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It took Dan and two of the villagers to wrap de los Santos tightly in the blanket and get him back to the beach where they had left the canoe. They sat him down with his back propped against the rocks and Dan left him there under the watchful eyes of the entire village while he and Walker paddled back to get the Zodiac.
Back onboard Dreamspeaker they locked the still shaking man in a cabin. He had stopped screaming, and appeared calmer, but continued to mutter under his breath and rock himself side to side as they closed the door. After a few minutes of listening for any sign of increased activity, Dan went to the wheelhouse and set up another VHF relay to notify Matthews in Waglisla and ask him to notify the Contact Bureau. He figured it was probably safe to use the satellite phone now, but without knowing how de los Santos had arrived it was better to be cautious.
After that all they could do was wait, and they sat out on deck drinking coffee and watching a pale sun rise slowly over the tree-tops. The air filled with birdsong and the shore came alive with otters and mink in search of food. Men from the village came out to join them, each bringing a gift of food taken from the ocean or a basket full of camus-root or fresh-cooked bannock, and each stayed a while to chat before returning to shore. It was past noon when an RCMP helicopter arrived, and the noise of its rotors sent animals, birds and humans alike running for shelter. An hour later, long after the man they had called Kalfu had been sedated and taken aboard and they had watched the helicopter disappear, the beach remained empty.
***
THEY DIDN’T STAY LONG after that, although in the time it took Dan to lift the Zodiac up onto its cradle and with Walker’s help wrestle the canoe onto the swim grid, yet more dried salmon arrived along with several large crabs, and a basket of shrimp.
Claire waved the villagers goodbye as Walker helped Dan ease Dreamspeaker back out through the narrow entrance and turn her bow towards the east.
“That was delicious,” Claire said, licking her fingers after they had eaten a lunch of shrimp and bannock. “But when we get back to Port McNeill I’m going to order the biggest steak on the menu. I think I’ve had enough seafood for a while.”
Dan didn’t answer.
“What?” she asked, staring at him. “We are heading back to the marina aren’t we? You’ve caught your guy. It’s over.”
Dan reached for her hand. “We caught a guy,” he said. “And he’s probably the guy who committed all the thefts and murders. But we haven’t caught whoever was directing him. Until we do that it’s not over.”
It took her a minute, but then she stood up and went to the galley.
“Well it’s over as far as I’m concerned,” she said. “I’m sick and tired of watching a computer screen and I’m not going to do it anymore. In fact, if Walker agrees, I think he and I should go for a paddle as soon as you anchor for the night.”
He laughed and pulled her close. He had been worried about her. She had been too quiet since she returned from Australia, but the feisty, independent woman he loved was back.
“I won’t argue. I think we’ve taken care of any threat to you. Why don’t you fly home from Rupert? I won’t be far behind and Tom Markleson says he has a place you can stay.”
“You going to fly me down too?” Walker asked. “Long way to paddle.”
“If you like, but you might want to stay. I suspect they’ll find all the stolen regalia over there on Porcher. Be good to have you there to help with identification.”
***
TWO DAYS LATER THE three of them were sitting around a table in the meeting room of the Prince Rupert detachment office, talking to Commander Bishop as they waited for the regalia to be brought up from the evidence room. Dan had insisted Claire be allowed to join them until her taxi arrived and Bishop had reluctantly agreed.
“We’re holding them all except de los Santos and Chauvet in an old hotel near the police station until we can figure out what to do with them,” he said, stirring his coffee. “Fifteen of them, and they have to be the oddest bunch you’ve ever seen. Looks like every one of them has some kind of physical problem. Maybe some mental problems too. We’ve got a doctor and a shrink in there trying to sort it all out, but it’s not going to be easy.”
“So where’s de los Santos and the girl?”
“Mr. de los Santos is in the psychiatric ward in the hospital and the docs say there’s no telling when he’ll be fit to question. The girl’s in jail.”
“In jail?” Dan was surprised. “She was certainly antagonistic when I talked to her, but why jail? And why only her? You figure she’s the one behind it all?”
The commander smiled. “I think that’s likely, and I don’t think antagonistic quite covers her behaviour when my men arrived. She came out screaming and swearing, said these were “her” people and we couldn’t touch them, then ordered them to kill the aggressors. Followed that up by grabbing a weird-looking knife off the top of a sideboard and trying to show them how to do it. Sent two of my men to emergency.”
Dan responded by reaching into the briefcase he had brought with him.
“Does the knife look like this?” he asked as he placed an evidence bag containing a Kris knife on the table..
“Where the hell did you get that!”
“De los Santos had it with him in Kla’wis. He dropped it in his hurry to get away from the ‘spirits’ he figured were after him and one of the villagers picked it up. It’s called a Kris knife and according to forensics it, or one like it, was what was used in both the murders here and in Australia. It’s supposed to have magic powers.”
“Magic, huh?” The knife glinted in the light as the commander moved the bag around with his finger. “Guess that explains the rest of the stuff we found over there in Porcher. You see it all when you were there?”
“Just the hallway and the front room. I wasn’t invited in and I didn’t have a search warrant.”
“Well, we’ve got as many people as we can spare over there now checking it all out. I’d like you to join them. You’ve done the research. You might see something that they could miss.”
“But you’ve found all the stolen regalia?”
Dan was interrupted by two uniformed officers who entered the room, each carrying a mask which they placed on top of a long bureau. They returned a few minutes later with a bentwood box and another mask.
Only Dan heard Walker’s whispered, “Gilikasla, thank you.” as he went to stand in front of them.
Commander Bishop stood and joined Walker. “Can you confirm that these were the items stolen from your people?”
It took several minutes for Walker to answer, but Dan knew it wasn’t from doubt or hesitation. Walker was welcoming these treasures back and when he finally spoke his voice was reverent.
“They belong to my people. Yes. They have belonged to them for many generations.”
“And they are the items that were stolen? You can attest to that?” Bishop was insistent.
Without taking his gaze from the regalia, Walker answered, “I don’t attest to anything except the fact that these belong to my people and they need to be returned to them. You need to ask them.”
“Easier said than done,” the commander said as he returned to the table. “The rules are straightforward. They can only be returned if ownership can be clearly established and as far as I can tell none of the reports even contain a description.” He opened his notebook and started writing. “I’ll have them sent down to Vancouver. The court case will undoubtedly be held there and there isn’t room here to store everything.”
***
THE SILENCE THAT RESULTED from his statement was broken by a knock on the door and a constable announced Claire’s taxi had arrived. She stood up, gave Dan a kiss on the check and started to leave, but then stopped.
“You don’t need those,” she said, turning back and nodding towards the regalia. “If you have to ‘establish ownership’ in order to use them as evidence, they won’t be of any use—unless you plan on going to every village and asking them of course. But even then that wouldn’t be enough would it? Masks and rattles don’t come with a serial number, and every village along the coast has something similar.”
“Procedure is there for a purpose, and they are part of our investigation, ” Bishop replied in a tone so patronizing Dan was surprised Claire controlled her response as well as she did.
“Investigation into what?” she snapped, colour staining her cheeks. “Thefts you can’t prove? Or are you saying you can use the regalia as evidence in a theft trial without identification but can’t return them to their rightful owners. How convenient!” She pointed to the table. “What you do have is that knife, which forensics says was at least the type used in the murders, and may even be able to identify as the actual weapon. Surely putting a murderer behind bars is more important than catching a thief, and in this case it seems to be the same man. Why not simply charge him with murder, forget the thefts, and return the regalia to the people it belongs to?”
“That’s not how it works,” the commander said. “Both theft and murder are felony offences and should be treated as such.”
He turned away but turned back as he heard her response.
“Well so much for that Truth and Reconciliation story you gave Dan as the reason you were sending him to Australia for two lousy weeks to investigate a crime he had no hope of solving. Sounds like it’s still white man’s rules, even when they don’t make sense.”
The door slamming behind her created a vacuum that nobody tried to fill.
***
AFTER A LONG SILENCE the commander left the room, only to return fifteen minutes later.
“Your lady friend made a good point, but the system does require accurate identification to support a charge of theft. Even to return property not needed for evidence.”
“You mean the white man’s system needs it. Our people don’t. They know what’s theirs,” Walker said.
“Yes, I know. I understand, and I’ll do all I can, but . . .”
“Yeah. But. But the regalia is going to be stolen twice, once by a crazy man and again by the government. Great system that. I’ll tell them they can go see it in the museum.”
A parade of emotions washed over the commander’s face as he stared at Walker. There was anger, resentment, and frustration, but finally, empathy.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “I’ve already called a couple of people in Vancouver and I know you spoke with a curator from the Anthropology Museum in Vancouver when you were down there. Maybe if everything is photographed and documented . . .” He ran a hand over his crew cut again. “It’s certainly not the way we normally handle things but perhaps the same procedures don’t work for two cultures. And it is time for Reconciliation.”
He went to stand in front of the regalia, which now included a ravenstail cape and a chilkat apron, two rattles, a chief’s staff, and a shaped stick which Dan recognized as an Australian aboriginal throwing stick, letting his eyes run over each item. “If the items are returned and we’re not able to lay theft charges, do you think your people would be upset?”
He had his back to them so he didn’t see the smile that passed Dan and Walker.
“I doubt it,” Walker answered. “They don’t pay a lot of attention to what happens outside the villages.”
They watched the commander’s head nod a couple of times, then he spun on his heel, straightened his shoulders, and addressed them formally.
“Well, I have to get back to my office and you need to get over to Porcher Island, Detective Connor. Please keep me informed of anything you find.”
Without waiting for an answer he turned and headed towards the door. As he pulled it open he stopped and turned back.
“By the way, you were right about Harbinson. He’s been suspended without pay. Looks like he’s been on Miss Chauvet’s payroll for some time, as has Mr. Dahonney. They both helped facilitate the thefts—and it turns out there’s been more than the one on Bathurst Island—as well as the shipments of the goods.”