by Dave Daren
“You still wanna take this case?” Jackson laughed when no one else spoke.
“Do you have any questions for my client?” I asked with a tight smile.
I finally understood why the odds were stacked against Morris. Not only was he the last person to see Vann alive, but his main defense was the claim that he was unconscious when Vann died. No wonder the entire police department was ready to ship him off to prison.
“If you didn’t kill Vann, then what happened to him?” Ansong asked.
I’d expected her to repeat her question about the two week timeframe, but she must have known I wasn’t going to allow Morris to answer it.
“I have no idea,” my client said as he shrugged his shoulders. “I really don’t. He must have fallen overboard by accident.”
Ansong clearly considered the answer unsatisfactory, and she showed her displeasure by pursing her lips into a thin line.
“What time did the call come in?” I asked.
Ansong and Jackson glanced at each other, and I heaved a heavy sigh.
“It’s hardly confidential information,” I pointed out. “And I’ll be requesting a copy of the call and the file anyway.”
“It was almost three in the morning,” Jackson answered reluctantly.
“That means I was knocked out for a couple of hours,” Morris explained. “Anything could have happened. Hell, someone else could have boarded the boat.”
“Assuming you’re telling the truth about being knocked out,” the young officer snapped in response.
“I am telling the truth!” Morris exclaimed.
“Then explain the scratch marks on your arms,” Ansong demanded. “And why would they kill Harrison and not you?”
“Harrison scratched me,” my exasperated client answered.
“When he clawed at your arms to stop you from drowning him?” the older officer asked as she leaned over Morris.
“That’s enough,” I interjected at the sight of horror on Morris’ face. “This interrogation is over. I need to speak with my client privately.”
Ansong didn’t move for several moments, and I had to snap my fingers near her head before she finally pulled back. At a nod from the older woman, Jackson yanked the door open, and the pair finally started to leave. But Ansong stopped at the threshold and turned back to my client.
“Here’s what I think, Morris,” she began. “I think you went looking for Vann about something other than your fishing net. Something that got you so angry that you two fought, and you drowned him during the struggle. I’ll bet you tried to leave, but something kept you there. I don’t know if you drifted into an icefield or if your engine seized up, but you suddenly couldn’t leave. When you realized you were going to be found on Vann’s boat with the body, you decided to call and claim that you’d woken up and found him floating in the water.”
Morris opened his mouth to protest, but I shook my head at him. He snapped his mouth shut with a loud click, and he wrapped his bandaged arms around his chest.
“Or let’s pretend you’re telling the truth about your fishing net,” she continued. “Then that just means you decided enough was enough, and it was time to take out your main competitor.”
She turned on her heels to leave, and Jackson dutifully followed behind her. He turned around to shut the door and offered a salute before doing so.
“Did you see how Kirima spoke to me?” Morris asked as soon as the door was shut. “She refuses to listen to anything I say. I’ve never seen her like that. I’m telling you, she was only pretending to like me all these years.”
“You can’t really blame her,” I told him as I fetched my journal out of my pocket.
“Yeah, right,” he muttered while I quickly jotted all the details Morris had shared.
“From her point of view…” I chuckled humorlessly as I said it. “From everyone’s point of view, you killed Vann. You were the last one to see him alive, and you were the only one found at his boat.”
“Yeah, but why would I call the police if I killed him?” he argued. “I could have gotten back on my boat and left.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t,” I said with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter why you didn’t. You heard Officer Ansong. They’ll come up with a hundred plausible reasons why you stayed. In their eyes, all that matters is that you fought him before he died, and you were still on his boat after he was dead.”
Morris groaned as he covered his face with his hands.
“Please tell me you can prove my innocence,” he said as he peeked between his fingers.
I sighed and pulled at my neatly trimmed beard. The case would be difficult, and I still wasn’t entirely convinced of my client’s innocence. There’d been that brief hesitation when he’d been concocting a lie, but I felt like the rest of his story had been true.
“I can’t promise you anything,” I told him. “But I do know that your chances are better if you’re completely honest with me.”
“Of course,” he agreed too quickly.
I bent forward so that I was eye level with him. I needed him to see the gravity on my face and to know that I wouldn’t tolerate anything other than absolute honesty.
“You need to tell me the real reason you went looking for Vann,” I said.
Morris sighed and dropped his hands from his face. I could see a bit of fear, but mostly relief, and I knew I was finally going to hear the real reason for the fight.
“Harrison found out my crew and I were fishing in the Arctic Ocean,” he said. “It’s currently against the law to do that because a bunch of scientists want to study fish populations or some other nonsense.”
I stood up straight and pinched the bridge of my nose as I released a heavy sigh.
“You are not making this easy for me,” I groaned.
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. Marleen was the one who came up with the idea. Since no one’s fishing up there, we figured we could make up our losses from missing a net by going there.”
“And you didn’t kill Vann?” I asked just to be safe.
“No, absolutely not,” he declared with a passionate head shake. “I really did hit my head and lost consciousness. Doctor won’t let me sleep in case I have a concussion. Mr. Brooks, I swear, Harrison was alive when he pushed me, and he was dead when I woke up. I have no idea what happened to him.”
“Here’s hoping the autopsy shows drugs or alcohol in his system,” I sighed.
Morris’ eyes widened at the idea, and he started nodding.
“Harrison always liked his drinking,” he said.
“But,” I cautioned, “we haven’t heard anything about drugs or alcohol in his system. That means either the autopsy is still in process, or nothing in the report suggested he was under the influence of anything when he died.”
Morris’ newfound hope started to vanish from his face.
“Where’s your wife?” I asked. “Why isn’t she here with you?”
“I told her to get the crew together and prepare for the fishing trip,” he answered. “Fishing’s our livelihood. There’s no way we can miss a trip just because of this mess.”
I hung my head in my hands and counted slowly to ten.
“Mr. Morris, do you realize what kind of message it sends to the police when you, the prime suspect in this murder case, instruct your wife and crew to go on a fishing trip after your main competitor has died?” I asked him through clenched teeth. “Don’t you think they’ll wonder why your wife isn’t by your side?”
Silence hung between us. Seconds passed before I decided to look up at him. Utter dismay dragged the corners of his mouth into a deep frown.
“Oh, God,” he whispered. “What are we going to do?”
“You are going to recover and not make any more incriminating mistakes,” I told him. “I’m going to Vann’s boat to find something, anything, that might suggest that either he died accidently or someone else killed him while you were out cold.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” he replied.
He started to nod, but I’d already moved back to the door. I stepped into the hall, pulled the door closed firmly behind me, and then dug my phone from my pocket. I was halfway across the lobby before the nurses on duty even realized I was back, and I was out the door as they were calling their goodbyes.
Cassandra’s phone rang twice, and then she answered.
I was nearly back to the truck, but I didn’t have the chance to give her my next instructions before she spoke.
“Let me guess,” she sang into the phone. “The case has been solved, and you want me to put your stuff back and prepare a celebratory lunch for us to enjoy once you return.”
“If only,” I replied and barked an angry laugh.
“Uh-oh, you sound a little testy,” she responded.
“Let’s just say this case has a lot of obstacles we’re going to have to overcome,” I said as I climbed into my truck. “And almost all of them have been created by our client.”
“So I guess I’m coming down to Utqiagvik?” she sighed. “Or rather, coming up.”
“That’s right,” I confirmed as I started the engine.
“Nooo,” she whined.
“Grab the bags, call Colin to prep his seaplane, and then, if you haven’t already, book hotel rooms for us,” I ordered.
She groaned at the word seaplane, but I chose to ignore the sound.
“Once you arrive in town, I need you to get a copy of Harrison Vann’s autopsy report,” I added. “Look for an officer named Pingayak at the police station. He’ll assist you. Call me as soon as you have the report.”
“Fine, okay,” she sighed.
“And Cassandra?” I called.
“Yes?” she answered.
“Please do not drive Colin insane,” I pleaded. “He’s one of the few pilots I know who’s able to get me somewhere on such short notice.”
“Hey!” she protested.
“He doesn’t like conversation,” I explained. “So take a book to read or listen to music, but don’t talk to him.”
“You know, most people like talking to me,” she replied.
“Just… please,” I pleaded.
“Fine,” she huffed. “But you owe me.”
Chapter 3
I pulled into a parking lot across the street from the beach where the docks and Vann’s boat awaited. I turned off the engine and studied the unfolding scene. The group of spectators had increased since my time at the hospital, and now a small crowd gathered there with a strong desire to know what was going on. I stepped out of the truck and walked against the arctic wind as I crossed the street.
The people at the back of the crowd stared at me in wonder when I approached, and the smarter ones moved out of my way when I began to squeeze past them. My height and my broad shoulders gave me an advantage when it came to working my way through the rest of the crowd, and soon enough, I was at the front of the pack. I could feel their eyes boring into my back as I pushed past the locals, and more than a few whispers followed me as well.
Once I had finally broken through the horde, I saw that the number of police officers standing guard had also increased from one to three now. Two of the officers tried to stare me down as if their eyes could will me into losing interest in the boat, while the other officer was engaged in a lively conversation with a woman.
The mystery woman wore a green coat that fit her so snugly that she was able to flaunt her hourglass figure. A spiky bang fell into her eyes as she spoke fervently to the officer, and she pushed it out of the way to join the rest of her pixie cut. The murmurs from the crowd drew her attention for a moment, and her brown eyes turned toward me briefly before returning to the uniformed man in front of her.
“Is this another one of Austin’s tricks?” she asked as she folded her arms across her chest. “I really don’t have time for this right now. I’m supposed to be preparing for a fishing trip.”
“Are you part of Harrison Vann’s fishing crew?” I asked as I moved closer toward the woman.
She turned to face me with an arched eyebrow. Her lips shined with gloss, and dark eyeshadow accentuated the narrow shape of her eyes. She slowly looked me up and down.
“Who are you?” she finally asked after a moment of inspection.
“My name’s Reese Brooks,” I answered. “I’m Austin Morris’ lawyer.”
The noise from the crowd shot up, and when I glanced over my shoulder, I could see the speculative looks on their faces. I turned back to the woman and the troopers in time to see one of the officers shake his head sadly as if it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard. He tried to bury his chuckle in a cough, but he finally gave up and just looked at me in open disbelief.
The other two troopers, a man and a woman, stared at me with open hostility, and the man even rested his hand on the butt of his gun. I felt a chill creep along my spine, but I refused to be cowed by small town politics. I turned to the woman instead, whose impatience had given way to curiosity. She studied me closely before she gave me a sly grin.
“What does Austin need a lawyer for?” she asked, and then her eyes narrowed. “Oh, wait, you’re also in on this.” She pointed at the boat and tapped her foot impatiently.
“No, I’m not ‘in on’ anything,” I replied. “Hasn’t anyone told you?”
“Told me what?” she demanded.
I stared at the troopers in disbelief and then back at the crowd. How could anyone in this town not know that a man had been killed?
“Vann is dead,” I said. “And Morris has been charged with his murder.”
She stared at me in shock for a moment, and then she opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Her eyes slowly dropped to stare at the wood planks of the dock while a host of emotions passed across her face. She pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead as she tried to make sense of what I’d just told her.
While the woman processed what she’d just learned, I turned back to the men who were still blocking the path to the boat. The officer who had chuckled now regarded me with a glare and a firm line for a mouth just like the other two, and I wondered if they took some sort of class on the subject at trooper school.
“You’re seriously representing that murderer?” the chuckler asked in disgust.
The female officer who stood next to him shifted nervously, though she still kept her ‘don’t mess with me’ frown on her face.
“Yes, I am,” I replied. “Everyone is entitled to representation, as I’m sure you would agree.”
The chuckler snorted, but he didn’t argue the point, either.
“I need to inspect the crime scene,” I said.
“What for?” the man challenged. “We’ve already inspected the entire boat. There’s nothing on it that will prove Ausitn’s innocence.”
“I’d like to see that for myself,” I said. “Now, I can file a subpoena and come back here with a whole team of forensic scientists to go over every little, tiny bit of that boat, and I’m sure we wouldn’t find any evidence of tampering or contamination. Like maybe a cigarette butt from a trooper taking a break, or a water bottle someone left behind?”
Chuckler shifted uncomfortably, and I saw him pat the pocket where he obviously kept his cigarette pack.
“Right,” I said. “Or you could let me take a look now, and I won’t have to tell the judge about your smoke breaks.”
Chuckler looked undecided, but the woman officer cleared her throat and gave a slight nod. Chuckler finally moved aside just enough to let me squeeze by, but when the woman from the crew tried to follow, the three officers immediately blocked her path.
“Oh, come on,” she protested.
“Nope, no way,” chuckler replied.
“Why not?” she demanded.
“It’s a crime scene,” chuckler said.
The woman pondered that for a moment, and then understanding suddenly lit her face.
“Did he die on the boat?” she asked.
“He died near the boat,” I answered. “The current theory is that he was drowned.”
“Austin drowned him?” she whispered as she shook her head in disbelief.
“Did you work for Vann?” I asked again.
“Yeah, I did,” she answered. “Me and Ronan.”
“You wouldn’t mind giving me full names, would you?” I asked as I pulled out my journal.
“What’s the journal for?” she asked as she eyed me cautiously.
“It’s just my old-fashioned way of keeping track of the details,” I replied. “I’m not always in a place that’s friendly to electronics.”
The answer didn’t seem to reassure her, but she was smart enough to figure out that I’d get the information anyway. She must have decided that if I wanted to know anything about her and Vann, she wanted to be the source, and so she smiled and fluttered her lashes just like a debutante.
“My name’s Yura Lynn,” she told me. “Lynn with a Y, not an I, and two N’s.”
I never considered her last name to be spelled any other way, but the edge in her voice implied this was a common issue for her.
“The man I work with is Ronan Westcott,” she added as she shifted back to her friendly persona. “Sometimes Harrison hires… hired other people to go on the trips with us, but Ronan and I are the only ones with permanent positions.”
“When was the last time you saw Vann?” I asked.
“Yesterday,” she replied, and then an odd expression flitted across her face. “We spoke in the afternoon at his house.”
From the way her gaze shifted to the side, I knew she was withholding information. I wanted to press for more details, but this wasn’t the right place to do it because the last thing I wanted was to help the police by interrogating a potential witness or even suspect while they looked on. My questions would have to wait until I could speak to Lynn alone. I did wonder if Vann had told her about the illegal fishing in the Arctic Ocean, or if that was something he’d kept to himself. Either way, I wasn’t about to raise the topic in front of three troopers who were already convinced of my client’s guilt.
