Authors: Dana Stabenow
He blinked.
“Hold on, she said, “and I'll get you the contact numbers I have for the rest of them. Her hands stilled when she saw his surprise. She smiled at him, queening it a little in her superior knowledge. “We're in the business of buying fish. Fishermen sell us their fish. If they don't know when the periods are, they won't be fishing, and they won't be selling us fish. When the Fish and Game announce a fishing period in a particular districtsay the Kulukakwe have a list of all the fishermen who deliver to us and who have permits to fish that district. We make sure they are aware of the opener, and the only way we can do that is to keep track of their whereabouts.
She paused, very cool, very smooth, from the sweep of her short, fine brown hair to her big brown eyes. Liam felt like someone should applaud.
“Usually we don't have to bother, she added. “The fishermen want to catch fish as much as we want to buy them, and they are standing by their marine radios, waiting to hear. But sometimes, one or two of them have been out for a night on the town and haven't heard. So I call them all, or I send Benny down to their boat. They know to check in with me now.
Liam just bet they did. “Tell me, Tanya, how long have you been doing this job?
“Three years. I'll only have one more summer here, though. I'm putting myself through the University of Alaska, Fairbanks, and I'm in my senior year.
It might have been Liam's imagination, but it seemed as if she raised her voice, not to any blatant pitch but just a little, just enough to be heard in her boss's office. “I see, he said. “What's your major?
“Business administration.
Liam couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face. “A natural choice.
“I thought so, she said, and referred back to the summary. “All the checkmarked names live on their boats. However, some of the guys on the crews have girlfriends in town, so they won't be every night on their boats.
“Mr. Ballard mentioned that.
“I've put the phone numbers of the skippers who maintain apartments in town next to their names. I don't often have to call them, because there is usually always at least one deckhand on board overnight. You know. Standing watch.
“I understand, Liam said gravely, and refolded the summary and pocketed it. “Have you met a deckhand called Max Bayless?
“I have.
“Do you know which boat he's on this summer?
She thought. “Not on one of ours, not so far as I know. I think I heard he was working for someone out of Togiak.
Liam looked at the map on the wall in back of her. “That's on the coast southwest of Kulukak, right?
She rose to her feet in a smooth, economical movement and pointed first at Newenham, then Kulukak, then Togiak, tracing the coast between them with one slender forefinger, calling off the names one at a time.
Great. Yet another plane trip in his future. For some odd reason, the prospect did not terrify him as much as it once would have. Maybe bailing out in midair had burned out his nerve endings. “You sound like you know pretty much everything there is to know about the fishing fleet, Tanya.
Her steady gaze met his, with the merest lift of an eyebrow to indicate acknowledgment. Not susceptible to flattery, Ms. Tanya Bernard. Liam plowed on. “Do you think you could find out which boat Max Bayless is on this summer, and where that boat is at the moment?
“I think so. She paused. “I could put it out on the schedule in the morning, if you like.
“The schedule?
“We keep a radio schedule with our tenders every morning at ten.
“No. His voice was abrupt and he saw her eyes widen. He moderated his tone. “I would prefer that my looking for him is not broadcast over the air. Is there another way you can find out?
“Several, although it'll take longer.
“That's fine. Thank you. Here's the number of the post.
She inclined her head in the same gracious gesture as before, with all the dignity of the queen of England and none of the pretentiousness.
“Have you met Mr. Bayless?
“A few times.
“Do you know anything about him?
The brown eyes regarded him steadily. “Such as?
“Such as a report of a blowup he might have had with David Malone, after Malone fired him from his job on theMarybethialast summer.
“I remember. He was angry. He made a lot of threats.
“Such as?
She hesitated. “Well, he said he was going to kill David. He also said he was going to blow up his boat.
“Did you hear him say this?
She shook her head. “No. One of the fishermen who was in the harbor was telling me about it when he came in to settle up at the end of the summer. Daniel, Daniel Walker.
He jotted the name down, and the name of Walker's boat, theAndrea W.Notebook folded and restowed, he looked at Tanya, her sleek cap of hair, her steady gaze. An intelligent and composed young woman. “Did you know the Malones?
Her face closed up again. “Yes. David Malone came often to the office, to draw an advance, to get copies of his tickets. And of course he came in every fall to settle up. She swallowed, and said, steadily enough, “Is it true that he is dead? She saw his look. “I knew something was wrong by the expression on your face. I made a couple of calls. Is he dead?
“Yes. Along with his wife, his two children, his brother and both deckhands.
She put a hand over her eyes in an involuntary gesture.
Liam took a chance. “Forgive me, Tanya, but did you know Mr. Malone on a personal basis?
She dropped her hand. “No, she said, with determined composure. “I knew Dave only from the office. Well . . . She hesitated for a moment. “He did sit with me at Bill's once, when I was having dinner there one evening, he and his brother. The curl of her lip told Liam that Tanya shared Ballard's opinion of Jonathan Malone.
“You liked him.
She met his eyes without flinching. “Yes.
“If he hadn't been married . . . ?
She took a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly. “Does your investigation require that I answer that question?
“No, Liam said, conscious of a feeling of shame. “No, Tanya, it doesn't. I'm sorry. He got up to leave.
Her voice stopped him at the door. “If he hadn't already been married when I met him, Mr. Campbell, he would have been shortly thereafter. But he was.
“Did he feel that way, too?
Again she hesitated. “I think so, yes. Her smile was bleak. “I made sure we never had the opportunity to speak in private.
He nodded. “You were both better people than I was, he said, and went out the door before he had to face the surprise he knew would show on her face.
TWELVE
Wy had dogged Prince from the dig all the way into Newenham, unloaded McLynn and accepted a last-minute charter to Three Lake Lodge for two corn growers from Iowa. They were both blond and blue-eyed, short and stocky and pink-cheeked with excitement. They'd never been to Alaska before, they'd never fished for salmon and, as it turned out, they'd never flown in a small plane, either, as was made manifest when one of them had to throw up into his brand-new hip waders while they were going through Jackknife Pass.
The good news was that he did use the waders, without spattering so much as a drop on the brand-new carpet she'd just installed in the 180, and that they paid in advance in cash. She arranged to pick them up a week later and made the trip home a short one. It had been a long, long day, and she was weary to the bone.
“Tim? she said, as she walked in the door of the white clapboard house on the bluff of the Nushagak River. “You home?
“I'm in here.
The kitchen. It figured. Tim spent half his life with his head in the refrigerator.
“What's for dinner? She closed the door.
“I have to cook again? he whined, but she heard the smile in his voice.
“It's your turn, I told you that this morning, she said, and then halted in surprise in the kitchen doorway. “Jo!
The short, stocky woman with the blond, frizzy hair came around the counter and enveloped Wy in a warm, solid hug. “Hey, girl.
Wy returned the hug with as much energy and enthusiasm as she was capable of on this day, and Jo pulled back. “You're a wreck.
“Gee, thanks, you look great, too.
“I can go away, if you need me to.
Wy made a rude noise. “Like hell. If I can't be mean to you, who can I be mean to?
Jo's green eyes were shrewd. “Liam?
Wy looked at Tim, leaning against the kitchen counter, dipping a plain hot dog into a jar of mustard. He was slight and dark, with flat cheekbones and compact frame. His dark eyes were wary and suspicious, and much older than the rest of him. No child of twelve should look out on the world with such distrust.
Tim saw her looking and thought it was at the hot dog. “Just a snack, he said, and with one bite made the rest of it disappear.
“Uh-huh, Wy said. “Is that what we're having for dinner again? He drew himself up, offended. “No. We're having something different, like you said you wanted. He stepped back, revealing the culinary riches behind him on the counter. “We're having polish sausage and sauerkraut, he said proudly. He held up an empty package of Alaska Sausage's finest, and pointed at a quart jar of Claussen's Crisp Sauerkraut, also empty.
Wy, who after a year's steady indoctrination knew enough to be grateful that Tim allowed himself to be part of the kitchen crew rotation, said, “Looks good. Do I get anything green along with that?
He looked doubtful. “Well, he offered, “the sauerkraut used to be cabbage, and cabbage is green. He brightened. “I got ice cream for dessert, though.
“What kind?
His smile was sly. “Häagen-Dazs. Vanilla.
Wy sighed. “I am so easy.
Jo laughed, and tugged Wy out of the room. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up while Chef Paul here does his thing.
In her bedroom, Wy stripped off her clothes as Jo lounged on the bed. “Still sleeping alone, I see.
Wy stopped, half in and half out of her jeans. “How can you tell?
Jo made a face. “I'm a reporter. I notice the details. Like a fullsize bed in the room of a woman hankering after a king-size-bed guy.
Liam was six-three. Wy tossed her jeans in the hamper and grabbed for the Sea Wolves T-shirt she used for a robe. “I'll be right back.
She used up all the hot water and then some. When she came back into her bedroom Jo had picked up the little embroidered box on Wy's dresser, identical to the one Jo had on hers, both of which had been acquired on the isle of Crete during the European vacation that had been the reward of both sets of parents following a successful graduation from college. “Remember the store where we got these, how the guy behind the counter tried to pick us up?
“Remember how we let him? Wy said dryly, stepping into clean underwear.
“Ah yes, the Labyrinth by moonlight, Jo said dreamily. “One of my favorite memories.
“All you saw was stars, girl, Wy retorted, “which is generally what you do see from lying on your back outside at night.
“Slander, calumny and defamation of character, Jo said peacefully. “I'll sue. What's this?
Wy pushed her head through the neck of her T-shirt and peered over Jo's shoulder. “That? It's my high school class ring. Mr. Strohmeyer told me not to buy one, that I'd probably never wear it again. He was right, as usual.
“Don't you just hate that? What's this?
Wy looked, and her hands stilled on the zipper of her jeans. “A pair of earrings, what do they look like?
“They are beautiful. I don't generally like gold nuggets, but these are really nice. Jo held one of the flat, heavy loops up to her ear, admiring the effect in the mirror. “Where'd you get them?
“A friend, Wy said. She was sure there was no inflection in her voice to give warning, but she felt Jo's eyes boring into the back of her head. Being friends with a reporter could be a pain in the ass. “What are you doing in town, Jo?
“Liam gave them to you.
A real pain in the ass. “Yes.
Jo put the earring back in the box and the box back on the dresser. She regarded it for a moment, and then turned to look at Wy. Jo had newspaper eyes, a steady, unwinking, patient stare that watched and weighed and waited, waited for the answers to her questions, waited for the truth. You could dodge, evade, equivocate, you could even lie, but those newspaper eyes would wait you out every time.
Joan Dunaway was a reporter for theNews,and had been one since she and Wy had returned from Europe the year they graduated from the University of Alaska, Fairbanks, Wy with a degree in education and Jo with a degree in journalism. She'd built up a reputation over the years for ferreting out bad behavior on a legislative and bureaucratic level and writing pull-no-punches stories about it. One of the more delightful stories Wy remembered had exposed the invariable habit of the commissioner of the Department of Corrections in hiring longtime friends for jobs tailored to suit their special talents. One of them had been a grocer, Wy recalled. At least the Department of Corrections had made some terrific deals on fresh produce for the four and a half months of the grocer's tenure of office.
Jo's juciest story to date had concerned the then sitting governor who had vacationed, all expenses paid, in Baja, Bali and Biarritz courtesy of one of the North Slope's major oil producers. The executive responsible had made the grievous error of not recognizing Jo in the bar of the Baranof Hotel. He had compounded this error by picking her up, seducing her and afterward indulging in pillow talk that drew connections between the vacations and a revision of the state's subsurface mineral rights law being debated before the legislature the following day. This not unnaturally wound up on the front page of theNews.He was a very attractive slimeball, she explained later to Wy, with very blue eyes and an ass as firm and round as a Delicious apple. “I swear to god, I wanted to bite it, she declared, and she was regretful when he and his ass were indicted and later convicted, fined and imprisoned for bribery of a public official. The governor narrowly escaped prison only by payment of a $330,000 fine, but when the legislature changed hands two years later, they vacated the judgment and repaid the fine to him, with interest. “Ah, Alaska, Jo had said fondly when she heard. “Gays can't marry and you have to speak English, but you can legally smoke pot and embezzlers never go hungry. Gotta love it.