• Saturday, September 3 •
Fat Franny’s Restaurant, Chukchi
“See what I mean?” Cowboy jabbed his finger like a dagger. “There she is. Everywhere I go.” He speared a chunk of reindeer sausage with his fork and shoved it in his mouth. “Like a goddamn shadow.”
A glob of melting butter flattened on the top of his pancake and slid off.
Active swiveled his head and looked across the dining room at Fat Franny’s. Midday light strained through the two large windows that faced the bay and hit the breakfast all day sign. The greasy smell of frying meat and eggs hung in the air. China clinked on stainless steel as a cook slammed a plate down for pickup at the kitchen window. A busboy walked by, hefting a plastic tub of dirty dishes.
At a booth in a back corner, Monique Rogers’s curl cloud and dark eyes peered over a menu. She disappeared behind the menu when Active caught her eye.
“I’m going over there to ask that nut job what the fuck she thinks she’s doing.” Cowboy planted his hands on the table and shoved back his chair.
Active put a hand on his arm. “No, you’re not. I’ll talk to her. You stay here.”
“But—”
Active tightened his grip and put on his command voice. “Do. Not. Move.”
Cowboy snorted and glared. But he pulled his chair back to the table.
“Ms. Rogers, I wish I could say it’s a pleasure to see you.” Active slid into the booth across from his recent prime murder suspect. “But I thought Officer Kavik made it clear to you that you are to stay away from Mr. Decker. What part of ‘stay away’ did you not understand?”
She set down the menu and took a sip of ice water. Her raspberry-colored lips curved into a smile.
“And leave this big, black cloud hanging over my reputation?” She mimed a cloud above her head. “Let everybody in town think I’m a murderer? Wouldn’t that be convenient for your friend Cowboy Decker?”
“And Cowboy has what to do with your reputation, exactly?”
“What does—are you serious?” She set the glass down so hard that ice slopped onto the table.
“He says you’re still following him.”
“Damn straight, I am. I’m going to stay on his ass like white on rice.”
“And that would be because . . . ?”
“Because I’m going to solve those murders, that’s why.”
Active heard footsteps approaching from behind. He turned, ready to order Cowboy back to his table.
Instead, he saw a scowling fifty-ish Inupiaq with black-rimmed glasses and a tattered denim jacket. The newcomer leaned over the table.
“What about my rights?” he said in a gravelly voice. “I’m a taxpayer in this town! What about my rights?”
Active stood, took stock of the speaker, and put out his hand. “Nathan Active, chief of Public Safety.”
They exchanged the customary single-pump shake.
“Lincoln Emmonak.”
“How can I help you, Mr. Emmonak?”
“It’s my bike. I need it to get to work.”
“Your bike?”
“Someone robbed it. I filed a report ten days ago and nobody ever call me. I never hear nothing.”
“I understand your concern, sir. We’ll keep an eye out for it, but a bicycle—”
“It’s a Honda motorcycle, I just call it my bike. But I already got it back, after my sister spot it couple days later—”
“So your problem is . . .”
“It’s all wrecked up. Whoever rob it, they crash it and mess up the front wheel. They’re not cheap, you know. And now I gotta walk to work.”
“What do you want me to do, Mr. Emmonak?”
“I want you to find the damn robber and make him pay to fix my bike.”
“I’ll have an officer canvass the area, talk to the neighbors and so on.”
Emmonak nodded and raised his eyebrows. “You check out that kid next door play that loud music all time. That rap shit. I think maybe him or them losers he hang out with took it.”
“I’ll make a call right now,” Active said.
Monique tapped a spoon on the table like an impatient girlfriend. Active looked at her and put up a finger, rolling his eyes when Emmonak wasn’t looking. Monique gave a slight grin and put down the spoon.
He pulled out his cell, tapped a contact, and put up a finger. “This will just take a minute, Ms. Rogers.”
Alan Long answered and Active directed him to look into the matter of Lincoln Emmonak’s Honda.
Emmonak nodded and said, “’Bout time you guys earn your paychecks, all right.”
“Maybe you could get Kay-Chuck to do a spot, ask people to call Public Safety if they have a tip,” Active suggested.
Emmonak raised his eyebrows, yes, and said, “Thanks, Chief.” He put out his hand and Active pumped it.
Active turned back to Monique as Emmonak returned to his table.
“Ms. Rogers, you were talking about solving murders—”
“Cowboy Decker did it, and I’m going to watch him like a hawk until he slips up.”
“What?”
“You can’t see what’s staring you in the face because he’s your buddy.” She looked over Active’s shoulder in the direction of Cowboy’s table.
“And how did you come to this conclusion?”
“Think about it, Chief. Who knows about airplanes? Cowboy.”
“Yes, he’s a pilot, but so are about—”
“Who would have access to his own plane? Cowboy. Who knew Evie and Todd were going to be in that plane? Cowboy.”
“Wait, wait. How do you know—”
“You’re not the only one who asks questions, Chief.” She threw out her chest, and Active wondered if she might actually pat herself on the back. “People at Lienhofer like to talk. Cowboy told everyone he and Todd were taking that plane to Fairbanks. And if Evie went instead of Cowboy, he would have to know, right? And who else would?”
“Ms. Rogers, this matter is under active police investigation. I have to caution you not to interfere.”
“It’s obvious he’s the killer.” Her eyes darted up and behind Active.
Cowboy’s finger was in Monique’s face before Active could turn. “You better watch your mouth, you loony tunes—”
Monique leapt to her feet and dove at Cowboy with hands spread like a tiger’s paws. Active got between them and pushed the pilot back while Monique screeched, “Murderer!” and Cowboy barked, “Nut job!”
“Cowboy, get back to that table right now!” Active commanded. “Ms. Rogers, I’m going to escort you to the door. Or do you want me to arrest both of you for disorderly conduct?”
“But my food!” Monique protested. A young Inupiat waitress with a BLT on a plate stood frozen a few feet away.
“Can you fix that to go, please, miss?” Active called to the waitress.
“My treat,” he told Monique as he took her elbow and steered her toward the door.
Monique cooperated well enough, even though she kept swiveling her head to keep Cowboy in sight. They waited at the door until the waitress brought the foil-wrapped sandwich. Monique tucked it into her shoulder bag.
Active pulled the door open for her. She smiled at him, then spun and shouted with such force that her whole body shook.
“You won’t get away with this, Cowboy Decker! I’m taking you down, you hear me? Down!”