Nothing gold can stay (15 page)

“Why peanut oil?

“You can get it hotter at higher temperatures without burning. Liam fries everything. If he could figure out a way to do it, hed fry peanut butter.

The two women laughed. Jim, putting on a puzzled expression, said, “And your point is?

At eight oclock the phone rang. “Hey, flygirl, you crash any planes lately?

Wy grinned, a wide grin of pure pleasure. “Hey, Jo. Driven any politicians to suicide lately?

“Give me time. Labor Days coming up.

“You are one hell of a reporter, Ill say that for you, Wy said, one eye on the sauce.

“Smart-ass. I was thinking about coming down.

“Oh yeah? Wy said. “Were you thinking you might have a place to stay?

“Smart-ass, Jo repeated. She hesitated.

It wasnt like Jo to hesitate. Wy turned the heat under the sauce down and took the portable phone around the corner and into the hallway. “Whats wrong, Jo?

“Nothings wrong, Jo said irritably.

Wy frowned at the wall. “You sound funny.

Jo huffed out an aggravated breath. “Theres someone I want you to meet.

Wy blinked. “Someone you want me to meet.

“Thats what I said.

Now that she was listening for it, Wy could hear the self-consciousness and maybe even a little embarrassment in Jos voice. Tongue in cheek, she said, “Would this someone by any chance be, ahshe paused delicately“male?

“Kiss my ass, Jo said, varying a theme.

Wy grinned at the opposite wall, and waited.

“Yeah, all right, its a guy.

“And you want me to meet him.

“Yeah. So?

“Have you taken him home yet, or am I the first test?

“Fuck you, Chouinard.

“I love you, too, Dunaway, Wy purred. “By all means, put this paragon on the first available plane, and get on after him. Voices came from the living room. How nice. Liam could have his ex-college roomie and main squeeze to stay, and she could have hers. One big, very full, deliriously happy house. “Youll have to sleep on the couch.

“Thats where I slept last time, Jo said.

“Yeah, but this time its a full house. Tims up the river with Moses, and Id let you have his room, but theres somebody already in it.

“Who? Liam?

“Nope. One of your favorite people. Jim Wiley.

There was a long silence. Unlike Wy, Jo had actually met Jim Wiley. They both lived in Anchorage, not that big a town, and they were both involved in the information-gathering business, more or less. Her paper occasionally employed his services to track down subjects in cyberspace, something they both preferred to keep quiet. “Oh.

“And friend, added Wy.

“Oh. Jo rallied. “Where from this time, Sri Lanka? Peru? Pago Pago?

“Ireland.

“Figures. Another pause. “So, you need backup.

Wy peered around the corner to see Jim murmuring sweet nothings in Bridgets ear. “It couldnt hurt.

“See you tomorrow. Click.

She walked around the corner and hung up the phone. “Its going to be a full house.

“I thought it already was, Jim said.

“Jos coming down for the Labor Day weekend. She watched with interest as his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. Wy didnt know what had happened between the two of them because Jo refused absolutely to discuss it. Other than inventing new and better invective to describe Mr. Wiley, his progenitors and his character. Well, this certainly promised to be one of the more interesting three-day weekends of the year. She smiled to herself, and added innocently, “You remember my friend Jo Dunaway, dont you?

He reached for his wine and drained it with one gulp. “Sure. Jo Dunaway. Pudgy blonde. Nosy reporter type. Ive had to work with her a couple of times. Definitely not a fun date. He put his arms around Bridget and said brightly, “Now where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?

Wy hid a grin and went back to the sauce. It would be nice for Jim to have another moving target at which to aim over the weekend.

It would be nice for her not to be the only target he was aiming at.

At eight-thirty the roast was ready to come out of the oven, the potatoes were done, the salad was dressed with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Bridget and Jim set the table while Wy stepped the sauce.“
Beurre à montre la sauce,
she said. In answer to Bridgets quizzical look, she added, “My friend Jo and I backpacked across Europe the year we graduated from college. In Paris we took a cooking class. Madame Claudine was delighted when she heard where we were from, and she made up this sauce for us to use on game. Its dead easy, it just takes forever. You reduce the initial ingredients to a couple of tablespoons, and then use butter to step the sauce.
Beurre à montre la sauce.
She held out the spoon to Bridget first.

“That is simply heavenly, Bridget said.

“Okay, you get to eat, Wy said, and everyone laughed again.

The door opened as they were sitting down and Liam walked in. “Sit, sit, he said. “Jim, what the hell are you doing here?

“Come to make your life a living hell, Jim retorted. “Youve had it too easy way too long. This is Bridget, a friend who is visiting from Ireland.

“Bridget. Liam shook hands with Bridget, and put a hand on Wys shoulder. When she looked up he leaned down to kiss her. It flustered her, this casual demonstration of their relationship, and he knew it and grinned. “Yum, moose roast. No, keep eating, Ill wash up and be with you in five.

When he reappeared, attired in jeans and a T-shirt, he took the seat across from Wy and filled a plate, ladling on the sauce with a lavish hand. “My favorite. My girl, I think Ill keep her.

It was all so domestic that Wy expected the theme for
The Waltons
to begin playing at any moment. She sniffed around the edges of the feeling, decided she could live with it, and joined in the general conversation. Jim was explaining how Bridget and he were both ham radio operators and how theyd met on the air a few months before.

A few months? Wy thought. Youre a fast worker, Jim Wiley. As if he could read her mind, Liam winked at her.

Bridget was a computer programmer for a software manufacturer“We make the buttons work when you click on themand she had some amusing stories about people with new systems calling for help. “The first thing you tell them is, Check to see if its plugged in. Youd be amazed at how offended they get, and how frequently they dont have the machine plugged in.

Liam told them about his week, beginning with the killing of the postmistress in Kagati Lake.

Bridget seemed more interested in how he got to Kagati Lake than in what he found there. “Well, its not exactly the garda, now is it. She caught Wys glance. “The garda are our local police, she explained. “They get around on foot, or in cars.

“Not planes, Liam said.

“Not planes, Bridget agreed.

“I should move to Ireland, Liam said ruefully, and in response to Bridgets raised eyebrow said, “I hate to fly. We had to stop off at Nenevok Creek on the way back to Newenham. You should see the strip into that place. He shuddered, a gesture not wholly feigned.

“Why Nenevok Creek? Wy said, thinking of Rebecca Hanover counting down to Labor Day and liberation.

“Alaska Airlines picked up a Mayday from there and relayed it to us.

Wy put down her fork. “A Mayday from Nenevok Creek? Is that the Hanovers?

“You know them?

“I flew them in in May, and Ive been doing supply runs in there all summer.

Liam considered. “How well did you know them?

Wy raised her shoulders in a slight shrug. “Not personally, it was businesswait a minute. She stared hard at Liam. “Why are we speaking in the past tense?

He grimaced. “Im sorry, Wy. Mark Hanover is dead.

“How?

“One shot, point-blank, from a shotgun.

“Who did it?

“We dont know.

“Wheres Rebecca?

“We dont know that, either.

She was still for a moment. Jim and Bridget sat silent, listening. “Who made the distress call?

“Thats whats weird, Liam said. “We dont know. Alaska Airlines one-three-three intercepted a Mayday from somebody who said they were at Nenevok Creek, that someone had been shot, and that they needed help. They didnt identify themselves, and when we got there, all we found was Hanovers body.

“And no Rebecca, Wy said.

“No. It could be that she saw it happen, that she ran for her life, and that she was too afraid to come out. Well go back in the morning, do a search of the area, see if we cant pick up her trail.

“You think it could be the same guy who shot Opal? Wy said, echoing Princes words.

“The postmistress in Kagati Lake, Liam explained to Jim and Bridget. “She was killed the day before. In answer to Wys question he shook his head. “Its possible, but I dont think so. Thats a long way to travel in a pretty short time. Guyd have to be part mountain goat and part moose.

“He doesnt have to be traveling on foot, Jim said. “Too early for snowmobiles, but maybe a four-wheeler?

Liam shook his head again. “True, but the terrain is up and down a lot of mountains and over and around a lot of creeks and rivers between Kagati and Nenevok. Itd probably take him just as long to walk as ride. Plus, a different weapon was used the second time, too, although theres no law says he has to use the same one twice.

He paused. “Wy, you said you felt sorry for Rebecca Hanover. Why?

Wy made a face. “From what I could see, her husband had the gold bug bad. She was the one who met the plane because he was always hip deep in the creek, washing that dirt. She seemed lonely. Wy thought for a moment and added, “She seemed bored.

“Did she ever seem resentful? Liam suggested. “Angry, maybe?

“No, Wy said. “Like I said. Lonely. She looked tired every time I saw her, too, like she wasnt used to doing without Chugach Electric. She speared her last bite of moose with her fork and smeared up the last of the sauce, cooling now and a little congealed but still delicious.

The fork paused halfway to her mouth. “Wait a minute, she said, a sick feeling beginning in the pit of her stomach. “Nenevok Creek?

Liam looked at her, alert to the sense of strain in her voice. “Yeah. Nenevok Creek, or rather the airstrip about halfway between Nenevok Lake and Nuklunek Bluff. Why?

She put down the fork, rose to her feet and walked over to the wall map, tracing the same route Liam had the day before. She located the creek without difficulty, and estimated the distance between the airstrip at Nenevok Creek and the airstrip on Nuklunek Bluff at a little less than ten air miles. For someone hiking the same distance, say going from the bluff to the creek, he could follow a relatively easy slope down the bluff, wade through about a mile of swamp, the most difficult portion of the route, and then pick up the creek and follow it the rest of the way. The airstrip was right on the creek, and the gold mining camp was a two-minute walk from the airstrip. It wouldnt have been a particularly difficult hike, especially if the hiker was someone who knew the area.

Someone, say, like John Kvichak. Or Teddy Engebretsen.

Wy thought back to the last trip she had made into Nuklunek that afternoon. John Kvichak had waited with the last of the moose meat, and had helped load it into the Cessna with swift efficiency. Wy couldnt remember a time when John hadnt had a smile and a joke ready to share. This afternoon, hed been silent and serious. He had also been in a hurry, so much so that hed dropped his pack when he went to put it into the airplane. The zipper of the flap pocket had been open, and out had spilled a copy of
Riders of the Purple Sage,
a spoon smeared with peanut butter, and a cell phone.

“Wy?

She turned and looked at Liam. “Can a cell phone on the ground raise a jet airplane at twenty thousand feet?

The three people at the table exchanged glances.

“Theyre always after making you turn the things off before they take off, Bridget said.

“Depends on what channel theyre both on, Jim said. “If the communications man on the jet was channel-surfing and the guy on the ground was broadcasting steadily, probably. Itd be mostly a matter of chance, I think.

“There was that guy hunting caribou in Mulchatna, Liam said.

Jim snapped his fingers. “Right, I remember that story.

“Yeah, said Liam, “he ground-looped it and an Alaska Airlines jet going to Gambell picked up his Mayday. It was in the paper.

The sick feeling in the pit of Wys stomach increased.

“Whats bothering you, Wy? Liam said. “You see something when you were out there today? Come on, I can use all the help I can get.

“Oh shit, John Kvichak said when he opened the door.

She was so beautiful, in her own way as beautiful as Elaine, so rounded and so feminine. She was frightened at first, of course, but as soon as she realized she had no choice, she calmed right down.

Women were like that. They were a lot smarter than most men gave them credit for, they knew how to survive. They were the weaker sex, certainly, but that didnt mean they were any less intelligent. She knew the instant she looked into his eyes what survival would entail.

He had nothing but contempt for her husband. The cabin was poorly built, there wasnt enough food to last more than a month, the man hadnt done any hunting to take up the slack when the food ran out. A poor provider.

And she didnt weep when she saw her husbands body. Her eyes were fixed on him. Poor little woman, she needed rescuing. Lucky for her he happened along.

Or was it? Was it instead part of Gods holy plan? She was a gift to him as much as he was to her; could one argue with any conviction that such things were the product of simple fate? No, it could not be so. She was a gift, and he would guard her and treasure her accordingly.

He told her that he was hungry. She cooked for him, noodles with green onions sliced into them at the last moment before serving and a few drops of sesame oil added, a dish new to him but which he liked very much. He said he was thirsty. She made him coffee, good coffee, too, the best he had had in many years.

She fussed a little when it came time to take off her clothes, but that was only due to the natural modesty of women.