Alaskan Legal: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  I moved the police report to the bottom of the pile, and moved on the transcript. It was even shorter and didn’t add anything to what I already knew. Morris had called the Coast Guard and said that Vann had fallen in the water and wasn’t breathing. The call had cut in and out, but Morris had also managed to tell the operator that he’d pulled Vann from the water and tried to revive him, but was unsuccessful.

  Finally, the autopsy report was laid out before me. Despite Yura’s claim that Vann could easily destroy Morris, the autopsy report stated that Vann’s face and shoulders were spotted with bruises. Admittedly, he had walked away from the fight with less injuries than Morris, but my client had managed to land his share of blows as well. Cause of death, as expected, was drowning.

  “Why drown him?” I asked myself as I tapped the document.

  “Because it was the easiest way to kill him?” Cassandra guessed.

  “Based on what I’ve seen from pictures of him, pushing him down underwater would have taken a lot of strength,” I explained with a shake of my head.

  “Even with the help of the cold water?” the young paralegal asked.

  “The shock of hitting icy water would have helped,” I admitted. “But still, getting him overboard is one issue. Keeping him below the surface long enough for hypothermia to weaken him is another. Would have been much easier to deliver a fatal wound while he was unaware.”

  “Yeah, but that leaves behind a lot of DNA evidence,” she countered. “Easier in execution, harder in covering your tracks.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “Really, the only way to effectively drown him would have been to get him drunk first.”

  “Toxicology report is still in progress,” Cassandra explained. “But the cops told me they don’t expect anything major.”

  “What else did they share with you?” I asked.

  The quirky paralegal pressed her palms against the table and widened her eyes at me. She grimaced as she tried to organize her thoughts, and I wondered if that was because of the way she’d been treated or the information she’d uncovered.

  “Oh, boy,” she began. “At first, they wanted nothing to do with me when I told them I was your paralegal and that you were representing Mr. Morris. By the way, I’ve decided I won’t introduce myself like that going forward. Please don’t take it personally if I treat you like a stranger in public.”

  “It doesn’t matter at this point,” I told her. “I’m sure half the city knows your name by now. They might not know what you look like, but you stand out so much that they don’t need to. They’ll be able to tell who you are by just one glance.”

  “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult,” she said with a sly smile.

  “Neither,” I answered. “What you should do is tell me if you learned anything else from the cops at the station.”

  “Oh, right,” she said as she clasped her hands together. “As I was saying, they gave me the cold shoulder at first, but then when Officer Pingayak and I started talking about his daughter’s birthday party, they became a little nicer. And I completely won them over with the story of my birthday party from when I turned eight. We had the party at Central Park because I was going through this weird bear phase, and I convinced myself a bear would only attend my party if it was at the park. Well, my cousin Margarita came up with this ridiculous plan to get my birthday presents.”

  “Why do I get the impression that this is your long-winded way of saying the cops did not reveal anything else to you?” I interrupted.

  Before she could respond, the waiter returned with a tray laden with one bowl and one plate. He was overly cautious in transferring them from the tray to our table, but Cassandra gave him a proud smile when the action had been completed. He set down a pair of chopsticks for each of us, though I had no intention of risking my udon to anything less than a spoon and fork.

  “Enjoy the meal,” he told us and then turned toward the kitchen.

  “Thanks,” Cassandra called after him as she picked up the chopsticks.

  She struck me as the type of person to pick up chopsticks and use them even if she had no idea how to properly hold them, but to my surprise, the way she wielded the chopsticks looked natural. The movement of the chopsticks when she picked up a roll and moved it to her mouth was fluid and swift as if she’d been doing it her whole life. She chewed the roll quickly, swallowed, and moved on to the next one as though she expected the food to run away from her if she showed any signs of hesitation. She swallowed down another roll, and then stopped when she realized I had yet to take a bite.

  “They didn’t share any deep, dark secrets if that’s what you want to know,” she finally said. “But they would if they had any.”

  “Good,” I answered and then blew on my udon. “That’ll come in handy when they find more evidence.”

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you,” she shouted as her eyes widened. “I don’t know if anyone told you this, I doubt they did, but they have Harrison’s phone in evidence. It was on his body.”

  “Of course, no one told me that,” I sighed and then scooped a large helping of noodles and carrots into my mouth. “But I guess there would be no reason to. Phone’s completely destroyed, right?”

  “No,” the paralegal answered with a vigorous shake of her head. “The phone’s waterproof. Works just fine. Now it’s just a matter of getting it unlocked.”

  “Yura might be able to help with that,” I grunted. “Or not. She might not want the contents of that phone exposed.”

  “Who’s Yura?” she asked and then chucked another roll in her mouth.

  “Vann’s lover,” I answered.

  Cassandra swallowed her roll, reached for her glass of water, and chugged half of it.

  “Is she pretty?” she finally asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I answered and then pinched the bridge of my nose at the sound of Casandra’s boisterous laughter.

  “You’re not sure?” she said between laughs.

  “That’s not the question I was expecting,” I admitted and then sighed. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Because I’m curious,” she yelled, followed by more laughter.

  “You’re curious about her looks and not if she’s the killer?” I questioned.

  “I was going to get to that,” she said as she used her napkin to dab at the corners of her eyes. “Actually, who else have you met since I was away?”

  I glanced out the window to check if anyone had approached Arctic Wizard before delving into a monologue of everything I had done since leaving the seaplane. Cassandra listened carefully and offered an array of reactions, such as raising her eyebrows when I told her about Yura’s theories and frowning deeply at the mentioning of Morris’ bold lie.

  To her credit, she never interrupted to add her own commentary, and this surprised me given her usual mile-a-minute conversations. I really had expected to spend most of my time fending off her questions, but any interruptions during my storytelling were self-imposed to allow myself a helping of my udon or to look out the window. When I was done with my narrative, I dug my phone out of my jacket pocket, pulled up the pictures I had taken at the crime scene, and slid the phone across the table to her.

  She swiped through the pictures slowly, and I watched her zoom in and out on some of the images. Her face still reacted to what she was seeing, and I tried to guess which image she was looking at based on her reaction.

  “This wine bottle,” she said as she turned my phone to show me the picture I had taken. “I see now why the police don’t expect much from the toxicology report. This bottle is almost full.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “It’s probably two glasses’ worth of wine, which means one for Vann and one for his visitor. Not enough to get drunk, especially for a man his size and with his apparent tolerance for alcohol. There’s always a slim chance that Vann was the only one drinking, but that still wouldn’t be enough.”

  I glanced again out the window, a habit I had
developed during the delivery of my monologue. Every time someone had approached the docks, I’d waited to see if their destination was the Arctic Wizard, and twice I’d nearly jumped from my seat when it looked like someone was heading for the trawler.

  Cassandra followed my gaze as she had done several times before and then sat up straight to stretch. She pushed her plate that contained only one last bit of roll toward me, and in response to the unspoken offer, I grabbed the roll and threw it into my mouth. Memories of my sister offering her leftover food flashed through my head.

  “So now what?” she asked as she slid my phone back to me. “You’re going to investigate the Morris crew, but what should I be doing? Preferably something within walking distance.”

  “You didn’t get a rental?” I asked as I stashed my phone away in the pocket of my parka.

  I transferred the contents in my jacket pockets to those of my parka, and the action prompted Cassandra to take my keys out of her purse and hand them to me. I put them away with my phone while she started to hand me my hotel room key, but I waved it away.

  “No,” she answered. “I figured I didn’t need one since all the places you’ve had me visit are within walking distance. Our hotel is three buildings up the road from here. Besides, I figured if I needed a ride somewhere, I could ask one of the police officers to take me. That way I would have someone to talk to on my way there.”

  I wondered if that was the only reason why she would want an officer to drive her around. Personally, I saw the free transportation as another opportunity to retrieve information about the case, but I couldn’t decide whether she was really that devious or simply that determined to have company.

  “Well, lucky for you, where you’re headed next is nearby,” I said as I stood up.

  I pushed in my chair, pulled on my parka, and then grabbed my wallet from my pocket. Cassandra arched her eyebrows when I opened my wallet to reveal a thick stack of bills.

  “You carry a lot of cash,” she said in wonder.

  “For bribing,” I told her.

  “Ah,” she acknowledged.

  I counted out thirty dollars in the form of a twenty and a ten. I folded the bills together and placed them on the table. I then folded my jacket and handed it to Cassandra. She received it without a word, but she looked expectantly to me for an explanation.

  “Put that away in my hotel room,” I ordered. “And then make friends at the police station. I want you there when they either locate Vann’s jet ski or unlock his phone. You call me as soon as either one of those happens. In the meantime, see if you can learn more about our suspects’ pasts in this city.”

  “You’re paying me to sit around and make friends?” she gushed with excitement. “What were your other paralegals thinking in leaving this job?”

  “Alaska was too much for them,” I answered. “Not to mention, none of them had your talent for talking, so they weren’t often assigned to friend-making duty.”

  I zipped up my parka and started to walk away from the table just as the waiter returned. I heard the clatter of our bowl and plate as he tried to load up his tray again, and then something that might have been a gasp when he found the money.

  “Wait,” the boy called when he noticed me heading toward the exit. “What about your change?”

  “Tip,” I replied as I glanced over my shoulder.

  A battle of emotions ensued on his face. There was probably a proper procedure he was supposed to follow for ringing up customers that involved collecting the money and bringing back the change, but he was too excited by the sizable tip I’d left to worry about that. He finally smiled and waved before he retreated to the kitchen to show the adults what he’d just earned.

  I turned away as well and exited the restaurant. I smiled when the arctic wind swept over me, and my parka dismissed its frigid temperature as though it had been a light, summer breeze. I pulled up my hood as I crossed the road to reach the beach, and I grinned to myself as I felt the lining touch my ears. At least I wouldn’t have to freeze during my next chore.

  I’d planned to wait by Morris’ boat until his crew arrived, but as I approached the Arctic Wizard, I noticed movement on her deck. Someone had climbed onto the boat during the brief period I had taken my eyes off the docks, and I tried not to huff in annoyance.

  I jogged through the sand and up onto the docks, and as I drew even with the boat for the first time, I realized that old beater really was a good description for it. There were more dents than I’d realized, and they were deeper and more noticeable up close. It looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to the thing, and I wondered when Morris had last had the boat in drydock.

  I climbed aboard the Arctic Wizard where I found myself face to face with a woman carrying two pairs of rubber boots. She set them down on the deck to give me a puzzled stare, and I returned the stare with one of my own when I realized she was wearing a tight, short-sleeved shirt. A brown jacket was tied around her waist rather than adorning her shoulders as it should have been in this weather.

  The wind blew her dirty-blonde hair into her face, and she made no attempt to move the shoulder-length strands out of the way. Unbothered by their presence, she stared me down through them. Her arms flexed with power when she folded them in front of her chest, and her bronzed skin seemed to glow in the gray sunlight. The image of a powerful goddess came to mind, though I didn’t think it would be any of the friendlier ones, like Aphrodite.

  Like Cassandra, this woman’s presence commanded attention, but where Cassandra exuded youthful life that encouraged vulnerability, this woman radiated confidence that made her seem aloof and untouchable. She was an ice queen, though one that was a golden beauty.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the powerful woman demanded.

  “Investigating a murder,” I answered as I took another glance at the gray shirt that hugged her body.

  “Oh, you’re Reese,” she said.

  I expected the sentence to be followed by the visible relaxation of her serious expression, but no such change occurred. Instead, she bent down to pick up the boots so that each hand gripped a pair. They swung by her sides as she walked to the bow, and with nothing else to do, I followed after her. Judging from the way she maneuvered around the boat with familiarity, I guessed she was the infamous Marleen Tash.

  “That’s me,” I confirmed.

  “Shouldn’t you be with Austin?” she asked as she opened a hatch.

  She threw the boots down the hatch and then lowered herself onto the ladder. She disappeared inside the boat without offering me an invitation or a dismissal, so I climbed down after her.

  Once I reached the bottom, I realized the ladder led into the cabin that marked the beginning of the long horizontal space. This cabin resembled the one on Vann’s boat, though the hallway began in the bow and the sleeping area that marked its end was in the stern. I also noticed that the ladder didn’t continue further down into a storage area for the fish. I checked to see if there was a hatch on the other end, but the floor was devoid of any entrance of any kind.

  “So why are you here?” the woman asked again as she placed the boots under a bunk bed. “Did Austin tell you to come here?”

  “Sort of,” I answered. “He told me his boat was here, and his crew would be, too. It’s important I speak to everyone he’s involved with.”

  “Sure, sure,” the woman agreed. “Anyone of us could have killed Harrison, right?”

  I raised my eyebrows at her but nodded. I was impressed by her openness, but her indifference concerned me. She stood up straight and walked toward me, but instead of brushing past me, she stopped at a counter to lean against it. She folded her arms across her chest again and seemed to size me up. She blatantly stared at my crotch before bringing her eyes up to my face, and the lack of a reaction from me made her smirk. Under different circumstances, I would have leaned into the interest she expressed, but I knew better than to involve myself with a murder suspect.

  �
�Diana and Luke were supposed to be here by now,” she began. “Luke said Kimira asked to speak to him at the station. I’m guessing that was your doing. Diana’s probably running late because of a headache.”

  She rolled her eyes at this, and I retrieved my journal to note the behavior. Her annoyance suggested this was a common issue with Diana, and I recorded that thought in my journal. I looked up with the expectation she would be interested in what I was writing, and I’d even prepared an explanation in case she asked. But it was clear from the boredom on her face that I didn’t need to bother. She struck me as a thrill seeker, and any moment where she was forced to stand still was a moment of agony. Perhaps this was another reason why she continued to work on a boat she considered a deathtrap.

  “Ms. Tash,” I began.

  “Drop the Miss,” she ordered.

  “Tash,” I said.

  “Yeah, I like the sound of that,” she said in approval.

  “Have the police called you in for questioning?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” she answered. “You beat them to the punch, but I imagine it’ll go the same way as this.”

  “Oh?” I challenged her. “And how do you expect this interrogation to go?”

  “I expect it to be brief,” she answered with a blank expression. “I have an alibi. I was at the bar the night of Harrison’s murder. It’s a place called Northern Peak, right next to the hotel called Top of the World.”

  “Someone there will confirm this?” I asked as I jotted the names down.

  “Yeah,” she answered. “I’m a regular there. Bartender can vouch for me.”

  “And you were there all night?” I pressed further just to be sure.

  “I was there from nine until midnight,” she said.

  Midnight. That was around the time Morris had reached Vann’s boat. He would have been knocked unconscious some time afterwards and then would have regained consciousness close to three a.m.. That gave Tash almost a three-hour window to reach Vann’s boat, drown him, and then escape via jet ski. Possible? Yes, barely. But plausible? Not at all.