Page 83 of Untamed Coast

Collins stopped, turned toward Sam, and raised an eyebrow.

Sam immediately regretted saying anything.

Collins opened his mouth but didn’t speak. He resumed his pacing.

“It was years ago—I was just startin with the force.” Sam realized his lies were about to compound themselves. He turned the whiskey glass upside down. “Anyway, may not be the same fella—just a few things match up for me.”

Collins paused again and turned back toward Sam. “Well, I guess you’re entitled to your hunches, Chief. As far as I’m concerned, I still think the lady did it. Too much of her story doesn’t add up. She did have the gun.” He unsnapped and resnapped his own holster again.

“Collins, will you knock that off?” Sam was fed up. “I keep feeling like you’re about to draw on me.”

“Sorry, Chief—nervous habit.” Collins paused. “Hey, we know he had to fly, right? Had to be a jet if he came from St. Louis in one day. And if he was a big-deal real-estate guy, he was probably rich. Those private jets, you know, Learjets and stuff, they come in and out all the time. We should check on that angle.”

Sam spun his Rolodex, found the card for Sitka Aviation Center, and dialed the number. “Dorothy? Hey, Chief Sam Worlson, how are you today?” He asked about private jets coming or going.

“Why yes, since you ask.” Dorothy sounded excited. “Brand-new Lear Seventy-Five flew out a bit ago. Older man with a redheaded woman. Why?”

Sam pounded the table. Anya was telling the truth. “Dorothy, whatever info you can dig up on that plane—when it left, where it was headin. It’s crucial for this murder case.”

Dorothy gasped. “Wow, whatever you need, Chief. We have one of those new fax machines, should I send it over with that?”

Sam thought about the meager department budget. “We ain’t that fancy here at the police station. Just give me a holler when you got that info sorted out. And if you wouldn’t mind, this is urgent.”

Chapter 64

.-. . -.-. --- --. -. .. - .. --- -.

Hoonah, AK

2017—Marconi Franco

The general store in Hoonah had a surprisingly good selection of marine parts. Marco found a new hundred-amp fuse exactly like the one for the davit and a spare. He picked up a few dishes to replace the ones that had fallen and broken during his Point Retreat debacle. The cashier even told him where to find a mechanic in town who would probably have a new spare impeller.

On the way back to the harbor, Marco stopped at the Fisherman’s Daughter and ordered some fish and chips. They were out of halibut, and he agreed they could substitute salmon bites instead. He ordered a milkshake to go along with his lunch. He hadn’t had a milkshake in years. The food was delicious, and it was nice to let someone else do the cooking for a change. It was a sunny day, and he sat in front of the restaurant at a picnic table.

At the next table over was a younger man, also eating fish and chips.

“Looks like you got the last of the halibut,” Marco said. “They swapped me salmon. It’s delicious, though.”

The man was dressed in a gray polo shirt and khaki pants with an orange stocking cap like a lot of fishermen wore. He seemed familiar somehow. “Oh, uh, yeah.” The man looked up with a startled expression. “Food here’s always great.”

“Hey,” Marco said, “have we met somewhere?”

The man covered his mouth with his hand. “I don’t think—”

“Yeah,” Marco continued. “You were in the research room at the library in Juneau a few days ago.”

“Oh, yeah.” He paused. “I was waiting for my girlfriend to get off work.” The man wrapped the rest of his food in paper and got up to leave. “Well, have a good one.” He walked around the corner and disappeared down the sidewalk.

The good weather, delicious food, and success in finding parts had lifted Marco’s spirits. He thought he might hang out in Hoonah for a day or two, do a few projects on the boat, and see if he could put the whole missing woman and Radioville drama behind him and get on with his life. He wanted to go back to his usual exploring, fishing, and meeting new and interesting folks.

But he really wanted his snow globe back.

Marco took out his phone and dialed the number of the officer he and Bill had talked to in Juneau when he first found the gold.

“Deputy Willard, how may I help you?”

“Hello, Deputy, this is Marco Franco, the—”