Superior Storm (Lake Superior Mysteries) (40 page)

“Something has
been bothering
me,” said Leyla, swallowing some wine. “If they knew you
two
were FBI, why didn’t they search Tony for weapons right away?” Her reporter’s inquisitiveness was strong as ever.

“It’s kind of complicated,” said Jasmine, “because of the double-triple-cross thing. But basically, if they had searched him right away, he would have known that they knew he was an agent, and that would have alerted him that I was double-crossing him. As a result, they could not have used me as a hostage
.”

“But Tony already knew all that,” I said, feeling a little confused.

“Yes, but
they
didn’t know that he knew.
”

“This sounds like something out of
Mission Impossible
,” said Leyla.

“Why didn’t you wait for Jasmine to get free, before you made your move then?” I asked Stone.

He looked at me impassively, and then shrugged. “It was a gamble either way. Once they
admitted
that Jasmine
was on their side, they would have searched me and taken my gun. I had to make my move before that. Plus, I saw what you did to Phil when he tried to beat you. You’re fast, and you have good instincts. I thought that between the two of us, we could take them. As it turns out, I was the one who failed. I’m just glad no one else got hurt because of it.”

After the meal,
Stone insisted upon dessert as well, and I began to think maybe the bill would equal something more like a
whole
month’s worth of groceries. However, coffee came with dessert, so there were compensations. When we were completely stuffed and the sky was growing even darker as the sun began to give up for the day, Stone leaned back in his chair and eyed me mysteriously.

“You nailed ‘em,” said Stone. “A lot of law enforcement worked a long time, but you were the one who brought home the bacon. Without you, we never would have held on to the Kruger-Holland gang.”

“You helped,” I said.

“But we are paid to help,” said Jasmine.

“And now,” said Tony, with uncharacteristic expression, “So are you!”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Quarter-million dollar reward for the Kruger-Holland gang,” said Stone. “It’s all yours.” He actually smiled. Then he actually chuckled. Somewhere, ice was forming in
the
nether reaches of hell.

“You’re sitting here, trying to be all stoic about dropping
two hundred
bucks for a late lunch. You’re treating us because you can afford it!” He laughed again.

I looked at Leyla,
and then Jasmine. “Did he just laugh?
”

“Yes
,
he did,” said Jasmine smiling.

“Wonders never cease.”
I took a deep breath. “Well,” I said, “that’s a load off my conscience.”

Leyla looked at me and nodded.

“What do you mean?” asked Stone.

“He’s going to give it to an
eighty-year
-
old widow,” said Leyla.

Stone stared. “You’re crazy.”

I nodded. “Very likely.”

~

After supper, I said to Leyla, “
T
ake a walk with me?”

“Sure.”

We walked
two blocks
through the drizzle
,
to where some old brick buildings had been renovated to hold offices and shops. We climbed the stairs to Tom Lund’s office.

I knocked on his door. “Come in,” I heard him call. We walked in through the bare reception room into Lund’s sanctum sanctorum. There was a p
ile of files on his spare chair,
and his feet were on his desk, hands behind his head.

“See?” I said, turning to Leyla. “I told you detecting is hard work.”

“Borden,” said Lund, not moving for a moment. Then his eyes shifted to Leyla. He took his feet off the desk and stood, moving toward the chair piled high with files.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “We won’t stay long.”

He looked relieved.
“Thanks,” he said. “
Last time I moved that stuff, it took me
a week to
get organized again.
”

“I’m here to pay you.”

“I didn’t do squat,” he said. “You did all the heavy lifting.”

“I bet you sat there by the window with your feet up and hands behind your head and thought about my case
,
though.”

He nodded. “It’s tough, but someone’s got to do it.”

I took out my checkbook and started writing.

“Hey, I’m serious – I got shut out on the Charles Holland thing, and that’s about as far as I got ‘til you blew up their getaway boat.”

“About that,” I said. “Did you ever hear why you were shut out, why all the push-back?”

He shook his head.

“Homeland
S
ecurity. You were going against them. They were working the case and they didn’t want anyone else in it, screwing it up, as they thought. So they shut down the flow of information.”

Lund swore in appreciation.
“So you’re saying maybe I’m still the best private detective on the North Shore?”

“
Are
there any other private detectives on the North Shore?” asked Leyla sweetly.

“You’re pretty, but you’ve got a bite,” said Lund, grinning. Leyla smiled at him.

I finished writing Lund’s check. “Besides,” I said. “They gave me the reward.”

“They
what?
”

“They gave me the reward money. I have a little bit extra, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to pay you. I may need you again someday.”

“You have a ‘little extra?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, two-hundred and thirty-seven thousand rightly belongs to a little old lady in Grand Lake.
Turns out I only lost half of what she had, but still,
right is right.
It’s her money.
”

“So you are going to make a wealthy old widow wealthier.”

“Wealth has nothing to do with it. I lost her money. I owe it to her.”

Lund shook his head. “I always knew you were a few sandwiches short of a picnic.”

“Yeah,” I said, “but I’m a heck of a lot of fun.”

Leyla and
I
were walking by the waterfront in Grand Lake. Another weather system had moved in and we could see the waves exploding against the breakwater, sending spray forty feet into the air. The wind was cold
,
and it howled across the water, whipping Leyla’s hair
around her face
.

“I’m not ready to enjoy this yet,” said Leyla. “It brings back some bad memories.”

“I don’t think it would be enjoyable even without the memories,” I said.

We drove up to my cabin on the ridge and I buil
t
a fire out of seasoned birch and oak. When it started to crackle and roar, we sat on my couch and looked at it.

“Hot cocoa?” I asked.

“Tea.”

I made the drinks and brought them back to the couch.
Leyla sipped her tea. I sipped my hot cocoa.

“Jonah,” she said, turning to me. “I want to talk about something. I want you to just listen to me for a minute.”

“I’ll try,” I said. “It’s just that I love the sound of my own voice so much.”

She patted my cheek. “I know.” She sipped some more tea. “I – I don’t really know how to start. I gue
ss…
I just know that when we were in the lake after the boats had gone down
,
we all thought we were going to die.
”

I opened my mouth.

“No,” she said. “Let me finish. I have known for a long time that you are the man for me. But it sounded like you only realized that I was the woman for you when we were about to die.
I understand that in the cold light of everyday life, things may feel differently for you.
I want you to know that I will not hold you to your marriage proposal.”

I met her eyes steadily and waited. She kept looking at me. The silence stretched on.

“You can talk now,” she said suddenly.

“Oh,” I said. “Sorry.” I sipped some cocoa and then put the cup down. “Hold on a sec.”

I lit several candles that I keep around for power outages and romantic evenings. I went to my stereo, where my i
P
od was plugged in
,
and started playing Marc Cohn’s
True Companion
. Then I turned off the main lights. Outside
,
the silver light of dusk softened the lines of the gray lake and
the
endless horizon. I came back to the couch and knelt down in front of Leyla.

“I realize,” I said, “that the first time, conditions were not ideal. I remember that I said our situation had caused me to realize how I really feel. But today, being of sound mind and body, with, as a far as I know, decades of life ahead of me, I do not want to contemplate those decades without you. So here, with
candles, a fire and music
and
tea
, I am asking you, Leyla Bennet
t
,
to become my wife. I love you. I want you. Always.
Leyla, I am asking you again – will you marry me?
”

She looked at me. I could have waited contented in that gaze for a very long time.
“Yes,
” she
said at
last
.
She reached for me and we
held each other tightly
.

“You think this one took?” I asked, my voice muffled by her hair. She punched my shoulder in response.

~

Four days later, I drove through moody jack-pines
and bare
-branched birches. I was listening to a mix of Bruce Cockburn, Jackson Browne and band called East Mountain South. The sounds and the drive were peaceful, even hopeful.
It was cold, but the sun was out in full force, bringing joy to the wild
,
empty land around me. I shared that joy, and more.

After a couple hours I pulled into a quiet street lined with leafless trees, the lawns still shedding the first melting snowfall of the season. I got out of the car and waited for a minute, and walked to the door of
a
neatly kept ranch house. I knocked.

A voice called, “
J
ust a minute.”

The door opened, and for a moment I was looking into the past, down a long, fondly
remembered trail I could never walk again. Then I met her eyes, and I saw the future too.

“Hi
M
a,” I said to Robyn’s mother.
I shifted to give room to my companion.
“This is Leyla.”

THE END

I want to say, first of all, thank you to the most important person in my life, Jesus Christ. I think you are crazy to let me write this stuff, and I think I’m crazy to let you sucker me into it. Even so, thank you.

Thank you also to my wife Kari. Your unfailing encouragement means more than I can express. I finish this
,
just days after our twentieth anniversary. I love you, and I trust the next twenty will be even better. For my fans, if you like Jonah’s kind of music, you might want to check out Kari’s. Just Google Kari Hilpert.

Dr. Mark Cheathem took on the gargantuan task of copy-editing, as well as giving me feedback on early chapters.
I have come to believe he is the world’s foremost expert on the use of commas in the English language. Any mistakes that remain are mine alone, of course.
Dr. Cheathem’s expertise is not limited to commas, however. If you have an interest in nineteenth century American histo
ry, you really should Google him, also
.

The cover was designed by my extremely talented cousin-in-law, Lisa Anderson. If you need excellent graphic design, you need Lisa. Find her at www.opinedesign.com

Ms
.
Emma Watt, seasoned sailor
,
and who knows what else, provided extensive and helpful feedback on the technical parts of the story that involved sailing. I kept Jonah largely ignorant of the mechanics of sailing, so if he referred to a “roller thingy” instead of a “winch,” that is not due to any failing on Ms. Watt’s part. Any genuine mistakes, as always, are mine alone.

Ms. Lyn Rowell gave me a great deal of useful and encouraging feedback. Though I wanted to bring back Alex Chan, it was her who actually convinced me to do it. She also encouraged me to give Jonah a pet, another thing I had been unsure about.