Part 13 (2/2)
”There's a lot more glacial silt in Alaganik Bay, washed down from the Kanuyaq. They ought to be able to identify the water from that alone.”
”Maybe.” He didn't sound convinced. In his years as an Alaska state trooper, Chopper Jim had not had much cause to put a whole lot of faith behind forensic evidence, which in his experience led, in court, to a face-off between opposing so-called expert witnesses, each of whom contradicted everything the other said, leaving the jury more confused than enlightened and, consequently, resentful enough to take it out on the prosecution. Like most in law enforcement, he leaned toward catching the perp at the scene, weapon in hand, preferably in the presence of three eyewitnesses, one of whom was a priest.
”So the knife went in after the fact?” Kate said.
”Yup.”
”After he was strangled and drowned, somebody stabbed him.”
”Uh-huh.”
”I hate the weird ones.” Kate tried to figure out a scenario to fit the evidence, but the effort made her dizzy and her head started to hurt again. ”What else? What about the cuts and bruises on his face and torso?” Something in the quality of the ensuing silence made her eyes snap open. ”What, Jim?”
He made a pretense of consulting his notes. ”After Meany delivered, he went over to the fuel dock and topped off his tanks. Shortly after which he had a visitor.”
Kate made a face. ”Female, no doubt.”
”You're such a prude, Shugak,” he complained. ”Anyway, they both left the boat about six-thirty, according to Otis Swopes, the Standard Oil guy. Otis identified the lady as one Myra Sarakovikoff. And, of course, Otis lost no time in telling the tale to the first guy to wander by, in this case one Wendell Kritchen, also known as the Mouth of the Sound.”
Kate closed her eyes again. ”s.h.i.+t.”
”Yeah. You can almost guess what happened next.”
”Tim Sarakovikoff came home.”
”You win first prize. Not only home, but he tied up to the fuel dock right next to Meany's drifter, and took on the story from Otis and Wendell while he was taking on fuel.” Chopper Jim smoothed his already immaculate hair. ”Tim took off uptown. According to approximately twenty eyewitnesses, he caught up with them at the Cordova House. Whereupon he proceeded to beat the living s.h.i.+t out of Meany. d.i.c.k Bynum's words, not mine,” he added. ”d.i.c.k seemed kind of admiring. One might even say jubilant. He got a good-looking wife?”
”Yes.”
”Thought so,” Jim said, satisfied, and making a mental note to check out d.i.c.k Bynum's good-looking wife at his earliest opportunity.
”What happened next?”
”Near as I can figure, everybody went into the bar and celebrated, leaving Meany bleeding on the sidewalk. This was the Fourth of July, Kate, and the celebrating started early on.”
”No one's memories are all that clear,” Kate suggested, and he nodded. ”s.h.i.+t,” she said again.
”I heard that,” he agreed.
”Myra?”
”Myra was on the first plane out of Mudhole Smith this morning, on her way to Anchorage.”
”Did you talk to her first?”
”No,” he said regretfully. ”But I phoned APD, talked to Sayles. He said he'd track her down, get her statement.”
She had to ask, even if she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer. ”What does Tim say?”
”I haven't talked to him yet. He wasn't home, he wasn't at his mother's house, and his boat's gone from the harbor.”
She sat where she was for a few moments, and then swung her legs over the side of the bunk.
”Whoa there,” he said, stretching out a hand.
”Help me up.” She grabbed his arm and pulled herself upright. With this sudden ascent to the vertical her head felt as if there were no more than three jackhammers working on it at the same time. ”Come on.”
”Sure, Shugak,” he said, the drawl back. ”You might want to put on some pants first, though.”
She looked down and saw that Old Sam had stripped her to T-s.h.i.+rt and panties. She swore halfheartedly and went to lean up against the wall. ”In the chart room.”
She waited. There was an eruption of male voices, followed by the angry thud of feet. The door crashed back on its hinges. Old Sam glowered at her. ”Get your a.s.s back in bed, Shugak.”
She managed a grin. ”Not even if you crawl in there with me, Old Sam.”
He swore and snorted and in the end stamped off, outrage evident in the set of his shoulders. Chopper Jim returned with a pair of Kate's jeans in one hand and socks and Nikes in the other. He held the jeans for her to step into, and waited until she was working on the second leg before observing, ”I've always dreamed of doing this. It's just that in my dreams I'm helping you out of your pants, not into them.” She had no comeback and he was mildly alarmed.
Leaning heavily on his arm, Kate shuffled out on deck and up into the bow, trying not to throw up along the way. What with the strike, most of the boats were back in the harbor. There couldn't have been more than ten left, and it was easy to pick out the neat lines of the Esther. She pointed it out.
”Think Old Sam'11 loan me his skiff?” Jim said.
”If I go along,” she said, lying in her teeth.
He turned his head and looked at her. The cost of remaining upright was reflected clearly in the pale, taut lines of her face. ”You know, Shugak, you give the word 'stubborn' a whole new meaning.”
Tim saw them aboard with an impa.s.sive expression belied by the s.h.i.+ner he was sporting, and returned to his work. He was mending a hole in his net, and the green plastic needle with the Gothic arch to its tip looked tiny and fragile as he wove it deftly back and forth. His knuckles were swollen and bruised, which could have been from launching and hauling a hundred feet of gear every six hours, with or without salmon in it. Picking fish was as hard on the hands as it was on the back.
He didn't seem surprised when Jim told him why they were there. He even admitted to the fight.
Of course even the weather knew better than to rain on Chopper Jim, and the overcast had turned into a high, broken layer of c.u.mulus clouds with enough blue sky between to allow shafts of golden sunlight to ripple across the water, illuminate the peaks of the Ragged Mountains and the erect figure of the trooper, dwarfing the deck of the bowpicker. The Alaska state trooper uniform was very distinctive, and even if it hadn't been, there was no mistaking that hat. Every boat left in the bay had its whole crew on deck, and Kate wondered how far their voices were carrying.
As if she'd spoken aloud, Tim's voice was low. ”I wanted to kill him.”
”But you didn't,” Chopper Jim said, ”is that what you're telling us?”
Tim's smile was lopsided and rueful. Not much was left of the joyous high boat of the season opener. ”Didn't get the chance.”
”Why not?” Kate said.
”Auntie Joy made us quit,” he said.
Kate's heart skipped a beat. ”What?”
”That would be Joyce Shugak?” Jim said.
Tim nodded, contemplating his hands, the bruises already fading to yellow, the sc.r.a.pes drying to black crusts.
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