by Sue Henry
The bear may have heard the boat, or more likely smelled them, for she stopped moving along the water’s edge and turned to look out at the Spirit’s now crowded decks. Then she sat down and raised herself to a sitting position, watching it grow slowly closer.
“You trained her to do that!” someone laughingly called to the Bridge Deck, where the cruise coordinator had stepped out with her microphone to watch the bear’s progress.
One of the cubs caught up with its mother, also stopped, and, considering her posture an invitation, attempted to climb up to nurse. She pushed it away with no more attention than any minor irritation. It bawled. The passengers aboard the ship laughed. At this sound, the mother slumped down once more to a four-legged position and, turning abruptly, disappeared into the heavy brush. The cubs, now together, followed and were gone as quickly as if they had never been there.
“We often see bears in this area, where the fishing for salmon is good in a few places. They are used to boats and our tour ships, because during the summer there are a lot of them every day, as well as the floatplanes that fly in from Ketchikan.
“Black bears are common in much of Alaska, but nowhere are they more at home than in the southeast. They are mainly vegetarian, eating sedges and grass, but are truly omnivorous, eating anything that comes their way, from small mammals and eggs, to honey, along with its bees, and garbage, as you know. They are solitary, unless breeding, hibernate in the winter, and can range up to fifteen or twenty miles. The females usually have two cubs every other year, though they may have only one, or as many as three, and the cubs are born during the winter in the den.
“Bears are measured from the bottom of its paw flat on the ground to the highest point of the shoulder. Adult male black bears are normally between two and a half and three feet high. In comparison, a brown, or grizzly, bear is three to five feet, and a polar bear, up to five feet four inches. Weighing less and having a flexible wrist, blacks can climb trees, unlike their cousins, the browns and grizzlies. So don’t climb a tree to escape, if you should ever meet one in the woods, A good whack on the nose or a can of pepper spray will be much more effective, but, whatever you do, don’t run. They can easily outrun you, but they can usually be intimidated.”
When she finished talking, the ship had regained its speed and was headed once again for the entrance of Rudyerd Bay.
“Wasn’t that fine?” Jessie asked. “Have you ever been so close to a bear before?”
“Only once,” Alex told her. “Riding a horse in Idaho on the ranch, when I was about ten. I came around a curve in the road and there was the bear, about thirty feet away. The horse didn’t like it at all, but neither did the bear. It went one way, the horse went the other, and I walked home.”
They skipped going to the lounge for a drink before dinner, in favor of watching more of the scenery as the Spirit slipped back down Behm Canal and swung back into Revillagigedo Channel headed ever south. It was, however, getting cold, so they went back to the stateroom and watched from the window.
“I ought to be doing something to find Carlson,” Alex frowned.
“Thought you were going to let him stew and get hungry.”
“Well, yes, but …”
There was a knock on the door, and a crew member handed him a full trash bag. “Captain said you wanted this, sir?” he said with a quizzical expression. “You sure it’s what you want? The trash from the guards in 112?”
“Yes, thank you. Don’t worry about it, young man. I haven’t gone crazy. Honest.”
“Okay, sir.” He shut the door and passed the window, shaking his head at the oddities of passengers.
For the next half hour, Jensen lifted fingerprints from the contents of the trash bag.
When it was time for dinner, they went down to join Dallas and Rozie at one of the tables next to the windows on the starboard side.
“Wasn’t it wonderful?” Rozie asked. “I loved the little bear cubs.”
“You wouldn’t love them so much up close, I’m afraid, dear,” Dallas told her. “They’d love you a lot … for dinner.”
They had finished soup, and, as the waitress put hot, delicious-smelling dishes before them, Jessie realized she was all but starving.
“Remember when we were passing the inlets at the bottom of Revillagigedo Island?” Alex asked her.
“How do you manage to pronounce that incredible word?” Jessie asked.
“Better to ask how anyone could possibly use it to name anything,” Alex responded. “Do you remember an island across on the other side from the inlets?”
“Yes, I think I do. Kind of small, all by itself near the opposite shore.”
“That’s right. It’s named Spire Island, and it’s interesting because on December 20, 1905, the SS Portland—the famous gold ship this run is recreating—went aground on it. When they got the ship off, it had to ground itself again on a nearby island—I forget the name—till it was repaired.”
“Alex, you amaze me.” Dallas smiled at him. “How do you keep details like that in your head and still work full time to solve homicides? But then, I guess your whole job is putting details together into answers, isn’t it?”
She turned to Jessie. “What’s Lou been up to today?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t seen her really, just once in town, with her father.”
“She going to ask her father for a camera?”
“She said she’d rather find a job and earn it herself. I got the feeling he’s having some financial trouble with his bookstore, and I thought it was really mature of her not to want to ask him. Most teenagers wouldn’t be aware enough to do that.”
Dallas agreed, nodding thoughtfully.
Alex, listening, gave Jessie a look that told her he wanted to ask questions, but would do it when they were alone. It made her wonder about the financial issue, and how, if the Stanleys were in trouble, they could have afforded to come on the cruise. She and Jensen communicated silently on the subject for a second, aware that they were both thinking along the same lines. Later. They could discuss it later.
She missed parts of the mystery play. Her eyes kept wanting to close, and she yawned several times, till Rozie giggled and poked her in the ribs, when her nose angled toward her coffee cup.
“Wake up Jess, you’re missing Alice from the Palace.”
She woke up, however, when Alice sang another song. This time a parody, based on one from an old, classic movie, Rosemarie. Laurie Trevino and Jim Beal played and sang together this time, he in the red coat of the Mountie, she in her silver and white of the night before. There was some other business with the two miners and another character or two, but the clues they provided to the mystery slipped right by Jess, as she tried, and failed, to concentrate.
“Come on, Jess,” Alex said, grinning, when it was over. “Let’s skip the discussion they’re going to have in the lounge and get you some fresh air.”
“I think I’m going to skip it, too,” Dallas said, wheeling away from the table. “It’s been a full day, and I’m ready for the barn. Rozie?”
“No. I think I’ll go listen to some of it. I like the Berrys, and it’ll be interesting. He promised to tell all about his greatgrandfather, who was in Dawson during the gold rush. If you don’t mind,” she said. “If you need me, I don’t need to go.”
“You run along, child, and enjoy it. Alex and Jessie will walk me up, I’ll bet.” She winked at Alex in delight at her niece’s newfound independence. Then, when Rozetta had gone, “This trip has done her a world of good. Best way to spend money that I can imagine. Thanks to Calvin, for leaving me one helluva lot of it.”
Alex and Jessie walked her to her door, and she hugged both of them good night and went in to bed. Alex was glad they had skipped the discussion, electing instead a walk on the deck. Alex was physically tired, and Jessie was just tired of people.
“Now,” he asked her, “what was that about Stanley having financial trouble?”
She told him what Lou ha
d told her, adding, “I wonder how they afforded this trip.”
“That’s because the invitation to come included a half-fare break on the ticket, I think,” Alex told her.
“Great. What a good idea.”
“Yeah. Too bad he’s not making it with the store. He mentioned that he had a good collection of gold rush material and books. Want to go in now?”
“Let’s go down and sit with Don in Soapy’s for a beer, then go to bed early,” she suggested. “He would probably welcome a little friendship about now. Having to tend bar right there, looking out on the place where Julie was murdered, can’t be much fun.”
“Damn. I never even thought of that.” Alex stopped and looked down at her. “Why didn’t someone replace him, trade with him … something?”
“Probably didn’t think of it.”
“Well, let’s get something done about it, right now.”
“Let’s go down and see how he feels about it first,” she recommended.
They found him rearranging the bar, cleaning all the shelves, and rewashing glasses—keeping busy.
“Naw. I’m okay. I’d rather stay here, where there’s fewer customers, if you don’t mind. I’m angry as hell about Julie’s murder, you know. But it’s okay to be here. Wish I had been here longer on Monday night.”
He poured them each a beer in a frosty mug and came around the bar to sit beside Alex with one of his own.
They stayed, talking quietly—just two good friends taking some of the load from another, new friend.
“Well, guess I can close it down,” he said, when they had finished their beer. “Unless you two want another one.”
“No thanks, Don. We’re going to call it a night. By morning, we’ll be beyond Prince Rupert and into the Grenville Channel. Now there’s something I do want to see.”
“What about Carlson?”
“Let Carlson sit it out, wherever he is, until morning. We’ll dig him out tomorrow. I’m not spending another night like the last, and he can’t just walk off, can he? His laundry chute’s out of the question now, too.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Tomorrow is another day, so to speak?” He turned to finish locking up, as Alex and Jessie stood up and waited for him. But, finished, he remembered a question. “What happened with those fingerprints?”
“Oh, right,” Jensen said. “You don’t know. Well, there’s the strangest of all strange things today. To begin with, I got the fingerprints from the security company. You were there when those came in. Then my commander in Anchorage sent me two partials off the ax. Just before dinner, one of the crew members brought me a plastic bag of trash that the guards had put out to be picked up. I took prints off three different soda cans, and then checked them against the company records. And here’s the strange part. They didn’t match. Then, just for the hell of it, because I had them, I checked both of them against those from the ax. None of them matched any of the others.”
There was a silence, while Sawyer thought that over. “Tell me that I’m getting it. You mean the guards’ fingerprints off the cans didn’t match the ones they had on file with their own company? And that they didn’t match the ones from the ax? And that the ones from the ax didn’t match the ones from the security company, either?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. They’re all different. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. I want to think it over for a while, but in the morning, the captain, the CEO, and I are going to have a very interesting conversation with those two guards. And it will include the question of who gave the one a black-and-blue face.”
They all three walked up to the lounge, where they left Don to take in the key to the cash drawer, then the two of them walked on up the stairs to their own deck, stateroom, and beds. Alex was asleep before Jessie finished brushing her teeth, and she was only minutes behind him.
29
4:30 A.M.
Thursday, July 17, 1997
Spirit of ‘98
Grenville Channel, Inside Passage
British Columbia, Canada
JENSEN WOKE ONCE ABOUT TWO O’CLOCK, AND WENT down to speak with Ray McKimmey on the status of the Spirit. He found him in the engine room, checking gauges.
“Hear anything? See anything?”
“Nope. Nothing,” Ray told him. “Everything’s quiet. I’ve been down here three times since eleven, and it’s all fine. No sign of Carlson, and I’ve been checking the galley, too.”
“Get some sleep,” he told Ray, and went gratefully back to bed again.
Sometime later, he woke in the dark, aware of a sound. He had heard something unusual, almost felt it, just before he was conscious. What was it? It came again. A sort of a thump that he felt, a vibration, like something hitting the ship, or something heavy falling in it, then the sound of the engine changed speed.
Getting out of bed, he quickly began to put on his clothes.
Jessie woke and turned over.
“What’s going on?”
“Don’t know, but something’s making sounds that are different than I’ve heard before. I’m going to see. May just be McKimmey’s valve.”
“Should I come?”
“No, love. Stay in bed. It’s probably nothing. I’ll be right back.” He paused, considering.
“But if I don’t come back soon. If …”
There was a soft knock on the door, and, when he opened it, Lou Stanley was standing outside, in flannel pajamas, jacket, and tennis shoes. She flew in as if someone were chasing her.
“Jessie. My dad woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. So he went Outside for a while, but he didn’t come back. So I went to look for him, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. There’s somebody that I never saw before moving around down by the dining room. Then the elevator started to move, so I ran. And there’s another boat tied to this one on the side by the kitchen. Can I be with you? I don’t like this.”
They stared at her for a minute, astonished at what she was telling them.
“Of course you can be with me.” Jessie got up and reached for her own clothes.
Alex went to his bag, took out the holstered .45, and buckled it on under his jacket. He had been wearing it ever since Carlson had escaped. He turned back to Jessie, who was almost dressed. Lou was sitting on Jessie’s bed.
“If I don’t come back in half an hour, I want you to get out of here. Don’t forget this afternoon. Do you remember the hiding places I told you about?”
She nodded.
“Okay, take Lou and go down the back way to steerage. It’s a good hiding place, and I’ll know where you are, if I need you. Right?”
“Yes, but what about Lou’s dad and the rest of the passengers?”
“If whatever’s going on is okay, they don’t need to know. If it’s not, they’re better off asleep. We can’t round up or warn them all right now. Right?”
“Yes. Anything you want me to do, check the bridge?”
“Not with Lou in tow. Better let me find out what this is all about. I’ll come back and tell you in just a few minutes. Or send Ray. Only Ray … or the captain Understand? I wish you could lock this damn door.”
“I can put the chair under the doorknob.”
“Too low. Besides, it never works. Back soon.”
He went out the door, closing it quietly behind him. Going to the rail in a dim space between the deck lights, he looked down. There was a powerboat tied amidships to the lower deck of the Spirit, and the thumping sound he had heard was it bumping against the ship between fenders that were spaced too far apart. A man leaned out from the ship toward the powerboat, then disappeared back inside. The outside starboard door was open on Four Deck.
Quickly, he went down the back way, from Two to Three Deck on the aft stairs. From there to the dining room on Four Deck, stairs went down either side of Soapy’s, to allow viewing from the large wraparound windows of the Parlour. He went down the one on the starboard side, carefully looking to see if there was anyone in the dining room. It was dark, but there was
a light on in the galley.
Quietly, he opened the door to the dining room and quickly closed it again behind him, concerned that the sudden sound of the Spirit’s rushing wake outside would alert someone. Crouching behind a waist-high bench at the last cafe table by the window, he waited. There was no sign of anyone.
Swiftly, silently, he moved down the long aisle between the round tables in the center of the room and the cafe tables at the sides, and reached the hallway that led to the corridor amidships. He looked around the corner and saw no one. The door to the engineer’s quarters was closed. The one to the engine room, just across from it on his side was, also. Keeping close to the wall, he moved around and cautiously opened it. The light was on, as always, but the engine room seemed empty. He stepped in and stood for a minute at the top of the stairs that the engineer had fallen down the night before.
McKimmey was sitting very still on the floor at the far side of the engine room. He turned his head and saw Jensen at the same time the trooper realized that he was bound, wrists, ankles, and knees, with duct tape, a piece of it across his mouth, very like the woman they had lifted from the waters of Tracy Arm.
Seeing Jensen, his eyes widened.
Alex took one step down, starting toward him.
McKimmey shook his head, then jerked it at the space between the engines, clearly trying to tell Alex that someone was there.
Muffled by the loud sound of the engines, Jensen made no sound as he pulled the .45 from his jacket pocket. He went carefully, slowly, down each step, his attention intently focused on the space Ray had indicated.
Not good enough. The man must have sensed, or seen, the opening of the engine room door, for as Jensen was halfway to the bottom, a figure stepped out from between the engines, facing the trooper on the stairs. Carlson’. And, to Jensen’s astonishment, the missing man was holding an AK-47 assault rifle, aimed at him. He grew immediately still, his own gun directed at Carlson.
The exchange that followed took place in gestures, because the enormous, powerful sound of the engines precluded any other form of communication.
Come down, Carlson gestured. Put down the gun.
