Borrowing Death (19 page)

C
harlotte threw herself back, hoping to surprise her assailant and break loose. She landed on top of him. He grunted, but didn't release her. She twisted in his arms, or tried to. He was strong and held fast.

“Charlotte, it's me,” James said in a fierce whisper. “Stop thrashing about.”

Breathing hard through her nose, she stilled. James?

Slowly, he released her, removing his hand from her mouth. She started to turn over. He grabbed her shoulders, stopping her. “Be still and quiet,” he whispered again. “He might be coming out.”

Charlotte froze. Sure enough, the door no more than ten feet from them squealed open. It shut hard. Keys rattled.

Would Otto turn this way to head home?

Boots crunched on frozen mud and snow, heading in the opposite direction. A motor wheezed, then roared to life. Not a car, by the sound of the engine. A motorcycle? In this weather? The roar faded away as Otto returned to town.

Charlotte sat up, kneeling in the snow, and turned toward James. She could barely make out his face in the shadows, and despite the fact they were likely alone, she kept her voice to a whisper. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He lifted his upper body and rested on his elbows. Responding in the same low tones, he said, “You're lucky it was me who saw you and not Kenner. That blond hair of yours shined like a beacon when you took off your hat. What are you doing here, skulking about?”

“What are
you
doing here, skulking about?”

She could imagine the glare he was giving her. “I'm supposed to be here, considering it's my duty to investigate. Been watching Kenner the past two nights. You, Miss Brody, have no excuse.”

Charlotte snatched her hat off the snowy ground and got to her feet. She reached out to help him up. “I have an excuse for skulking then, since I'm not supposed to be here.”

He grabbed her forearm. She braced her feet and yanked, fully aware she had little to do with helping him to his feet. He didn't release her, but instead drew her closer. With his face inches from hers, she could now make out the frown he wore. “Yet here you are. I could arrest you for trespassing.”

“I haven't even attempted to get inside.”

“You're still on private property without permission.”

“That's splitting some fine hairs, deputy.” Why was he being like this? Did he think she needed another lesson in consequences?

“Maybe. Maybe I should write in my report that I was making my rounds and thought I saw someone skulking about near Kenner's warehouse.”

Charlotte stared at him in the darkness. Was he trying to set her up? To scare her again for making a rash move in the investigation? “You wouldn't—”

No, he wouldn't, not like that. Having her sit in his jail cell was one thing. He was getting at something here. Charlotte took a chance she was reading him correctly and said, “Maybe you need to check on a possible skulker.”

He rubbed his chin. “Maybe, and if I scared off what I thought might be a thief, I'd need to look inside Otto Kenner's warehouse, to make sure everything was jake.”

“You'd just be doing your duty.” She cocked her head at him. “What happened to not breaking the law to gather evidence? A bit hypocritical, isn't it?”

“I did say that, didn't I?” James picked his hat up from the ground and slapped it against his leg to get rid of some snow, but went no further in his explanation or excuse. He set his hat on his head, hands on hips. Charlotte could practically feel the conflict rolling through him. “Too bad the door's locked.”

“Maybe if the door was ajar, you'd have cause to go inside to double-check.” Charlotte removed her gloves, shoved them in her coat pocket, and pulled a couple of loose pins from her hair. They sure as hell weren't doing much to keep her hair in place after she and James fell to the ground. She started to hand them over, but stopped. “Do you know how to use these?”

“Yep.” He hesitated. “Why? Do
you?
”

She smiled at the suspicion in his voice. “I'd rather not answer that question, deputy.”

“I bet. Play lookout, would you? It would be embarrassing to be caught like this.”

“Not just embarrassing, you'd lose your job,” she said. “We don't want that. Why don't you stay here and keep an eye out while I check the door? The worse that could happen is you have to arrest me if someone happens by.”

Without waiting for him to agree, Charlotte made sure no one was in the area, went to the door, then knelt down and fiddled with the pins and lock.

“Don't leave fingerprints on the door or knob,” James said, just loud enough for her to hear.

“I'll be careful,” she replied at the same volume. “Besides, no one has my prints on file.”

“That's good to know. Do you need some light?”

“Nope.” A faint scraping and clicking later, she stood, pocketed the pins, and in a whispered, damsel-in-distress voice called out, “Deputy! Deputy! I do believe someone has been skulking about Mr. Kenner's warehouse. Come quick!”

By the light of the moon, she saw him shaking his head as he walked toward her. He opened the door slowly to minimize the squeal. The two of them slipped inside. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“You're not like most women, are you, Miss Brody?” There was more than a little wonder and, dare she suppose, affection in the question.

“Are you just figuring that out, deputy?”

His laugh came out as a small grunt. “Maybe you should stay near the door and listen for Kenner, in case he decides to come back. You'd be able to get away faster.”

She understood why he was suggesting it, to keep Kenner from having a reason to be angry with her yet again, but there was no way she'd let him have all the fun of searching the warehouse. “We'll hear his motorcycle in plenty of time.”

It was pitch-dark in the warehouse, so all she heard was James's sigh of resignation. “Fine. But let's be quick. Between these late-night dealings of his and a couple customers of Kenner's who've hinted about his inventory, we don't need more than a good reason to come back for an official search.”

He turned on a flashlight. She put her gloves back on, retrieved her flashlight from her pocket, and turned it on as well.

A small table and a couple of chairs were near the person-sized door. Two shot glasses were on the table beside a hastily stacked deck of cards, and two unmarked bottles lay on the ground. James peeked inside an old metal barrel near the table and held his hand close to it.

“Burn barrel. Not used too recently. This afternoon, maybe, by the residual heat.”

“A warm fire, a bottle of homebrew, and a deck of cards,” Charlotte said. “Cozy.”

“Simple pleasures,” James replied. He aimed his flashlight deeper into the warehouse. “What do we have here?”

Charlotte followed his lead. Stacked along the back wall and at the far end were crates and barrels of all sizes. She couldn't see the marks stenciled on them, but she'd bet a good number were from the hardware suppliers down in the States.

There were also several pieces of furniture in various stages of assembly. Was one of these based on the drawing she saw in Kenner's office the other day? Charlotte walked up to the closest one, an open-front cabinet taller than she was. “He does beautiful work.”

James moved past the furniture to the inventory at the far end. “Come on, we don't have a lot of time.”

Charlotte joined him, their flashlight beams playing over the containers. Most of them were sealed tight, and a few were dusty. How long had Otto been stockpiling supplies?

James climbed over a crate with “Bremmer Lubricant and Solvents” stenciled on it to access the pieces in the back. “One of these looks like it's been opened, then nailed shut again.”

“Do you need a crowbar or something?” Charlotte turned about to search for a helpful tool. Spotting one on top of a barrel, she started toward it. Her foot smacked into a small crate marked “saw blades.” The crate moved and the contents rattled, the tinkling of glass-on-glass very unlike what she'd expect saw blades to sound like. “James?”

James's light swung toward her and the crate. “I heard. Go get that crowbar, will you?”

He climbed down and met her back at the crate. He handed her his flashlight and took the crowbar. Sliding the notched end between the lid and the base, where it looked like it had been opened before, James carefully pried up the lid. The nails barely squealed, giving as if they'd been loosened before. He lifted the lid and moved aside the straw packing material. Beneath it were a dozen bottles with black rubber stoppers. James pulled one out, and Charlotte fixed one of the flashlight beams on the black and cream label.

“This is some good stuff,” he said, hefting the whiskey. “My da was partial to Jameson's, back in the day. He jokes that that's who I was named for.”

Charlotte laughed and James winked at her. His demeanor sobered again when he considered the bottle and its mates.

“There's a tax stamp,” she said. “At least Otto isn't breaking that law.”

“No,” James said, slipping the bottle back among the others, “but black market booze in a dry territory will get him a nice long stint in the Valdez jail. The man who was here just now was Ken Avery, owner of the Tidewater. He supposedly has a back room for special events.”

“Very special, I bet.” Charlotte swept her light beam across the other containers. “I wonder if Otto has other things here.”

“Like what?” He set the lid crooked on the crate and placed the crowbar on the floor.

“I don't know,” she said. “Whatever people feel they need that they can't get here. What are you doing?”

“Making it look like someone broke in.” James took his flashlight back from her. “If I'm going to risk my job, I want to at least make it as realistic as possible. Once I get Blaine, we'll secure this stuff, then go arrest Kenner.”

“I could stay here and watch the building.”

He shook his head and gently turned her toward the jimmied door. “I don't want you anywhere near here now, Charlotte. We got what we need. I doubt Kenner will be back tonight. When I was watching last night, he did the deal, then went home to bed. We'll leave things as is. Even if Kenner returns, Blaine and I'll be here soon enough.”

Charlotte recognized an order when she heard it, even if he said it so very nicely. Besides, now that she thought about it, should Otto return and catch her, it was possible he'd do something unpleasant. “All right.”

James hesitated for a moment. “That was easy.”

“I'm not foolhardy, deputy. Every now and again I consider consequences.” Hadn't he asked her to do that very thing more often?

“Glad to hear it. Now let's get the hell out of here.”

After making sure no one was around, she and James left the warehouse.

“If my story is going to hold water with Blaine, we'll have to leave the door unlocked,” he said quietly. “Should be fine for the next hour or so. I guess I owe you some new pins.”

Charlotte patted her pocket where she'd stashed the makeshift picks. “I think I can afford to sacrifice these for the cause.”

He chuckled quietly, then gestured for her to head back up the path they'd come in on. “Let's avoid the road for now.”

Charlotte led the way, again using the moonlight to keep her on the packed snow path, walking single file until they reached the wider road. “Do you think all of that stuff in Kenner's was contraband?”

“Doubt it. I'd guess you were right about him bringing in more supplies in order to do his own little hardware business on the side.”

They were passing Fiske's burned building now, and Charlotte said, “I wonder if Lyle had known what Kenner was doing in the name of competition.”

“It wouldn't surprise me,” James said. “Probably got him pretty riled too.”

“Do you think Lyle knew Otto was selling alcohol on the side?”

He shrugged. “Could be. Obviously Kenner has at least a few clients.”

Had Brigit obtained her liquor from Otto or some other source? Not that she'd ask, but she'd make sure to tell Brigit certain supply lines were drying up—no pun intended—now that James was on to Kenner.

“I'll walk you home,” James said as they passed Main Street.

“You don't have to.”

“I want to. Besides, it's on the way to Blaine's place.”

The next block was an icy slope that had no lights. Concentrating on their footing, they were about to turn the corner to Charlotte's house when James took her arm and drew her back into the deep shadow of a thick spruce tree.

“What—”

“Shh. Look.”

He leaned forward and pointed own an alley between a double row of old cabins. A broad-shouldered man was peering into a window. After a moment, he headed their way.

James pulled her closer and around the trunk of the tree. Charlotte craned her neck to see. The man came out of the alley, looked up and down the snowy street. He moved away from them, checking behind as if he was afraid of being followed. Light from a house close to the street allowed her to see his face, and that he held something in his right hand.

“That's Ben Derenov,” she whispered in James's ear.

“Wonder what he's up to?”

Ben disappeared down a side street.

“Come on.” James turned on his flashlight and went into the alley.