by Stan Jones
“Come again?”
Active told him about the sunken snowgo and its ownership.
Stein massaged his chin for a few seconds. “Any chance it’s just a coincidence?”
“Of course,” Active said. “Pete Wise files this putative father action claiming he had a kid with Brad Mercer’s wife and a week later he’s killed by Brad Mercer’s snowgo. And the day after that, they come in and get the file sealed. Sure, that could all be just a coincidence. Anything’s possible.”
“Something tells me I’m gonna wish I never heard this.” Stein rubbed his eyes and put his glasses back on. “We should probably get Theresa Procopio on the phone.”
He studied the buttons on his desk phone for a moment, then pushed one, and in another moment Procopio was on the speaker. He let her know Active was in on the call.
“Hi, guys.” Her voice was tight and cautious. “All good at the temple of truth and justice?”
“Not exactly,” Active said. “Maybe Judge Stein can explain it better than me.”
Stein took Procopio through the story, though with more legalese than when he and Active had discussed it.
“Your honor, this is a criminal matter,” she said when Stein was finished. “We need to look at that file.”
“Yeah,” Stein said. “Nathan here explained a little about that. I understand your situation, but, now that it’s sealed, I can’t just flip a switch and unseal it. It’s gonna take a motion from your side and a hearing, at minimum. I guess I don’t need to remind you, we’re talking about the governor of Alaska here. We leave one i undotted or t uncrossed and we do so at our peril.”
“Loud and clear, your honor. It’s been an age since I did any civil work—what’s that motion you file to get in on a putative father case?”
“Ahem.”
“Right,” Procopio said. “You have to stay above the fray.”
“Right, “Stein said. “Law school just let out for spring break and it’s gonna stay out till this is over. You’ll have to figure it out for yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Procopio said. “I’ll have something to you by closing time.”
“10-4,” Stein said. “Hang on a minute and I’ll get you the contact info for the Mercers’ lawyer. Email it to us and him and that’ll cover it. You can bring the paperwork over tomorrow.”
Stein rifled through some papers on his desk then read off a name, a telephone number, and an email address. “You get that OK?”
“Can I ask a question?” Active said.
Stein raised his eyebrows. “You can try, Nathan.”
“Can you tell me which child or children Wise thought he fathered?”
“Sorry. We’re done here.”
“DON’T WORRY, THEY can’t keep it closed,” Procopio said. “It’s a murder investigation, for chrissakes.”
“You figure out what that motion is?”
Procopio nodded. “There’s this civil rule on something called Intervention of Right.” She sprayed out some legalese.
“And in English that means?”
“If you can show what your interest is and the judge thinks it’s legitimate, then you can get into the file. Ours is, so we will.”
“You couldn’t just say that? This type of thing is why Shakespeare said all you people should be killed.”
Procopio chuckled. “He was right, mostly.”
“You know this guy that’s representing the Mercers?” Active asked. “Frank McConnell, was that what Stein said?”
“Criminal defense attorney in Anchorage. Pretty well known, actually.”
“Criminal defense? In a putative father case? Why would that be?”
Procopio shrugged.
“Think maybe they hired him after our call this morning?”
“Reasonable guess,” Procopio said. “CourtView doesn’t even show him as counsel yet. But who knows why they did it and who cares? Let’s kill one snake at a time and the first one is this motion to intervene. Which I gotta finish tout de suite if we want to get it in by deadline today, thank you very much.”
“All right, but one more thing. You think there’s DNA tests from Pete and the kid or kids in evidence?”
“You never know, but probably not,” Procopio said. “Too early in the case. And how would he get samples from the Mercer progeny?”
“Good question,” Active said. “Copy me on the email when you file that motion, eh? I’d like to see it for myself.”
Active returned to his office, plowed through his email inbox, then deliberated for a few minutes, thought of checking with Procopio first, decided against it, and called the medical examiner in Anchorage to add a DNA test to his wish list for the Pete Wise case.
He had just rung off with the examiner when his email notification ponged and there was Procopio’s motion. He checked the clock in bottom corner of the computer screen. It read 4:13. They had beaten the court closing hour by seventeen minutes. Then he checked the addressees to make sure McConnell was included.
He was.
ACTIVE SLIPPED INTO Grace’s house like a movie hit man, eased the door shut and savored the normalcy for a few moments. Mukluk Messenger on Kay-Chuck coming from the kitchen, something about an urgent request for baby formula in Ebrulik, where the store had run out. Grace and Nita talking in the kitchen, something about homework from the sound of it. And a heavenly smell from the oven. God, it was good to be in from the storms of the day. He braced himself as Grace appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“I thought I sensed your presence, Chief Active.”
“Would that be sheefish I smell?”
She nodded. “You likee?”
“You know I doee. But it smells fresh. Where’d we get it? We got skunked last night, if I remember.”
“Leroy brought it over this afternoon,” she said. “He finally got his snowgo fixed and stopped on the way in and absolutely killed ’em.”
Active jerked a thumb at the blow outside the window. “With that still going on?”
“You know Leroy. Less competition in bad weather, he says, plus the sheefish come in when it’s like this.” She waved him into the kitchen and led the way. “And how was your day?” she said over her shoulder.
“Could hardly have been worse, to tell the truth.”
“Eh? Oh, the Pete Wise thing in court? What was that about?”
“I’m not sure I can tell you, what with our investigation—”
“Oh, come on. I know from my job anybody can look somebody up on the computer—what’s that system?”
“CourtView?”
“That’s it, like when we need to find out a baby daddy’s history and if he’s supposed to be paying child support, and so on. If they’ve ever been in court, they’ll be in CourtView. Do not make me look Pete Wise up myself, Chief Active.”
He cut his eyes at Nita, who was doing homework with earbuds in.
“I don’t think she can hear us, with her music on.”
“Still.”
“Bunnik,” Grace said. “Nita!”
Nita looked up and unplugged the earbuds. “Oh, hi, Uncle Nathan! When we going back to sheefish camp?”
He pointed out the window again. “When that lets up, I guess.”
“Nita, honey,” Grace said. “Weren’t we gonna watch the Barrow vampire movie with Christina after dinner? You want to go find the DVD and get it set up?”
“Sure. Maybe I’ll watch just a little bit of it while the sheefish finishes cooking?”
“Sure,” Grace said.
“The Barrow zombie movie?” Active sighed. “Again? I think I’m more burned out on that one than even the whale movie.”
“I could probably talk her into Notting Hill if you prefer.”
“Zombies will be just fine, thanks.”
“So, stop stalling. What’s so serious about the Pete Wise thing I had to exile my daughter to the land of the undead?”
“Well, it turns out to be a custody suit.”
“Really? I don’
t recall Pete ever being married or having a sweetheart. And there were always those rumors about him being…well, so much for rumors, I guess. Anyway, who’s the lucky girl, allegedly?”
“Helen Mercer.”
Grace’s face froze. She dropped into a chair and gripped the edge of the dining table as if she might topple over. “Helen Mercer?”
He nodded.
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.”
“How? Which kid?”
“We don’t know how or which. Technically speaking, we don’t even know it’s just one.”
“What? Wouldn’t all that be in the file?”
“The file’s sealed.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “As of this afternoon. The Mercers’ lawyer got it sealed on the grounds the custody issue is moot now that Pete’s dead.”
She was silent. She had that look she got when she was doing life math in her head. “You mean a few hours after you and Theresa called her?”
He nodded again.
“And after she called me.”
Another nod.
“Still think this is all coincidence?”
He shrugged. “Theresa says it doesn’t matter. We just have to kill one snake at a time, as she puts it.”
“What’s the next snake?”
“She filed a motion to get us into the file, just before the courthouse closed this afternoon. Stein says it’ll take a hearing.”
A buzzer sounded from the oven. Grace got up and went over. “Just before the courthouse closed? Meaning the governor will know about it by morning, if she doesn’t already.”
He nodded again.
“Nathan, you have to get that file.”
“I know, baby, I know.”
She pulled out the sheefish and lifted the foil. “It’s done,” she said in a shaky voice. “Shall we eat? Or at least try?”
CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE
Thursday, April 17
ACTIVE STUDIED THE application on his blotter, then arched an eyebrow at Lucy Brophy, who sat before his desk with a steno pad on her belly.
“Jeremy Generous? Your cousin.”
“He might be. It’s hard to keep track around here.”
“He might be.”
Lucy arched both eyebrows in the Eskimo yes. “He’ll do real good job, and my maternity leave is only three months anyway.”
“If he’s so good, why would he take a three-month job?”
Lucy gave him a look of pity. “Arii, naluaqmiiyaaq. This job will end the same time commercial fishing start, remember? That’s what he like to do, hunt and fish, but he like to work sometimes, too.”
Active pondered. Jeremy’s references were good, including a year as dispatcher when the department was still run by the city. And Lucy was right, the job should be over well before the Chukchi Bay chum salmon run, in plenty of time for Jeremy to get his gear ready for the season. “If he messes up, you’ll straighten him out?”
“My Aana Pauline will. She’s his aana, too. And I can come in sometimes if you need me here.”
“All right,” Active said. “Call him and set up an interview.”
“When you want to talk to him?”
“How about three this afternoon?”
“I’ll call him.” Lucy trundled out as he tapped Jeremy’s appointment into the calendar.
He filed away the applications for temporary office manager and with dread pulled over the other stack of paper on his desk and the jump drive that lay atop it. This, Lucy had informed him, was his briefing on the borough finance system, as prepared by the Anchorage accounting firm that had installed the system and somehow ran it remotely.
His assignment, she had said, was to go over the executive summary in the printout, then review the PowerPoint presentation on the jump drive. Then she’d come in and explain how, with Sonny’s help, they got around the naluaqmiut in Anchorage to make the thing work in Chukchi, where the exception always ruled.
He pushed the flash drive into a port on his computer and started it up. Ninety-six slides! Who did a ninety-six slide PowerPoint?
He was up to slide eighteen, in the section on depreciation, when the line from Lucy’s office lit up.
Thank God. Anything was better than PowerPoint.
“There’s a gentleman from the Alaska Bureau of Investigation here to see you. OK to send him up?”
Active looked at the clock on his wall as he tapped open the calendar on his phone. “The ABI? What about? Did I forget an appointment?”
“Not unless you made it without telling me.”
“Of course not. Send him up. What’s his name?”
WHERE DID HE know the guy from? Active tried to pull it up as he shook hands with Trooper Stuart Stewart and ushered him to a chair. Stewart was forty-ish and Native, maybe Yup’ik, with a jet-black flat top, but after a couple of sentences of pleasantries, Active gave up.
“Have we met? You look awfully familiar.”
“Maybe from the Trooper TV show?”
“Ah,” Active said. “The famous Trooper Stuart Stewart. Two-Stu, is that what they called you?”
Stewart nodded with a grin. “The same. That was back when I was on patrol in Mat-Su. Meth cookers, Bible-thumpers, baby-bangers, wife-beaters—happy hunting ground for a rookie cop, I have to say. Now that I’m an investigator, it seems like a dream.”
“Well, you made us all look good. Nice work.”
“You’re probably wondering what brings the ABI to town,” Stewart said.
“Absolutely. And how can we help? Chukchi Public Safety about to be famous, too?”
“You’re already kind of famous, thanks to your camping trip with the governor.”
Active grimaced. “But not in a good way. Craziest episode of my entire law enforcement career.”
Stewart nodded. “That’s kind of what brings me to town. I gather you’re interested in being director of the Troopers?”
“God, no. I told the governor that a dozen times. Apparently I didn’t get through.”
Stewart grinned and nodded and pulled out a note pad, then a recorder. “OK if I tape this?”
With an effort, Active maintained. Not thirty seconds since Helen Mercer had entered the conversation and already he could feel it sliding out from under him. “Tape away.” He waved at the recorder. “But why? I already said I don’t want the job.”
“That’s not it,” Stewart said. “Not exactly. Apparently there was a tangential matter that turned up during the due-diligence review the governor requested and now that matter has landed on my boss’s desk. And he’s dropped it on mine. We both know where shit rolls, right?”
Stewart passed over a card. Active studied it. Stewart was not only with the ABI. He was part of the Cold Case Unit. “We’ve got a cold case here in Chukchi? I just took over this job, but I don’t remember anything major still being open.”
“It’s the murder of Jason Palmer.”
“Jason Palmer.”
Stewart nodded.
“I remember it, of course. It was pretty famous at the time. But it’s been closed for quite a while.”
“Well, it’s been reopened and the Office of Special Prosecutions has passed it on to us. I took a quick pass through the files at your court house yesterday afternoon and this morning. Fascinating stuff.”
“Uh-huh.”
“For you especially, I’d guess.”
Active nodded. “I was in the Troopers at the time, as the files probably show. It was a city case, so we didn’t have much of a role.”
“I was just about to get to that. I don’t think we need to go through the whole thing in detail, but let me just make sure I captured the high points.”
“OK, but why is it being reopened?”
“There seem have been a few holes in the original investigation.” Stewart waved a hand, as if to dismiss a small matter. “I gather your predecessor when this was still the city police department could be a little casual about procedure?”
“Jim Silver was a really good man,” Active said. “He died in an arson fire and we should show respect.”
“Of course,” Stewart said. “I meant no offense.” Active raised his eyebrows, then realized he didn’t know if Yup’iks did that for ‘yes.’
“No problem,” he said.
Stewart paused for a decent interval.
“So the Jason Palmer case starts when he asks you to track down his daughter, Grace, who’s been missing, or at least out of contact with the family, for something like ten years. He tells you Grace’s mother is dying and wants to see her daughter one last time.”
Active’s direct line rang. He shot a glance at the caller ID and snagged the phone, holding up a just-a-moment forefinger to Stewart.
“Hey, Theresa, can I—what, that soon? OK, can I get back to you in a few? Sure, thanks.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Prosecutor’s office. We’ve got a hearing tomorrow.”
Stewart nodded.
“As I was saying, Jason Palmer asks you to track down his daughter so her dying mother can see her one last time. “You tell him it’s not a Trooper matter and you’ll pass it along to the Anchorage Police Department, but he shouldn’t expect much after so long.”
Active nodded and tried to focus on what Stewart was saying. But the Jason Palmer case reopened yesterday and a hearing scheduled for tomorrow on the Pete Wise files?
“But in fact,” Stewart continued, “you do go look for her and you do find her, all on your own time and at your own expense. All the way down in Dutch Harbor. Why would you do that?”
“Her father showed me her picture, a big mural on the wall at Chukchi High from when she was Miss North World.” Active deliberated for a long time. “And I fell in love with her.”
“From a picture.”
Active nodded again.
“You want that on the record?”
Active didn’t speak.
“This the picture here?” Stewart pointed at the eight-by-ten of the Miss North World portrait amid the clutter on Active’s desk.
“They took the big one in the high school down last year when they remodeled.”
Stewart picked it up for a closer look. “I guess I see what you mean. She look like this now?”
