The Darkening Archipelago

by Stephen Legault

  “Anyway, Greg knew that Archie knew about him being in Stoboltz’s pocket.”

  “Could that be enough motive to kill a man?” asked Cole.

  “How should I know? The only person I’ve ever wanted to kill was you,” said Nancy.

  “But you got over that, didn’t you?”

  “Mostly,” she said, truthfully.

  “Well, we can keep Greg on the list,” said Cole.

  “He told me he was at a band council meeting that day. The day Archie disappeared. That his boat was not in the harbour because he was in Alert Bay.”

  Grace looked up and said, “That’s what the harbour registry shows. Not that he was in Alert Bay, but that his boat was not in Port Lostcoast.”

  “Can we check and see if there was a band council meeting that day?” asked Cole. He looked at Grace.

  “I’ll call tomorrow,” she said.

  “You said you checked in with the harbour registry?” said Cole, still holding Grace’s hand.

  “I did,” Grace said, freeing her hand and wiping some tears from her cheeks. “There were a lot of boats out. I don’t know if that’s going to help us.”

  “Was the Queen Mary Two in port?” asked Cole.

  “No. It was out. I checked on it.”

  “That’s Dan Campbell’s boat?” asked Nancy.

  “I braced him today,” said Cole, smiling at the memory. “I tracked him down at The Strait, and invited him to go for a walk to the harbour. I confronted him about Archie, basically accusing him of the killing. You should have heard this guy go off,” said Cole, still grinning. “I thought he was going to deck me. Or try. He pretty much told me if he saw me again, he’d kill me.”

  “You have such a way with people, don’t you?” said Nancy.

  “Listen, this guy hates First Nations people,” said Cole, looking from Darren to Grace. “How does a guy like that live here?”

  Neither of them answered. Cole continued. “Anyway, he had a special hatred for Archie. Seems like he and Archie never saw eye to eye on anything.”

  “Was it a personal sort of hate, or just the sort of hate that rednecks have for enviros?”

  “It was pretty personal. Archie could really get in people’s face about things. I think Dan Campbell could have killed him.”

  “What about opportunity?” asked Nancy.

  “Well, Grace tells us the Queen Mary Two wasn’t in the harbour that day.”

  “Lots of boats weren’t,” she said again.

  “Is he the kind of man who would brave a spring storm to motor up the inlet to confront Archie?” Cole looked from Grace back to Darren.

  “You’d have to be extremely determined to have been out that day,” said Darren. “The sea was pretty big.”

  “Did you case his boat?” asked Nancy.

  “Sure I did. All his lines were intact.”

  “What kind of rope did he have?”

  “Seen one, you seen ’em all,” said Cole. “Some of the lines could have matched the length of rope on Archie’s stern, but I can’t say for sure.”

  “The RCMP is going to want that rope,” said Grace. “They’re going to be here tomorrow.”

  “Are they opening a file?” asked Nancy excitedly.

  “A missing person’s file.”

  “Figures,” said Cole. “The Mounties couldn’t find their own horses in a barn,” he said.

  “Cole’s got a bit of an issue with the cops,” said Nancy. “Don’t mind him.”

  “I’m just saying that we can’t leave this up to them, is all.”

  Grace said, “The detective sergeant I spoke with seemed pretty adamant that we not interfere.”

  “Where have I heard that before?” said Cole, rising.

  “I’m not saying I agree,” said Grace.

  “Good. I have no intention of sitting on my hands while they poke around the islands, and while whoever killed Archie gets off scot-free.”

  “What do you propose, Dalgliesh?” asked Nancy, remembering a P.D. James novel she’d just read.

  “Well, first we have to decide what to do about this news conference. I think we ought to line up our evidence and blow the lid off this whole thing,” said Cole, pacing back and forth behind the dining room table.

  “Isn’t the fund a good thing?” asked Darren, face blank.

  “It’s putting money into the hands of Stoboltz Aquaculture so that they can build more salmon farms, kill more wild salmon, and make themselves seem like heroes to the public because a few First Nations people get jobs,” ranted Blackwater.

  “We need jobs,” said Darren.

  “You need wild salmon so you can have a long-term sustainable fishery,” said Cole.

  Darren looked down at his hands.

  “Be nice to have both,” said Grace, making peace.

  Cole said, “What we’ve got on Lance Grey, and his connection to Greg White Eagle, is just too good not to use. And they are coming here. How perfect is that?”

  “It seems too perfect,” said Nancy.

  Grace agreed. “It does seem a little crazy, knowing what we know. Could it be a set up?”

  Cole shook his head. “Jesus Christ,” he chided. “You guys are wimping out on me? What do you think is happening here?

  “I don’t know, Cole,” said Nancy, growing impatient. “But speaking as a reporter, I think I’d like not to get fucked if the minister or this Lance Grey guy has got something up his sleeve. I’ve lost one good job by not doing my homework. I’m not going to lose another.” Her face was flushed, a sharp contrast to her raven-black hair.

  Cole looked at Grace. “Can you call Carrie Bright in the morning and see if we can’t figure out what this is really all about? Fill her in on what we know about Greg White Eagle being on the pad, and see if she can learn why Lance Grey is walking into what almost certainly will be a mess.”

  “But no reporters,” said Nancy. “This story is mine. I get to break it.”

  Cole looked sideways at her.

  “I didn’t fly all the way out here, put my job on the line, to have the North Island Standard break this clusterfuck,” she said.

  Cole looked down at his hands then back at Grace. “Can Jacob take me to Jeopardy Rock in the morning? Where is he, anyway?” Cole looked around, as if Jacob Ravenwing might be concealed somewhere in the kitchen.

  “He got a call this afternoon. Said he had to go back home.”

  “Rats,” said Cole.

  “I can take you,” said Darren.

  “Really?” Cole looked at him with surprise.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I thought maybe you believed we were barking up the wrong tree.”

  “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. But if I can help find whoever did this to Archie, then count me in.”

  “Okay, well, what time do we leave?”

  “Meet me on the docks at seven am.”

  “I’m coming too,” said Nancy.

  “I don’t think so,” said Cole.

  “Oh really, Blackwater? Who’s going to stop me?”

  “Certainly not me,” Cole said, “But you might.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Only that while Darren and I are out freezing our butts off in Knight Inlet, you and Grace are going to be cracking the minister’s nuts back here.”

  Nancy was silent. She looked at Grace then back at Cole.

  Cole said, “Once Carrie Bright fills us in on what she knows about the announcement, I suggest you get your story set up to file, so it hits the web as the minister is coming across Blackfish Sound. It will be the perfect hit.”

  Nancy regarded Cole coolly. “Sounds like you just don’t want me along.”

  “And miss your charming company?” Cole quipped.

  The truth was, Cole Blackwater didn’t want Nancy along, and not because she could be a pain in the rump. Jeopardy Rock’s secret had already claimed the life of one person he loved. He wasn’t willing to risk another.

  “So wher
e does that leave us?” asked Nancy.

  “Two steps forward, one step back,” said Cole. “Greg is still on the list. So is Dan. This Thurlow character is an unknown to me. I guess we’ll know by the end of the day tomorrow.”

  “And Lance?” asked Nancy.

  “Motive, but opportunity seems a stretch.”

  “Down to three,” said Nancy.

  “Down to three,” said Cole.

  They cleared away the dishes and tidied the kitchen. Darren had gone home and Cole, Nancy, and Grace were in the kitchen, a kettle on the stove. It was half past eight when the phone rang and Grace picked it up.

  Cole heard her say, “Yes, he’s here.”

  She handed Cole the phone. “It’s your brother.”

  “Walt, is everything okay?” Cole walked into the office. His back was turned to Nancy so he didn’t see her eyes following him as he left the room.

  “Everything is fine,” said Walter Blackwater.

  “Mom’s okay?”

  “She’s fine. Fit as a fiddle. She’ll outlive us both.”

  “It’s just that you never call, so …”

  “Yeah, well, you know how it is. Things get busy. I forget.”

  “Must run in the family,” said Cole, remembering that he hadn’t called Sarah in three days.

  “So listen, I had meant to call you the other day, but I got caught up in a search and rescue, some kids skiing in the back-country got pinned down by a spring storm and one of them got pretty serious frostbite. I had to ski in and get them. Anyway, I had meant to give you a heads-up.”

  “What’s up, Walt?”

  “I was out at the ranch the other day to see to the cattle, check in on Mom. There was a reporter there.”

  “A reporter?” Cole recalled a reporter he had butted heads with in Oracle last year, a crude, bloodless man who had nearly upset the entire apple cart.

  “Yeah, poking around the place, asking Mom all sorts of questions. She was really nice about it all, but when she and I talked I got the feeling like she was after something about the old man.”

  Cole heard the “she”, and his train of thought changed tracks. “Who was it, Walt?” said Cole, his own reflection staring back at him from the window in Archie’s office.

  “You know her. That woman from Ottawa, you know. Nancy Webber.”

  25

  Cole sat for ten minutes in Archie Ravenwing’s office, looking through the ill-gotten windows into the darkness of the archipelago beyond. Finally he picked up the phone and called Denman Scott. But Denman wasn’t home, so he left a message and sat for another five minutes. At last he stood and walked into the kitchen. Nancy and Grace were sitting at the table drinking tea. Cole could see Nancy’s eyes following him as he entered the room, wondering what he knew.

  “Everything okay at home?” asked Grace.

  “Yeah,” he said, still holding Nancy’s gaze. “Yeah, fine.”

  “You want some tea?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I think I’d like to get some air. Clear my head. Nancy, would you like to go for a little walk with me?” Cole did everything in his power to keep his voice even and his tone soft, but he realized that he was gritting his teeth as he spoke.

  Grace looked at Nancy. Nancy put down her cup. “Sure, it’s a nice night.”

  Nancy put on her coat and followed Cole out the door. The moon was rising over the distant mountains of Vancouver Island and the night was cool, but not cold.

  “Cole,” Nancy began as they started down the road to the harbour.

  “Just don’t say anything right now, Nancy. Not a word.”

  They walked away, Cole a step ahead of her. They passed through the clutch of houses and storefronts that constituted town. Cole could hear the din from The Strait and felt his body reach out toward that sound in search of strong drink. They made their way to the docks.

  “I should have told you I had been to the ranch,” Nancy said. Cole had stopped and was looking west at the rising moon. His hands were in his pockets and the collar of his leather coat was turned up against the chill.

  “It was wrong, Cole. I’m sorry.”

  Cole exhaled a stream of breath into the night through his lips, blowing hard.

  “Cole —”

  “Just shut up,” he said, his teeth pressed together.

  “Cole, I —”

  “Shut up and listen.”

  He turned and she could see his eyes, the light of the moon glistening off the whites. His eyes were wide open, wild, full of rage. “You think you can come here and get into these people’s lives and homes and pretend to be helping us solve the mystery, a good man, a man who spent his life serving his people, and then betray us. Betray them. Betray me.” He spoke quietly, his teeth clenched, as if he were holding back his rage with them. As if they were the only thing keeping that dark beast trapped inside of him from spilling out and running wild.

  “That wasn’t my intention. You called me, Cole. I came to help. I want to solve this murder too,” she said.

  “You want the story is all you want. It’s all you ever want. The story. It’s all about the story.” He spat the words at her.

  “It’s more.”

  “So why go to the ranch? Why harass my mother? My brother? What are you hoping to find? What are you trying to dig up?”

  “I didn’t harass anybody,” she said. “I had dinner with your mother. I had a walk with your brother. I wanted to get to know them. To get to know you.”

  “That’s a crock of shit and you know it, Webber. You want to get to know me, talk to me.”

  She laughed and turned in a circle, her hands slapping her sides. “Talk to you? To Cole Blackwater, mister I don’t want to get into it, I’m too busy brooding. I’m too busy with my own shit, so don’t ask about it? You want me to talk to you? I’ve been talking to you for years and you’re like a closed door in my face.”

  “What are you trying to do? What do you want?”

  “I want to know what is tearing you apart, Cole. I want to know what is eating you from the inside out.”

  “Nothing is eating me,” he said, turning back to the moon.

  “See! This is what I mean. Nothing is eating you? Look at you, Cole! You’re seething. Every goddamned day you are seething. Everybody can see it. Grace sees it. Denman sees it. Sarah sees it. You’re so angry at yourself, and the world, at your father, at everything, you’re the only one who can’t see it. You can hardly look at yourself. But no, nothing is eating you,” she mocked.

  “So I’m an angry guy, so what? It makes me good at what I do.”

  “You’ve been using that line for so long, Cole, I think you must almost believe it. Your anger doesn’t make you good at what you do. It’s an excuse for what you do. Beating the shit out of people. Getting the shit beaten out of you. You’re so angry at yourself that you’re trying to get yourself killed and you don’t even know it.”

  “That’s just wrong, Nancy.”

  “You’re so angry that you’re looking to kill someone, or get yourself killed.”

  Cole turned on her. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” he roared, and she took half a step back. “You just talk and talk and talk but you don’t know a thing about me. Not a goddamned thing.”

  “Then tell me.”

  He took a sharp breath.

  “Tell me what happened to make you so angry.”

  He twisted back toward the rising moon.

  “What happened in the barn?”

  “Nothing. Go back to the house.”

  “What happened to your father in the barn, Cole?”

  “Nancy, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Cole, what happened to your father there?”

  “Nancy, you’re digging a hole you can’t get out of….”

  “Cole, I want the truth from you. What happened?”

  “Why, why do you want the truth? So you can write another story. Win another award?”


  It was Nancy’s turn to look at her feet. She stamped them to warm her toes. “I’m not doing this as a journalist.”

  “Then what, Nancy? What?”

  “As a friend, Cole. I’m doing it as a friend.”

  “It’s a funny way of showing it.”

  “Cole, what happened to your father?”

  “He was a sick man, Nancy. He was sick in the head. He shouldn’t have come back from Europe after World War II. He should have died on Juno Beach. The world would have been a better place for it.”

  “You and Walter would never have been.”

  “The world would have missed Walt, but I don’t know about me.”

  “Sarah. The world would have missed her.”

  “Leave Sarah out of this, Nancy.”

  “What happened to your father in the barn?”

  “He was such a mean bastard, Nancy. He hit my mother. Did she tell you that?”

  “No. But I heard.”

  “Heard? Heard where? Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” Cole shook his head. “Reporters, digging into your life … digging into your life. So you know that he beat me, too.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out some time ago. I just didn’t know how badly.”

  “Badly,” said Cole.

  “I’m sorry —”

  “Save it.”

  “For what?”

  “For someone who cares, Nancy.”

  She took a breath. “You must have hated him.”

  “I hated him more than anything in this world,” Cole said. “I was just a boy, and he took all of that rage, all of that hate, out on me.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know. I’ve talked to the shrinks. When I was at university in Toronto I went to see someone. They told me all that crap. Not my fault. Got to forgive. Move on. But I didn’t want to forgive. I didn’t want to move on.” His fists were clenched, his back still to her. She could hear his voice waver and imagined tears trickling over the scars on his cheeks.

  “Cole, when you came back to Alberta four years ago, after everything fell apart in Ottawa, what happened?”

  “It was like I had never been away. It was like the twenty years had never happened. He didn’t hit me. He was an old man. He knew better. But he didn’t need to. All he needed to say was a few words. He knew how to stick the knife in and turn it.”