Prime Catch (3 page)

Chapter 4

Amos dropped off the pieces of bat at the coroner’s, after lunch, so Elmer could compare it to the splinters he found in the body. Back in the office, he watched Sarah sit with her coffee. He loved having her work with him―hell, he loved having her around. Her eyes were dark and her lips pursed. “Well, what are you thinking?”

Sarah sighed. “I hate to think this was caused by a native. We’ve been going through so much to convince the American government that we are indeed civilized. Now this has to happen.”

“I thought you could put in a form to become a citizen.”

She gave a slight snort. “We’re trying to let them know we are all civilized, whether we follow the old ways or not.”

Amos had come to think of her as an equal, even though she was a native and a woman. He’d learned to respect her judgment as they worked together on case after case. Times like these, he was brought up short. “Do you think you can be objective?”

“Yes, I’m sure I can.”

A surge went through his chest, and Amos had a fleeting thought of holding her. “Lakat―Sarah, I respect you and your knowledge as a detective. But if you feel like you can’t deal with the killer possibly being a native, tell me now.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. “I guess I was worried how you felt about me working on this case.”

Hurt, he smacked the desk with the flat of his hand. “I thought you knew me better than that. I’ve found outlaws in every group of people. I’ve also found good in all of them, too. I’ve rounded up many a bad American in my time. You know that.”

Sarah studied her shoes. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ve been stung so much, I never considered it from another point of view.”

“I’ve treated you as an equal and thought of you as such. Never forget that.” Amos ran his fingers through his hair. “Now, let’s get back to work.”

Sarah took out some of the clippings she’d extracted from the news folders and started reading. “Seems like there were a few fights between the cannery fishermen and the natives that live upriver from Cordova. The canneries have what’s called fish traps that can snare a full school of fish. The natives upstream complained there weren’t enough fish left for them to catch to feed their people.”

“Do you think some of them could be angry enough to resort to murder?”

Sarah shrugged. “Anything’s possible, I guess.”

Amos played with an idea, but he didn’t know if she’d agree to it. “You belong to the Alaska Native Sisterhood, don’t you?”

“Yes, but why―?”

“Both the Sisterhood and the Brotherhood are geared for helping the natives get citizenship and a fair deal with the Americans. Do you have access to the Brotherhood?”

She gripped the arms of her chair. “My family belongs to both.”

“When’s the next get-together?”

“This Saturday night.”

“Maybe you could listen in on some scuttlebutt around there. Someone might know something about the murders.”

Her face flushed. “You mean spy on my friends and family?”

“Look, if it
is
a native, there might be people who know what’s going on. I’m not going to start another Indian war up here. I just want to find whoever’s killing these people. You know very well if I went to a meeting they wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Sarah sighed. “And if it was me, they’d speak more freely. All right, I’ll do it.”

Amos could sense she didn’t like any of this, but she seemed to understand what he was asking. He wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t feel the same way. “I’m going to fly to Cordova and Soldotna to find out what they know up there. I’ll be gone four or five days.”

“What if we get anything on the Personals?”

“You can take care of it. Tell the authorities in that area to watch canneries carefully.” Amos took a sip of coffee to hide the well of feeling. “I have every kind of faith in your abilities.”

Sarah smiled, a brilliant thank-you smile that set his body to tingling. She took her cup and headed for the door.

Chapter 5

Sarah tried to buck herself up as she paced a line on the oriental rug in her parlor. This meeting tonight had her nerves on edge.
I’ve managed investigations before, but never on my own people.
Then she thought of what Amos had said.
He manages to do it on his people. Why am I having a problem? Maybe I want my people to be too perfect so Americans will see us as civilized. I don’t like it that some of us don’t measure up.
The doorbell made her jump.

Her cousin, Kata Nikolaevich, stood on the porch. “Are you ready to go?”

Sarah opened the door wider and stepped back. “I will be in a few minutes. Come in for a bit.”

Kata studied her face. “Something’s bothering you. I can see it. What is it?”

Sarah waved her hand toward a chair. “Sit. I have to get my light coat.” She went to the wardrobe and fetched the pale blue spring jacket.

Kata’s jaw twitched. “I’ve grown up with you and know when you’re worried. Now tell me.”

Sarah sighed and sat next to Kata. “The murder at the Polar Star Cannery is filling my mind right now. I can’t discuss it, but there are things about it that I don’t like, that’s all. Come on, we’ll be late.”

The late afternoon April sun shone dimly through the sea fog rolling in from the channel. Sarah shivered with the damp cold and pulled her coat tighter. “How is everyone at the Golden North?” Kata worked as head of costumes at the theater where Sarah and Amos had once investigated a murder.

“They’re all swell. Business has been good lately, since we’ve been able to get movies within a few weeks of release.”

They soon arrived at the Alaskan Native Brotherhood meeting hall for the social that would include both the Brotherhood and the Sisterhood. Kata’s brother-in-law, Will, waved from the door. “I’ve saved a table for all of us.”

Sarah had lost her two brothers and father at sea, so she felt close to her cousins, Mary and Kata. Their family had taken her mother and her in when she was in her early teens. Her mother, Grace, waved to her. “We’re about ready to start. I’m glad you two made it.” Close to fifty now, her mother still looked like a young girl when she smiled. Sarah waved to Aunt Jane, who was Grace’s sister, Kata’s and Mary’s mother.

Sarah slid into a seat next to her mother. “Sorry we’re a little late. It was nice we could get this table.”

When it was their turn, the family worked their way to the buffet servings and loaded their plates with the fresh fish, fruits, vegetables, and breads. Sarah gratefully dug into her dinner, and her mother poked Sarah’s shoulder. “You look like you’re in the middle of a potlatch ceremony. Haven’t you eaten today, child?”

“Just some. I’ve been working on a case and haven’t had too much time lately.”

Will frowned. “The sheriff expects too much from you. You seem to do most of the work and he gets the glory.”

Sarah snapped, “He works as hard as I do. He’s north, getting information we need.”

Her mother pursed her lips. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you defend
them
.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m tired of the ‘us and them’ feuds. That’s what causes most of the problems in this town.”

“You aren’t concerned that we’re losing our traditions?”

Sarah glanced heavenward. “All cultures grow and change. The white Americans are here to stay, so we may as well adapt.”

Her mother shook her head. “Like Kata taking Ivan’s name? Will took Mary’s name, as it should be.”

“Will married Tlingit. Ivan isn’t Tlingit.”

“I never should have sent you to the missionary school. They fed your mind this poison.”

Sarah threw her fork down. “Stop it, Mother! That school prepared me for the changes, and I’m happy you did.” She rose from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”

Sarah stomped outside and leaned against the cold bricks of the building.
Unfortunately, the small minds of either side make it difficult to exist together. I remember in history I read of cultures coming together and becoming stronger. It takes time to sort things out, though. What to keep and what to throw away.
A murmur of voices from around the corner caught her attention. The words “fish traps” and “canneries” hit her ear. She moved to the edge.

“Those damn canneries are setting the traps on the mouths of the rivers, and our village is losing most of the fish,” came a gruff voice.

“Something should be done about it,” sounded a baritone.

Sarah jammed her fists in her coat pockets and strode purposefully around the corner. She nodded to the men. “I thought I heard someone out here.”

Jack, with the rough voice, tipped his hat. “Evening, Miss Lakat.” A light on his face dawned. “Say, you’re a deputy. Have you heard anything about Polar Star?”

“You know I can’t discuss it.”

Bobby, the younger man, angrily turned on her. “Word is, the sheriff is going to convict a native.”

Sarah fixed her glare. “He’s looking at all angles right now.”

“And you insist on working for the enemy.”

“You know, it’s people like you who make it hard to get along with anyone.”

Bobby pushed by Sarah, and she leaned against the wall. Jack took his hat off as he walked by. “Sorry, Miss Lakat. Bobby is mad about losing the salmon upstream.”

When Sarah saw she was alone, she wrote “Bobby Cusnoo” in her notebook and tucked it back in her pocket.
We should look into some of the upstream villages.
Amos was supposed to be back Monday. She would make that suggestion.

A hand snagged her arm from behind and a glove smacked down on her mouth. Sarah started kicking with her feet and elbowing her assailant, until cold steel landed none too gently on the back of her neck. “Don’t move, just listen!” a raspy voice hit her ear. “Have the sheriff call the dogs off. We’re doing this for our people’s good.” She found herself shoved behind several barrels. Before she could jump up, the man ran around the building.

“So much for some air,” Sarah murmured to herself as she straightened her hat and inspected a tear in the hem of her skirt. As she went through the door, she brushed as much of the dirt off her clothes as possible and ducked into the women’s lavatory. When she was presentable again, she rejoined her family.

Sarah sighed as she pulled out her chair. “I’m sorry, Mother, I know how important tradition is to you.”

Her mother opened her mouth like she was going to say something, then smiled. “I’m sorry, too. I hate the changes, but because of your schooling, at least you can make your way through this new world.”

Sarah kissed her cheek. “You have to remember you were raised different than your parents were, too. Before the Russians and Americans, our people were living quite primitively.”

The social went on for several hours of dining and dancing. Sarah kept watching for anyone suspicious, but all seemed in order. She watched the people Bobby Cusnoo talked to but didn’t see anyone she thought was her assailant.

She and Kata left together and, when they were out of earshot, Kata pointed at Sarah’s hem. “What happened outside?”

Sarah gathered herself in innocence. “Why do you ask?”

“Your hem wasn’t torn when we left your house.”

“Takes a seamstress to notice that. I ran into a little trouble outside.”

“Job?”

“Seems like some people don’t take too kindly to investigations. A man grabbed me from behind and told me in no uncertain terms to call it off.”

Kata stopped and faced Sarah. “Please be careful. Tensions are high in this town right now. If you’re seen to be a traitor―”

Sarah embraced her cousin. “Don’t worry. I’m just out to find who’s been killing these people. The person behind this isn’t doing anybody any good. Besides, the sheriff is due back on Monday.”

They started on their way again. Sarah digested the tidbits from the evening.
Our investigation is making someone nervous.
In a way, that was very satisfying, but she wished it could be an American she was after. She hated that she wasn’t impartial. The trouble between the whites and Tlingits made Sarah feel like she was caught in the middle of a culture war.

Chapter 6

Amos tugged at his mustache as he listened to Sheriff Mike Mahoney of Cordova. “Did someone actually hear these threats made?”

The red-haired Irishman nodded. “One of the members of the ANB here was nervous about the murder at our cannery. He thought it was just talk, but when the executive was found in the cutting machine at the factory, he told me what he’d heard.”

“Did he know these people?”

“Nope. He said they weren’t regulars at the Cordova camp.”

Amos extracted an envelope from his jacket pocket. “Did you happen to find one of these?” He showed him the note that was found on the body.

Mahoney glanced at it, then reached for the folder on his desk. He flipped an envelope with a number one emblazoned on the front. “If you look at the note, it’s the same.”

After a perusal, Amos asked, “Was there anything in the newspaper Personals that could have related to the murder? A warning, perhaps?” A clipping appeared under his nose. “Well, it looks like we’re dealing with the same person.”

“Or group. Have you heard from any other community about a warning yet?”

“Not yet. We’ve alerted the coastal canneries to check the Personals for anything suspicious.” Amos put his hat on. “I’m catching the airplane to Soldotna to see what I can find out there.”

Mahoney extended his hand. “Keep in touch, Darcy. The more lawmen who know about this, the better the chances of catching the murderers.”

Cordova’s airfield was on a flat plain that stretched close to the Gulf of Alaska. If anything, it was nippier up here than by the sheltered channel seas of Juneau. Early in May, there were still little patches of stubborn snow in the shadows, patches that would be gone in a week or so. Amos clutched his sheepskin-lined jacket closer around him against the chilly wind as he waited for the airplane.

A small canvas-covered biplane bounced onto the field and Amos waved at the pilot. The machine gave a few sputters as it taxied up to the station, and when it stopped the pilot swung down from the wing. “Are you Sheriff Darcy? The one who wants to go to Soldotna?”