Thin Ice

by Paige Shelton

  “Do you mind if I ask what you’re reading?” I said, forcing a weird smile to hide my lack of finesse.

  “Juneau paper.”

  “Is there a place to get those locally?”

  “My brother brought this one over yesterday.”

  “The ferry?”

  “No, he’s a pilot.” She put the paper down. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Yes, actually. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

  “Of course.” She nodded toward the pictures. “If you need information on the glaciers, we have a full historical display. You might want to look over it first, but I can answer whatever you’d like to know.”

  “Right. But actually, my questions are about Linda Rafferty.”

  “Oh. Okay. Did you know her?”

  “I didn’t. But I thought I’d write something about her.”

  “For the Petition?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bobby didn’t do it that way.”

  “I’ve heard. But I thought I’d give it an extra zip of local flavor, you know.”

  The woman looked at me. Her mouth remained in a straight, serious line.

  “I don’t think so,” she said a long beat later.

  I nodded, but determination built inside me. “I heard Linda killed herself.”

  She didn’t want to respond, but she finally pffted away the idea. “Don’t think so.”

  It occurred to me that this was bigger than Gril’s instincts then, more than Donner, Serena, Viola even. If I hadn’t thought it before, I now wondered if murder was a widely held opinion. Universal even, except for that Juneau ME.

  “Does anyone think Linda killed herself?”

  “Of course not.”

  “What does everyone think happened?”

  “That someone else killed her.”

  “Who? Why?”

  “Last I heard it was the police’s job to figure out that sort of thing. Or for all I know, maybe now it’s the new journalist in town who’ll do the job.”

  I wasn’t making a friend, and I knew I should be bonding with my new neighbors. But now I smelled something even more than a story. I smelled a real mystery. Were the people of Benedict, Alaska, just stubborn, or were they right and the ME so wrong that even the numbers lied?

  “Linda worked here, right? So did, does, George?”

  She shrugged.

  “I’m on your side,” I said. “Even if I don’t get a story, I’m all about the truth.”

  It didn’t sound quite as ridiculous as when I’d been talking to Donner, but it still didn’t ring as genuine as I would like either. I was sincere though; I just needed to stop trying so hard to prove it.

  She stopped short of rolling her eyes at me before she leaned over the counter and gazed hard into my eyes. “You are a stranger in town. How do I know you didn’t kill her? How do any of us know you didn’t kill her?”

  “I wasn’t in town yet when the murder occurred. I was on my way here. You can ask Gril or the brothers who run the airport.”

  She stood straight but continued to remain wary. “Can I get you any brochures on the park? I can sell you a boat ticket if you’d like.”

  “I’d really like to do that someday, but not today. Thanks though.” I didn’t have a card and I wasn’t going to give out a burner phone number, but I was pretty sure everyone knew where I worked. “Look, if you think of anything I need to know, you can find me at the Petition most of the time.”

  “And when you’re not there, you’re staying with Viola and her felons.”

  “Yep. I have a truck now too. It’s a sight for sore eyes. If I’m not at the places you already know about, I’ll be in it.”

  “Good to know.” She turned and moved her attention to something along a back shelf.

  I looked around. I would go downstairs and try the café next but as I turned to leave, the unfriendly woman behind the counter said something.

  “There was an argument.”

  I turned back around quickly. She’d just wanted me to work for it. I was willing to oblige. “Linda was in an argument?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you mean the one downtown, out in the middle of the street?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, who was Linda arguing with?”

  “Well, Lois Lane, that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out too.”

  I nodded and followed her lead by lowering my voice. “Okay, what else do you know?”

  “A small guy is the best I’ve got. She was arguing with a small guy.” She shrugged.

  “Clothes, skin color?”

  “Dark clothes, probably white skin, jacket, knit cap.”

  “You saw it?”

  “No, one of the girls at the café heard it, saw some of it. She was coming to work when she heard something by the side of the building. By the time she came around to where all the yelling was coming from, the guy was hurrying away. Linda was trying to hide being upset, so the girl just decided it must have been a customer.”

  “Who was the girl?”

  “Teresa. She’s my niece, that’s how I heard. I’ve already asked around if anyone else saw anything. I think Teresa is the only one though.”

  “Did you tell Gril?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did Gril talk to Teresa?”

  “Yes, but she didn’t tell him any more than she told me.”

  “Thanks…”

  “Maper.”

  “Maper. Is that a native Tlingit name?”

  “It’s short for Maureen.”

  “Makes sense.” I smiled, not too weird this time.

  “You need to work on your style,” she said. “You’re new in town and you’re nice enough. But you can’t just go around asking the ‘tough’ questions. At least not without buying drinks first. You haven’t built up any trust. Basic new girl 101. You got me though when you didn’t back away after I said you could be a killer. Good job on that, but you still need to work on easing into things better.”

  “I know. But I’ve got to start somewhere. I appreciate you telling me about the argument.”

  “You going to write about it in the Petition?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s okay if you do.”

  “Thanks.”

  Again, Maper turned to focus on something on a back shelf.

  The café’s front podium was hidden by customers waiting to be seated. If Teresa was working this morning, she would be busy for at least a little while. Maybe the rush would subside in a few minutes.

  I moved out the back door of the lodge, where the deck I’d been on continued around. I came to a plank board stairway that led down toward the ocean. I couldn’t resist exploring—but I wouldn’t go too close to the water.

  “Wow,” I whispered as I emerged from the trees onto the wide beach.

  I’d never seen anything like it, even with all I’d already seen in Alaska. The bay stretched out toward another part of the infinite ocean. The cloudy sky both darkened everything to a deeper hue and brightened the edges, giving everything more definition. Wooded coastline, as well as islands in the distance, popped with green against the monochrome.

  More spots of color showed with some kayakers I now saw. Even if Ruke hadn’t told me not to go on the water, the picture of adventure before me wasn’t appealing in the least.

  Besides, I couldn’t even handle an Alaskan rainstorm yet.

  I tried hard to breathe in some calm, breathe out whatever wasn’t. It wasn’t a winnable battle yet. My gaze landed on the sightseeing boat. It was moving toward the mouth of the bay. I could almost make out the name of the ship. Did it begin with a W?

  I took a step forward; my foot slipped out from under me but I caught myself before I went down. I wasn’t close enough to the water for there to be any concern, but Ruke’s warnings echoed in my head. I stepped back before I looked out at the ship again, and then I went inside. Maybe Ruke meant I should also stay away from the be
ach. It wasn’t worth risking. For now.

  Twenty-One

  Teresa wasn’t working today. At least she wasn’t working at the restaurant in the visitors’ center. A woman at the front desk told me she was at the airport, helping them out for an hour or so.

  I knew exactly how to get there. As I steered my new-to-me truck down the road Donner and I had first taken, I looked over to where I thought I’d spotted the daisy. There were no daisies there. There were no flowers.

  At the airport, there were no airplanes, and since it wasn’t lunchtime, there were no customers in the café.

  In fact, there was only one person in the place. A young woman was in the luggage room next to Frank’s office, lifting boxes from one older freezer and putting them into another, newer one.

  “Teresa?” I said as I approached.

  “Yeah?” She turned and faced me. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m…” I wasn’t sure how to introduce myself.

  “You’re that gal from Denver, the one with the cut-up head?” Teresa wiped her hands on her jeans and approached. She didn’t extend her hand but crossed her arms in front of herself and looked at me. “What’s up?”

  She was young, probably not even twenty. Tall and thin but with wide shoulders, she looked like she should be a swimmer. Her dark eyes and hair didn’t match her aunt’s exactly, but her long eyelashes did. She’d been working hard, and a thin layer of perspiration covered her forehead. She blew up on her bangs.

  “That’s me,” I said. “I was just over talking to your aunt, Maper.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You heard the argument between Linda Rafferty and a man the other day?”

  She blinked at me. “Well, yeah, but I’m not sure why I’d talk to you about that.” She turned and moved back to the freezers.

  I hurried to her side. “Can I help?”

  “Sure. I’ve just got to get these moved or they’ll thaw. The old freezer broke. This one just came over on the ferry today.”

  We got to work moving the heavy boxes.

  “I’m going to be working at the Petition,” I said. “I thought I might write an article about Linda. I don’t know, but I hear no one thinks it was suicide.”

  “Can’t imagine why you’d write an article. But, no, I don’t think she killed herself, but maybe we’re all just in denial. Maybe we all wish we could have helped her,” Teresa said.

  “How old are you?”

  Teresa sent me a small smile. “I’m twenty-one, studying psychology at U of A in Anchorage.”

  “Very impressive. Nonetheless, you heard the argument?”

  “I did. Gril knows all about it.”

  “Small guy in a knit cap?” I said.

  “Yep. Orange knit cap. It was so bright; that’s probably why I even noticed it. Gril knows that too.”

  “Right. How close were you with Linda?”

  “Friendly, not friends.” She heaved the largest box from the freezer. I took one end to help maneuver it.

  “Good grief, are all of these boxes full of fish?” I said.

  “Yes. Tourists come up here, fish for salmon, halibut, even crab and other stuff. Pip cuts them all up and we store them here in the freezer until folks leave. They don’t even need to be flying. We’ll store for the ferry too. If Pip runs out of space, this is second choice.”

  “That’s a good service.”

  “Well, none of us want stinky fish, and we like the tourists visiting. It’s good for everyone.”

  I felt the perspiration begin to bead on my forehead and it felt good. I really needed to get more physical activity back in my life. “If you don’t think Linda killed herself, who do you think killed her?”

  “Gosh, I don’t know.” Teresa stopped working and put her hands on her hips. “Gril didn’t ask me that one.”

  “She and her husband get along?” I asked.

  “Far as I could tell, but there was someone…” She paused a good long moment, long enough to wipe the back of her hand over her forehead. “No, those gals aren’t violent.”

  “The parolees at Benedict House?”

  “Yeah, there’s always an interesting group there, but it’s rare we get a ‘violent’ offender, at least that’s what Vi tells us.” Teresa reached for a box.

  “But you think maybe one of them there now could have had difficulties with Linda Rafferty?”

  “I don’t know. That one, the one with the short hair, the one who always looks so darn mean, had been hanging out with Linda more than I would expect.”

  “What’s more than you’d expect?”

  “Well, I guess any. Unless we’re working together, which happens—we all help out everywhere—I can’t think of any reason they should have been hanging out together at all. None of us are scared of Viola’s girls, but we all cut a pretty wide path around them, you know.”

  “I do. So, Willa, that the one?”

  “I think so.”

  “You saw her with Linda?”

  “Yeah, quite a bit actually. In fact…”

  “What?”

  “It just occurred to me that that could have been the one Linda was arguing with. I saw the back of the person, the cap and the jacket. I thought I was seeing a guy, but maybe not. Shoot, I’m not sure.”

  “You should tell Gril,” I said.

  “I will, just as soon as Francis gets back, I’ll head down to Gril’s office.”

  I thought about telling her I would cover for her, but other than moving boxes of fish, I didn’t know what her job entailed. If airplanes were involved, I didn’t want to cause any problems.

  “Good idea,” I said. “If I run into Gril, mind if I tell him too?”

  “Not a bit. Here, help me with this one.” She’d pried the corner of another big box up from the bottom of the freezer.

  I reached in and grabbed the other end.

  * * *

  I could see the wheels turning behind Gril’s eyes. Regret? Did he wish he hadn’t involved me in his investigation into Linda Rafferty’s death? But he surprised me.

  “Really?” he finally said. “That’s interesting. Maybe Willa?”

  Gril’s office was located in a log cabin not far from downtown, but hidden well amid some thick trees. Five worn and sagging steps led up to a wraparound porch and the door to the old, small building. Inside were four unoccupied desks pushed together to make a square and a glass-walled back office where Gril had been working. He’d seem surprised to see me but then relieved when I told him I was fine. He said he hadn’t yet heard from Teresa, but I wasn’t surprised. I’d left her alone as a small plane had landed; she was going to have to help deplane and get everyone and their luggage to all the right spots. I’d offered to continue to help but she’d sent me on my way.

  I nodded at Gril. “And the argument with Trinity? I can’t jump to the conclusion that either of those women killed Linda, but isn’t it strange that they were involved in any way with her, other than in passing? Teresa said that most people just keep clear of Viola’s parolees.”

  “That’s true. They’re usually not here long.”

  “Was the wallet ever found?” I asked.

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  The phone on Gril’s desk jingled. I was glad landlines were still a thing in some places.

  “This is Gril,” Gril said as he answered. “Hey, Teresa. Yeah, Ms. Rivers is here now. Uh-huh. That’s interesting.” He grabbed a pen and scribbled a note on the corner of a notebook on his desk. “I’ll ask Vi. Thanks for calling. All right. I’ll be in touch.”

  Gril hung up the phone. The only ways I would know what he scribbled were if he told me or if I stood and looked.

  “Teresa said your conversation with her jogged another memory. She said that talking about the orange hat again made her mind stir things around. Not only was the hat orange, there was a word emblazoned on the back of the jacket. ‘Tigers.’”

  “Gril, the day after I arrived, I accidentally kicked a small plastic
tiger in the lobby of the Benedict House. I thought it was some sort of toy, you know, a novelty thing. I didn’t say anything to anyone, but just placed it on the counter. I mentioned it to Viola and she said she didn’t see it. We didn’t discuss it much. It didn’t seem to be worth anything, but now…”

  “Tigers everywhere,” Gril said thoughtfully.

  I wondered why he wasn’t dialing Viola, asking her if she knew if one of the parolees had any sort of connection to a tiger mascot. Detroit Tigers? But I knew all the parolees were from Anchorage. Still, whoever now had the toy might also have the jacket and the orange cap.

  “Gril, the Raffertys were from South Carolina? Any tiger teams there you can think of?”

  “I’m not sure,” Gril said.

  “Me either.”

  “No, I’m not sure that they really are from South Carolina.”

  “What? I found information about them on the Internet.”

  Gril sat back again. “I found the same information, I bet. After you and I talked yesterday though, I wondered about something else. Did you find a picture, other than the one with the article welcoming George to town? Can you be certain that the Raffertys on the Internet are the same ones here in Alaska?”

  “You’re doubtful because of missing pictures?”

  “No, I’m doubtful because this is Benedict, Alaska, where people run to hide sometimes. Have you tried to find Beth Rivers on the Internet?”

  My mouth opened as I blinked at him. “You think they changed their names?”

  “I think it’s a distinct possibility.”

  “Holy—”

  “Exactly.”

  “There has to be a way to figure this out.”

  “They might have covered their tracks well. You would know something about that too.”

  “It didn’t even occur to me, that they might not be who they said they were.”

  “Well, maybe. I still don’t know for sure.”

  The possibility of them lying about themselves was right there in front of me the whole time. I was living that life and I didn’t give even a second’s thought to someone else doing the same.

  “Do you know something more?” I asked. “You suspected this yesterday?”