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“Erland?” It was Max’s turn to think. “I don’t know. I never heard so, but I never heard different, either.”
“He could be riding on his father’s reputation.”
“It would be enough for a while,” Max said, “but not forever. Sooner or later, he’d have to make his own bones.” He drained his glass. “You said Victoria was fighting with him and her father back then, in public, something to do with the family business.”
“They were laying off union employees and replacing them with contract hires. Victoria thought that sucked and said so, right out in front of God and everybody.”
“Reason enough to get you killed, in Jasper’s book,” Max said.
“But his own grandson?”
Max looked exasperated. “Are you deaf, girl? Have you been listening at all to what I been telling you?” He fixed Kate with a stern look. “Two things. One, Victoria could have threatened to expose whatever shenanigans was going on over to the family firm, and her house could have been burned down as a warning, and the boy’s death would’ve been collateral damage. After all, Victoria and Charlotte were gone, the arsonist could have thought the house was empty.”
Kate nodded.
“Two, the arson could have been either an attempt on or a warning to Eugene, not Victoria. He might have been gone, but his kids were still living there, weren’t they?”
Kate’s mouth opened and closed once or twice. Max regarded her, not without satisfaction. “Didn’t think of that, did you now, missie?”
Kate rubbed her forehead. “Fuck,” she said, and saw Max wince. Like he said, he came from another time, when women didn’t use those words. “Sorry, Max,” she said, and then she swore again. “Sorry, Max, I almost forgot,” she said, pulling out the photograph of the young woman she’d found in Eugene Muravieff’s cabin. “Do you know who this is?”
Max picked up the photo and smacked his lips. “Oh my yes,” he said, “I surely do. There wasn’t a red-blooded all-American boy in Anchorage at that time who didn’t. Talk about a honey pot. Mmmm, mmmm.”
“Does the honey pot have a name?” Kate said.
“Sure,” Max said. “Wanda Gajewski.”
“Wanda Gajewski,” Kate said. She took the picture back and looked at it. “Wanda Gajewski, Ernie Gajewski’s sister?”
“That’s the one. She went to high school with Victoria’s kids. Was a classmate of William’s, I think.”
“Okay,” Kate said, “what we have here in policespeak is a clue. Ernie Gajewski is the guy who bought Eugene Muravieff’s set-net permit.”
“Really,” Max said. “That’s interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because Ernie Gajewski drowned off Augustine Island when he was just a boy, swimming from the shore to his dad’s seiner.”
Kate stared at him. After a moment, she said, “And this case just keeps on getting more and more fun. Why would Eugene have a picture of Wanda, his oldest son’s teenage classmate?”
Max drained his martini with the air of a man who knew that was all he was going to get, and gri
Kate called Brendan and in five minutes had an address to go with Wanda’s name. “She’s got a phone number,” Brendan told her, “but it’s unlisted.” He gave her that, too. “Anything you want to tell me, Kate?”
“I’m wading through a pit of snakes and they all bite.”
“Okay, not loving the visual,” Brendan said.
“Not loving the reality, either,” Kate said, and hung up.
Wanda’s house was in Windermere, the split-level four-bedroom, two-bathroom floor plan so dear to the hearts of developers during the sixties and seventies. Kate pulled into the driveway and knocked on the door. No answer.
She went next door, same floor plan, different paint job. No answer. Same thing with the house on the other side. It was a sad day when the women had to go to work outside the home and not be there when Kate needed answers to questions.
She went across the street to a third house, this one with the biggest Wi
It was only August, but Dayglo Diane wasn’t really wanting an answer. “Come in, come in,” she said, sweeping Kate irresistibly inside, “you, too, little doggy,” and she patted Mutt on the head. Mutt didn’t quite know how to take that and looked at Kate with a quizzical eye.
“I saw you knocking at Wanda’s house. Are you looking for her? She’s probably at work you know. Would you like some iced tea? I always think there’s nothing like iced tea on a hot day, with lashings of lemon and of course simply packed with ice, don’t you?”
Kate found herself ensconced on a wide couch in front of an entertainment center bristling with electronics. There were four remotes on the coffee table. Where was Bobby Clark when she needed him? Mutt was sitting next to her, one ear cocked toward the kitchen, as if to say, She’s still in there. There’s still time to get out of here.
But then their hostess bustled in, carrying a large and extremely well-laden tray and set it down on the coffee table. “Sugar? No? Not even phony sugar? Imagine that. Here’s a nice biscuit for you, doggy.” Mutt took the treat gingerly in her teeth, lips drawn back as far as they would go so as not to be contaminated. A snack for Mutt meant something with fur or feathers, something usually going in the opposite direction as fast as possible, something requiring pursuit. Except for Bernie’s beef jerky, Mutt didn’t hold with processed pasteurized anything, especially if it contained the hair and bones and hooves of any animal she had not caught and killed herself. She probably wanted Kate’s case solved even more than Kate did, because when it was solved, they could both head back to the Park, where nobody yelled at you for chasing the geese or harassing the moose. She held the biscuit in her teeth, looking pained, until Kate took pity and told her hostess, who had yet to introduce herself by her full name, that Mutt was allergic to dog biscuits.
“Oh my, how simply dreadful, I’ve never heard of such a thing, well, what can I get her, let me just-”
“She’s fine,” Kate said, staying her hostess with one hand on her arm. “I-”
“-get you some cookies, I just got back from driving the Alcan up from Grand Junction, that’s in Colorado you know, and whenever I come through Canada I lay in supplies, you know you can’t get Dare cookies in this country and they are just the absolute best cookies there are, try one of these Maple Leafs, you’re just going to love them-”
“-was wondering-”
“-and then of course I have to lay in a supply of two-two-two’s-you know those marvelous aspirin they have there that that silly old FDA won’t let us have in this country, the Canadians are so much saner about drugs than we are, I’ve thought about immigrating, really I have, did you know that the Yukon is actively soliciting immigrants, I’ve half a mind to fill out an application, the reason I know about this I came back by way of Dawson City and there were advertisements in all the papers asking for qualified people to become Canadians, and I’m sure I’d qualify, after all Mr. Hockness left me quite well off, dear man, and of course I came home by way of the Top of the World Highway, have you ever driven that road my dear, well you ought to. There is nothing between you and the sky-”
“-if you know-”
“-and though you wouldn’t think to look at it my Wi