A Personal Favour, page 7
Gold would certainly be a motive for anybody. The idea that this mine had been misrepresented, if it went off to market, people would be paying no price at all. For what? More than that, maybe people wouldn’t want it. You could acquire it without even having to bid against anyone. It would all be under the radar. Then what? Could you mine it and move it without people knowing or would it be okay to bring it back into the light?
Kirsten was aware that she did not understand quite what she was looking at, or just how much of a catch owning this mine would be. How easy was it to cover up this report that misrepresented the mine? Who would be able to do it? Who would have to be in on it?
She held the page in front of her with the name Howlett’s Mine, ringed in pen. Howlett’s Mine, she thought. It didn’t even sound impressive. Maybe it was just the name of who had first found it, but for whatever reason, somebody had possibly killed a deputy over this. Melissa was missing. Had she run or was she simply a victim? And who was carrying out this potential fraud.
As dark fell around the exhibition, Kirsten thought about her next plan. Where should she go? Who should she talk to? Maybe she should return to the hotel. She was aware that the longer she stayed away, the longer she wasn’t found, the less convincing her story that she hadn’t been around the deputy would be. She could return to the hotel and face down the police. There was nothing on her. They weren’t looking for her overtly. It was better that she knew if she had to run than playing this hanging-around game. It would be easier to investigate knowing that you could walk down the street, but she’d need to get into her room first or find somewhere else to clean off this blood, because at the moment, that was the only thing tying her to the death of the deputy.
Chapter 10
Rather than return direct to the hotel by the front door, Kirsten thought it better that she should check it out before announcing any arrival. She parked her car over a mile away and then walked through the snow, off the road, until she came to the edge of the hotel complex. It wasn’t large, but from across the river, she was able to spot the police car sitting outside.
Clearly, they were waiting for her return, and she wondered if they’d already been inside checking through her belongings. They wouldn’t find anything, as Kirsten wasn’t dumb enough to leave anything in the room that could incriminate her and she had no weapons with her, trusting herself as the only weapon she would need. After all, she wasn’t here to cause a stir, just to find out what was going on.
As she sat looking at the police car waiting for her, she pondered on her next move. If she went in now and they arrested her or took her in for questioning, she could be two or three days before she would see the outside of a cell. In her mind, it would seem totally unfair. If she gave a simple explanation, they would probably be obliged to release her, but this was Alaska, not Inverness.
What would happen if somebody from a service like she had been in, but from the Americans, took an interest? If her background was known, they could certainly keep her under wraps for a while. Her interest had been piqued by Howlett’s Mine and she wanted to know more about it.
The paper’s editor, Martin, had been brought up within Kyler’s Peak, so he should know where all the details were kept about such things. He might even know about the mine itself. Kirsten realised she was in the dark not knowing if there was public knowledge about that particular mine or if it was more covert.
Taking a last glance at the river running along, she walked back in the dark to her car parked off road. She drove into town, leaving the vehicle in a car park and walked across town towards the offices of the paper. As she got closer, she saw a police car outside it as well. Were they reading her mind? Maybe they just knew where she’d been. After all, these were the people she’d talked to; the hotel she was staying in; Martin.
She glanced at her watch and realised that it was past six now. Maybe Martin would be making a move soon, although, with the deputy’s murder, there would be plenty to put in this paper.
Kirsten found some cash and managed to obtain some hot takeaway food, walking around the town eating it, before coming back to the paper and waiting for Martin to leave. When he did so, she jumped onto the bus that he took and then watched as he got off amongst a small area of houses on the edge of town. She jumped off a stop later and strode back, hurrying so she could see him making his way along a small avenue.
At a house at the end, he opened the front door, switched on the lights and entered. Kirsten could see no police car, but rather than go up to the front door in case the neighbours were watching, she scouted around through the wilds behind the houses and entered Martin’s grounds by his rear garden. The snow was deep, her jeans were soaked, and she was cold, but at least she was unseen. Approaching his rear door, she saw that he was in the kitchen, but crept up, picked the lock on the back door, and simply strolled in.
‘Dear God, it’s you,’ he said. ‘They want you. You know that?’
‘There seems to be a lot of police activity in town. I’ve heard that one of the deputies got shot. Is that true?’
‘Yes, it’s true. Deputy Greg Wiseman had his head blown off today at an alley behind our main shop. The police think you have something to do with it, though I don’t know why.’
‘I don’t know why either,’ said Kirsten, ‘but I might know what’s happening with Melissa.’
‘That, I want to know,’ said Martin.
‘What was your relationship with Melissa?’ asked Kirsten, closing the door behind her. She sat down in the chair away from the window as Martin stared at her quizzically.
‘I was her editor. She came over, did articles for us. When she started going on about a big story, I told her not to bother.’
‘Why? Why not have a big story? Surely that would be a coup for your paper.’
‘Kyler’s Times is not here to write the big stories. We’re a local paper. It’s all feel good; it’s all positive spin about the town. I live here, I want to see it get better, not be dragged down into the muck of . . . well, stuff like the larger cities do.’
‘Not even if something’s going on?’ She watched Martin turn away. ‘What was she to you? Martin?’
The man slammed his hand down on the kitchen worktop causing a cup to turn over and begin to roll. He reached for it quickly before it could fall off and set it back up.
‘I was her editor. Do you know the stories that went around when she arrived? Look at the age of me. She’s a child to me.’
‘Why stories? What stories?’
‘I left my wife for a younger woman once. I was forty, so was my wife, but the girl was twenty-seven. She was no girl; she was a woman. But my wife spun it amongst everyone, that I was just after a younger body. I wasn’t. I was lonely in my relationship. I wanted someone else. It didn’t work out. Now all I’ve got is my paper.
‘In comes Melissa, she’s nineteen, and yes, she has looks. She was charming; she could get under your skin, but she was a kid. You get that? A kid. I’m not a monster, but they started up the stories anyway because that’s what they like, isn’t it? My paper won’t be like that. My paper’s a proper paper.’
‘Okay, say I believe you, that there was nothing going on between you. Were you close professionally?’ asked Kirsten.
‘She was pretty green around the edges. I gave her some tips, but in truth, she had talent. The success she made here was all her own. I was delighted to have her; she brightened up the place. Don’t get me wrong, just because I’m old enough to know that I shouldn’t be in a relationship with her or to try anything daft like that, having somebody so full of life, good-looking, and keen to embrace the work I’m in was really good. I loved having her about, but in a good way.
‘But she came to you with a story; you didn’t let her run with it.’
‘There are darker things in towns, and she understood. She was working on stories that were feel-good, happy. This one, well, this one could get her into trouble. We’re a small town here. People don’t like it when you rock the boat too much, especially if you go around accusing them of . . .’
‘Accusing them of what?’ asked Kirsten when he stopped suddenly.
‘Fraud,’ he said. ‘Fraud.’ Kirsten took the backpack she had brought with her, took out the paper from inside and placed it on the table in front of Martin.
‘Have you seen this before?’ He shook his head but walked over and began to look through it.
‘I ain’t seen it. That’s from her source. She said her source had written it all down.’
‘So, this isn’t Melissa’s writing?’
‘No, but this is, it’s the mine. She said there was a dodgy report on the mine.’
‘Howlett’s Mine, do you know it?’
‘Well, yes. Howlett’s is to the north of the town near Kyler’s Peak, the scenic point. You won’t find anything out there though. Well, not unless you’re a geologist or that. It’d just be an entrance to mines, deep in snow now.
‘When she told you this, did you believe her?’
‘I did because the kid didn’t lie. That was the other thing about her; she told you the truth, but I saw the hungry look in her eye. You need to know when to hold back. You need to know when not to throw this stuff up in front of people. You need to know when it could land you with a bullet. Now, look at the deputy.’
‘Do you think his death is connected to this?’ asked Kirsten.
‘We don’t get many of our police officers shot dead in the streets,’ said Martin. ‘I’m struggling to remember the last time it happened. I’m not sure it ever has. This is quite shocking for this place. I know some of the bigger cities don’t look twice at it, but for us it’s more than a big deal. Generally, we’re a happy place.’
‘Who knows that she told you about her source?’ asked Kirsten.
‘Nobody,’ said Martin suddenly, ‘and keep it that way.’
‘Absolutely, but I need to know more about this mine.’
‘The next place she should have gone was the town hall; the records are kept in there. If they’re putting Howlett’s Mine up for sale—and they may have, I haven’t looked—they would advertise it. It would have been a small section in one of the papers. I don’t run the ads; it’s taken care of by another party. I’m busy enough doing the stories. The advertisements run through the free magazine as well. They may have advertised it, may have put it out, but if there’s any activity on that mine, the detail will be held in the town hall.’
‘And you think she went to the town hall?’
‘I told you, I saw the hunger in Melissa’s eyes. I didn’t want her to. I told her not to go digging but she did, and I don’t want you digging too far either. They know you’re here?’
‘No, there was nobody out front when you got off the bus. I was on it too. I came in via the rear so the neighbours wouldn’t see me arrive.’
Martin nodded, walked through to his front room turning to say to Kirsten, ‘Why don’t you come through in here and sit down; it’s a lot more comfortable. I’ll just get the curtains.’
Kirsten waited while the man prepared the room at the front. He put on a small fire which Kirsten migrated to as soon as she came in, but she noted that Martin had a grim look on his face.
‘There’s a car out front and somebody there, I don’t recognise them. I’m wondering if you do.’ Kirsten walked over to the curtains, moved them slightly to look out. There was a black car and a man with a thickset jaw. His nose looked Roman and there was a slight tan to him as well.
‘No, don’t know him but he’s not the police.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Why would the police watch you with a plainclothes officer? You’re going to know them all anyway from around the town. No, this is somebody else.’
‘Who are you?’ asked Martin.
‘I told you before, a friend of Melissa. Her parents are keen to find out where she is.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re not a friend in that sense. You’re not just somebody who’s worried about her. People like that just come in, blurt out questions. They go and ask the police how they can help to see what’s going on. The police act around you as if you’re some sort of threat. I’ll say this for our sheriff, he’s not an idiot. He knows when people are dangerous. Are you dangerous?’
‘Yes, Martin, I am,’ said Kirsten. ‘I’m not going to tell you where I’m from or who I am because if I do that, you’ll have something to tell. A secret to keep you don’t want to. But understand, I’m here for Melissa. I’m here to understand what’s happened to her. Outside of that, I don’t want to upset anybody else. The man out front is not somebody I’m going to entertain, not somebody I’m going to make a connection with. I’ll disappear out the back, and as far as you’re concerned, you haven’t seen me.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Martin. ‘The last thing I want to tell the police is you’ve come to my house. They won’t see that as a good thing.’ Kirsten nodded, stood beside the fire again, warming up her hands momentarily and then turned towards the back door.
‘Where will you go next?’ asked Martin.
‘Melissa went to the town hall probably. Time to follow the path.’
‘You know, the longer you take to surface in front of the police, the more they’ll think that you shot the deputy. Did you?’
‘I haven’t got a weapon with me,’ said Kirsten. ‘Not a gun, not a knife. Trust me when I say I didn’t do harm to that deputy. Now I better get on. Keep your head down, Martin, but if you hear anything about Howlett’s Mine, you can contact me, here’s my number. You can tell him you had it in case you heard any news about Melissa for me; that’s plausible.’
Martin nodded. Kirsten was aware he watched her all the way out the back door and into the woods. He’s afraid, she thought, very afraid, but it’s not a direct threat. It’s just generally who we’re dealing with. This was not good.
Chapter 11
Kirsten sat in her car and placed a call through her mobile, back to her own home; it took five rings before Craig picked up the call.
‘Hey, how are you doing?’
‘Same as ever; legs still don’t work; still not there.’
‘But are you okay?’ asked Kirsten.
‘When am I ever going to be okay? But it’s all right—your babysitter came around.’
‘He’s not a babysitter. I just asked Seoras to pop in, seeing I wasn’t about, in case you needed anything.’
‘Told you I can do it myself. Have you got anything worth saying, or are you just ringing up to gloat about what you have achieved?’
‘Don’t, Craig,’ said Kirsten. ‘I get you’re pissed at me being here and it not being you, but remember, you sent me; you told me to go.’
‘Well, it’s hardly as if I could go, was it?’
Kirsten could feel tears rolling down from her eyes as she spoke to him. He was so bitter. She still struggled to understand his anger towards her. ‘I need to know about Melissa’s parents; did they know anything about the story she was working on?’
‘You spoke to them, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but need you to check again. I need you to ferry the call through in case somebody is listening.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m on the run, well, sort of,’ said Kirsten. ‘I’m keeping low, I don’t want to be spotted until I’m ready to be. If I place a call to the parents, somebody might be onto that. They might look to trace back to me.’
‘They could trace you from me though, couldn’t they?’
‘No, they can’t,’ said Kirsten, ‘we’re using a secure line. I don’t care what they know; what I do care is that I know what they know. If somebody else finds out, that’s fine.’
‘I take it you haven’t found her then,’ spat Craig.
‘No,’ said Kirsten. ‘Don’t know if she’s alive or not, but something’s going on here.’
‘When I spoke to them, I told you everything that they told me,’ said Craig.
‘Did they tell you anything about a mine?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘nothing about that. Melissa was excited; she disappeared. They don’t know anything.’
‘Okay, all right. I’ll just have to do it the other way. Anything I can do for you though?’ asked Kirsten.
‘Like what? Get me a new set of legs?’
‘That’s an option,’ said Kirsten, almost choking on her words. ‘I don’t care about the money.’
‘I don’t care no more anyway,’ said Craig, ‘but you can call your carer off; told you I can look after myself. It’s up to me to deal with this. Go sort your case.’
The phone went down, and Kirsten sniffed hard. She was worried about him; that’s why she’d gone through him. She could have called the parents direct. She could have worked that somehow, but no, she’d gone to Craig, and she shouldn’t have. She should have just called him and asked him how he was, but she knew the row was coming. He wasn’t coping, and here she was stuck on the other side of the world, not coping with the situation either.
She sniffed, used the back of her hand to wipe her nose, and then rubbed the tears from her eyes. She was going to have to break into the town hall. Kirsten waited until midnight before driving around the town hall in the car. Inside was dark, and she wondered what sort of a security system they had. Maybe it wasn’t that complicated; after all, this wasn’t a big city. What of value was being held here? Nothing of great importance, not unless they were falsifying records.
After parking the car some distance away, Kirsten walked up through the snow and was thankful when it began to increase. It was almost a blizzard condition. As she arrived, and with the wind whipping up, she thought the one thing she wouldn’t be was heard. Looking at the outside of the building, Kirsten was able to identify the type of security system that was being used. It was a basic motion sensor, and she located the outside control panel, opening up the system. She checked the wires, before executing a loop that indicated to the system it was still armed, but no feedback from the sensors was coming in to say anything was wrong.
