“So it was left sometime between twelve and two.”
“Yes.”
Kenny looked at Kate. “Bar doesn’t close till two.”
“No. I was in the restaurant until after eleven.”
“See anyone?”
She’d been trying to remember that since Darlene had knocked at her door. “A few people were leaving the bar at the same time I was. There were three drunks trying to figure out how to get in their truck. I took their keys away from them and gave them to Tony.”
“Good girl. Anybody else?”
She looked at Darlene, who was still avoiding her eye. “I saw Doug Gordaoff coming out of Darlene’s room.”
“Yes,” Darlene said immediately. “Doug was dropping off the text of a speech Anne wanted me to run through.”
Whatever Kenny thought of that he didn’t say and nothing showed on his face. “I noticed the door to the outside gives one hell of a bang when it closes.”
“Yeah, I noticed that, too,” Kate said. “Shakes the whole building.”
“Feel anything like that after you went to bed?”
She shook her head.
“Could mean nobody came in from outside to do the deed.”
Before Darlene said anything, Kate said, “It could also mean that whoever did it is familiar with the door and held it so it wouldn’t bang. That damn door has been banging shut for years, and I bet everybody in the Park has stayed here at least once.”
He sighed. “You’re right.” He looked at her. “How do you want to play this, Kate?”
“I want to question everybody in this trailer, and I want you to stand around looking mean while I do.”
He grinned, a tight, hard grin. “I can do that.”
First stop, Anne and Doug’s room. Anne looked tense and exhausted, wrapped in a flannel robe, dark red with a black moose print. She was sitting beneath the covers of one bed, reading a book, or trying to. Kate got a look at the title. Stephen King. Doug was curled up motionless on the other bed, covers up to his chin, back to the door.
Clothes were hung neatly in the closet. Toiletries were laid out on the bathroom counter with almost military precision. Used towels were folded and hung over the shower rod.
Kate introduced Kenny and asked Anne to tell them what had happened. It didn’t differ in any of the particulars from what Darlene had said. “No, I didn’t see anyone. I didn’t hear anyone, either. Whoever left the letter didn’t make enough noise to wake me up. I got up to use the bathroom, which as you can see is right next to the door to the room. I stepped on the letter. When I turned on the light, I saw what it was, and I went to get Darlene.” She looked at Kate. “What does this mean, Kate? I’m not in any danger. Am I?”
“I don’t know,” Kate said. She sensed Darlene stir in back of her, and repeated, “I don’t know. I don’t think so, and that’s not just a gut instinct. I’ve got reasons. I’m going to talk to the rest of your people right now.” She exchanged a long, unsmiling look with Kenny. “For the moment, why don’t you try to get some sleep? We’ll be going up and down the hall for a while, see if we can find out if anyone in the building saw something.”
Anne’s eyes went past Kate to Kenny Hazen. “Hello, Chief Hazen.”
“Hello, Ms. Gordaoff.”
“Mrs.,” came a voice from beneath the covers of the second bed. “It’s Mrs. Gordaoff.”
“Mrs. Gordaoff,” Kenny corrected himself without a blink.
“Please, call me Anne.” She gave him a wan smile. “I expect Kate rousted you out of bed to come down here. I’m sorry about that.”
Kenny shook his head. “That’s my job, Anne.”
Doug condescended to roll over and confirm that he’d dropped off a speech at Darlene’s room at a little after eleven, that he hadn’t been gone more than five minutes, and that he hadn’t seen anyone in the hallway except Kate. Anne listened without expression.
The next room belonged to the son, Tom, who either wasn’t answering the door or wasn’t home. Kenny stepped up with a passkey. “I stopped at the front desk on the way in,” he said in answer to Kate’s look.
A nylon duffel bag sat open on one bed, clothes were scattered everywhere but the closet, CDs spilled out of a case, nearly burying a portable CD player with earphones. A laptop computer was open on the desk, not running. A bottle of shampoo, three different kinds of designer hair mousse, dental floss, toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a box of Trojans sat on the dresser. Towels sat in a damp heap on the floor.
“Hey, what the hell?”
They turned and saw Tom standing in the doorway.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?”
He was lean like his father and moved like a basketball player, putting his feet down lightly in anticipation of a midperiod shift of defense from zone to man-to-man.
“Where have you been?” Kate said.
“None of your goddamn business,” Tom said, unintimidated by the uniformed police officer looming at her back. “I asked you what the hell are you doing in my room?”
He had a point. Kate explained. “I don’t know anything about that,” he said, when they showed him the most recent letter. “No, I didn’t see anyone. All I did was shower and change after we got in from that dumb dinner Mom made us all go to. Me and a friend closed down the bar. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date.” He reached past Kate and picked up the box of Trojans. He grinned down at her, thirteen years her junior and at least a foot taller. Everybody was always a foot taller than her, and she found it irritating in the extreme. “Forgot these.” He left.
“Well, now, he’s real worried about the possible danger to his mother,” Kenny said.
Darlene said nothing.
Tracy Huffman’s room was empty. They went in with the passkey, found clothes hung in the closet, toiletries on the dresser, a briefcase jammed with schedules and flyers and posters, and a DayTimer in which every single day forward until November 7th had two or more entries. It made Kate tired just to look at it. “What do you know about this one?” Kenny said.
Aware of Darlene listening, Kate said, “She was at UAF with Darlene and me.”
“She’s probably in the sack with some guy,” Darlene said.
Kenny cocked an eyebrow at Kate. Kate shrugged. “She, ah, does make friends fast.”
“And you never introduced us. I may never forgive you.”
The next door down opened before they knocked. “What’s going on?” Erin stood there, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
“I’m glad you’re awake, Erin,” Kate said, stepping forward so as to crowd the younger woman backward. “We need to talk to you.”
Erin saw Kenny and her eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
The young woman’s face lit up and for a moment she looked almost pretty. “Did you catch who killed Jeff? Is that it?”
“No, Ms. Gordaoff,” Kenny said, his voice gentle. “We haven’t caught the person who killed your fiancé yet. We just need to talk to you for a few minutes.”
Erin’s face crumpled. Kate hoped she wouldn’t cry, and she didn’t. “Can’t it wait until morning?” Her voice, a high-pitched, sulky whine, was beginning to get on Kate’s nerves.
“Can we come in, please?”
Erin gave way before her advance. “I suppose so. The dog can’t come in, I’m allergic.”
“Stay,” Kate said, and Mutt made a face, sniffed suspiciously at the carpet outside the door, and sat down with her tail in a fastidious curl around her legs.
Erin sat primly on the edge of the one made-up bed. Kate showed her the letter. Erin’s eyes widened. No, she hadn’t seen anyone loitering outside Anne’s room, or in the hallway of the trailer, or in the parking lot, or to and from the Ahtna high school gym. No, she had no idea who might be writing the letters. She couldn’t imagine anyone doing anything so sick. Of course, now that she knew this crazy person was following Anne around, she would watch for anyone who looke
d suspicious. She was sorry she wasn’t able to help this time. It was important to get her mother elected to office, but it was even more important to keep her safe. Erin understood that perfectly well.
They stood in the hallway, waiting for Erin’s door to close. When it did, Kenny said softly, “Why didn’t she just put in a tape?”
As they stood there, the three of them became aware of sounds coming from a room down the hall, a thumping of headboard against wall, at first gentle, then vigorous, then just plain loud. After a few moments it was accompanied by cries, female, and grunts, male. Everything got louder and speeded up.
“Let’s get out of here,” Kate said. They retreated down the hall and were about to go into Kate’s room when Tracy appeared, a dreamy look in her eye and whisker burns on her face. The dreamy look vanished when they told her about the new letter, and she readily gave the name of the man she had spent the past few hours with. He was someone Kenny knew when she described him, which was fortunate, because Tracy didn’t know either his last name or his phone number.
“Man, I’m beat,” Tracy said, yawning. “Okay if I hit the sack?” Without waiting for a reply she winked at Kate and vanished into her room.
“I guess it’s okay,” Kate said. She turned to Darlene. “Who’s next?”
“That’s it.”
“No, it isn’t. What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, where were you this evening?” Kate had to hold back a grin when Darlene’s mouth fell open.
“Why, I was—I didn’t—what do you mean, where was I? I was right here in my room, just like—” She halted.
“Just like everybody else,” Kate finished for her, “one door away from where a ransom note was delivered to Anne Gordaoff.”
A thundercloud descended over Darlene’s face. “I—you—what are you—do you really think that I’ve worked this hard to get Anne elected that—”
“I’m merely saying that you had as much opportunity as anyone else to slip the letter under her door.”
“I was in my room,” Darlene snapped, “until Anne came to tell me about the letter.”
“Okay,” Kate said.
They knocked on the rest of the doors, and got a lot of bad-tempered people out of bed to no purpose that Kate could see. “Well, that was a big help,” she said to Kenny as the last door slammed in their faces.
“We had to check,” Kenny said. “Getting the door slammed in our face comes with the territory. I say we pack it in for now.”
But Kate remembered someone else they had to talk to. “What about the researcher you were talking about?” she said to Darlene. “She’s working on the campaign, where is she?”
“She’s got her own place,” Darlene said. “I told you, she doesn’t stay at the hotel.”
“You know where she lives?”
“Yeah. I had to find it when I wanted to hire her.”
Kate looked at Kenny. “In the morning,” he said.
“We’re up,” she said.
“In the morning,” he repeated. “It’s at least got to be light out. I’ll be back around nine; we’ll drive out in my rig. You’ll go with us,” he told Darlene.
“Oh, but I can’t,” she said, “Anne’s got a breakfast with the local Guns-and-Ammo group, I have to . . .”
Her voice trailed away beneath Kenny’s steady stare. Cops have their uses, Kate thought.
“I guess I could take an hour,” Darlene said.
“Good,” Kenny said. “See you both in the parking lot at nine.”
Darlene vanished into her room with a flounce.
Kate, groggy now with fatigue, fumbled with the key to her door. It opened at last, but she stood for a moment on the threshold, glancing down the hall.
The sheet-beating they had heard earlier had been coming from Anne and Doug’s room, she was almost sure of it. Darlene hadn’t so much as turned a hair that fresh out of his lover’s bed, he was giving it to his wife. Kate had to give him points for stamina, but if she’d been his wife, she would have been more careful. Who knew where that penis had been?
The covers were up to her chin when she thought, And why did Doug feel it so necessary to mark his territory so publicly?
9
Kenny Hazen didn’t show up until ten. He had Jim Chopin with him.
Kate bristled, but Darlene walked around her and got in Kenny’s pristine white Suburban with the discreet gold shield on the side. Jim looked at Kate with a raised eyebrow, and she motioned Mutt into the back, and got in behind Kenny.
“Good morning, everyone,” Kenny said, sounding as cheerful as the recreational director on a cruise ship, and they were off.
Darlene’s researcher lived five miles out of town in a little Airstream trailer that gleamed like a silver hot dog-shaped UFO. The trailer was parked by itself on a riverside acre of ground overgrown with white spruce and birch and alder and cottonwood and diamond willow and salmonberry and raspberry and blueberry bushes and pretty much any plant that produced leaves at that latitude. It looked as if the only thing that was holding it up out of the water rushing past was sheer force of will. A wooden rack of fifty-five gallon drums, much like the one in back of Kate’s cabin, leaned against the wall near the door. A picnic table stood between the trailer and the river, in the only clear space in the tangled undergrowth other than the trail in. A wire leading from a pole on the road indicated that the trailer had electricity, but there were no lights on inside.
“Paula?” Darlene said, knocking.
There was no answer. Darlene knocked again, more firmly this time. The door’s loose latch gave and it swung open. Mutt’s ears went back about the same time it hit Kate’s nose.
“What’s that smell?” Darlene said, peering inside. “Paula?”
Kate pushed her back with no apology.
“Hey,” Darlene started to say, sounding indignant, and then Kate was no longer there. Instead, Kenny said from behind her, “Don’t touch the wall switch.”
Kate found it and elbowed it on. For some reason the light made the smell stronger.
“Miss Pawlowski?” Kenny said, sidearm out, sliding inside with his back to the door. Jim was right behind him, also with his sidearm out. “Paula Pawlowski?”
“Kate, what’s going on?”
“Wait out here, Darlene,” Kate said, trying unsuccessfully to see around the not inconsiderable bulk of two Alaskan law enforcement officers. She heard the sound of a footstep squishing into a wet carpet.
“Goddamn it,” Kenny said.
“Oh hell,” Jim said.
Kate wormed her way past him to see.
“Kate? What’s going on?” Darlene shoved in next to Kate. “Oh my god. Paula. Paula? Paula!”
In the awkward sprawl of the dead lay the woman with whom Kate had shared her dinner table at the Ahtna Lodge restaurant the night before.
“I got the body off to the ME in Anchorage on the noon plane,” Kenny said, settling himself in his chair. “It’s getting to be a habit.”
It was about one o’clock. Anne and her entourage had been questioned, had denied seeing Paula the night before, except for Darlene, who said she had spent half an hour with the researcher before going to the VFW dinner with Anne and Co. None of them knew Paula other than professionally, and as she had spent most of her time working for them in one library or another around the state, even Anne had difficulty remembering what she looked like. No, they couldn’t say if she had any enemies. No, they hadn’t seen anyone suspicious lurking around. Hadn’t they all been asked that question before? they wanted to know. Like about six hours before? In the middle of the friggin’ night?
It wasn’t long before Kenny ran out of questions to ask them, and Darlene was quick to pounce on the opportunity. Was that all? she wanted to know, and when Kenny said that was all, she shepherded everyone to Anne’s next appearance, a performance of The Mikado by the Ahtna Junior High Dramatic Society.
Kate stayed with Kenny and Jim. Also, as Darlene
pointed out, the campaign had lost its researcher, and she wanted Kate to get hold of Paula’s notes and laptop, always assuming Kenny could be convinced to give them up, something Kate pointed out to Darlene and something Darlene of course blew off. “At least get him to let you take a look at them,” she said, her voice impatient. “Do I have to do everything?”
“Whoever it was got close enough for her to grab the gun,” Kenny said now, looking at Jim, “or it looks like it from the tears on the palms of her hands. Be a while before we get results from ballistics, but it looks like a twenty-two caliber pistol.”
“Another twenty-two,” Jim said. “What a coincidence.”
“This one also firing at close range, another amazing coincidence. The bullet went into her chest, and there’s no exit wound, so ballistics should tell us something if we ever find the weapon.” His glum voice told them how likely an event he thought that. Kate thought of the river running past the Airstream and felt a little glum herself.
“Tears on her hands,” Jim said. “You’re thinking this one maybe wasn’t meant to be murder?”
Without answering, Kenny brought out two clear plastic bags. In one, there was a box of Expert brand typing/copy paper, letter size, not quite full. In the other, there were two Sharpie Fine Point Permanent Markers, one still half in the shrink wrap it had been sold in. “It’s the same paper as the other letters, all right, same watermark, twenty-five percent cotton bond, eight and a half by eleven.”
“Did the letter Anne got last night come from the paper in that box?” Kate said.
“I haven’t seen it yet, by the way,” Jim said.
Kenny tossed him the letter, encased in a clear plastic document protector. Jim read it. His eyebrows went up. “Hello. This one reads like blackmail.”
Kate looked at Kenny. “So? Same paper?”
He shrugged. “I counted the pages left. There are four hundred and ninety-two. Eight letters sent. Eight pages missing.”
Singing of the Dead Page 13
