by Karen Harper
Mitch had hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Yeah, I just blew that off, almost forgot about it. No way that's going to happen."
"Another bribe? I have to think his offer to me was exactly that. And, if so, he's very adept not only at managing people but at hypocrisy and underhandedness. Which means he could definitely be the spider at the center of the casino-case web. How much did Graham want to have his own fortune, however he got his hands on it, rather than living in the lap of luxury because of his wife and her family's wealth? Maybe he saw a way to make big money, then got scared it would backfire and he'd be caught, especially when he had to take the case, then sabotage it so he couldn't be traced. We never could figure out how whoever tracked us and bugged us knew so much about our lives. He must have made a bargain with some devil, and got burned himself."
"Listen, sweetheart," Mitch had said, grasping her upper arms, "I'm going to keep a good eye on you until the sheriff comes--and hopefully for long after. But I told Christine that, whatever happens, before the sheriff arrives and hears us out, she's to stick with you. Promise me!"
She had promised him. But then she'd once promised to marry him, and that had been blown to smithereens. As far as she was concerned, that still had to be settled between them, but they had to get all this taken care of first.
Now, as she crossed the short distance to the window where Mitch stood watching Jonas, Vanessa and Christine unload the car, she asked, "Nothing from the sheriff yet?"
"If I don't hear soon, I'm going to call his office again. They can patch me through to the accident scene. It must have been a bad wreck, injuries or fatalities."
Their gazes locked and held. Injuries, fatalities... She suddenly wanted to explode in tears, but she got control of herself. "Oh, I came in to ask you where garden pots and rakes and shovels go. I saw those tools in Ginger's shed when we were looking for her."
"In the boathouse for now, our general catch-all. Christine never goes in there, so tell her stuff should just be stacked along the west side to leave room for the boats and rafts when we put them away. I'll sort through it all later."
"Aye, aye, Captain," she told him with an attempt at a jaunty salute, when she actually wanted to just cling to him. She hurried back out.
The gardening pots and tools were piled by the porch, Jonas and Vanessa were pulling away, and Christine was on her way in, so they almost bumped into each other.
"I figured Mitch was in there, but I didn't want to shirk my duty of being your second skin," Christine said.
"You'll be glad to get rid of me."
"No, I really won't," she said as they went back out and she hefted a box of pots as Lisa picked up a collection of rakes, spades and hoes. "At first I was afraid you would be bad for Mitch, but I see you love him, too--well, you know what I mean, not the same way I do."
"If and when I do come back here when this is all over, it will be to see Mitch, but you, too. I wish you the best with Spike once he can get past Ginger's loss. And I'm hoping our telling the sheriff I've been attacked twice will reopen the investigation of her death, so Spike won't be so upset. Oh--Mitch said all this stuff can be stacked up in the boathouse."
"Let's go."
They started to walk around the corner of the lodge. Lisa recalled Ginger peeking at them from here when Gus brought her and Mitch back from their river trek.
Mitch ran out onto the porch. "The sheriff was on his way, but had a flat tire just down the road about a half mile," he shouted, pointing in the other direction. "I gave him a quick briefing, and he was all ears. I'm not going to wait for one of the vehicles to get back. I'll just jog down to help him change the tire, or else bring him back here while we call for someone else to do it. You two stick together. I'll be back with the sheriff one way or the other in half an hour."
That was hopeful, Lisa thought as her stomach knotted again at all that was to come. Even if all these lawyers lawyered up at the sheriff's questions, no one would dare to try to harm her again. It would be like life insurance. If they all turned against her for bringing in the sheriff, she'd just have to find someplace else to work and live--maybe here?
They found the boathouse unlocked. Lisa had not been in it before, and it was obviously not familiar territory to Christine either. "Stack things on the west side," Lisa told Christine. "He said to leave plenty of space for boats later."
"Boats, kayaks, rafts," Christine said as she put the box of clay pots down, then shoved it farther into the corner with her foot.
Lisa liked the boathouse. It smelled of cedar and had big beams holding up the roof. It wasn't dark inside at all. Unlike the sauna, thank heavens, it was airy and light with a row of small windows overlooking the lake, though they were quite high up. She leaned the tools in the corner near the box of pots and said, "Either Mitch's uncle was tall or he built this for Spike. I have to stand on tiptoe to see out."
"I guess they wanted just the light, not the view. We'd better get the rest, a couple more loads, I think. The Bonners should be back soon with their next haul. We shouldn't tell them to go and pick Mitch and Sheriff Moran up, should we?"
"No way," Lisa said firmly.
As they started back to get another load, a shaft of sunlight slanting into the corner caught Lisa's eye. Something gleamed. At first she thought it was a spider web, since one laced itself behind the tools, and she thought of Graham. Mitch had said he believed Vanessa was first on their most-wanted list, but Lisa was picking Graham as the spider.
"What is it?" Christine stopped to ask as Lisa froze.
"The top of that spade caught my eye--not the reddish stain but something else."
Lisa went toward it, blocking out the shaft of sun. She lifted the spade, carefully. Moving it into the sunlight, she could see sticking to the reddish varnish on one side of the spade's handle several matted red hairs were stuck.
Christine bent closer to it. Lisa's mind raced. These red stains must not be varnish but blood.
"I guess," Christine said, "she could have cut herself working and gotten hairs stuck on it."
"No blood on her dock," Lisa whispered, suddenly feeling nauseous. "But the back of her head was hit hard. Vanessa knew she worked a garden and had been out to see it. She knew right where it was. She told me to look in the shed for Ginger, and if that's where this was, it doesn't make sense. Still, she could have--have hurt her, then set me up to find the body...."
"You think Vanessa is behind everything?"
"Mitch does--we're not sure. We have to hide this until the sheriff gets here."
"Lisa, we have to go get Spike so he's here when the sheriff arrives. We've got to tell him we've found something to reopen Ginger's case--strong evidence."
"Unless the Bonners have driven in, we don't have a car to get to him, but then, I don't want them to think we're running for Spike for any reason. Ellie and Spike arranged who would be where today."
"Listen," Christine said, whispering now, "Ginger's boat is just outside, on the other side of the dock from Spike's plane. Spike's blaming you for what happened to Ginger, but I really think he should be here. We can take the motorboat and be to Ginger's cabin and back in just over ten minutes. We won't even go ashore, just shout to him to get back to the lodge. He can drive around while we head back."
"If Mitch finds us missing, he'll have a fit."
"We'll leave him a note, just saying we took a sandwich to Spike, in case anyone else finds it. Spike will be so grateful you found this extra evidence. Maybe it will stop his bitterness, because that's not like him. I'd give anything if he'd just be himself again, not so angry. I swear he's going to have a heart attack."
Tears welled in Christine's eyes. Lisa understood fearing for those you loved. And for Christine, after an abusive marriage, it must be so hard for her to trust another man, especially one who seemed to be losing control of himself lately. Yet Lisa desperately wanted Christine and Spike to be happy--and together.
"You do know how to run her boat?"
she asked as she hid the spade behind two stacked barrels, then followed Christine outside.
"Sure, it's easy. Come on, twin joined-at-the-hip. Let's leave Mitch a note on the front door about taking a sandwich to Spike, and we'll explain the truth to him and the sheriff later."
They dashed inside while Christine scribbled the note. Lisa was elated about finding what could be a murder weapon. And to think Jonas and Vanessa had delivered it! That meant once again, she realized, that perhaps Vanessa had not hit Ginger over the head with it after all, or surely she would have spotted it and hidden it. As she and Christine headed toward Ginger's boat, she was grateful that the Bonners had not driven in with their next load.
Lisa sat in the prow and Christine easily started the old outboard motor. "Only twenty-five horsepower," she said. "An antique with a pull cord no less, but it was always old faithful for her. It's more like a plow horse than a racehorse, though."
It was indeed, as they plowed their way through the low waves toward the other end of the lake. Lisa thought of the day she and Vanessa had taken a rowboat across and found Ginger's body. Then her thoughts skipped to the day this all started, the day she and Mitch were going to take that red kayak to a picnic spot near Ginger's cabin. He'd saved her with that kayak, so it was sad they had to abandon it. And that day they intended to talk things out near Ginger's cabin, they had cans of ginger ale--how ironic. And appetizers Christine had fixed for what was to be their reunion feast while they tried to patch up their past. But instead of the appetizers, they'd ended up with fabulous wild blueberries and fresh salmon.
The motor sputtered at times. Its putt-putt barely drowned out the river's distant rumble. But Lisa was not afraid. She had good memories as well as the bad. Once they learned who had intended to kill her and why, she would learn to stride into the future without past losses haunting her ever again.
She heard another sound and looked back to see what was loud enough to carry this far. Christine turned to look back, too.
"Oh!" Christine cried. "I think the engine of Spike's plane is starting. Can you tell if the propeller's turning?"
Lisa shaded her eyes. "Yes, I think so."
"He must have driven in and seen us heading out and wants to get our attention, so we head back. We'd better go back. This won't turn on a dime, but hang on."
They made a small, slow circle, but the plane had left the dock and lodge behind. It was still revving up to taxi or take off. And, Lisa noted with increasing unease, it was making a path straight toward them.
25
L
isa's first thought when she saw the plane coming their way was that Spike had something to tell them. Maybe he'd found an item in Ginger's things that would be even more evidence than the spade. Shading her eyes, Christine shouted over the increasing noise, "Maybe Mitch got back and was really upset we're out here on the lake. Spike might have brought a load around himself, and Mitch said, let's go in the plane and get them to come back."
"But wouldn't Mitch have just used his motorboat?"
Christine had brought them to a halt with the motor idling. It sounded as jumpy as Lisa felt. Christine said, "Maybe Spike's just moving the plane down to where it used to be, but he said he wouldn't. Or he's trying to teach us a lesson."
"Like what? This is getting too close for comfort. I don't think the sun's in his eyes and that he can't see us, but let's get out of the way!"
Christine turned them outward, but the plane adjusted its course. It did not seem to be accelerating enough to take off over their heads, but continued straight for them.
"This isn't funny," Lisa heard her friend mutter as she took evasive action once again. The plane was so close now its engine drowned out the rumble of the river and their own motor. "Iah! Hang on!" Christine shouted and made a sharp turn.
Rocked by the wake from the plane's pontoons as they passed within five yards, their boat nearly capsized. It rocked to one side then the other as Christine fought to turn their prow into the choppy waves.
"What's wrong with him?" she shouted and lifted one arm to make a fist at Spike as the plane came around again to face them.
For one instant, Lisa stared down into the roiling, blue-green depths of the lake, slashed by whitecaps pounding their boat. She fought her fear that faces would float to the surface, that she and Christine could be thrown in to join those drowned women staring up at them.
"It can't be Spike, it can't be Spike," Christine kept reciting like a litany. "Hang on, because we're too slow to make a run for it if he--if the plane--comes back, so we'll have to twist and turn."
Lisa realized they'd made a fatal error, maybe more than one. Nowhere in the boat was there a PFD. They'd been in too much of a hurry, hadn't checked, when Mitch said that was always a necessity. And she--maybe Christine, too--had made the huge mistake of trusting Spike.
Mitch wiped the grease and dirt from his hands with a rag the sheriff handed him.
"Where'd you learn to change a tire like that?" Mace Moran asked.
"Never have before, but I'm learning a lot of things since I grew feathered feet. Necessity is the mother of invention, remember?"
"One of Alaska's creeds. But your real talent's talking and working at the same time. Glad you finally filled me in about the attacks on Lisa. Pretty clever ones all right, made to look like she could have wanted to hurt herself, so Ginger's accident could be a setup, too. Let's get going, 'cause I got a few cages to rattle."
"I know you don't like having to deal with attorneys but--"
"But the law's the law. Now isn't it just like a couple lawyers to think they can solve a case that should be handed over to law enforcement? You don't see me trying cases in court, do you? I could get you and Lisa for suppressing evidence, obstruction of justice, at least on Ginger Jackson's death. I'm so mad that one of your fancy city lawyer friends thinks they can put one over on an Alaska sheriff that I'm about ready to spit nails."
He threw the tire jack and the flat tire in the trunk, where Mitch saw he had a lot of other police gear, including an assault rifle. He shuddered as the sheriff slammed the trunk closed. As they both got in the front seat, Mitch couldn't picture any of the lawyers from Carlisle, Bonner in handcuffs or being taken away in the caged back of this vehicle. I've got a few cages to rattle, the sheriff had said. At least Spike would rest easier when the investigation into Ginger's death was reopened. And Mitch and Lisa would finally get some answers so she could put the attempts on her life behind her.
Lisa and Christine had to shout at each other over the noise as the plane made another pass so close that one pontoon almost hit their boat. They got soaked with spray, and water washed in to swirl around their ankles. They would have been hit dead-on if Christine hadn't veered away at the last moment.
"I'll try to get us close to shore!" Christine shouted. "He must have snapped. Maybe when he saw we had her boat--"
"Can you swim?" Lisa screamed as the plane, sitting so high in the water that it seemed like a red sea monster risen from the depths, came at them again.
"I think we're gonna have to swim!" Christine shouted.
The sun glinted off the cockpit windows to nearly blind them before she managed a wild U-turn and gunned the boat toward the shore. Holding on with one hand and bailing madly with the other, Lisa looked back as the plane made another pass. She could see no pilot in it. Spike was tall, so his head would surely have been visible in that split second, unless he'd bent or stooped.
The plane pursued them. They were not near enough to shore for an easy swim. They were going to get hit hard this time. Shoving its white-crested wake ahead of its bulbous feet, the plane came faster, louder.
"Christine!" Lisa screamed. "Jump!"
They both jumped, even as the plane cracked into the stern of their boat. As it splintered and upended, Lisa dove, digging into the water with both hands, kicking hard, rocked and buffeted, going lower, down to escape the deep-riding pontoons.
Sounds were muted now, di
stant. The river reached for her again, then the seething wake of the cruise ship where her mother and Jani disappeared. Ginger floated closer, faceup, arms outstretched.
No. No! She would not be sucked under by this water or by nightmares. She did not see Ginger in this lake, did not see her mother's face or hear her voice, beseeching, begging, Come to me, Lisa...come to me...
After what seemed an eternity, Lisa broke the rocking surface of the lake with a huge gasp. Christine was a good distance off, stroking for the shore opposite from Ginger's cabin. Out of breath, exhausted when she'd told the doctor she'd do nothing strenuous, Lisa treaded water, trying to get some strength and time to think. Now, at least, as she saw the plane turn again and start back, she might learn if it was both of them Spike wanted to kill or just her.
Too soon, she had her answer. Again, the red plane headed straight for her.
"Damn!" Mitch said, as he snatched the note off the door.
"What's that?" the sheriff asked.
"It's from Lisa and Christine. Spike needed a break and came by to do a little work on something on his plane. He's going to be making taxis across the lake to test something, and Christine and Lisa are going with him. 'A tour of the lake without a boat,' Lisa's scribbled here--or Christine. Not sure who's handwriting this is. I can't believe they left when it might be Lisa's last day here."
"Not if I can get the ball rolling with a murder investigation and a double-assault case. Let's see if we can spot them on the lake, and if they get close, signal them to come in."
They went inside and walked across the great room to look out the back bank of windows. At the far end of the lake, the red plane was making all sorts of maneuvers.
"Kind of a thrill ride," the sheriff said. "Hey, I hear a car out front, so whoever's back, I'll start with them." They heard doors slam and hurried toward the front porch. Mitch frowned. He didn't like it. Something was really wrong.
