Better To Rest Part 12

"I didnt know her outside of the book club, but what I saw I liked a great deal.

Betsy smiled. "Were getting that a lot.

The Tompkinses had always been a clannish bunch, not given to a.s.sociating much with outsiders, but Bill had been a member of Lydias book club, the Literary Ladies. It had been a going concern for almost thirteen years, and theyd stuck together through births, deaths, marriages and divorces. There was Bill and Lydia and Alta Peterson the innkeeper and Mamie Hagemeister the police clerk and Charlene Taylor the fish-and-game trooper and Sharon Ilutsik the hairdresser and Lola Gamechuk the cannery worker. They ranged in age from twenty-three to seventy-four. Some of them were married; some werent. Some of them were mothers; some werent. For one Sat.u.r.day evening every month, they met to eat and talk about the book they had all read the month before, and the one thing they all had in common was the love of reading. "I know youre going to miss her, Bill said out loud.

Betsy nodded again, maintaining her dignity, and they climbed into her Toyota 4Runner and drove off.

"That is the weirdest d.a.m.n bunch Ive ever met, and thats saying some, Bill said.

"She was a beauty, Moses said. "It didnt translate into her kids, though. Even that Karen, little and cute as she is. Shes just too d.a.m.n hungry, and it shows.

"Who was a beauty?

"Lydia. In high school, she was the girl everybody most wanted to.

"You, too?

"Me, one, he said, and gave her a blatant pinch on the a.s.s. "Lets go back to the bar.

"I have to; I have to get ready to open up.

"Ill go with you.

"No hanky-panky, she said sternly. "I have to work.

He grinned, the grin that from one angle fitted him with a halo and from another with horns and a tail. "Who, me? But when they got back to the bar, he disappeared into the office and let her go to work, pulling the stools off the bar and the chairs off the tables, firing up the grill, emptying out the dishwasher. It was Dotties half day, and Bill would be serving the lunch hour alone. She didnt begrudge Laura Na.n.a.looks new start in Anchorage, but shed been looking for a decent barmaid to replace her ever since. A few had come and almost immediately gone again. In the meantime, she picked up the slack. It was getting so she positively liked putting on that d.a.m.n black robe and sitting in judgment of her fellow Newenhammers.

She gave the bar a last swipe and stood back, admiring its gleam. The tables in the booth and on the floor were spotless, the ketchup and mustard and A.1. bottles full, the salt and pepper shakers topped off. She had enough clean cutlery and dishes to feed an army.

It had been a rocky start, all those years ago. She had gotten on one plane after another until she had run out of cash. The bar had had a Help Wanted sign in the window, and she went to work that night. Two years later it was hers, along with a big, fat mortgage shed paid off early. Newenham had been a boomtown in those days, boats so thick on the water you could walk across the bay and never get your feet wet. Hundreds of boats and billions of fish and no end of buyers from j.a.pan, a country hungry for fresh fish. And in her bar hundreds of fishermen, ready to step up with a fistful of twenties and ring the bell behind the bar. Those had been some wild and very profitable years.

Now there were fish farms from Scotland to British Columbia to Chile, and the North Pacific was being systematically fished out by processors with nets a mile, two miles long, ripping up the bottom of the ocean and every living thing with it, regardless of size or s.e.x. The king crab had been the first casualty, then the herring, then the salmon. Now the fishermen were fighting over rights to fish the pollock, whose own population was already so low the Steller sea lion herds that fed on them were starving themselves out of existence. The fishermens a.s.sociations vowed and declared that the pollock population had nothing to do with the sea lions, but h.e.l.l, it was perfectly clear to anybody whose livelihood wasnt on the line.

She wondered what was going to happen next. Alaska existed because of the exploitation of her natural resources: fish, oil, gas. What if she ran out? What happened then? And what happened to towns like Newenham, Togiak, Kodiak, Dutch Harbor, built on fish, whose continued existence depended wholly on the fishing industry?

Stan Tompkins was a fishermanLydias son, or one of them. Jerry was pretty much a waste of time, sad when you thought how far hed fallen from the start he had been given, but Stanley Jr. was a capable and prosperous man. She wondered what he thought of what was happening in the bay.

Lydia hadnt talked much about her children, although they had had some pretty raunchy discussions about s.e.x, the seven of them. Sharon Ilutsik had blushed a lot on those occasions, Bill remembered, and Lydia would be inspired to more and better stories on the strength of those blushes. "Youre a dirty old woman, Bill had told her once.

"And you arent? Lydia had retorted. "You and Moses kind of set the bar pretty high. Which, of course, had made Sharon blush more and the rest of them laugh harder.

The clock ticked up to ten and she unlocked the front door. The usual suspects were hanging around outside, waiting, and she stood back out of the way. Never get in between anyone and their first drink of the day. She could have opened up at eight and the same people would have been waiting. She got Chris Coursey a Miller without being asked, and took orders for a Salty Dog, a screwdriver, and a b.l.o.o.d.y Mary, this last for Jim Earl, who looked like he needed it badly.

Eric Mollberg shuffled in and sat down on his usual stool. She brought him a bottle of Oly, and he shocked her by refusing it and asking for a diet c.o.ke instead. She poured it for him, making a heroic effort to keep the inevitable commentary to herself. She remembered the arm flying out of the bag, the hand opening, the finger extending, the tip of it almost touching Erics nose, Erics eyes bulging with horror, and felt a laugh bubbling up inside her. To hide it, she went in the back to check on Moses.

He was sitting in front of her computer, frowning at the screen, and from the glow cast on his face he might actually be operating it. She couldnt believe he even knew where the on b.u.t.ton was. When she went around to see what he was doing, she suffered another shock. He was on the Internet, and had by some miracle known only to the angels managed to get on Google. "What, she said faintly, "are you doing?

"Doing a Net search, whats it look like? he said, raising his head to look through the half gla.s.ses perched on his nose.

Her half gla.s.ses, she saw, which happened to be fluorescent pink with white tiger stripes and rhinestones winking from the corners. "I always want to rip your clothes off when you wear those things, she said.

He grinned. "I know the feeling. He tapped the gold coin, sitting on the desk next to the keyboard. "This thing might be valuable.

"How valuable?

"Well, now, that depends. This coin is a double eagle, a twenty-dollar gold piece.

"So its worth at least, I dont know, twenty dollars?

Moses gave her a disapproving look and she subsided, for the moment. Those gla.s.ses did make him look awfully cute.

"They were the largest regular-issue gold coins ever made by the United States.

"Whats a regular-issue coin?

"I dont know, exactly. I think it means like nickels and dimes and quarters are today.

"Not commemorative.

"I think so. Anyway, there were two basic designs. The first one was the Liberty Head, with Lady Liberty facing left on one side with the date and an eagle with sun rays and stars on the other side. The reverse, he said, sitting up with an expectant look.

Knowing her duty, she looked suitably impressed.

"It was made from 1849 to 1907.

She looked at their coin. "Did we figure out what the date was on this coin?

"Nineteen twenty-one.

"So not a Liberty Head.

"The other design is called the St. Gaudens type, named after the guy who designed it. Lady Liberty is back, only shes in full figure and standing, again on the dated side, and a flying eagle on the reverse.

"And it was made "From 1907 to 1933. And theres something called a mint mark that is supposed to be right below the date.

Bill squinted, but Moses had her gla.s.ses and she couldnt see anything more than some indecipherable squiggles. "Ill take your word for it.

"Twenty-dollar gold pieces, Moses went on in a professorial tone, "are the most commonly found gold coins today because people h.o.a.rded them when they were made. Each coin contains about an ounce of gold, and the price of the coin depends on the price of gold bullion. Gold is soft, so the coins that actually saw the inside of somebodys pocket are pretty beat up. They can be worth anywhere between three hundred and four hundred dollars. He sat back and said proudly, "This ones in pretty good shape, so far as I can tell, so I figure its high-end.

"Wow. Bill looked at the coin with more respect. "I wonder whose it was?

"Who belonged on the other end of that arm, you mean?

"Yeah.

He shrugged and pulled off her gla.s.ses. "Youd be amazed the kinds of things people haul around in their pants. I know a guy carries a big blue gla.s.s marble aroundI mean its two inches in diameter. Says its his good-luck piece. Every time I see it Im glad for him that it hasnt broken. Ouch. He winced at the thought of what kind of damage a broken marble in the pocket might do. "I know a woman carries an ivory carving of a sea otter everywhere she goes, changes pockets only when she changes her pants. Its her, I dont know, totem, I guess.

"Like a good-luck charm?

"Could be.

"And youre thinking this gold coin was a good-luck charm, too?

He looked at the coin. "If it was meant to bring good luck to its owner, and the owner was attached to that arm, it sure failed of its purpose.

"No kidding. Because he seemed more contemplative than driven, she said, "You got a feeling about this?

He thought about it before he replied. "No, he said, seeming a little surprised by his own answer. "I think Im just interested. He slanted a glance up at her. "Im allowed to be interested without its requiring me to prophesy, aint I?

"You is. Somebody shouted for beer on the other side of the door. "Dont hurt the computer, she said over her shoulder, and shut the door on his oath.

The customers had doubled in number and she took her first three burger orders. As she served the third she became aware of a conversation going on in a booth in the back, featuring Evan Gray. One of her minor frustrations was that Moccasin Man was as adept at getting out of jail as he was at getting into it in the first place.

"Its true, he was saying to the rapt audience gathered around him. "They were smuggling gold into the Asian theater, gold for the resistance forces fighting with the Allies. Thousands, hundreds of thousands of dollars worth. Maybe even millions.

"And you think its up there?

"You saw that coin. You know where its from. I was over talking to John Kvichak and hes thinking about going back up to the crash himself. h.e.l.l, its only Bear Glacier; we can drive to Icky and four-wheel it the rest of the way in.

"Bags of gold so heavy youll strain yourselves carrying them down the hill, is that it, boys? Bill said.

They jumped and looked around. "Oh. Bill. Hey.

"Hey, yourself. You thinking of mounting an expedition up to that plane crash John and Teddy found?

Moccasin Man gave her his best grin, a vast expanse of white enamel, a heated promise of full-blown s.e.xual fulfillment, and a total lack of sincerity. "Well, h.e.l.l, Bill. We were just talking.

"The sites being treated as a crime scene, Evan. I dont think the troopers are going to be best pleased if you bunch of yahoos go up there and start messing around in search of this mythical gold.

Evan looked amazed. "Why, Bill, wed never do that. He winked at the other men. "Would we, boys?

There was a chorus of agreement. Over her shoulder Bill saw the men at the bar c.o.c.king a collective ear, even Eric Mollberg, who looked anxious, as if he hadnt quite remembered how to interpret data sober.

Better and better. She could only hope that Liam had covered the ground thoroughly and that there was no evidence left to be messed up.

Or that the glacier would calve on top of the Gray gang upon their arrival. Cheered by this vision, she returned to the grill and watched through the pa.s.s-through as the Gray gang sidled out the door.

ELEVEN.

Liam hadnt been able to go home the night before, not even as far as the Jayco popup in the front yard. He was embarra.s.sed and ashamed of his reaction to Karens advances. It bothered him that even in his sleep he hadnt been able to tell Karen from Wy. He knew it was irrational but it was how he felt. He didnt want to see Wy until he had calmed down. He wanted a shower before he saw her. He wanted to dip his p.e.n.i.s in a jar of disinfectant before he saw her.

He didnt want Wy to see him, was what it amounted to. He was afraid she would be able to read what hed been doing all over his guilty face. Besides, Jo and Gary might still be there, and if she couldnt read him Jo sure as h.e.l.l could. The reporter had the most unnerving stare Liam had ever encountered, one that cut right through any bulls.h.i.t he might be able to throw up about where hed spent the last hour.

Besides, he told himself, with Gary there maybe Wy didnt want him in the house.

He knew it wasnt true, but it was an excuse he grabbed at. He went back to the post. He would have sacked out in the front seat of the Blazer, but he didnt want anyone driving by the following morning to see him. The chair behind the desk was on casters but it was well padded and leaned back pretty far, and it wasnt like hed never slept in it before. He loosened his tie, propped his feet on the desk, and prepared to wait out the night.

His mind wouldnt let him alone. Images of Lydia giving him the once-over, the pure female appreciation in her eyes even more unsettling when she depreciated thirty years in age and became her daughter Karen. The gold coin rolling out of the dead, desiccated hand, winding round and round and round on the dance floor of Bills Bar and Grill. Wys expression, comprised of horror at the sight of the arm and guilt at the presence of Gary in the booth with her. The slab of ice separating from the face of the glacier, falling he could believe almost intentionally right on top of the two of them.

The snarl of John Dillinger Barton over the phone: "What the h.e.l.ls keeping you; get on the G.o.dd.a.m.n plane!

He grieved again for Charlie, but the grief was no longer the crushing, debilitating force it had been. Instead it brought his son back in all his round-cheeked, dimpled glory, and he was grateful, would always be grateful. He wanted to remember Charlie, always and forever. His son. Likely the only child of his body he would ever have.

He must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing he heard was a loud bang! bang! For one disoriented moment he thought he was back at the foot of the glacier. "Look out, Wy! he shouted, and dove for cover. For one disoriented moment he thought he was back at the foot of the glacier. "Look out, Wy! he shouted, and dove for cover.

Only he fell out of his chair instead, into a sticky pool of coffee spilled the day before that he could swear he had cleaned up. He lay where he was, swearing feebly.

"Thats my boy, he heard someone say.

Oh, no.

He raised his head cautiously to peer over the edge of the desk.

It was.

Col. Charles Bradley Campbell of the United States Air Force, eagles and all.

But wait, there was more. Colonel Campbell had not come alone. Behind and slightly to the right of the erect figure in immaculate blue was a slender young man in neat chinos and a light blue b.u.t.ton-down shirt with a dark blue tie under a dark blue windbreaker. He had neatly cut straight black hair and round, no-rim gla.s.ses perched on the end of a thin, high-bridged nose through which he peered at Liam with some puzzlement.

Liam got to his feet. "Hi, Dad.

Charles smiled. "h.e.l.lo, son. Great to see you again.

Uh-huh. Liam shook the hand extended to him and offered no explanation of his swan dive out of the office chair. Charles was tactful enough not to ask for one. "You must have had a late night.

"Yeah. Liam glanced surrept.i.tiously at his watch. It was past ten. Where was Prince?

Firm footsteps sounded on the stairs, and the door opened to admit Prince. "Charles!

"Diana, Charles said, a wealth of information in that single word.

Prince recovered fast; Liam had to give her that. "How nice to see you again, she said, eyes cast demurely down.

"How very nice indeed, Charles said.

More footsteps. Already the morning was not turning out well, and when he saw who it was, he groaned inside.

"Liam, Jo said, "I need to talk to you about this crash site. How do I get to it, and At that moment Col. Charles Bradley Campbell sprang into her dazzled view. Liam, while not a vain man, knew that he was good-looking, and knew that he looked like his father, but although hed had his share of women there was something about the elder Campbell that made them go down like ninepins in his presence. Jo, the hardest of hard-nosed reporters, all but went over flat on suddenly very round heels.

Charles was a tall man, as tall as Liam, and the similarities didnt stop there. His eyes were as blue, if less warm, his dark red hair, if shorter in style, as thick and as yet not gray even at the temples. His jaw was as firm, his shoulders as broad, his waist and hips as trim, his legs as long, and he looked just as good in the snug jacket and slacks of his dark blue air force uniform as Liam did in his trooper blue and gold.

Liam, looking at Charles through Jos eyes, remembered his state of deshabille and snugged up and straightened his tie. It was pretty much all he could do without a dry cleaner.