by P W Ross
“Got it.”
“That's where the houseboats tethered. You were right. He was here for sure. This floor, someone moved around here disturbing the dirt and bird shit. One footprint, moccasin. Had a perfect view of everything they did and everywhere they went. You can see clear to Sandy Inlet”
“Did he leave anything behind?”
“Nothing that I can see but Brautigan should get someone up to give it a proper going over.”
“Good luck at getting someone as nuts as you and I to come up here. Will, this is the second time I've been in this guy’s shadow. At Widow’s Island and now here. Let's get the hell down outta here.”
“You first.”
The dog sat between them at the base of the structure. It was three hundred feet straight down to the lake.
“How'd you get here? didn't see your boat.”
“Same way our killer did. I figure he parks the boat in the back bay, out of the channel and comes to the tower through the bush from the west. The trail's been used but no prints, and you were right about the moccasins.”
“What’s that tell us about the guy other than the fact that he's not afraid of heights. Nothing, but at least we know he was up here. Maybe somebody saw him. I'm heading for Sandy Inlet to ask around. You in town later?”
“I'll probably go in to find out what happened at the council meeting, then the Miniwassa.”
“Later.”
“Not if I see you first.”
On his way out of the North Arm, Jack saw Norval in the Manitou boat running four lines close to where he and Bob snagged the fish trap. It was no secret that lake trout were plentiful around the trench.
By five o’clock, Jack finished repairs to the back dock and got a coat of stain on it as well. He found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything but the murders. He found the first bodies, sat on the same log as the killer and located his perch in the Devil Mountain tower. All too close for comfort. Just too coincidental? Kismet? It felt as if he were meant to be a part of this. Angst was the word that came to mind.
“Come on Duff, let's go get a beer.”
There was no way he could extradite himself.
He wanted to meet with Bob to get the skinny on the council meeting. Sitting on the dock with the dog, sipping beer, he tried to come up with what to do next and drew a blank. Jack Alexander was used to being in control, but here he had none. It would simply be a matter of waiting. Marking time for something else to happen or waiting for nothing to happen. Or, waiting for Brautigan or Eugene to come up with something. He saw little chance of that with what they had to go on. Eugene was in over his head, but what small town cop wouldn't be? They needed major league help with this one. Time to call in the Mounties. Dudley-Do-Right. He agreed with Will that the killer’s tab was not yet paid and that if they were to have a chance of catching him, they needed a slip-up. Either that, Jack thought, or someone a whole lot smarter than himself was going to have to put together a motive for the killings and somehow anticipate a third. It was chicken and egg. Hard to see a motive in what appeared to be two random events but what can you do? Hope for a third so you could start to see a pattern emerge? What kind of repugnant wish was that. Be careful what you wish for, he concluded.
After giving Duff a work-out and a swim of his own, Jack headed for town in the Lund. Usually, he took the cedar strip and a slow ride. Now he felt the urge to have some additional speed available in case he needed it. He saw only one other boat as he went to town and it was running flat out. At a time when there were normally a dozen boats heading out to fish walleye, there were none. No one was out unless absolutely necessary.
A usually busy town dock was empty except for a solitary unmanned workboat. Duff normally accompanied him to the Miniwassa and lounged on the front porch while he did his business. This time Jack asked him to stay behind and he obediently but resentfully curled up in the bow. One hundred yards from the hotel entrance he saw Parker on the front bench engaged in an animated and unfriendly dialog with Bill Phipps. Bill looked like he needed an out.
“Not interrupting anything am I?”
Parker’s head jerked up as if surprised or embarrassed by his presence. Whatever Phipps had said, she reacted with the demeanour of a reticent puppy.
“Not at all Mr. Alexander, just heading inside. Thanks for your time Mr. Phipps,” heavy on the Mr.
“Think nothing of it,” Bill replied acidly.
“How long are you going to stay Parker?” Jack wanted to know.
“Long as it takes.”
“Takes for what?”
“Something’s going to break big. There's a genuine psycho out there with unfinished business and I’ll be around until it is, one way or another.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning there’ll be more blood on the water or he’ll get caught. One way or another it’s a hell of a story. As for you and your crew, you know more than you’re letting on but that’s your prerogative. It’ll all come out in the wash. Even though it would make a juicy sidebar, I’ll keep you out of it. Just remember our deal. You’ll find I just might come in handy down the trail. As for the town meeting tomorrow, it’ll be something like a scene out of that small town in “Jaws” and the media’s gonna be all over it.”
“What are you going to tell folks?”
“Not my meeting, Parker, I’m just a seasonal resident here.”
“Just stop. Alexander, you’re into this up to your ying-yang.”
“Nice chatting, Parker.”
“Don’t forget our agreement.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bob spotted Jack, poured a tall cold draught and placed it at his favourite corner of the bar.
He swallowed half and Phipps saddled up beside him.
“What the hell was that with Parker?”
“She came into the marina asking about the town meeting, what I knew about your involvement in all this and I just quietly took her aside and told her politely to get lost. Then she caught me on the porch and started all over again. God, she’s a persistent bitch.”
Jack raised his eyebrows, hadn’t seen the fiery side of Bill for some time but liked it.
“I mean what’s with the headline, Prominent Citizen of Temagami Assassinated?”
“What else would you call it Bill? She’s got a job to do.”
“Maybe so, but he wasn’t exactly the Prime Minister.”
Bill had given up the booze years ago and still faithfully attended the local AA meetings to recount his tale.
“Anyway, what are you doing in this den of iniquity?”
“Jack, I was getting pissed and laid in this place while you were still figuring out which side of the canoe to paddle on,” he chuckled. “Wanted you to know we took out twenty boats for storage over the past two days. This lake’s emptying out. Anything new from Eugene?”
“Nah Bill, nothing that I know of.”
“What about you and Will ... ideas? Heard you boys were up the lake this morning.”
How in Christ’s name did Phipps know about that? Someone spotted them at the tower.
“Just thought we’d go up to Sandy Inlet and look around.” What the hell was he lying to Bill for?
“Find anything?”
“Nope.” His nose was getting longer.
“Right,” said Phipps, “see you at the meeting tomorrow. You and Will might want to think about getting your story straight.” Phipps put down his soda. “Later.”
“Word gets around fast here but I’d sure like to know where he gets his information.”
Eugene and Jill were at a table by the jukebox. McMurtry was wailing “Choctaw Bingo.”
Jack thought he best go over and tell Eugene about Devil Mountain.
“Gimme a minute Anna.”
Eugene was none too pleased to see him as he took a seat and he stared down at his boiler- maker. Finally looking up he remarked casually, but inwardly fuming, “I was wondering when you were going to get around
to sharing your trip to the tower with Will.”
“Hasn’t he filled you in yet?” Jack replied innocently.
“Just tell us what the fuck you’re up to son.” Jill was embarrassed at being included as part of the us.”
“The killer stalked the houseboat couple in Granny Bay from the cupola. I didn’t get to you sooner ‘cause I wasn’t sure until I was up there. It was just a hunch.”
“Jack, what do you think people around here are going to think if you’re running around with more information about this shit than I’ve got? You should have let me know right from the get- go and we could have had forensic guys up there before you two eager beaver assholes contaminated the site.”
“Gene, how many times do I have to say it? I’ve obviously got no clue as to police procedure or process. Will’s the one you should be ragging at. Say the word nicely and I’m out of this. Say it not so nicely and I’ll just piss off to chill in México while your ass gets burned up here.”
“Yeah, and maybe I’ll just take early retirement in the middle of all this. Come on Jack, I’m just asking you to think, think and let me know before you do anything, and I mean anything that's going to compromise this investigation. You and Will are going to get yourselves into a piss pot full of trouble if you keep on the way you’re going. I want your help, just fucking make sure you keep my ass covered, and that means me having all the information, all the time, in real time, capiche? Jill, anything to add?”
It was like being in the principal’s office.
“Jack, you want to know how we know you were in the tower?”
He looked repentantly to Eugene and slowly to Jill, expectant of a major revelation.
“I’ve told you before Jack, we're the cops.”
He hung his head going back toward the bar. The old Inspector Clouseau line came to mind,
“I know these things ... because it is my business to know these things.”
Bob lined up refills and Jack asked him to join them for dinner and jaw about the council meeting and what to expect at the town meeting tomorrow.
“Okay,” find a table on the porch and I’ll bring out burgers.”
“... Fries?”
“Sure, why not? Anna?”
“Ditto and Bob, while you’re at it, gravy on mine.”
“Cheese?”
“Go for it? Anything else?”
Jack grimaced. Anna laughed.
Fifteen minutes later Bob returned with two monstrous cheeseburgers, two sides of fries and a poutine.
“Eat your hearts out kids.”
Halfway through the meal Jack asked, “So, the council meeting?”
“Well, a heated session to say the least. Much gnashing of teeth but surprisingly little real sympathy for the victims. More about how to keep the town on the rails.”
“The Plan?”
“All on the same page. They’re going to do nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing? There has to be some sort of damage control.”
“Like what? You gonna start a media campaign telling the tourist market what a great place this is ... oh and by the way we’ve got a murderer on the loose here ... come armed, maybe you can help. Nice touch, we could start a reality show. PS, we use the meat locker at the grocery store as a morgue.”
“They’ve decided that they’re going to carry on and forge ahead. All the usual summer events are going forward as scheduled.”
There were the usual cottage country summer events in and around town, designed as fundraisers and socials to bring together the townsfolk, outlying residents, tourists, cottagers and natives. The fish fry and the steak dinner were dances held in the local arena that everyone from miles around looked forward to. Cancelling them would be like scratching your daughter’s prom. Out of the question.
“The fishing tournament?”
“Don’t really have control over that. Hard to say where it ends up. Far as the council is concerned it’s still a go, but I would say it’s up to the Pro Angling Association. They’re going to be mighty leery about holding an event here if our man is still on the loose. They’ll take a wait and see attitude, It’s still a month away and too late for them to reschedule on another lake. They’ll see if this guy gets caught and if not, they’ll cancel at the last moment. They won’t be risking one of their boys getting shot while he’s holding up a seven-pound small mouth bass for the cameras.”
“Hmmm... nice image.”
“That leaves the centennial celebrations and they're coming up quick.”
The town’s one hundredth birthday was in just days. It included picnics, a regatta, canoe races, a craft show, a dance at the outdoor pavilion by the town dock and a stupendous fireworks display.
“Jack, we’re going ahead with everything. We can’t let some goddam madman bring us to our knees. In New York and Toronto someone’s getting shot or stabbed right now as we speak. Hell, life goes on in those places. Why not here? We're going to keep on keepin’ on. What does Eugene want us to do? Stay home and lock the doors? No way! Most of all we’ve got a living to make.”
“What are you going to do if it’s a no show?”
“I don’t care if five or five hundred people show. We’re not going to run and hide. Tell you something else, we’ll have the biggest crowds we’ve ever seen. People will rally to this in defiance.”
Resolute as he seemed, Jack sensed a frustrated panic.
“What’s happening with the flying patrols?” Anna queried.
“Going! They’re going nowhere!” Bob spat, exasperated. “We’re just up flying around looking for something that’s not quite right, something that's not supposed to be there; a new campsite, a suspicious boat, or a lean-to in the bush. I guess the patrols give people some sort of reassurance that we’re out there but it’s an impossible task. We’ve got paddlers going through here all the time and from all directions. Who’s to say who they are and what they’re up to. It’s like trying to find a needle in a wet haystack.
“Maybe you should be looking closer to home.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Maybe it’s not someone from away. Maybe it’s someone right here. Someone we know.”
Anna looked at them ominously.
It was the unspoken thought all considered but left unsaid, as if articulating the thought would be a betrayal of sorts.
“I don’t want to believe that’s even a possibility, I can’t. This is my home and these people are family. I’m not going down that trail and I don’t think Eugene is either.”
“Bob, it could be true and maybe we better get the blinkers off.”
Bob rose, threw his napkin down on his half-eaten meal and strode back behind the bar.
“Wish I hadn’t said that.”
“Why? It's the truth. We haven't got any ideas except that we figure it’s a male, good strength, knows the bush and this lake. Hell, when you say it like that, odds are it’s someone who used to be local. Nobody wants to believe it but maybe it's the way we better start to think. No matter what Bob believes or wants to believe, you can bet Eugene has the RCMP going though their database for anyone in a hundred square miles who’s been on the wrong side of the law.”
Anna returned to the cabin with Jack and Duff led her up the path to recline in peaceful darkness.
“I’ll get some food for the dog and crack open the wine.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
After puttering around the cabin, he re-emerged to find the chairs out front empty except for Anna’s clothing. Gripped with a mild trepidation he quietly set down the glasses and wine bottle, and cocked his head to listen intently, scanning the bush north and south. With a sigh of relief, he caught sight of her standing on the edge of the dock with her back to him, facing the stillness of the lake, motionless, naked, hands on flat hips, gazing into the moonglow. Duff stood at attention by her left foot, nose in the breeze.
He poured a glass and sipped silently, contemplating what to do next. He c
ould only stare, riveted, fascinated by this beautiful, unpredictable woman. The sky was clear, the stars wondrously bright and the moon low in the sky, half full. Its’ glow reflected a ribbon of shimmering light across the still water to meet her feet. A lithe, sinuous figure. Her back smooth and lean. Legs strong but graceful, rising to meet her crotch, leaving a small gap where they merged into buttocks of a perfect pear shape.
Magical as it was, there was an undercurrent of dread, as in a Colville painting. Apparently straightforward upon first glance but then the realisation of some ominous, unstated undertone. In this case they both knew the underlying dread and it fed the imagination of the watched and the watcher.
She slid her hands around to her belly, moved them up to cup her breasts momentarily and then to the back of her neck. She slipped her fingers up through her hair, shook it out, plunged gracefully into the lake, piercing it with hardly a ripple or sound and made straight for the island.
Jack retreated to the cabin, and returned with a towel around his waist, carrying another and slipped down to the dock full of expectation but unsure as to where this was going to lead. Inhibited she was not, full of surprises she most certainly was. His emotions were mixed. There was an element of both exhilaration (what did I do to deserve this?) and anxiety (I hope this doesn’t get out of hand).
He stepped into the lake at the side of the dock, and stood there in water up to his waist, leaning back against the dock, arms spread behind him. She returned in a relaxed, effortless Australian crawl, pulled out of it twenty yards from him and floated on her back, angel arms stroking calmly. Firm breasts the size of apples held position firmly, nipples taut, set in small aureoles erectly pointed starward. Stomach flat, pubic hair shaven.
“What’s been taking you so long, Jack?” she whispered softly without looking directly at him. Her voice carried easily in the night air.
“Haven’t you heard about the buddy system? It’s strongly enforced in these parts.”
“Sure have, and I’ve been waiting for you, buddy.”
He waded out to her and clasped her cheeks delicately in both hands, tilting her head toward him as she hovered on the surface. He kissed her softly. She responded with a longing tongue. He brought his left arm around her head for support and with his right teasingly stroked her belly. Then he stepped back and spun her ever so gently so that she turned 360 degrees like the needle of a compass. They stood in the water holding one another, arms over shoulders, forehead to forehead.
