Absence of Grace

by Ann Warner

  She stood to find she was weaving with weariness. He helped her with her jacket, then walked her back to the lodge on the quiet streets. At the back door, he turned and placed his hands on her arms. When she met his eyes, his expression made her knees go weak. “I’ll be busy tomorrow morning, but I’ll see you in the afternoon.”

  He didn’t kiss her again. She was sorry about that, but also relieved.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  In the morning, before leaving for the marina, Gerrum called Anders Tolliff. The policeman came ambling along the wharf in plain view of everyone getting ready to head out for the day.

  “This about you apologizing for running out of gas and causing a hell of an uproar?” he asked, coming aboard the Joyful where Gerrum and Terry were having coffee.

  Gerrum poured a cup for Anders. “Didn’t run out of gas. Need to show you a couple of things.”

  Anders set the cup down with a sigh. “Nobody ever invites me just for coffee.”

  Gerrum led Anders below and showed him the cut wire, then back topside to see the inoperative mike.

  Anders sat down and picked up his coffee. “You got any ideas?”

  “Got an idea. Nothing I can prove. Yet.”

  Anders stared at him a moment, then nodded. “Best you let us deal with it. I’ll have a deputy stop by, see if he can pick up any prints.”

  “Doubt you’ll find much, what with the mucking about I did trying to figure things out.”

  “Always worth a shot. I’ll send someone over right away.”

  Anders left and a half hour later his deputy came, dusted, and departed. John arrived, and while he and Terry cleaned up the mess left by the dusting powder, Gerrum repaired the alternator.

  “It ain’t going to be easy, nailing Elmer on this, you think?” Terry said.

  “Expect not.”

  “All this fingerprinting. Won’t do no good if he wore gloves. Besides, they probably don’t have any of Elmer’s prints to check against.”

  “When you’re at the bar these next couple of nights, stand old Elmer a drink and collect the can.”

  “Hey. I saw that in a movie once. That works, huh?”

  “Can’t hurt to try.”

  Gerrum left to put in motion his part of the plan to nudge Elmer into the open. His first stop was Maude’s Café, because if there was one thing a person in Wrangell could count on, it was Maude’s love of gossip and her talent and dedication to spreading it around. His plan still had a chance only if John were correct—that no one ever lost betting on Cantrell’s stupidity.

  Gerrum was counting on it.

  Clen snapped awake with tears on her cheeks and lay still trying to remember why she’d been crying. But the dream slipped away, leaving a wetness on her face and a tightness in her chest. Then she remembered. Gerrum had been found. He was safe.

  She climbed out of bed and went to the window to find the Joyful’s mast was right where it belonged.

  After breakfast, to pass the time until she would see Gerrum, Clen grabbed her sketchbook and headed into the morning with Kody. She decided to walk to the petroglyph beach where black boulders etched with ancient graffiti lay. With the sun dodging in and out of clouds, the play of light and shadow would keep her hands and mind occupied for a time. Besides, the carvings were Alaskan and drawings of them might please Hailey and the odd tourist or two.

  When they reached the beach, Kody found a sunny spot and flopped down while Clen went in search of a carving. She located one and sat drawing it. After a time, her pencil lifted off the paper and she sat staring at the water lapping among the rocks—sliding and rippling, now a dark tea color, now the shine of liquid gold. She thought about seeing Gerrum later and felt something she hadn’t felt since those heady days at Marymead when a call on the intercom meant Saint was downstairs waiting for her. She shook her head, irritated with herself. It was well past time for her to stop dwelling on the past.

  Something, incidentally, with which Sister Mary John at Resurrection concurred. “Sometimes, Clen, it’s best to let go. Not try to remember. Unless...”

  Ah yes. Always the other shoe dropping in her conversations with Mary John. That time the “unless” had been, “unless the past is distorting the present.”

  But the past always distorted the present. It had, after all, led to the present. Clen sighed. With a sudden rumble, her stomach reminded her of the meals she’d missed while Gerrum was lost. She collected Kody and walked back as far as Maude’s Café. Usually she avoided Maude, who was a snoop and a gossip, but today, hunger overruled reticence.

  When her hamburger came, she set aside a bite for Kody, who was waiting by the front door, then ate the rest quickly, before Maude could come at her with a coffee refill and prying remarks. At the moment, Maude was busy, talking to a man sitting at the counter. Clen glanced over to see Maude give the man an arch look.

  “It ain’t no surprise, you ask me. Terry and Gerrum just ain’t the same kind. Word is Terry ain’t a bit happy about the changes Gerrum’s proposing. Didn’t expect he’d resort to sabotage, though. But then, I’m no psychic.”

  Astonished, Clen stared at Maude. Well, the woman had part of the story right. As for the rest, was Maude flapping her mouth as usual, or did she really believe Terry and Gerrum were having problems?

  The man said something Clen couldn’t make out, but she had no difficulty hearing Maude’s response. “Sat right there and told me hisself, he did.”

  Clen strained to make out the man’s response but all she heard was the deep rumble of his voice.

  Maude bristled. “Well, course he didn’t come right out and say it. He’s Native, ain’t he? Said the person what done it should have knowed better. Clear as the nose on your face who he’s talking about.”

  Funny. Maude seemed to be implying her information came directly from Gerrum. But why would he lead her to think he and Terry were having problems?

  Clen left money on the table, picked up Kody’s treat, and walked thoughtfully back to the lodge.

  By afternoon, snippets of gossip about Gerrum and Terry being close to a break-up floated around Wrangell like drifts of fog. An hour before diners were due to begin showing up, the screen door squeaked open and Gerrum came into the lodge’s kitchen. Clen barely had enough presence of mind to turn off the burner before throwing her arms around him. He pulled away first, his eyes filled with merriment.

  “Well now, if that’s the greeting I can expect, guess I’ll have to stop by more often.”

  “Do you think you will?”

  He nuzzled her neck. “Will what?”

  It tickled and she chuckled. “Stop by.”

  “Oh indeed, I shall.”

  He kissed her again then stepped back taking her hands in his. “I’m going to be tied up tonight, and I have a trip tomorrow. But tomorrow evening is for us. I’ll come by after dinner, if that’s okay?”

  “That’s a marvelous plan.”

  He cupped her face. “I’ll see you then.”

  He left, and she looked after him, feeling surprise at the way she’d stepped into his arms—as if it was where she belonged.

  When Clen opened the back door after dinner, Kody lifted his head to quiz her with a soft whine. She patted him and told him to stay. He licked her hand then put his head back down.

  The sun was low in the sky and hidden by clouds, but a narrow band of clear tangerine lined the horizon. The calm waters of the harbor gathered that illumination and reflected it back. She stood for a time breathing slowly and deeply, focusing on the soft sound of boats rubbing against fenders, water lapping against pilings, and the random slap of a fish. Then she began walking toward the marina and its forest of masts and antennas, unmoving against the darkening vault of the sky.

  She walked up to the Joyful, reached out, and stroked a finger along the railing. Gerrum stepped out of the shadows.

  She jerked her hand off the rail and pressed it to her heart. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I just...” Her
hand made a vague movement.

  “I’m waiting for Elmer to show up.”

  “You think he’s the saboteur?”

  “I do.”

  “You’re waiting on your own?”

  “Terry’s at the bar, grousing about me asking him to stay on board tonight, saying he’s not going to do it. We’re hoping Elmer will see it as a golden opportunity. If he does head this way, Terry and John will be right behind him.”

  “Do you think it’ll work?”

  “John said nobody ever lost betting on Elmer’s stupidity. I hope he’s right because I’d like to get this settled.”

  “I better go, then.”

  He stretched out a hand and stroked her cheek. “Tomorrow night. That’s ours, no matter what happens tonight with Elmer.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.” Then she turned and walked away, while she still could.

  Gerrum awoke and stretched. Sleeping on the Joyful always left him feeling stiff in the morning, which was one reason he was glad to leave most of the overnight trips to Terry.

  The tin can alarm he’d strung when he finally decided to lie down was undisturbed. It meant the attempt to lure Elmer into action had been unsuccessful. Yawning, he stepped onto the dock and looked around. It was quiet. No people and no boats getting underway, although hardly a surprise, given the early hour. Judging it unlikely Elmer would bother the boat in broad daylight, Gerrum headed home for a shower and breakfast. When he returned to the marina, he met Elmer coming toward him along the dock. If they’d been on a Wrangell street, Elmer would have no doubt made his usual big show of crossing to the other side, but that was problematic on the narrow dock.

  Gerrum moved to the middle to make it even more difficult for the other man. Cantrell’s stride hitched, but then he continued toward Gerrum, his mouth working. Gerrum didn’t realize what Elmer was planning until a glob of spit hit his boot. He stopped and looked from it to the other man.

  Elmer, who’d also stopped, glared at him. “And there’s more where that come from.”

  Gerrum gave it a beat, then nodded pleasantly. “Yeah. I figured that out awhile ago. You’re just full of shit.”

  Elmer looked startled, then his expression settled into contempt.

  “I also hear you’re good with engines.”

  “Sure am. Everybody knows it.” Elmer’s tone managed to be both disdainful and proud at the same time.

  “Seems my engine had some recent attention from an expert.”

  Elmer’s face went through a series of expressions that were interesting to watch. He’d be a real gift to anyone playing poker with him. Gerrum waited until finally the other man’s expression settled into a smirk.

  “I say what happened was a goddam pansy Tlingit lawyer don’t know enough not to get hisself stranded.”

  Gerrum noticed, although Elmer hadn’t, that two heads had popped up on nearby boats, and wasn’t it nice the way sound carried so clearly over water?

  “I doubt most folks are thinking that,” Gerrum said, raising his voice slightly so the listeners didn’t need to strain. “But they might be thinking about the fact you don’t like me, and some of them heard you say you’d like to teach me a lesson. Add in someone messing with my boat, and it doesn’t take a law degree to put it together and come up with some pretty strong conclusions.”

  Elmer reared back slightly, as if Gerrum had delivered a light punch. “You can’t go round saying shit like that with no evidence.”

  “Sure I can.”

  “’Sides, everybody thinks Terry done it.”

  Gerrum smiled and shook his head. “Now why would Terry do that, given his livelihood is tied up with mine?”

  “He don’t like you no more. Told me hisself last night.”

  “Naw. Terry was messing with you in order to get hold of something with your fingerprints on it. You know the police dusted my boat yesterday. Turns out they found some nice clear prints right where it counted most, and that beer can Terry picked up last night will give them something to compare to.”

  The fingerprints had all been smudged, but from the look on Elmer’s face, Gerrum saw he’d scored.

  It didn’t hold Cantrell down for long, though. “Hell, nobody’s going to believe a damn half-breed over me.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that.” The speaker was Rog Remington, who’d been taking it all in from his boat. Elmer spun around as Rog stepped onto the dock. A second man joined him and the two sauntered up to Gerrum and Elmer. “Mighty interesting conversation you two are having,” Rog said.

  Elmer’s face turned red. “Ain’t none of your affair.”

  “Sure it is. Didn’t I just spend two days looking for Gerrum here? Seems to me I got gas money and about twenty hours of boat time tied into this here conversation.”

  “Me too,” the other man pitched in.

  “Let’s just make sure I got this straight,” Rog continued. “You have reason to believe Elmer here might be responsible for the sabotage?”

  Gerrum nodded, beginning to enjoy himself. “Got to tell you, it was a slick piece of work. At first I didn’t think Elmer had the smarts for it, but I hear he’s good with engines, and he just confirmed it.”

  “Didn’t confirm nothing.”

  Gerrum shrugged. “If it looks like a slug and leaves a slimy trail everywhere it goes, chances are good it’s a slug.”

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Cantrell’s expression was close to a snarl.

  “You want to confirm for us you ain’t involved, Elmer?” Rog’s voice was quiet, but menacing.

  “Damn right, I didn’t cut no alternator cable. Gerrum here can take his suspicions and shove them up his ass.”

  “That’s funny,” Gerrum said.

  “What?” Elmer’s face was nearly purple.

  “About you knowing the alternator cable was cut. Did you know that, Rog? Mike?”

  Both men shook their heads.

  “Is that what happened?” Rog asked.

  “That’s exactly what happened. Seems to me the only way Elmer here would know it would be if he did the cutting.”

  “Now, listen here. T’weren’t nothing but a good guess. That’s how I’d do it, if I was planning something with that kind of engine. Don’t mean I done it.” As he spoke, Elmer tried to sidle away from Rog and Mike.

  Gerrum saw Rog exchange a look with Mike and nod, then the two linked hands under Cantrell’s ass and heaved him off the dock. Elmer surfaced spluttering and cursing, then swam to the edge of the dock and began to haul himself out of the water. The two fishermen stood watching, with arms folded. Elmer finally made it onto the dock where he collapsed into a shivering puddle.

  Rog nudged at him with the toe of his boot. “Before you head off to get out of them wet clothes, Mike and I just want to get a couple of things real clear. One, we’ll be sharing the gist of what happened here with every fisherman in the harbor. Expect any of us ever see you within fifty feet of either of Gerrum’s boats, you’ll get another chance to snort up sea water.”

  He paused. Elmer was shivering violently, but he didn’t attempt to stand.

  “Second, I want to hear you made a real nice contribution to the rescue fund. What do you think, Mike? Couple thousand sound about right to you?”

  “Yep. That’s the number I was thinking.” Mike nodded, looking thoughtful.

  “Okay. Anything else? Gerrum, you got any conditions for our boy here before he gets him some dry clothes?”

  “I think you’ve got it covered.” Anything he pushed would just make Elmer more resentful.

  Rog reached down, grabbed Cantrell by the arm, and lifted him to his feet. “It occurs to me there’s one other thing. I’d sure like to hear an apology both to those of us did the searching as well as to Gerrum here. Sure hope that don’t require another dip in the drink.”

  “No. Don’t got no call to do that. I’m sorry. Real sorry.”

  No question, Elmer was telling the truth. He was sorry. But his sor
ry was all about being caught and punished.

  “You get going then, before you shake the damn dock to pieces. Mighty careless of you, falling in that way.” Rog gave Elmer a little push and Cantrell scurried up the dock without looking back.

  “Almost worth that twenty hours,” Rog said thoughtfully, watching Elmer go. Then he chuckled. “Can’t remember the last time something felt that good.”