Sea to Sky (6 page)

Hunter laughed. “Might take me longer than that, El. I’ll line up a substitute driver for my rig.”

“Who?”

“Don’t worry.”

“Not Sorenson.”

“Why not Sorenson?”

“Why him?”

“He’s the only driver I know hard up enough to drive up here to pick up my keys. I should’ve left a set with you at the yard.”

He heard El sigh. “Yeah. Okay. Why not?”

Kelly sat in one of the two armchairs positioned in front of the gas fireplace in the hotel room, and Mike’s father, John Irwin, was in the other. Mike’s mother, Beth, sat at the end of the bed, watching the two children play. Corenna was turning the pages of a cloth book and pretending to read, while Jordan was coloring cartoon characters, being very careful to keep his crayon within the lines.

Kelly sighed deeply. She wished they could just leave this place, but the police had asked them to stay for a few days. “We may need your help with our investigations,” the Mountie had said. Kelly felt an almost unbearable yearning to be home, but when she pictured the house she had shared with Mike in Pasadena, she realized she had no desire to return to it. Her mind searched its rooms, and every room held derision and criticism from her late husband. She knew she should pretend to care who had killed Mike, especially for the sake of his parents. “I feel like I’m in a bad dream,” she said, staring into the fire.

She felt her father-in-law’s eyes on her, but he didn’t speak. Beth did. “You know you’re like a daughter to us, Kelly,” she said. “You and the children can stay with us until you get your bearings. We’d love to have you, all three of you.”

“Yes,” said John. “It would be a comfort to us, after losing Mike, to have you and the children nearby. Your father was my best friend, and we promised each other we’d watch out for each other’s family if anything happened to one of us.”

Kelly nodded. “I remember Dad saying that,” she said. “I thought he’d be happy to know that I’d married your son…” She didn’t finish the thought aloud, but was aware of a glance that passed between Beth and John. “I’m sure he…,” her voice faltered, and she held her breath, her hand over her mouth, stifling a sob. “I’m sure he was.”

“Corenna and Jordan,” she continued, looking at John, “are a little bit of both of you, you and Dad. I’m sure Dad is happy about that.”

Jordan looked up from his coloring book. “My dad?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Your Grampa Lucas,” she told him. “You never met your Grampa Lucas, but he was my father. He died before you were born. He died before I married your Daddy.”

“Didn’t he like my dad?”

Kelly looked at her father-in-law, who spoke up before she could answer. “Of course he did, Jordan. He knew your dad when he was just a little boy, like you.”

“My dad wasn’t like me,” he said, still coloring carefully, “he told me that. He said I was a sissy boy, and he didn’t like sissy boys.”

“No, Jordan! Your daddy loved you,” said Beth, reaching out to stroke his hair.

Jordan smiled sadly. “I love you, Grandma,” he said, and turned his attention to choosing a new crayon.

Kelly’s heart constricted. She wished she could have shielded Jordan from his father’s hurtful remarks; she loved that little boy more than anyone could know.

“What do you say, Kelly? Will you and the kids stay with us in Seattle, at least for a little while?” John Irwin got up and put his hands on her shoulders. “It would be good for all of us.”

“Yes,” said Kelly. “Yes, of course.” Images of a new life in Seattle flashed through her mind. A warmth started in her belly and spread to her entire body, and it had nothing to do with the fireplace in front of her. It was comfort, comfort mingled with happiness and hope and love, a feeling she hadn’t experienced for years.
I’m happy that Mike is dead
, she said to herself, not daring to look away from the fire.

“Good!” John patted her shoulder, then stepped over to the bed and embraced his wife. “If you and the kids want to stay here, I think I’ll go to Kelly’s room and see if the police are finished there. If they are, I’ll lie down for awhile, if that’s okay,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. When she moved to stand, he said, “You can stay here with Kelly and the kids.”

After he left, Kelly moved to sit beside Beth on the bed. Corenna had tired of her book, and was playing with toys on the floor at their feet.

“Is Grand-da okay?” Kelly used the name that Jordan called his grandfather. “He looks pale.” She’d been wondering about his health since she first saw him at Sea-Tac airport. She was shocked at how thin he looked, almost like a shrunken version of the vigorous military man he’d been just two years before.

Beth shrugged. “He’s seventy-two. Age does that. I don’t have the energy I used to have either.” She squeezed Kelly’s hand. “I could use a nap myself.”

“Do,” said Kelly. She pulled her mother-in-law close and hugged her. “Go nap with Grand-da, if you want. We’ll be fine. I’ll put the kids down here in your room. It’s been a rough day for all of us.”

When Beth stepped back and nodded, tears ran freely down her cheeks, and suddenly Kelly couldn’t hold back tears of her own. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” she said. “I’m so sorry that you’ve lost your son.”

Hunter considered what El had said. If he had to stick around here in Whistler, he might as well do what he could to find out who had killed Mike Irwin, if he could do it without making things worse for himself by antagonizing the investigating officers. He decided that the first person he’d like to contact was the watching woman, if she was still around. It stood to reason that she would be at the same hotel as the Irwin family, so Hunter headed over there as soon as the police concluded there was nothing of interest in his car.

He parked his Pontiac in the underground lot, wincing at the hourly rate as he pulled a ticket from the automatic dispenser, and found his way up a cold stairwell to the hotel lobby. He scanned a hotel directory on the wall that listed events taking place in the hotel conference rooms. He knew that Mike Irwin had been in Whistler to attend a purchasing conference of some sort, and on the board was “The Coast Peaks Hotel welcomes the Purchasing Professionals of America to Whistler”, but there was nothing listed on the directory for Saturday evening. It made sense that the conference attendees would be spending the weekend enjoying the resort and start the business end of things on Monday, so he went to the reception desk to inquire. The clerk informed him that there was a welcome reception planned for Sunday night, but that a section of tables had been reserved tonight in the restaurant for those who had arrived early. The reservations were for seven o’clock, she said.

Hunter looked at his watch, and decided to sit in the lobby for the next hour and watch for anyone he knew to be connected to Mike Irwin, preferably the watching woman. He found a leather couch with a view of the entrances from both the elevators and the main doors, and sat down. The warmth of the hotel soon forced him to remove his sheepskin jacket and drape it over the arm of the couch. He’d been there for about ten minutes when he noticed one of the men who had been sitting at Mike’s table in the Chateau Grande Montagne enter the hotel lobby from the direction of the elevators. The man wore a knit shirt with a collar under a heavy green sweater with a V neck. He was clean shaven and his dark hair looked still damp from a shower.

He reached the man at the entrance to the lounge and asked if he could speak to him privately for a few minutes. “I understand you know Mike Irwin,” he began. “My name is Hunter Rayne. You may have noticed me in the Chateau Grande Montagne last night.”

The man nodded. “Yeah. You’re the guy who got him kicked out. He was…” he started to say, then his eyes widened and he took a step back.

Hunter smiled wryly. He imagined it had suddenly occurred to the man that Hunter had killed Mike. “You’ve heard what happened to him, then. And, no, I didn’t kill him, nor did I see him at all after he left the bar last night. I am, however, investigating his death, and would like to know more about him, starting with who he knew at the conference.”

The man searched Hunter’s face, but didn’t respond.

“Where did you know Mike from? Did you work together?”

“I already talked to the police. Who are you?”

“I‘m a retired RCMP homicide investigator. From time to time, I help the RCMP with their investigations,” said Hunter, hoping that would be enough. “How is it that officers Pike and Blackwell knew to contact you?”

The man hesitated.

“I’m not a reporter, if that’s what’s worrying you,” said Hunter. “Anything you say is just between you and me, and you can feel free not to answer any question that seems out of line.” Hunter had been told often enough that he still looked and talked like a cop. He hoped that would carry some weight. “I don’t have a badge to show you, because I’m no longer officially a detective. I can, however, give you the names and numbers of my RCMP colleagues.”

The man chewed on his upper lip, then said, “Mike’s phone. They found my number in Mike’s phone. He called me last night to arrange to meet.”

“And you are …?” Hunter held out his hand.

The man returned his handshake. “Todd Milton,” he said, glancing toward the bar. “I’ve known Mike for years.”

“You look thirsty,” said Hunter. “How about if I buy you a drink?”

“I … uh.” The man hesitated, then said, “Okay.”

They settled on two polished oak stools at the bar and the man ordered a Stella Artois while Hunter ordered a draft beer. Todd told Hunter that he and Mike had first worked together at the same company almost fifteen years ago, along with the other man who’d been at their table Friday night, and that the three of them kept in touch doing business together, booked a game of golf once in a while, and met up at conferences like this one. The bartender placed a black square of folded napkin in front of each of them, followed by a sleeve of amber ale for Hunter and a Stella for Todd.

“What was Mike Irwin’s current position,” asked Hunter. “Who did he work for, or was he his own boss?”

“He was the purchasing manager — sorry, the supply chain manager — at a company called Blue Hills Industries in Sylmar.”

“Blue Hills? What kind of a business would that be?”

“They manufacture specialty aluminum products, including aerospace components, and have some DND and aerospace contracts.”

Hunter raised his eyebrows. “Military?”

Todd shrugged. “Military, yes. If you’re thinking top secret, not necessarily. Not likely any cloak and dagger stuff, like international espionage. Although there
is
a lot of money involved in that kind of contract, so secrecy is a big thing in businesses like that. Big business is cutthroat, you know?”

“Are you in the same industry?”

He shrugged. “I know what I’m talking about, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Was Mike doing well there?”

“As far as I know. He certainly seemed to be doing well.” He lifted the Stella to his lips, then paused and added, “He bought a boat last year. A thirty two foot cruiser, probably set him back a good hundred grand. He said his goal was to move to Newport Beach.”

“Does that kind of money make sense for the job he’s in?”

“Could be. There’s always bonuses for meeting deadlines, coming in under budget, that kind of thing. Some of those contracts are probably worth tens of millions.”

“Can you think of any reason why someone would want Mike Irwin dead?”

Todd took several gulps from his beer before he replied. “Mike could be a real asshole, especially when he was drinking. That was his ex-wife you were with, wasn’t it? I know they had a bad split so I’ll bet she was happy to see him gone.”

“Anybody else?”

“You saw Brent Carruthers at that other bar last night?”

Hunter shook his head, placing his glass back in the center of the napkin, on the wet circle of condensation. “Who is Brent Carruthers?”

“You must have missed it. Brent used to work at the same company as Mike, down in Riverside. Phoenix Fabrication, about five years ago. I think Mike was always jealous of Brent, ‘cause he was younger, good looking and smart, managed to get promoted real fast.” He took another swallow of beer. “Anyway, Brent started banging the boss’s daughter on the sly — she worked in the accounts payable department during the summers and had to have been ten years younger than Brent. Heck! She was just a college sophomore. So Mike reported it to the boss and Brent got canned.”

“Did Brent know it was Mike?”

“Mike boasted about it. You know, to some other guys in the field. It’s a small world in business, sometimes, and I have no doubt it got back to Brent.” He waved at the bartender. “Hey, can we get some nuts or pretzels or something?”

Hunter took a sip of his beer, but Todd didn’t continue so he said, “You said Brent was in the bar at the Grande Montagne last night. What happened?”

“Like I said to the police yesterday, he was with a young woman — a very attractive young woman. Mike said it was another boss’s daughter, at wherever Brent is working now. Right in L.A., I think. Mike didn’t threaten him outright, but he pretty much implied that he was going to rat on him to his boss again.”