Murder at Fire Bay

by Ron Hess

  “Bronski, are you still there? You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

  “Oh, no, sir.” I replied.

  “Well, the only reason I’m letting you off so easy is that you were in this morning’s Anchorage newspaper. You know some reporter down there?”

  Bless the Princess, she had done it again. She must have gone to the office immediately after dumping Jim off at the hospital and sent in her story. It might make her career and had probably saved mine.

  “Yes, sir, I know Emily Jems real well. Great up-and-coming reporter and adventurer.”

  “Um . . . I see. Well, so much for that, Leo. I have to say you did a great job. I’ll fill you in later. By the way, have you any news on the murder of Gloria?”

  Good old Boss. When you had a horse under you, you rode him into the ground.

  “Yes, sir. It shouldn’t be long. Uh . . . sir, when this is all over, I need a vacation.”

  The Boss actually chuckled. “Sure, Leo, you deserve it.”

  And he hung up.

  Well, that hadn’t gone so bad, had it? I mean, I hadn’t been fired. But would I have if I hadn’t made the newspaper? There was a lesson here. For sure, I would thank Emily.

  Mrs. Mordant eyed me suspiciously as I came down the stairs. Of course, that look might have been justified when I stumbled once, but such things can’t be helped. When she suggested breakfast, I’m sure I paled, which could only have confirmed her suspicions. I thanked her for the idea and made off in the Jeep after a nod and a wink to the old man. He gave me a smile in return, which somehow gave me a boost.

  After a quick pass through the post office main floor, I held a quick conference with Sam to make sure everything was moving along okay. He assured me it was, except for a small box behind a machine up in the furnace room. I told him to put it into the post office safe and we would decide later what to do.

  “But on second thought, Sam, why don’t you call John Crouch, the postal inspector? You might as well learn how to deal with that kind. He is not a bad guy, but he loves to growl. If he says anything about why he wasn’t notified earlier, tell him you are acting under my instructions. That’ll cool his heels for about thirty minutes.”

  Sam nodded and smiled. “Yes, sir, I know all about Mr. Crouch.”

  I gave him a second look. We had to have a talk sometime, but now wasn’t the time. I was curious about who he really was and where he came from. The words “undercover agent” kept coming to mind.

  On the way out, I stopped to talk to Martha.

  “I’m glad to see you’re back, Martha, and I hope you’re doing better?”

  She paused in her sorting and slowly faced me. The hair on the back of my neck actually rose. What was I looking at? Those eyes, those eyes were dead. I’m sure she saw my Adam’s apple bob, but I went ahead and explained to her about my scrapbook and how I had a picture of everyone but her.

  “I’ll be back in this afternoon to get your picture, okay?”

  I said this with a smile, hoping to get a reply in return, but all I received was one slight nod, just enough to let me know she had heard me. I went on to the back door, knowing something was not right. Whatever it was, I hoped it would wait.

  Chapter 38

  As I drove to the Eat More, I felt like a ten-ton weight had been lifted from my shoulders. True, there was still the question of Gloria Plinski to be taken care of, but I had a pretty good idea Martha had killed her. I had to get a picture of her, though, to show my star witness, a man who could barely talk and—who knows—might have another stroke at any time. With this in mind, I made a detour to the local drug store to get another disposable plastic camera. It was imperative I get that picture of Martha ASAP, if for nothing else, to keep the Boss off my neck.

  After purchasing the camera, I headed once more to the Eat More. With a little luck, by the end of the day a murder might be solved. I pulled into the parking lot and noted there was a rental car alongside Emily’s car. A smile came to my lips. Emily was no doubt telling her story to a big-city reporter or better yet—and I let out a chuckle—was being interviewed for a job elsewhere.

  I parked and nonchalantly walked into the Eat More. Or let’s say I tried to. For it was she, the love of my life, sitting there, dressed in a black suit, calmly swinging her leg in my direction. Did my eyes bug out? Had she and Emily had a good laugh, plotting to surprise me? Oh, yes, they had. In a second, Jeanette was in my arms, wanting to know how I was and me wanting to know how she got here so quickly from Western Alaska. She stepped back from me, her eyes welling up.

  “Leo Bronski, when I heard the post office had been robbed, I called the Boss and told him I was coming in on a chartered plane. My sister Jean could handle things at Howes Bluff for a few days. I was not going to let my man be by himself! He could fire me if he wanted to. He growled, but he let me come.”

  I could not speak. Jeanette smiled through her tears and led me over to Emily’s table. I sat down and managed to blurt out. “You know Emily Jems?”

  “Of course.”

  I looked at Emily, who grinned, her mouth full of braces.

  “See, Bronski, I wanted some depth for this story. Who was this Lochinvar who came out of the West, and whose steed was the best? I tried talking to your boss, but he hung up on me. That left me no choice. I called the woman in your life.”

  “I didn’t give her much,” Jeanette said. “Only that you were the most wonderful man I had ever known.”

  “So I said to myself,” Emily went on, “all that’s very well, but who is this Bronski? So I called the village constable, and he talked for half an hour about how you solved a murder in Howes Bluff and stayed on. You’re a troubleshooter. When all else fails, you’re brought in. Somehow you stumble around and find out things.”

  I interrupted her. “Thanks for the praise, but I still don’t know for sure who killed Gloria Plinski, though I should know this afternoon.”

  I looked over to Jeanette and rubbed her knee with mine under the table. She blushed. Now it was Emily’s turn to smile. “I understand from Jeanette there is kind of a surprise waiting for you at the office.”

  Jeanette stretched her arms back over her head in a languid fashion, something I had seen her do a hundred times in bed. It was her way of promising some good times ahead. Then she lowered her arms and studiously studied her nails.

  “Oh yes, I forgot,” she said, as if it were a small matter. “The Boss will be there shortly at the post office.”

  “Really?” I said. “Whatever for?”

  “I think he wants to inspire the employees.”

  That figured, I thought. Probably wants to tell them what a great job they’re doing and then in the same breath, tell them he’s sorry about the overtime they will be getting. Aloud, I said, “Inspire the troops, huh? I smell work in the air.”

  Jeanette kneed me under the table. “Aren’t you glad you’re at Howes Bluff?”

  I looked at her brown eyes and that look was enough.

  Emily was becoming bored. “Look, you two; I don’t have time for all this reunion stuff. I think we should get to the post office.”

  “You’re coming too?” I asked.

  “Sure, who do you think saved your butt?”

  That took me a second or two to think about. I guess she had. That scene at the airport could have turned real ugly if she had stayed by the log like I had told her to. Thank goodness she had disobeyed me. I decided to go with the flow.

  “Okay, let’s go,” I said.

  The place was quiet as a tomb when we walked in the door. The reason, of course, was that the Boss, his bald head gleaming in the fluorescent lights, was slowly walking around, scaring everyone half to death. A cigar poked from his mouth, but at least it wasn’t lit. Even bosses know their limits. Aware of my presence, naturally he spoke before I could get over the idea he was there.

  “Bronski! Good to see you!” He shook my hand vigorously, no doubt to show the troops there was solidarity between
us managers. To my surprise, he gave Jeanette a dignified hug, probably to show everyone he was human.

  Then he saw Emily standing there in her black princess uniform. He almost reverted to form. “Who’s this?”

  It was my turn to grin. “This is Ms. Emily Jems, the newspaper reporter.”

  “Oh yes,” he said, and gave her a warm handshake. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sam looking at them anxiously. Would the Boss approve? But he need not have worried. The Boss was taken with the innocent looking Ms. Jems.

  “Ah . . .Boss, should we go to my office?”

  “Sure, Bronski. I wanted to hear your story in person, and I bet Ms. Jems can fill in anything you leave out.”

  He had to say that, of course. I didn’t hold it against him. The Boss wouldn’t be where he was if he weren’t a political animal. As we weaved through the cases to my office, the Boss committed about how he liked the way everything was set up. Again, this was said loud enough for the employees to hear.

  On the way to the office, I noted one case was empty. I motioned to Sam. He strode over to me.

  “Where’s Martha?” I asked.

  “She said she wasn’t feeling well so I sent her home.”

  “Really,” I said. “Hmm . . . well, carry on. If you need me, I’ll be in the office, okay? Oh, yeah, I know this is not in the job description, but would you mind putting some cups of coffee on a tray and bringing it to the office?”

  Sam nodded and moved off. He was a good man. I was going to miss him. I hurried on to the office where Jeanette and Emily were already seated. The Boss, hands behind his back was pacing the floor.

  “Oh, there you are, Bronski. For a minute there, I thought you had taken off on some wild adventure. By the way, I understand you are going to Ireland on vacation?”

  I raised not an eyebrow. I simply looked at Jeanette, who was again studying her fingernails.

  “Yes, sir, we have talked about it.”

  The Boss smiled and nodded. He understood this was Jeanette’s way of getting me out of town for a while. “Now Bronski, start talking. I can give you an hour and no more.”

  He fished in his shirt pocket for another cigar. Finding none, he got a helpless look on his face. I almost smiled, except this was the Holy Grail to the Boss, and you don’t smile at your boss’s pet vice.”

  “Here you are, sir.”

  It was Jeanette who held up a cigar, still in its wrapper. Had my eyes not been attached, they would have fallen on the floor.

  The Boss beamed. “Bronski, you sure know how to pick’em. I predict a fine future for Jeanette in the Postal Service. Now, talk.”

  And I did. I started from the first day I pulled into the parking lot and went from there. Occasionally I received a reminder from Emily or Jeanette about dates, but my narration of the events was moving along well. By this time the Boss had lit up despite all sorts of postal regs and was sitting with his eyes closed. From experience, I knew he wasn’t sleeping. When I got to the part about Ashley and the picture of her leaning over me, I cast an anxious glance at Jeanette. She just gave me a small smile of encouragement, and I knew everything was okay. The Boss opened his eyes.

  “Yes, yes, go on, Bronski, hard as it is. By the way, Ms. Jems, I’d appreciate it if you left the picture part out.”

  Her eyes watering, she nodded and coughed.

  The Boss smiled at me and winked. “Go on, Bronski.”

  It was at that moment I heard what sounded like a shot and people yelling. The Boss gave me a look, dropped his cigar onto the carpet, stood up, and very coolly said, “Ms. Jems, will you kindly take the door to the lobby and call the cops?”

  Without a word, the Princess disappeared out the lobby door, closing it softly behind her. By then I had leaped to my feet. Jeanette stood next to me. After a moment without any more noise, I started for the door.

  The Boss touched me on the arm. “No, Leo, remember Nam? When it gets quiet something’s wrong. Let whoever it is come to us. Maybe the cops will get here in time.”

  I turned to look at him. I was back in Nam with him. I was the private and he was the sergeant. The girl was starting to run toward me from across the clearing.

  “Sarge! The damn chopper! It’ll cut her to pieces!”

  “Easy, Leo!”

  I felt his hand restraining me as the door burst open. I shook my head. Chopper? Wait a minute! There was no chopper. I wasn’t in Nam! That was a long time ago. I was in my office with Jeanette by my side.

  Martha stood there with that big Glock handgun pointed at me.

  “My, oh my, what do we have here but a whole nest of managers.”

  She shook her head in sadness. “I wanted to get along with you, but you don’t care.” Then she looked at me. “Not really, do you, Mr. Bronski?”

  I swallowed as I looked down the barrel of that thing.

  “I do care, Martha. I’ve only been here a month. Give us time. Things have improved. You’re not working as many hours. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

  She shook her head. “Not enough, Bronski, not nearly enough. I thought you were going to be different from the rest of the vipers. But you weren’t; I still had to go to step-three on that last grievance.”

  The Boss spoke. “No matter how bad we are, we aren’t worth the trouble you’ll have if you shoot us. Put the gun down, and we’ll work something out, I promise you.”

  A tear dropped down Martha’s cheek. “Oh it’s too late, don’t you see? Too late. Now, shut up!”

  Out on the main floor a woman screamed, “Sam’s been shot!”

  Jeanette moved closer to me at those words. Martha was truly out to settle old scores. She seemed not to be bothered by the scream. Her face now took on a determined look.

  “You were just like her,” she said.

  “Like who?” I said softly.

  “Gloria.”

  “Is that why you killed her?” I asked.

  Martha smiled and looked to one side, lost in her remembering. “You thought you were so clever taking those pictures, Bronski. I guessed something was going on when you talked about your scrapbook. No manager cares that much.”

  “My Leo does!”

  “So, little lady, you can talk. I thought you might be Leo’s wife. Sorry, honey, about all this. You see, your Leo doesn’t know the half of what’s going on around here. It is all about the drugs. Gloria wanted a bigger cut to keep her mouth shut. The guys in Florida did not like that, so overboard Gloria went. Then they sent Ashley.”

  “Who, Martha? Who sent Ashley?” I asked.

  She laughed. “Don’t you see, Bronski? That’s the beauty of the organization.”

  The color of black came slowly into my side view.

  “You shot my Sam.”

  It was the Princess with her .25 caliber pistol held on Martha.

  Martha snorted. “Don’t worry, honey. There’s more where he came from.”

  Emily fired a split second before Martha’s gun went off. Martha missed me, and in a reflex motion, I dropped to my knees.

  Jeanette dropped too, first against the desk and then slowly to the floor. She lay there in front of the desk, eyes half closed, a circle of blood blooming on her chest. Her mouth moved, but I heard nothing.

  Enraged, I jumped to my feet and charged Martha, who by now was holding her gun arm, dripping with blood, with her good hand. It made no difference to me. I slugged her in the nose. More blood splattered the place.

  The Boss grabbed me from behind. “Leo, Leo! Take it easy!”

  “They killed her, Sarge, they killed her!”

  From somewhere I heard, “Here, officer! Help me hold him! He thinks he’s back in Vietnam!”

  Another man’s voice. “You want me to cuff him?”

  “I’m afraid you have to! He’s out of his head! Leo!” I heard Sarge cry, “Come back! It will be okay; you’ll see! Jeanette’s still alive! There is a place for you in this world! I promise!”

  What the hell was Sarge
talking about? Come back where? Vietnam was where I belonged. I looked up at him kneeling down beside me, his chinstrap dangling from his helmet.

  “Sarge? Sarge?”

  Epilogue

  The old man struggled his way up the path to the cliff face to his beloved bench. From time to time, he paused to look at the beautiful wild roses growing along the path. And, as always, he marveled at their being there. Why did God ordain they be there? Had someone planted them? Well, never mind, and he stabbed at the ground with his cane. The doctors said it would be all right for him to get out of the house. But he knew his daughter was anxiously watching from the kitchen window, hiding back in the shadows. At last, he made the bench, and sat down with a resounding, “Ah . . . ”

  He looked out over his domain. The bay was like a millpond and even though it was early fall it was warm there on the bench. After a while, he dozed, half aware that if his head flopped over too far, his daughter would be up the path to see if everything was all right. As he awoke from one of his small naps, he heard footfalls coming up behind him. For goodness sakes! She didn’t need to come! He was all right! Just as he got ready to tell his daughter he was doing fine, a strange voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “Arness? It’s me, Emily.”

  She came up beside him. “May I sit down?”

  “Please . . . please, do,” he stuttered.

  “I haven’t seen you for quite a while, so I decided to come today.”

  Ha, he thought, it’s been at least six months! Quite awhile indeed! But he was grateful she was there, and out of politeness he would not say anything.

  “Today is an anniversary of sorts, remember?” she said, smoothing her dress over her stomach as she sat.

  “Yes,” he said. “You mean it’s been a year since the killing out on the bay?”

  She nodded. “I thought you might like to know Bronski is getting out of the VA hospital today. He called me yesterday. He seemed cheerful, I guess. As cheerful as anyone could be. He said that thanks to drugs, doctors, Jeanette, and his boss, he had finally gotten out of Vietnam.”