Chapter 32

 

I pulled up to the High Bluff B&B and shut the Jeep’s engine off. I sat there a moment and thought over the day’s events, particularly seeing Martha at the store, purchasing what looked like a handgun. I had entered the store on a beeline for the photo counter. It was while I was waiting for the clerk to get the photos that I noticed Martha at the other end of the store, looking over various handguns. No big deal I guess, but still I wondered what she wanted with it. Maybe she was a hunter and needed it for camp protection. Somehow, I couldn’t imagine her out on the hunt, but I’ve been fooled before. Hunters come in all shapes, sizes, and dispositions. Why was I concerned anyway? Yeah, she had called in sick, but a person had a perfect right to obtain a gun and sometimes had to call in sick to handle personal business. Maybe I had heard one too many tales of “going postal.”

I heaved myself out of the Jeep, thinking about the more immediate problem of how I was going to get Arness to look over the pictures. Mrs. Mordant would have more questions than I was willing to answer. It would be a great thing for her to discuss with her friends. I looked up at the sky. There was still an hour of daylight left. It wasn’t too cold yet for the old fella up on the bluff. I opened the door of the house to see Mrs. Mordant fussing over her father who had spilled something on his shirt. 

She looked up as I entered. “Oh, you’re early today.”

“Yes, everything was going okay, so I took a little comp time.”

She looked intently at me and I knew she was thinking how to word a request.

“Could you . . . ” she paused and took a deep breath, “Would you mind taking care of him for a couple of hours? The girls are having a late coffee downtown.”

I smiled. “Sure, go ahead, take off. Arness and I will be just fine. You might want to leave a phone number or some way of getting in touch with you.”

Her eyes lit up as she dug into her purse. “I have a cell phone!” she said, holding it up, as if it were a trophy.

“Great!” I returned. Both of our prayers had been answered. 

In no time at all, I had the number, and she was out the door, happily mumbling to herself, no doubt lightheaded with her good fortune. I watched as she drove off, throwing a little gravel here and there. And once again, I marveled at the patience and stamina people found to deal day after day with their ailing loved ones. If anyone deserved a little time off, Mrs. Mordant did. 

I turned to the old man, who sat there watching me with narrowed eyes. 

I pulled the packet of pictures from my pocket and spread them out on the table. 

“Arness, I think somebody in the post office killed Gloria Plinski. Could you look at these pictures? The killer may be here.”

He nodded and wheeled himself closer to the table. Trembling hands moved the pictures around one at a time. He paused now and then to look extra long at a picture. Finally, he nodded, and for a second I thought he had somebody. But then he shook his head.

“Not . . .here.”

I nodded and sat back in my chair, twiddling my thumbs. “You’re sure?”

His hand slapped the table. “I’m . . .sure!”

I leaned forward and smiled. “Sorry, Arness. But I had to know. I have one more picture to take.”

This seemed to mollify him. We sat for a while listening to the wall clock ticking. Finally, I asked him if there was anything I could do for him. 

He shook his head. “No . . . ” he said. And then, “Thank . . . you.”

I nodded. “Arness, you and your daughter have more guts than anybody I know. To sit there in that wheelchair day after day, unable to talk . . . ”

I let the sentence hang. A tear was starting to form in my left eye. That’s where they always started, and it irritated the hell out of me. Women tell me it’s okay to cry, but I’ve never quite believed them. I am a man, not a crybaby. But then, I did have my share of baggage as most men past fifty have. That was my excuse anyway.

To cover my tears, I grabbed the newspaper off the table and started reading it out loud to the old man. From time to time he would nod and mumble unintelligibly at those idiots down in Juneau. When it came to Alaskan politics, I usually laughed. I found, much to my surprise, that I enjoyed reading and commenting to Arness about the political antics that abound in our state. I almost regretted putting the newspaper down when Mrs. Mordant returned. Thank goodness I’d had the foresight to put the pictures away.

“How are you guys doing?” she asked, looking directly at me.

“Fine . . .fine,” the old man said.

Well, I’ll be, I thought, the old boy beat me to the punch. I looked back to him and he winked, very slowly.

“Oh, Daddy!” Mrs. Mordant rushed to him and gave him a hug with tears cascading down.

I excused myself and left. Enough was enough.

Back in my room I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling for while, letting my baggage be put back in its corner with the rest of my demons. When some of the ache was gone, I called Jeanette and related the day’s events. I said I thought things were coming to a head. She told me in good wifely fashion to be careful. I assured her I would and we rang off.

* * *

The next day dawned with a few frozen mud puddles. Not so hard you couldn’t put your foot through them, just a skim of ice. My breath steamed as I walked from the B & B to my Jeep. I stopped for an instant to monitor a flock of geese flying south. I shivered. I should be on the hunt for moose in some spruce forest. Instead, I had to be on the hunt for suspected human wrongdoers. And in a way, they were more dangerous than any moose.

I arrived at the office promptly at 7:00 o’clock to a ringing telephone and an anxious Abby in my office. She held the phone out to me and mouthed the words, “The postal inspector.” 

I gave her a smile, as if no obstacle was too big, and took it from her.

“John!” I said, and waved Abby out the door. 

She left with a relieved look on her face. “Bronski! Where’s your supervisor?”

“Got me,” I answered. “Maybe she overslept.”

“Not according to our sources.”

“Who would that be?” I asked. This conversation was getting interesting.

“Never mind,” came the answer.

I sat down and got my wits together. I hadn’t seen Martha at her case either. But I decided to let that thought hang for a while. Ashley’s absence was more important.

“What do you think she’s up to?” I asked.

“We don’t know. We almost have the bad dope people figured out. All we need is a day or two. But something smells. I’m concerned she is onto us, Leo. Today’s the day something is supposed to happen, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Is Ralph at work today? We don’t think he is, but just in case we missed him, would you check?”

I left the phone in my chair and went out on the floor, where I asked the other janitor if he had seen Ralph. He hadn’t, so on the way back to my office, I asked Sam Goodnight, who was busy as usual at his case. He shook his head, no.

I sighed and looked at Martha’s case. She still wasn’t at work. What the hell was going on? Back in the office I picked up the phone. “John, you still there?”

“Yeah, Leo, I’m still here.”

I explained that Ralph wasn’t there either. 

“Well, keep a sharp eye out; something is going down. I’ll be on my cell phone. Give me a call when it does. You got that?”

“Yeah, Crouch, I got that. By the way, how did you know Ralph was missing?”

“Sorry, Leo. I’ll explain later. Have a good day.”

With that last admonition, he hung up. I leaned way back in my chair and looked up at the ceiling for inspiration. Were Martha and Ashley tied together somehow? Was Martha’s dislike for Ashley an act?

It was then I noticed something funny about one of the ceiling tiles in the false ceiling. At first I put it down to a trick of lighting. But the closer I looked, the more one of the holes in the tiles looked different. Then it hit me. Light trick my foot; it was a camera lens! Well, I had issued the challenge to Crouch, hadn’t I? I smiled up at it and waved. Then I set bolt upright. I jumped to my feet, and headed to Ashley’s office. I’m sure the troops were wondering what was going on as I meandered around her desk, my head held back. 

The camera lens was in the same place as the one in my office, right above the desk. If anything it was harder to spot. Crouch’s crew had done a first-rate job. If the crew out on the main floor had been watching, they would have seen me break into laughter. Moot Point Moving Company indeed. Old Crouch probably had a good laugh over that one. 

“Yeah, you should have seen old Bronski out there threatening Fred! ‘You had better have this truck out of here by Monday!’”

This thought caused me to laugh even harder. I finally got myself stopped, but the not before the tears were rolling down my face. Who would have thought? In spite of myself, I giggled as I wiped at my tears.

“You okay . . .sir?”

It was the not-so-young blond kid, Sam Goodnight, standing at the office door.

I looked over at him and nodded. “Yes, Sam, I’m okay. I just realized something that gave me a feeling of relief. Something I’ve been worried about. I have just discovered yet again that life is not always what it seems.”

I clapped my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

His look of concern gave way to one of wisdom. His eyes twinkled. He smiled and nodded. “Indeed I do, sir.”

I dropped my hand from his shoulder and he sauntered back out onto the main floor. I watched him go, noting the confidence in his stride. There was something about him. Then the revelation hit me. Talk about having an ace up one’s sleeve. The giggles started again, but I managed to contain them before I broke out into laughter. The Boss. He had done it again. 

I left Ashley’s office and went back to mine. In all probability there were more cameras here and there, but I wasn’t going to waste time looking for them. Maybe I would find out after the present situation was over with. But I might not. Postal inspectors are a clan of their own. Being omniscient was their game, and they liked the employees to be aware of that. Fear that you’re going to get caught keeps a person on the straight and narrow—that was their credo.