by Mike Cranny
“When are you going out there?”
“I was going to go right after our meeting. We’ll need a search warrant.”
“I’ll see what I can do but it’s pretty short notice. I think I’ll come out there with you. You said his trailer was there too?”
“And the boat.”
“That’s strange. Why take the boat?”
“I haven’t any idea. Maybe he was too lazy to unhook the trailer.”
Archie called Delia John and gave her the particulars. She would contact a judge and look after getting the warrant. Then he pushed himself away from the desk, uncoiled his legs, and stood up, wishing he had a window to look out. He told Lee about the autopsy. Lee shook his head sadly. Archie asked how the forensics work was coming along. Lee put his computer tablet on the desktop, pulled up a fingerprint image and a file photo mug shot of John Robbie. Archie almost laughed. Robbie had a smirk on his face that made him look like he’d been photographed because he’d wanted to be.
Lee brushed his fingers across the screen to shrink the image. A rap sheet appeared beside it.
“Not all the results are in,” he said. “We pulled a thumb print off the abalone iron that matched John Robbie’s. Other than that, some of the blood that had splattered on the wall near the body wasn’t Donaldson’s, so he did hit his attacker when he fired his gun like you figured. We got some of Donaldson’s diving stuff from the freshwater tank, but we haven’t found the other glove we were looking for. The pockets on the dive vest were open but there weren’t any more coins in them, nothing at all in fact. Lots of fingerprints in the shop but nothing that helps. No prints on the coin, of course. So far, it looks like Robbie’s the guy we’re looking for.”
“How’d we happen to have Robbie’s prints on file?”
“He did time for some biker-related stuff years back. And he worked for Bill Tran a few times moving stolen goods but we didn’t have enough evidence to hold him. There was a drunk and disorderly.”
Lee tapped the screen of his tablet, looked something up.
“There’s the possibility that he killed a guy when he was in prison, but no charges were laid.”
“Was there anything on Nick’s computer that would help?” Archie asked.
“Not that we’ve found. The hard drive has had a complete scrub, and there are no prints on the machine.”
“Except for Nick’s?”
“Not even his. The machine’s been wiped clean.”
Archie swore under his breath — Nick would have had had maps and charts bookmarked on his computer. Had they been there, he might have been able to track Nick’s movements on the days before he died.
“Let’s go. We’ll take my vehicle”
He grabbed his cap from his desk. Lee followed.
Their route took them through busy hallways. It was shift change and officers and detectives were coming and going. Reddin and Jameson came out of the coffee room. Jameson planted himself firmly in Archie’s way.
“You’re supposed to keep me posted, young man. How come I don’t have a typed update on my desk?”
Archie shot Jameson a look and then pushed past him. Reddin tried to block Lee’s passage; Lee sidestepped, grunted something, carried on. Out in the parking lot, Archie let himself relax. Jameson was an irritation and Reddin was a jerk, but Archie had too much on his mind to worry about either. He waited as Lee arranged his coat and together they went to Archie’s 4Runner at the far end of the lot. Lee climbed in beside him after shoving a pile of books and papers to one side so that he had room to sit.
“What a mess.”
“Yeah, well...”
They picked up coffee at Avril’s and then took the highway out to the ferry terminal at Saturn Bay. The long-term lot was a private operation on the Cheslat Reservation. The lot attendant was a Salish named Williams. Williams looked at Archie’s identification and gave him an “I don’t believe it” look. Then he pointed out Robbie’s pickup and trailer parked near a ditch at the edge of the lot.
“Did you see him when he dropped it off?” Archie asked.
Williams shook his head.
“There’s no attendant here after seven. Yesterday’s when the rig was first noticed, when I took down the license number. Including today, he owes for three days right now. I figure he put it here night before last.”
“So you don’t really know when he arrived.”
“It’d be about ten at night I guess. I happened to come through at nine and it wasn’t here and then at eleven when it was. Like I say, there’s three days owing.”
Lee thanked Williams. Archie led the way to the truck and boat trailer. The rig was badly parked, one wheel of the trailer rested on a rocky outcrop, tilting the frame.
“He parked in a hurry,” Lee said. “I’d say he must have been running to catch the ferry, except that there isn’t one at that time of night.”
“He didn’t leave the Island. I’m not even sure he’s still alive,” Archie said.
He looked inside and pointed to the blood on the seats.
“The warrant is superfluous now,” Lee said.
Archie had brought a Slim Jim from his vehicle and he used it to open the passenger side door of the pickup. The smell of blood was strong, that and the pungent reek of wet neoprene. He snapped on latex gloves, placed the heel of his hand on the edge of the bench seat, reached over and opened the driver side door. Thomas Lee looked in, craning his neck around. He’d smelled the blood too. He pointed to the roof liner.
“It’s up here,” he said.
Archie knelt down and looked up at the smeared blood on the faded cloth.
“I wasn’t expecting this,” he said
“You think it’s Donaldson’s blood then?”
“We’ll find out.”
Archie leaned in and looked over into the space in back of the seat.
“There’s a wetsuit here,” he said. “It didn’t get dried the night Nick got killed. I’m almost certain there’ll be a bullet hole in it under the arm. So much mess — whoever dropped this off was in a hurry. Better get forensics out here right away. You’ll have to stay here until they come. I’ve got to get back. Patsy’s going to update me on the coin we found in the glove. I’ll get Stoney out here with a burger for you. Wait in the toll shack until the tow truck comes.”
Lee nodded but looked irritated. Archie knew Lee was tired and ready to go home, but dinner and relaxation would have to wait. Archie pulled off his gloves, dropped them on the ground, and headed back to his vehicle. He stopped before he got in. Lee was close by, walking toward the shack.
“Don’t let that truck out of your sight,” he said. “And be careful.”
Lee nodded, tapped his coat and under it the Berretta he carried. Archie called in, gave the message to Stoney and then drove out of the lot.
CHAPTER 8
When Archie got back to the station, he went directly to the basement lab to meet Patsy. She led him to the counter where she had Nick’s glove on a tray and next to it, like a museum exhibit, the gold coin she’d pulled from it. She told him what she’d been able to learn.
“The language on the coin is a kind of Finnish dialect, highly idiosyncratic. I haven’t been able to figure out what it means but I’ve got somebody on the way to do that. There is a word in English. See, it says Eli. No shop or collector has reported a coin like this missing so far as I can determine.”
The name, Eli, registered with Archie, but he saw that it didn’t seem to mean anything to Patsy. No reason it should, he thought. She hadn’t been in Harsley long enough.
“I called Streya Wainright and asked her to come have a look,” Patsy said. “She’s of Finnish descent, so I thought she might be able to translate.”
Archie stiffened. Streya was a complication he didn’t need. Even now, the mention of her name raised mixed feelings within him.
“There must be somebody else in this town that can speak Finn.”
“Maybe, but I saw Streya at the Satsu
ma and I figured she could help.”
“You mentioned that we had this coin and that it had the word, Eli, on it?”
Patsy nodded.
“Jesus.”
“When I did, she said she’d come over.”
She picked up on Archie’s discomfort right away — women seemed good at that in his experience. She had figured out what it was all about too — he could see that in her face — that she’d put the sequence together, that he and Streya had had something going, that Streya had left him, that he was still hurting. She’d be partly right if that’s how she had it. He must have sworn again under his breath because, to his surprise, she reacted like she wanted to protect him and said, “I can interview her, you know. You don’t have to be here.”
Archie shook his head.
“It’s not a problem.”
She opened her mouth to say something else but the back door buzzer sounded and she stopped herself. Then she looked into his face like she was assessing his temper. Apparently satisfied, she went to answer the door.
He waited, having no choice in the matter now. She came back with Streya, tightly bundled up in leather against the wind and rain. Streya took off her woollen cap, released a cascade of red hair, pushed it back behind her ears and nodded a greeting at Archie. Her smile seemed warm and her blue eyes were big and bright. His own greeting came out more like ‘huh’ than ‘hi’, all he could manage under the circumstances. And then he saw Ray Jameson in the far doorway, watching, curious. Jameson leered, said “Chief,” laughed, and walked on.
Streya moved closer to Archie, close enough that he could smell the herbal shampoo scent of her hair. Like always, she demanded his attention and, when she had it, she went on with the show. She unzipped her jacket slowly, took it off and tossed it over the back of a chair.
She wore a form-fitting, low-cut V-neck sweater of soft white wool that displayed just the right amount of décolletage, the little mole on the white swelling curve of her right breast visible, the creamy flesh slightly dimpled by the violet lace edge of her bra cup. His eyes went there. Her eyes tracked his and he knew, by the certainty in them, that the effect she had had on him had been intended. She smiled like a satisfied cat, “Nice to see you again, hon.”
Her voice was husky, the tones rich and shadowed. He couldn’t think of anything to say so he nodded. She seemed to enjoy his discomfort, waiting and watching his face until he said, “You too.”
Then Patsy moved in, business-like, breaking the spell, asking Streya if she would look at the coin and then leading her away to the lab.
Archie lingered, happy that Patsy had been there to remind him, somehow, that he shouldn’t let Streya manipulate him — which he wasn’t going to do anyway. She’d taken him by surprise. Nothing more to it than that. Patsy took the lead, showed Streya the coin and asked her about it. Streya glanced at Archie, lifted her chin, smiled. Patsy was brusque.
“Can you read the lettering, Streya?”
Streya ignored her, looked to Archie again, glanced at the coin, and nodded her answer to him.
“It says that Brother Eli is the prophet and saviour of the Children.”
“You mean the Children of Eli and their leader — that Brother Eli?”
Archie hadn’t known that Patsy had even heard of the Children. Streya seemed distracted suddenly, or puzzled. She kept her eyes on the coin.
“There was only one. Where did you get this?”
“We found it at Nick Donaldson’s,” Patsy said.
Archie shot Patsy a look. She caught it, looked back at him defiantly, not embarrassed like she ought to be for giving out information. He picked up the questioning.
“Have you seen a coin like this before?”
Streya didn’t hesitate, obviously expecting the question. Her ‘no’ was emphatic.
“I heard Nick Donaldson was broke,” she said. “Everybody says that that marina of his was bankrupt. He must have stolen that coin from somebody. Likely his partner, John Robbie, killed him.”
She looked to Archie to agree with her. When they’d been together, he usually had. This time he kept his mouth shut.
“Don’t you think?”
“We’ll check”
Now he was aware that Patsy was focussing on him — female curiosity perhaps. Suddenly, Patsy said, “If he stole it, why would he have it stuck in his diving glove?”
Archie, startled, glared at her. She had brought him back to focus and, momentarily, he forgot Streya. But he couldn’t believe what he had just heard, nor could he imagine why Patsy would volunteer such information. He asked Streya to wait out in the hallway. She tossed a smile back at him over her shoulder and went out. When he figured Streya was out of hearing, Archie leaned in close to Patsy; he kept his voice low.
“Try to remember that this is a police investigation, detective. We’re looking for information; we’re not giving it out.”
He heard the harshness in his voice, but then she ought to know better. She crossed her arms on her chest, looked straight ahead, jaw set, deep-brown eyes bright with umbrage, said, “She wasn’t going to tell us anything and you know it. My guess is that she already knows it came from Donaldson’s. She’s got something riding on this.”
“How do you know that?”
“I can just tell.”
He’d have to be satisfied with that. Anyway, she might have something.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Even so…”
“You can see it, can’t you? I’m glad. She knows a lot more than she’s saying, but you’re so gaga over her that you can’t see it.”
A denial wasn’t going to work so he called Streya back into the room. Streya’s demeanour had changed; the look in her eyes was different too. She seemed agitated, impatient.
“I’ve got work to do,” she said. “I’d better go. If you need anything else translated, let me know.”
Patsy’s “Thanks for coming,” was sisterly. She left the room before Archie could stop her, which left him alone with Streya — Patsy’s retaliation against being told off maybe.
Streya seemed to have been waiting for the chance. She moved closer immediately. Only inches from him now, she breathed his name. That husky quality there again just for him, the sound of a rainstick turning. But, for some reason, he wasn’t having it, not this time. He got business-like, thanked her, led her to the back door — a policeman dismissing a cooperative but useless witness. Piqued, she retrieved her jacket and put it on, zipped it up, keeping her back to him.
Outside it was cold. A few bright winter stars were visible high overhead. He tried to close the door behind her, to leave her, to go back to his office but she hesitated in the doorway, waiting for him. She turned, looked up into his face, her eyes inviting, her red hair wind tossed, errant strands catching against the gloss of her lipstick. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket and grunted that he would walk her to her car.
She seemed satisfied with that and led the way. Then she stopped there, leaned back against the fender. She looked up into his eyes again, a question there. He knew it was best if he was out of there.
“Forget it, Streya. This isn’t going to work.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
She looked hurt.
“Okay, you don’t know what I mean. How about this? You lied about that coin.”
“Everything I said about it is true.”
“Bad choice of words. You kept something back.”
“There’s nothing else.”
“Suit yourself.” He turned away. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Then you’d better do it.”
She was angry now, the old Streya coming out. She dragged a bundle of keys and baubles out of her pocket, searched for the right key, avoided looking at him, climbed into the car and started it. She stared straight ahead, him standing near the Beetle’s open window unsure of what to do
She said something he couldn’t quite hear over the whistle of the resonators. He
moved close to the window to catch her words, put a hand on the roof of the car and leaned in. She turned, looked up.
“I made a mistake, Archie.” Her breath was hot and sweet. “I want to see you again.”
She turned her face away, the beginning of tears in her eyes now. That brought him back to reality.
“No crying, Streya. It’s not going to work this time.”
“I miss you.”
“You say whatever you think will work.”
“That’s not true. I said I missed you and I meant it.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”
“Just don’t say no.”
“Dammit.”
He turned and walked away because he had to. She slammed the shifter into gear, revved the engine and turned the radio on loud. The sound followed her as she drove out of the lot. Tears and then rage — that was Streya, plus the lies, nothing changed. He remembered a line from a Steely Dan song his uncle used to play, something about “loving a wild one.” Wild and dangerous too, he thought. He lingered at the edge of the half-empty parking lot, breathed deeply, reset his thoughts and then went back into the building. Delia John, working nights doing dispatch, stopped him as he passed her station.
“Fricke called. Said he needs to talk to you about your progress. That’d be tomorrow morning at eight. Unless you want me to say that I didn’t see you?”
Archie nodded.
“That’d be better.”
Then he had a thought, something he wanted to check out.
“Also I’d like to look more closely at the file on John Robbie.”
He waited until she found it and then he walked it back to his office.
CHAPTER 9
Archie got out on the road early, turned down the volume on his scanner so that he couldn’t hear any calls from the station and put his cellphone on silent. The Zuider Zee, Bonnie Tran’s restaurant, was on the northern edge of Harsley, backed by forest. She was John Robbie’s girlfriend and might know where he was, and there was an off chance that she might even know something more about what Nick and his sometime partner had been up to lately. She was sorting through an order of bread and buns when he arrived, checking things off against a waybill. She didn’t seem surprised to see him and she wasn’t particularly friendly. He sat down at the counter, unzipped his jacket, and reached for a newspaper like he’d just dropped in for coffee. She hardly looked up. He opened with the weather.
