by Stan Jones
“Uh, right, governor, absolutely,” Kennelly said, his eyes exactly where they shouldn’t be and Mercer no doubt wanted them to be. “But what—”
The governor detached herself. “And I want to thank you for the great job your station does for our region. And you tell that station manager of yours, if there’s anything more from the state she needs to run Kay-Chuck properly, all she has to do is give me a call, OK?”
“Sure, governor, I’ll—”
“And call me Suka, how many times have I told you?”
Kennelly nodded.
“Oh, and thank you for your great coverage of the new women’s center. I hope you’ll be there for the ribbon-cutting a little bit later?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Roger…?”
“Yes, Suka. I’ll be there.”
“WHAT THE FUCK was that?” Procopio said a few minutes later as they flopped down in her office.
Active shrugged. “I don’t know. A honey trap for the hapless Roger?”
“That bitch.”
“Actually, she looked pretty hot in that blouse. You gotta admit.”
“Fuck you. But seriously.” Procopio tapped a pen on the brief she had filed in their effort to get into Wise versus Mercer. “Further briefs? Further argument? Appeals? What is this, the Pentagon Papers?”
“They’re stalling.”
“Well, yeah. But why? What’s gonna happen in a week?”
“Look on the bright side,” Active said. “Maybe we’ll figure it out by then without the file.”
“Yeah, right. Or maybe an asteroid will hit the earth and put us out of our misery.”
CHAPTER TWENTY - FOUR
Friday, April 18
ACTIVE GAZED AROUND the steps and parking lot in front the Chukchi Women’s Shelter at the smattering of people gathered to watch Helen Mercer officially cut the ribbon. “Not good, eh?”
Grace pursed her lips. “Not the crowd I was hoping for. If there’s anything a narcissist hates, it’s not being noticed.”
Active did another quick scan. “We got Pudu here and his camera and your staff. And those guys over there are the carpenters doing the remodel? And the kids on the steps there are the entertainment, am I right?”
Grace nodded. “Yup, the Episcopal youth choir, they’re usually a big draw around here, plus we’ve got pilot bread and caribou and sheefish and seal oil inside, and it was all over Kay-Chuck.”
“No clients, though?”
She frowned. “Nope. Besides the offices, we’ve only got three of the residential units ready and the women in them are all afraid to come out, in case the boyfriend or husband shows up. Still, we got a few aakas and aanas and aanagas.” She pointed at a little cluster of Inupiat ladies before the steps. Most were older, of bountiful displacement, and clad in flowered atiqluks.
“Maybe not too bad,” Active admitted.
“Don’t forget about me,” Nita spoke up from Grace’s side. “I’m here.”
“I know, bunnik. And you’re gonna meet the governor. After that, you go back inside and wait for her like we talked about, OK? She’s going to say some stuff for the camera that will probably be kinda boring, then we’ll come inside and eat sheefish with her and she’ll meet some clients and maybe you can talk to her there.”
“I know, Mom,” Nita said. She rolled her eyes in the ancient preteen gesture of disdain for adult fuddyduddiness.
“How was the hearing?” she murmured as Nita left and they were alone for a moment.
“Still at a standoff,” he said. “Re-run a week from today.”
“She really doesn’t want you in that file.”
“Nope.”
“And she really wants to keep the pressure on you and me.”
For a few seconds, neither could think of anything to say. “Nice touch, the duct tape,” Active mustered at last.
Grace turned to inspect the shelter’s new double doors. The handles were duct-taped together and adorned with a bow to match. “What can I say? We couldn’t find any of those giant ribbons they use everywhere else, much less giant scissors, so duct tape it is. One of our clients made it. But we do have a ceremonial Old Timer to cut it with.” She pulled the knife from a pocket and waved it at him.
“Fingers crossed she likes it,” Active said. “Actually, I think she will if we put some cute kids around her while the camera’s rolling.”
“Plus her favorite cop, I’m sure.”
Active raised his eyebrows, thankful his bi-cultural background—born to a Chukchi mother, raised by white adoptive parents in Anchorage—meant the gesture could stand for either the Inupiat ‘yes’ or the naluaqmiut signal of ironic acknowledgment.
“Just make sure you don’t stand too close when she doesn’t need you in the shot.” Grace waved the Old Timer again. “I’ll be watching.”
Finally, the governor pulled up in her Expedition, and Active moved over to report for duty as guardian of the First Body.
“Afternoon, Governor.”
“It’s Suka, Nathan. I thought we discussed that.” She squeezed his arm as she stepped down from the SUV in the Naughty Monkeys. Her throat, he noticed now, still sported a pair of Band-Aids.
“How are the scratches?”
She touched one of the Band-Aids. “Oh, nothing a village girl can’t handle. But it’s good to be back in civilization, eh?”
“It is. No complaints about the company or accommodations in Shelukshuk Canyon, but a real bed and indoor plumbing are hard to beat.”
“That’s your Grace Palmer over there? I don’t think we’ve ever met in person. Can you introduce me?”
They moved toward Grace. She was deep in discussion with Pudu as they squinted up at the April sun that had returned when the storm blew itself out late the day before. It appeared the subject was lighting and camera angles, for they teamed up to wrestle the lectern to a new position that, Active calculated, would allow the governor to be taped in dramatic, yet flattering, sunlight from the side and above.
Then he noticed with alarm that Mercer had not merely retained her grip on his arm as they made their way toward the lectern. She had linked elbows. From Grace’s perspective, they would no doubt look like the closest of friends, perhaps with benefits. The question was, would Grace look up from her discussion with Pudu in time to see it?
Grace did and her face froze. Mercer detached herself from his arm and put out her hand. Active thought he detected a slight thaw, but he could never be sure with Grace.
“Governor,” he said, “this is Grace Palmer. And this is her daughter Nita.”
“Governor,” Grace said in a tone at least borderline civil. She took the governor’s hand and gave it a shake of sufficient length to be, like her tone, just inside the bounds of civility. “Thanks for your help with our shelter. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Oh, call me Suka,” Mercer said. “Everybody does. I’ve told that to your fella here at least a hundred times but I just can’t seem to get it through that thick skull of his. Maybe you can help me talk some sense into him?”
Grace mustered another borderline smile. “I doubt it. I’ve never had much luck with that myself.”
Mercer stepped back a pace and sized Grace up—that was the only term for it, Active thought—as she stood at the lectern in the sunlight where Mercer would be standing in a few minutes.
“My God,” Mercer said, “you’re even lovelier than they say. And you’ve already had a child? Amazing.” Grace appeared dumbstruck as Mercer turned on Active. “And you’re a lucky man, Nathan. Take good care of this one.”
“Yes, ma’am, er, Suka,” Active mumbled.
Grace started to speak but Mercer put her hand out to Nita. “And, hello, Nita, it’s always great to meet a future voter! Especially one as pretty as her mother!”
Nita blushed. “Thank you, Governor.”
“Now, you, too, young lady. You call me Suka, too!”
“OK, Suka.”
“S
o what’s your favorite class?”
“Oh, social studies, I guess.” She cut a glance at her mother, who gave the slightest of eye rolls. Social studies, if Active recalled right, was the class with the cute boy. He made a mental note to run a background check on the kid’s family.
“Social studies, huh?” Mercer said. “That’s good. You’ll be more prepared than most people when you get old enough to vote.”
“Bunnik,” Grace said, “Why don’t you go on inside until we finish with the videotaping, then we’ll come in and maybe you and the governor can talk some more.”
“OK, Mom. It was nice to meet you, Suka.”
“I think I have some pictures in my bag,” Mercer said. “Would you like one, Nita?”
Nita nodded with a huge grin. Mercer produced a red Sharpie and an eight-by-ten color glossy from her bag. “May I borrow your back, Nathan?”
“What?”
“Your back. For a desk, like.”
Active shot a glance at Grace, who looked as stunned as he felt. He turned away from Mercer and bent forward. There was a slight pressure as she spread the picture on his back and signed it.
“Here you go, Nita.” The inscription read, “To my best friend in Chukchi,” Active saw.
“Wow,” Nita breathed. “You’re so awesome, Suka!”
“Thank you, Nita,” Mercer said as the girl raced away. “Your daughter is an absolute sweetheart, Grace. You are so lucky!”
“Actually, Governor, um, Suka, I was going to say that Nita is my adoptive daughter. We’re first cousins, actually. I adopted her after her mother, my aunt, died in a plane crash.”
“Yes, now that I think of it. Nathan mentioned that.” Mercer smiled and did the arm touch with Grace. “I’m sorry if I stirred up painful memories.”
For a moment, Mercer studied Grace and Active as they stood side by side at the lectern. “And, Grace, you are also lucky about this fella here. You better keep an eye on him or one of these Chukchi girls will snatch him right up, him with that sexy uniform and that badge and that great big gun and all. Not that many years ago, I might have been tempted myself!”
Mercer saw their expressions and patted Grace’s arm with a smile. “Just making conversation, right? Shall we get the show on the road? Pudu?”
A snowgo coasted to a stop across the street. “Actually, guys, why don’t we put things on hold for a minute. I need to talk to that guy.” Active jerked a thumb at the snowgo’s driver.
“Joe Penske,” he said when he reached the machine. “How you doing today?”
“Oh, pretty good, I guess.”
“You’re still under that protective order, right?”
“I dunno.”
“I do. So you need to be moving along, OK?”
“Is Ginny in there?”
“I don’t know. But if she is, you’re violating your order, OK?”
“I just want to talk to her.”
Active put his hand on the Glock. “No, you just want to move along, OK?”
“Then I want to talk to the governor about it. A man should be able to see his wife.”
“Not when he’s got a protective order. Now you move along, or I’ll have to handcuff you in the back of my truck and get somebody over here to take you to jail.” Active pulled out his handcuffs and slapped them against his palm. “And we still got no Eskimo food in our jail. Just naluaqmiu.”
Penske hesitated. His face was oily and his eyes were red.
“That’s not liquor on your breath is it?”
“Arii, a man should be able to see his wife.” But he started the snowgo and pulled away.
When Active got back to the lectern, Grace raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Thanks, my captain. His wife’s in the shelter.”
“Guessed as much,” Active said. “He comes back, you know our number. Just so you know, Governor, he wanted to take it up with you, too.”
“Aha! I was right. I do need a bodyguard in Chukchi!”
“You’re welcome,” Active said to himself. To the governor he said, “Absolutely. Chukchi Public Safety at your service.” Over the governor’s shoulder, Grace winked at him.
Pudu patted his camera, set up on a tripod. “Ready, Mom.”
Grace backed away from the lectern. “Shall we, Governor?”
“Hold it a sec,” Mercer said. “Grace, stay up there if you would. You’re gonna be my lighting double! Pudu, frame a shot on her like you’re gonna do with me.”
Grace, the dumbstruck look on her face again, stepped back to the lectern as Mercer moved over to peer into Pudu’s viewfinder.
“Lovely, just lovely. Nathan, come see how the camera loves your girl.”
Active thought how to wiggle out of it, but Mercer was…well, she was Mercer. Helen Wheels. No filters, no boundaries, always at full throttle.
Besides, now he was back in the memory of how Grace’s picture at Chukchi High had started him down that long trail to find her. Like somebody smart had said, the past was never dead, it wasn’t even past.
He jerked himself back to the present and stepped up to Pudu’s viewfinder and studied Grace in the sun for as long as he could bear it, then looked away. “Very nice,” he mumbled.
“It’s good for me,” Mercer said. “Good for you, Pudu?”
“Good, Mom,” Pudu said. “I told you that already.”
Grace stepped aside and Mercer took the lectern as the youth choir arranged itself behind them. Active noted with gratitude that he seemed to have been overlooked and was allowed to stand a few feet in front of the lectern with Grace’s staff and four or five people he guessed were aunts, mothers, and sisters of the clients afraid to come out for the ceremony.
The kids sang the Alaska Flag Song and then Mercer took the mike.
“Look,” she said. “I know you’re probably figuring I’ll talk a long time because I’m a politician now. Well, yeah, but I’m still a village girl, so I’m going to keep it short and make my point, like when I played and coached basketball.” She paused for the crowd’s chuckle. “This network of shelters is something we’ve needed for a long time, because women in this region who were beaten by their men or who had children molested by those men, those women had no way out, nowhere to go. Now they will, thanks to the efforts of Grace Palmer, here”—she pointed to Grace, standing beside her—“with a little help from me down in Juneau on the funding. When we get the village crisis centers set up to do intake and get their clients on the plane to Chukchi and the shelter here, why, then, girls and women all over the region will have a place to go. And, now, Grace?”
Grace stepped up to the mike with a nod to Mercer. “Governor, what can I say? You’re right, this region has needed something like our shelter for longer than anyone can remember, but it didn’t happen till you came along. Which I guess answers my question. What can I say? What can the women of the whole Chukchi region say? We can say thank you, Governor, thank you from the bottoms of our hearts. And, now, if you would do the honors.”
She made a show of handing Mercer the Old Timer with a flourish. Mercer stepped up to the duct-tape bow, made an equal show of unclasping the knife, and sawed through the tape, then swung open the kunnichuk doors with a curtsy of her own.
The little crowd broke into pretty hearty applause for its size. The choir closed with a hymn about being sheltered safe in the arms of God, and the choir director offered a prayer not only for the troubled women sheltered in the center, but also the angry, hurting men who had put them there.
Grace took the mike again.
“All right, everybody, we’ve got some great food inside, and we’ll be giving tours of the main shelter and the annex next door. The offices are already set up and working, but the living areas are mostly still under construction, so you’ll have to be ready for a little dust and debris.”
As the crowd started in, Mercer put a hand on Active’s elbow and held him back. Grace shot him a glance over her shoulder as she moved through the doors.
“
About what we discussed the other day?”
“The Jason Palmer case?”
Mercer nodded. “I talked to the attorney general about it.”
Active drew in a breath.
“Well, it’s delicate, you know, for a governor to get involved in a criminal case. The Law Department tends to tell one and all to butt out at times like this. Even governors.”
“I realize it would require all of your diplomatic expertise, of course, but maybe you could—”
“It’s just that it’s doubly sensitive right now, what with Pete Wise’s ridiculous custody suit being caught up in your hit-and-run investigation.”
“Of course. I understand. Still, there must be some—”
“Maybe after the Pete Wise matter is cleared up. It’s obvious from today’s hearing that will take a while, right? Until then I’m afraid I have to stay out of the Jason Palmer thing.”
Active rocked back on his heels a little. “Even you.”
“Even me. Shall we?”
She hooked elbows and led him inside.
Grace spotted them and hurried over. “We’re about to start the tour, Suka. Do you want—”
“Is that sheefish and pilot bread I see? I want Pudu to get some video of me eating sheefish and pilot bread first. There’s no muktuk, right? I don’t dare eat muktuk any more—I’d have Greenpeace all over me in ten seconds. Don’tcha hate that political-correctness thing?”
Grace struggled for a moment to find an answer, and finally squeezed out, “No muktuk whatever, Suka, just all the sheefish and caribou and pilot bread you can eat!”
