Alaskan Legal: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  “How nasty,” Cassandra whispered.

  I ate the rest of my pizza and finished my beer as I thought about Yura’s words.

  “I think Cassandra’s right,” I finally admitted, and she smiled widely at this. “No one can say for certain whether Mr. Morris is guilty or innocent until all the evidence has been collected. However, if I felt he was clearly guilty it would change my strategy. I would be working on getting him the best plea deal I could or the fairest trial possible.”

  Yura nodded in approval and then downed the rest of her wine. She looked over at Cassandra and placed a hand on the paralegal’s arm.

  “For your sake, I hope Austin’s innocent,” Yura said. “I’d hate to think you spent all this time trying to help a murderer escape justice.”

  The older woman swung her feet out of the booth, stood up, and stretched. She grabbed her coat and pulled it on while she stared out the window at the brightly-lit landscape.

  The older bartender approached our table with two receipts for our orders, and she placed them in the center when she arrived. She smiled at all of us, grabbed Yura’s chin to inspect her face, and then frowned at what she saw. She made a sound of disapproval before she released her grip, stacked the empty cups onto the pizza tray, and took them away. Yura grabbed her receipt as I reached for the other one, but Cassandra snatched it off the table.

  “I’ve got it,” she said. “You can pay for our next meal.”

  “Deal,” I told her as I stood up and donned my parka.

  Cassandra pulled a hotel key from her pocket, handed it to me, and then walked off to the counter with Yura in tow. I placed the key in my pocket and then grabbed the manila folder. As I walked toward the main entrance, I flipped through the bank statements of Marniq and Tash, though I didn’t expect to find anything suspicious. The only noteworthy piece of information was Marniq’s purchase of plane tickets three weeks ago, but that must have been for his wife and son. The only significant bank statement had been Ronan’s, and now he was my primary suspect in the case.

  I wondered if Ansong had already seen the odd deposits, and I wondered if I would run into her tomorrow morning at Ronan’s house. I realized I had her, or whoever it was that thought to investigate the financial side of this case, to thank for this lead. It suddenly dawned on me that Morris’ outrageous spending habits could potentially outshine Ronan’s weird deposits. Since the police were convinced Morris was the killer, they were more likely to focus on his bank statement than anyone else’s. If anything, this document bolstered Morris’ motive for murdering Vann. If my client led an expensive lifestyle, then he would do anything to maintain the flow of money into his account. That would include getting rid of any obstacles, such as a competitor that destroyed one of his fishing nets.

  I didn’t realize I had been rubbing the scar on my nose until I stopped to sigh out of frustration. Cassandra’s words about receiving filtered information rang in my head. Because I was focused on proving Morris’ innocence, Ronan’s bank statement stuck out like a sore thumb. But Morris’ bank statement had far more red flags, and I knew the police were going to have a field day reading over it.

  I closed the folder and looked up to see if the women were done paying. I noticed the fishermen were no longer at the counter, and I was surprised by this. From the way they had been whispering and gesturing, I was certain they were going to approach our table and start trouble. Maybe they had thought better of it and gone home when they realized we weren’t leaving anytime soon. At least, I hoped that was the case as I watched Yura and Cassandra turn away from the bar and walk toward me. I held the door open for the ladies to pass through, and they took three steps forward before stopping abruptly.

  As I stepped out behind Yura and Cassandra, I saw the four fishermen from the bar swaying in front of us with fierce looks in their eyes. I quickly stepped in front of the women, which drew the angry glare of every one of the fishermen. One man in black rubber boots finally stepped forward and jabbed an angry finger at me.

  “You’re the fucker that’s helping Austin get away with murder,” he slurred and then shook his head. “It’s even worse than that. I heard from Thomas that you know Austin killed Harrison, and you’re only representing him to get easy money.”

  “I don’t know who Thomas is, but I do know his information is wrong,” I said calmly.

  “Shut the hell up!” another fisherman wearing green rubber boots yelled as he stepped forward.

  He pointed at Yura.

  “And you, Yura, what the hell are you thinking?” the man demanded. “You’re sitting in there getting all nice and cozy with this fucker. You grew up with Harrison, worked for him, and as soon as he dies, you shit on his grave by getting drinks with the very person who refuses to let him have justice and rest in peace. Show some respect, like Ronan.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see what Yura would do. After the brawl on the dock, I thought she might throw another punch or two, but Yura pressed her lips into a thin line. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away as Cassandra grabbed her hand and squeezed. Yura squeezed back.

  “You’re drunk,” the fisherwoman said through gritted teeth. “You’re drunk, and you don’t know anything about the situation. How could any of you? You’ve been gone for over a week. When was the last time any of you even saw Harrison? Talked to him? The first thing you all do when you’re finally back is walk into a bar and start trouble. Did you offer me any condolences? Did you offer them to Ronan? Have you checked in with your families? Don’t lecture me on having respect.”

  She pulled her hand free from Casandra’s grip and stormed off to a nearby parked car, a Chevrolet. No one said anything as we watched her climb into the car, start the engine, and drive away. I took that as a cue to leave and turned my back on the men.

  “We’re not done talking to you,” one of the fishermen called out.

  “Reese, watch out!” Cassandra warned.

  I turned around just in time to see a fist aimed straight for my face. The fist connected with my cheek, and I staggered backwards. The fisherman with the black boots made to deliver another punch, but now that I had my eyes on him, it was easy to side-step his poorly coordinated attack. He stumbled forward and used the side of a parked car to steady his balance. He lifted his fists in a poor imitation of a boxer and swayed in front of me. The other three fishermen twisted their faces in outrage, but they didn’t seem quite as willing to join the fray.

  “Now would be a great time to defuse this situation,” I said over my shoulder to Cassandra.

  “Uh, unfortunately, my charm isn’t very effective against drunks,” she said in a trembling voice.

  I glanced up at the sun hanging over the men and then stared at their faces.

  “This day never ends,” I sighed.

  I handed the manila folder to Cassandra and then braced myself as the man in the black boots charged at me again.

  Chapter 10

  The fisherman with black boots aimed for my legs rather than go for another punch, and I understood why when I realized it was harder to dodge his outstretched arms than a single fist.

  I tried side-stepping him, but he managed to hook his fingers around my calf, and he was still charging forward, but with a grip on my leg, he brought me down just as he fell forward at Cassandra’s feet. Before I could get to my feet, the fisherman with green boots was on top of me.

  I put up my arms side by side to shield my face from the incoming punches. I wasn’t sure if the fisherman was weak or if it was the doing of my parka, but the punches being thrown at me were not unbearable. Still, I didn’t want to risk moving my arms to grab his if it meant exposing myself to a punch. When he stopped punching and instead tried to pry my arms apart, I used that pause in attacks to lift my hips and throw the fisherman off of me.

  I jumped to my feet just as Black Boots recovered from his fall and faced me.

  He swayed on his feet, but that didn’t deter him from running at me again wi
th his arms outstretched. He aimed for my legs again, but this time around he started his charge from further away. The distance allowed me ample time to determine when it would be best to dodge him and avoid the outcome from before.

  But I then remembered I was facing multiple opponents, not just one, and I glanced behind me at the other two fishermen.

  They glared at me, but they made no move to join the fray. From the way they stood on the outskirts of the road, it looked like they were acting as gatekeepers trying to prevent me from running away.

  I noticed their stances didn’t carry the same drunken stupor as their other two companions, and I wondered if another reason they abstained from joining the fight was because they were sober enough to recognize it wasn’t a good idea. Whatever the case was, I was grateful for only having to face two adversaries rather than four.

  That just left Green Boots, and I spotted him out of the corner of my eye. He’d made it to his feet finally, and he was coming in for a punch. There was a sedan parked on my left, a fisherman coming in for a punch on my right, a fisherman charging for my legs from the front, and two fishermen blocking the path behind me.

  I realized it wasn’t possible for me to dodge both incoming attacks, and so I needed to make a split-second decision on which attack I wanted to dodge. I also needed to determine the direction to take in evading that attack.

  Backing out of the reach of Black Boots’ attack was out of the question. If I backed up too far, I would probably be pushed forward by the fishermen behind me, and that would only lead to me being caught by Black Boots anyway. I decided my best bet was to dodge Black Boots by running toward Green Boots and accepting the punch.

  I jumped out of Black Boots’ path toward Green Boots and put up my arms to protect my face from Green Boots’ punch, but the drunk fisherman had learned from his previous attack and instead swung his arm around to hit me in the stomach. This blow was a lot harder than his previous punches, and I gasped for air as I stumbled backwards.

  Black Boots was sprawled across the ground from his missed tackle, and I tripped over him as I fell, but I managed to turn my body as I dropped to ensure I didn’t hit my head, and my left shoulder slammed against the parked car instead.

  I groaned and used the side of the car to regain my balance and stand up straight. My shoulder throbbed, but I ignored the pain to focus on Black Boots.

  He was at my feet, and as soon as he realized how close I was to him, he swiped at my legs.

  I needed to get some distance between me and these fishermen, so I dodged Black Boots’ hands by using my left hand to push myself off the car and toward the bar. I was near Cassandra again, and she had her phone pressed to her ear.

  “Yes, we’re in front of Northern Peak,” she said to someone on the other end of the line.

  If I had to guess, she was likely on the phone with an operator to get the police dispatched to our location. Green Boots must have made the same guess because he turned his attention to Cassandra and pointed at her.

  “Who the hell are you talking to?” he asked as he stumbled toward her.

  He broke into a sprint, and I expected Cassandra to easily move out of his way, but instead she froze and stared at him in horror.

  I quickly lunged forward and shoved Green Boots to the ground, and he stuck out his hands in front of him as he fell.

  He whipped his head around to glare at me, but the push and fall had knocked the wind out of him. All he could do was lay on the ground as he breathed heavily, propped up by one elbow.

  But Black Boots was up again, and he seemed to sense that his opportunity to strike a blow for justice was fading the longer this dragged on. He cast a wary glance at Cassandra and her phone and then snarled at me.

  I was hoping I could dodge his attacks long enough until either fatigue overtook him or the police arrived, but I was starting to get tired as well. The flight to Utqiagvik, an entire day of investigating, and the cold weather were all catching up to me. I was certain, however, Black Boots was more tired than I was since he had just returned from a fishing trip, but he didn’t move like someone on the brink of collapse. As I watched him sway, I realized his drunken state prevented him from feeling the exhaustion his body carried.

  As he charged toward me once again, I decided I needed to hit him if I wanted to end this fight. I was certain one hard hit was all I needed to remind the rest of his body what state it was in and leave him panting on the ground like Green Boots. Black Boots crouched low to go for my legs again, but this time I brought my knee up under his chin once he was close to me. He flew backwards and landed on his shoulder with a heavy thud. He lifted his head once to look at me, but then he put it back down and shut his eyes. He brought his hand up to his chin and moaned.

  I looked over at Cassandra quickly just to be sure she hadn’t taken an inadvertent blow. She moved her arms stiffly as she placed her phone in her pocket, but I didn’t think that was from an injury. Her face was still rigid with fear, and she flinched when I placed a hand on her arm. She looked at me and offered a sheepish smile.

  “I don’t do well with physical conflict,” she admitted and then eyed my arm. “How’s your shoulder?”

  She reached out to touch it but stopped when I turned my head to look at the two remaining fishermen standing near the road.

  They glared across at me and then looked at each other. One of them took a step forward, and I held up my hand at him.

  “I’m not looking for a fight,” I said. “If I was, your buddies would be in worse conditions. I’m sure you two are aware of that. Take your friends and go.”

  The standing fishermen looked at each other, and their furious glares softened as reason took over. Not enough alcohol was in their systems to convince them they were capable of taking me on and walking away unscathed. One fisherman squatted down by Black Boots to help him to his feet, while the other went to assist Green Boots.

  “Come on,” I told Cassandra and gestured with my head to follow. “Let’s see if they have any Tylenol at the hotel.”

  Although Top of the World Hotel neighbored Northern Peak, there was a considerable gap of space between the hotel and the bar that could have housed a third building between them. The hotel itself was a wide, three-story building split between two colors. The first and second floors were painted a bright blue reminiscent of a clear sky, while both the third floor and the walls of the main entrance were painted maroon. The color choices were odd, but a pleasant combination to look upon nonetheless.

  Cassandra and I trekked across the empty space toward the hotel. My eyes were glued forward as the promise of a hot shower and rest goaded me on, but Cassandra constantly glanced behind us to see what the fishermen were doing. I knew they wouldn’t dare follow us, and in the hopes of sharing this confidence with my paralegal, I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

  She snapped her head forward to look at me and arched her eyebrows in alarm, but when she realized I was only trying to calm her, she relaxed and offered a tired smile. She picked up her pace to walk in front of me. Once we reached the entrance, Cassandra held the door open.

  Inside, I was greeted by warm air and a brightly-lit lobby. The brightness was a result of the skylights high on the wall behind the check-in desk. The wall next to the skylights displayed several images of natural landscapes, such as the aurora borealis and a fissure in the ground. The focus on natural landscapes continued with images of ice across the front of the counter at the front desk. A woman clacking away on a keyboard at the counter looked up at me and Cassandra briefly to offer a smile before returning her attention to the monitor.

  Further inside the hotel, to the right of the front desk, was a set of double-doors with the word ‘Niġġivikput’ in bold, black letters above them. The open doorway allowed a view of a booth with a dark table against the wall. The sounds of people chatting and silverware clinking in addition to the smell of food traveled through the doorway into the lobby. It was nice to know I wouldn’t hav
e to hunt for breakfast tomorrow morning, but the restaurant wasn’t our destination.

  Cassandra walked past me to the entrance of a narrow hallway across from the front desk. The wall on the right that formed this hallway contained a mounted TV with a black leather loveseat and two matching armchairs placed in front of it. We passed this set of furniture to enter the hallway and discovered the walls of that narrow space to be covered with illuminated posters of Arctic animals such as sea lions and polar bears. The end of the hallway opened into a wide area displaying several encased Inuit artifacts. In the corner of the room was a mannequin wearing traditional Inuit clothing locked in a glass display.

  I was intrigued by the displays, but my throbbing shoulder and tiredness urged me to ignore them and follow Cassandra up the staircase on our right. At the top of the staircase was a half-wall that overlooked the lobby. To the right, the landing opened into a long hallway lined with hotel room doors and more posters of animals and the tundra landscape. Near the entrance of the hall, to the left, was a small area dedicated to a vending machine and ice dispenser. Another staircase to the right led up to the third floor.

  “I’ll get you some ice for your shoulder,” Cassandra said as we passed the machine.

  “Thanks,” I told her as I fished my hotel room key from my pocket.

  Seven doors lined the right side of the hall while five lined the left. I checked the hotel room number printed on the circular tag attached to the key and saw that I was in number two hundred and five. I realized Cassandra was right next door to me as she slipped her key into her door, and she disappeared into her room before I even had a chance to unlock my door. I blamed my sudden slowness on the sore shoulder, though there was no one around to explain that to.

  I finally managed to unlock my door, and I was met with a decent-sized room with wall to wall carpeting in standard hotel beige and filled with natural light thanks to the window on the opposite wall. The bulk of the room was occupied by a queen-sized bed with matching bed stands on either side. Each bed stand had its own small lamp with a cute penguin pattern on the shade and a framed poster of a typical far north scene above that.