepped back. “I hope you’re not think
ing about being a detective again.”
Ted’s tone was a bit too protective for my liking, but I tried not to let it show. “As I said, let’s wait for the coroner’s report.”
“And if there’s a question about how William died?”
“Not sure.”
But, even more than before, I knew the answer.
13
Aaka Redish, Haida Gwaii diving Watchman, met us after breakfast at the Kinuk floating dock. She maneuvered her twenty-five-foot inflatable so it just kissed the dock’s edge. The boat was loaded with scuba-diving equipment.
“Before we take off,” she said, “let’s go over how you want to take kelp samples. None of my divers have done anything like that before.”
“We’ll use a tool to take kelp plugs.” Harvey pulled a round metal stamp out of a little mesh bag. “It’s easy to use underwater. You clamp it around a kelp blade and squeeze. Back in Maine, I’ll analyze the plugs to see if kelp took up any of the added iron. That way, we get an idea how far the iron traveled and if there are near-shore impacts.”
“Isn’t there some iron in seawater anyway?” Aaka asked.
“Yes. But the iron slurry has a distinct isotopic signature compared to background iron.”
Either Aaka understood what Harvey meant—the number of neutrons was different in the slurry’s iron—or she didn’t want to ask.
“Got it.”
Aaka swung the inflatable away from the dock and we took off. With a huge grin and laughing chocolate eyes, she radiated positive energy. As Kinuk village disappeared from view, some of the tension that’d gripped my body drained away. The legendary kelp forests with their underwater zoos waited for us. Just what three troubled marine ecologists needed.
Hair flying in the wind, the spirited guide shouted above the roar of the outboard. “You’re marine scientists, and I’m so excited for you. Divers come to Haida Gwaii from everywhere in the world. Our waters are full of the most gorgeous, fantastic creatures you’ll ever see.”
Aaka was clearly an experienced businesswoman who knew how to psych up her clients.
Harvey straddled the seat. “Like what?”
“We’ve got more than twenty types of whales and dolphins, giant octopus, barracuda, dozens of fish, countless starfish species—purple, red, orange, you name it—plus anemone that are pink, yellow, green, chartreuse. It’s a neon circus down there.”
I yelled, “The few starfish we have in Maine are pretty boring color-wise. Here it’s a biology bonanza. Can’t wait to get under the water.”
“There’s a shallow strait littered with starfish not far from here. You all okay to take a little side trip before we go to the dive site?”
Our grins said we were.
We reached the strait. Aaka cut the motor so the boat would drift silently across the kaleidoscope of starfish. When the guide said the echinoderms were littered, she wasn’t kidding. They came in every shade of purple I could think of—magenta, violet, lilac, raisin. Orange ones were rust, pumpkin, coral, and tangerine, and reds showed as scarlet, burgundy, and ruby. There were sun stars with ten or more legs and others with five. Smaller bat stars looked like holiday cookies. Leaning over the soft sides of the inflatable, Ted, Harvey and I called out, “Look at that one out there” and “This is mind boggling!” while Aaka named species after species.
Finally, my gut hurt, and I sat up. “You can understand why evolution is a hard sell for some people. Look at the diversity of life right here. Even when you know about the mechanisms and time scale, it’s still hard to comprehend how all these life forms could’ve come about.”
Aaka nodded. “Haida creation stories are filled with fantastic, bizarre events. It’s boring how they teach evolution in school. I like to spice it up with our wild myths.”
The concept intrigued me. “But you know the myths aren’t real, right?”
She looked out across the expanse of ocean. “It’s hard to explain. Part of me knows they’re stories, but another part accepts their truth.”
Like Charlotte said, the same but different. Could I simultaneously believe and not believe in the supernatural? The concept was foreign. Thinking about it felt like I was trying on someone else’s clothes.
Funny. Harvey regularly urged me to forgo my comfy fleece and cotton for something more exotic and fashionable.
I looked at Harvey and smiled.
“What?”
“Just thinking you’re right sometimes.”
She tipped her head and pursed her lips—a “what-the-hell?” gesture.
Aaka beached the boat in a protected harbor. Before we slipped under the water, we had to organize all the cold water diving paraphernalia—thick wetsuits, neoprene gloves, hoods, boots, and fins, plus weight belts, tanks, regulators, masks, buoyancy control devices (BCs), and gauges that measure water depth and tank air pressure. We’d communicated with Aaka from Maine and knew she had excellent, if a little old, equipment plus years of experience diving in Haida Gwaii’s waters. That was critical. We weren’t going deep—maybe seventy-five feet at the most—but frigid conditions and fast currents made Haida Gwaii scuba risky. Aaka had made sure we were experienced cold-water divers with Open Water Certification.
Finally, we were suited up and on our way out to kelp forests off Rose Harbor.
As we motored over water so clear you could count snails on the bottom, Aaka described the dive site. “I picked a spot where there’s enough current for a good kelp bed but not so much you’ll have to fight it. We’ll stay down for forty minutes. That way, you should have plenty of air and time to take your samples but won’t be too terribly cold.”
Despite Aaka’s perkiness, in fifty-degree water we’d get plenty cold. Encased in the thickest wetsuit I’d ever worn, I shivered.
At the dive site Aaka anchored the boat bow and stern, and set out the dive flag, I looked around. Off the port side, foot-wide ribbons of kelp fronds, the seaweed version of leaves, floated across the surface. Up to two hundred feet long, the kelp were attached to the bottom by holdfasts strong enough to resist the pull of a wild sea.
Harvey and I were dive buddies. Aaka partnered with Ted. Standing beside me, Harvey lifted the heavy steel scuba tank up onto the inflatable’s squishy tube and steadied the tank while squatted on the deck and wrestled my arms into the harness. I secured the chest and hip clasps. She handed me one end of the twenty-five pound weight belts. “Damn, this thing’s heavy.”
I leaned over a bit to raise the tank off my back and swing the belt around my waist, straightened up, and snapped the belt tight. “We’ll be pretty buoyant in these wetsuits. Hope this is enough weight.”
We switched places. Harvey grunted under the weight of her tank. “Whoa, this is heavy. We should sink okay. But if not, we can always get more weight.” She secured her weight belt.
A regulator was already attached to each tank. We checked and rechecked our gauges. Accurate tank pressure readings were critical. It was hard to predict how much air we’d use in cold water where we’d be bucking currents. If we ran out at seventy-five feet, we could always slowly release air in our lungs and rise up to the surface. Even so, sucking on a nearly empty tank would be undeniably scary. Since knowing our depth was also critical, each of us had a dive watch that gave accurate depth readings.
Harvey checked to make sure Ted’s kelp punch was safely in a pocket of his BC, along with the sampling bags she’d already numbered. She and Ted would sample kelp from two different depths in the kelp forest. “Let’s review our sampling method, bro.”
“I’ll do the transect higher up,” he said. “There’s twenty bags. For each transect, I’ll take five plugs from separate blades of kelp two to three meters apart. One plug per bag and four separate transects,” he said.
“You got it.”
Aaka handed each of us a dive knife in its sheath. “This goes in your BC pocket. If you strap it to your leg, it could snag on the kelp.”
I slid the knife out of its protective
cover. One edge was serrated, the other looked razor sharp. “I assume this is for something in particular?”
“Believe me, you get wrapped in kelp, you’ll need it.”
I pocketed the knife. “Remind us how to avoid that.”
“When you’re in the kelp bed, slowly push it aside with your hands in front, palms outward. Whatever you do, don’t turn or swirl. You’ll end up bound like a Christmas tree on its way to market.”
Trussed in kelp slime would be an absurd terror. I practiced the kelp crawl in my head.
Finally, we were ready to get in the water. With rigid hulls and fat, flexible tubes as gunwales, inflatable boats were perfect for scuba diving. Finned feet inside the boat, Harvey and I sat comfortably on the soft gunwale and faced Ted and Aaka, who did the same. We each spit onto the mask’s faceplate so it wouldn’t fog, pushed the mask against our face, and pulled the strap over our head. Harvey, Ted, and I opened our mouths wide and settled the bulky regulator mouthpieces between our teeth.
Aaka looked at Harvey and me, brown eyes huge inside her mask. “All set?”
We both nodded.
“Great. Let’s go through the kelp safety rules again. She held out her thumb. “One, don’t swim deep into the kelp bed. Go only to where you can see the edge, then slowly turn around, and swim back. It’s easy to get lost in kelp.” Her forefinger came up. “Two, use your compass to see which way is in and which way is out.” Middle finger. “Three, your buddy might be your savior. Swim five to seven feet apart and make sure you can always see each other.” Next finger. “Four, never swim in kelp to or at the surface. We’ll swim out of the bed and then go up.” Little finger. “Five. Kelp loves to tangle you. Secure anything that can snag and be especially careful the kelp doesn’t yank out your regulator.”
More than a little daunted, I nodded.
“Good. Mara and Harvey, you go first. When you’re all set, Ted and I will join you.”
I pressed my mask against my face with one hand, leaned back, and crashed into the Haida sea.
Even though I knew it was coming, I squealed when frigid water hit my face like sharp icicles. I shucked on the regulator, rolled upright, and popped to the surface with a gasp.
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