Eleven Huskies, page 17
“Um, maybe.”
Pyotr nodded and then pointed at Kirill, a short, wide man with a mop of black hair. “He wrestle bear many time!”
“Really?” Peter tried to picture this but could only generate slapstick images.
“Yes, he live in Siberia in winter. Tough as . . . what is English expression?”
“Nails?”
“Yes, tough like nails!”
“That’s impressive.” Peter smiled at Kirill, who smiled and nodded in return, and asked, “In Siberia by yourself?”
Kirill nodded vigorously. “Yes. By self. With dog.”
“What kind of dog?” Maybe Kirill had a sled team. Maybe this was a thread that connected to the events here, however improbable that might be.
Kirill furrowed his brow and said something to Pyotr in Belarusian. They spoke back and forth a little, then Kirill turned back to Peter and said, “Big dog.”
This line of questioning wasn’t going where Peter had hoped. He tried another tack. “And what do you do there?”
There was another rapid exchange of Belarusian between Kirill and Pyotr. Pyotr answered. “He trap small animal for his furs and he shoot big animal for his meats.” Pyotr made a shooting motion at the moose head above the bar, using his left arm as a pretend rifle. “Kirill is very great shooter. In army he was, how you say, marking man?”
“Marksman?”
“Very great marksman!” Pyotr made more shooting motions, this time with sound effects. Kirill joined in.
The American fishermen at the next table stopped talking and turned around to look.
Peter kept his face blank.
The conversation veered into Yuriy’s own time in the army. According to the anecdotes told with great animation, this appeared to mostly involve the soldiers playing hair-raising pranks on each other and on the less popular officers.
After the laughter died down, Peter turned to Pyotr. Hoping to hear something more comprehensible, he asked, “And you, Pyotr? Any funny army stories?”
Pyotr gave him a thin smile and said, “No, nothing funny. Only boring office job in army.” Peter saw Pyotr wink at Yuriy and Kirill.
Everyone was quiet for a long moment. “But Peter, my friend, I almost forgetting something,” Pyotr suddenly said. He reached under the table and pulled out a camouflage-patterned backpack. He rummaged around in it for a moment and then produced a crumpled brown paper bag, which he handed to Peter with a big smile.
It was full of mushrooms. Not morels, which had a distinctive corrugated appearance Peter was familiar with, but rather a clutch of smooth round brown ones. Very generic looking.
“Not sure what name is in English. We say ‘borovik.’” Pyotr loudly kissed the tips of his fingers like a cartoon chef.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“The Belarusskis gave you mushrooms? And you’re actually going to eat them?” Kevin said. He smelled of soap and smoke, and his hair was wet. His eyes were still red from the smoke irritation, although not as cherry red as Peter’s. Peter was amused to see that Kevin had braided the tip of his red beard. Laura was evidently still getting cleaned up. Stuart was sitting by himself near the window, doing a crossword.
“I think so. I mean, why would they bother to poison me even if they were behind the other dastardly deeds?” Peter glanced over to where the Belarusians sat, across the room and well out of earshot. They were now in conversation with the Americans, evidently about guns as Pyotr was doing the mock rifle thing with his arm again.
Kevin grunted and shrugged. “I just don’t trust them.”
“And you? You going for the Durin look?” Peter asked, smirking and pointing at his brother-in-law’s new beard braid.
“The dwarf from The Rings of Power ? Ha! Sure! Why not? He’s a cool little dude, isn’t he? I’m the supersized Viking version is all.” Kevin flexed his pectorals and set his face into a fierce grimace.
“But without the weird Scottish accent.”
“Durin has a weird Scottish accent? No, without that. I don’t do accents. Or kinky dwarf things, whatever those might be.”
“Ha! And how long will the force let you keep that braid?”
“About three seconds. It’s a vacation braid.” Kevin glanced around until he caught the eye of a waitress. “And now I need a vacation beer or three. You too?”
“Had one already. And one is it for me today. So, not feeling too rough from last night?” Peter asked, recalling that less than 24 hours ago Kevin had downed the better part of a bottle of whisky.
“Super-sized Viking dwarves have legendary constitutions. Legendary. Especially when they’re on vacation. I think Tolkien mentioned that.” Kevin grinned and then turned his attention to Erin, the petite blond waitress with horn-rimmed glasses from the other night, who had appeared by his side with a notepad and raised eyebrows.
“Ah, hello. A big Barn Hammer Lumberjack Double IPA, please, followed 15 minutes later by another big Barn Hammer Lumberjack Double IPA. And after that . . . wait for my signal.” Kevin winked at her.
After she left Kevin turned to Peter and leaned forward. “Nice waitress. Speaking of waitresses, when I got back from our, er, adventure, I saw who I assume must be Molly: short, black pigtails, ears kinda like Laura’s?”
“Yeah, that’d be her.”
“Well, I saw her arguing with the bartender . . .”
“Cam?”
“If you say so. Guy with the eye patch.”
“That’s Cam.”
“OK, well, they were arguing down the hall from our room. Couldn’t tell what it was about, but this Molly was crying, and the bartender guy looked really mad. The only word I caught was the name ‘Evan.’ I pretended that I forgot something in my room, so I turned around.”
“That’s the chef. The guy who rescued us earlier.”
“Oh yeah? I gotta hear that story yet, and you gotta hear ours. But when Laura comes down. Anyway, seems the staff don’t all get along. Big surprise. Never worked anywhere where the staff all got along.”
“But . . .”
Kevin raised his hand and interrupted Peter. “There’s my beer!”
“Thank you!” Kevin raised his glass to the waitress. “This is going to be the best-tasting beer of the summer!”
“You’re welcome, darlin’,” Erin said, smiling at Kevin. She brushed his shoulder lightly with her hand as she turned to go.
“Uh-oh, you gave off too much of a hetero vibe.” Peter chuckled.
“Doesn’t matter what vibe I give off — queer, straight, something in between — it’s just my pure elemental animal magnetism. People can’t resist it. It’s like a superpower.”
“Must come in handy in your police work.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Cheers!”
Peter raised his empty glass. “Cheers!”
* * *
Laura appeared a few minutes later with her knitting bag and a paperback. Her red hair was wet and loose around her shoulders. She gave Peter a peck on the cheek and then settled into one of the two spare seats.
Stuart had just come over from where he had been sitting in an armchair by the window. His crossword was folded under his arm, and he had a pencil behind his ear.
“May I join the party?” he asked. “First one question, though.” He unfolded the crossword. “Three-letter word for ‘extinct flightless bird,’ second letter ‘o.’”
“Dodo!” Kevin exclaimed.
“Three-letter,” Stuart said. Then he looked at Kevin as if seeing him properly for the first time. He wrinkled his brow, leaned over, and whispered, “That is disappearing right away.”
“Oh, come on! It’s my vacation Viking braid!”
“What you call it is no concern of mine. I only know that it is unsightly and unsuited to man who expects to be seen in my company. It looks like a rat has burrowed into your beard and has left its tail hanging out.”
Laura guffawed, and Peter snorted and said, “Moa. Three-letter extinct flightless bird.”
“Perfect. You are very good!”
Kevin ignored the change of subject and protested, “Rats don’t have red tails!”
“That is your principal objection to my critique?” Stuart said, arching his eyebrows.
“OK, OK. We’ll talk about it later. Switching channels now.” Kevin took a deep drink from his beer and cleared his throat. “Laura and I are dying to hear what happened. How did you guys get here before we did? We arrived expecting to call the cavalry for you only to find you snarfing beers at the bar already.”
Peter and Stuart laughed and then took turns explaining everything from having to dive to avoid being bombed by embers, to how Evan and Jacob had been out looking for them.
When they were done, Peter turned his palms outward toward Kevin and Laura and said, “Now your turn.”
“You’ll probably tell it better, sis,” Kevin said. “Just don’t make me look like a total dumbass.”
Laura smiled and patted her brother on the shoulder. “Well, the big thing after we left you guys was how long it was taking. With both Kevin and Sullivan paddling, and with that strong tailwind . . .”
Just then, as if on cue, a blast of wind rattled the windows, startling everyone. The smoke was thicker now and had taken on an odd yellow tinge. The lake was not visible except for a narrow fringe at the shore below the lodge. An anxious murmur ran through the room, but Kevin picked up the story.
“Ha, the wind gods are listening! Like I was saying, with all of that, I assumed we’d be across to the lodge much faster. Sullivan seemed to know what he was doing, because he would check his compass from time to time and adjust the direction of the canoe. After what seemed like a ridiculously long time, I finally asked him what was going on.”
Erin appeared and asked if anyone would like to order anything. Laura and Stuart asked for coffees. Peter said, “No, thank you,” and Kevin pointed at his empty beer glass, glanced at his watch, and said, “Just in time!”
“Of course, darlin’, and anything to eat? The kitchen is closed on account of the boys being out with John fightin’ that fire, but we have snacks and fruit, and I can make simple sandwiches.”
“No, thank you so much. You’re very kind,” Kevin smiled and winked at her. “You’re busy enough. We’re OK waiting for supper, assuming that there will be supper?”
“Oh yes, we’ll surely figure something out by then. Don’t you worry, darlin’.”
“Darlin’ ? ” Stuart asked, in a surprisingly good imitation of a Newfie accent after she left.
“What can I say? I’m just a lovable guy,” Kevin said, puffing his chest out.
Laura rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to ignore all that and move right along unless somebody objects.” She paused for half a beat, and then continued. “So, as I was saying, I asked Sullivan where we were. He laughed his weird Santa laugh and explained that he had decided not to take us directly to the lodge. He had noticed new fires on the east side of the lake. How he noticed that through all that smoke is beyond me, but I didn’t question him. Anyway, this meant he wanted to get to his cabin as quickly as possible. It would potentially be in the path of an east side fire.”
Laura paused to take a sip of her coffee, which Erin had brought much faster than she expected.
“His portage to Black Eagle River was quite a distance up the shore from the lodge, so he had adjusted our course in that direction. He said he wanted to go fast and light, so he was going to stash most of his bags and leave us with the canoe. He had another one on the other side anyway because it was a really long portage through rough terrain. Only he ever used it.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Peter said. “Did you get any idea what was in those duffles? Looked like a lot for a little paddling trip with a puppy.”
“No, no idea. But then we don’t know how long he planned to be away anyway. I did notice him stash a jerrycan that looked empty, the way he pulled it out of the bottom of the canoe like it was nothing.”
“Really? Did it smell like kerosene or something else flammable?” Peter asked.
Kevin answered for Laura. “Pete, the whole friggin’ world smells like something flammable or flaming right now. Even the insides of my nostrils smell like smoke. My brain probably smells like smoke too. So no, neither of us detected any smell associated with the jerrycan.”
“Fair point,” Peter said.
“Anyway,” Laura continued, “he was brisk and businesslike and was up into the bush with a small pack and Dancer before we could have any sort of conversation. He just pointed down the shore and said it should take us about an hour. He’d come for the canoe some other time. And then . . . are you sure you want me to tell this part, Kev?”
“Yeah, yeah. The truth will get out eventually anyway. Not my proudest moment.”
Stuart raised his eyebrows. Peter said, “Oh?”
“I got in first, and set myself up in the bow, and Pippin followed and sat behind me. There’s no beach there, just a rocky shore. With the crazy wind, the waves kept slamming the canoe against the rocks. It was super rough. I held on to a nearby rock as best as I could to steady the boat. Then I looked over my shoulder just in time to yell, ‘Stay low and toward the centre,’ when my darling brother did the opposite.”
“I was anxious to get going!” Kevin said, red-faced. “And my brain was all messed up from the crazy day. Anyway, I took a big step into the stern, but I was off-centre and standing tall, so it instantly pivoted.”
“And dumped Pippin and me into the water.”
“And me.”
“Good thing Kevin was able to grab the canoe before it got swept down the shore.”
“One good thing I did.”
“So, anyway. We all got wet, but we didn’t lose the canoe or paddles.”
“Or Pippin,” Peter added.
“Or Pippin. And a couple hours later, we were here. Sullivan way overestimated our canoeing prowess and speed.”
“But we are so thankful you all made it without injury,” Stuart said, raising his coffee cup for a toast.
Before they could make the toast, there was a cacophony from the doors to the lobby. Barking, shouting, slamming, stomping, more barking.
John, Evan, Jacob, another man, another woman, and seven huskies burst into the restaurant.
Chapter Twenty-Six
All five people were soot-stained and wild-haired. The dogs were extremely excited, yipping and leaping up at nearby tables. Everyone in the restaurant stopped what they were doing to watch what was going on.
John gestured to Cam, who was behind the bar, and shouted, “Cam, come round up the dogs and take them to the conference room.” And then turning to the woman who had come in with him: “Nicole, you help him.” Then he climbed onto a chair and cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please!”
A lot of shuffling and scraping of chairs and murmuring followed. Peter signalled to Pippin to stay put under their table, where he had been napping quietly until all the commotion started. He knew Pippin would be interested in following the huskies.
“I hope the staff have been treating you well! I do apologize that we have been unable to offer a full kitchen or any of the fishing or outings Dragonfly Lodge has built its reputation on. As you have likely noticed, we have a bit of a ‘situation.’” John used air quotes.
Nervous laughter all around.
“The lodge is perfectly safe. We will continue to hose it down, and we have the advantage of a high position. The fire near the road is, however, too big for us to deal with.”
Gasps.
John held up his hand. “But like I said, it does not threaten the lodge itself. I repeat, it does not threaten the lodge itself. Friendly Bear was much lower, closer to the trees, and closer to the main fire. The boys and Nicole and I have dug a firebreak, but we can’t protect the cabins or the outbuildings too, if the fire moves that way. This is why the dogs have been brought in. It’ll be fine, but we just want to be as safe as possible. I’m sure the Wildfire Service will be on top of this as quickly as they can, but they’re putting everything they’ve got over at DLFN right now to try to save the community. We will get you folks out of here at the very earliest opportunity.” John took a deep breath, surveyed the room, and raised his arms in the air. “In the meantime, I’m declaring an open bar with all the drinks on me.” He pointed to one of the Americans, a portly middle-aged guy with a blond buzz cut. “We’re in no danger of running out of Moosehead, Ted!”
Guffaws from Ted. More nervous laughter from everyone else.
“And the meals tonight are complimentary too! And if there’s anything else we can do, anything at all, just holler!”
Stuart leaned over the table and whispered, “Open bar? Is that really a good idea under these circumstances?”
Kevin leaned forward and said, using a caricature of a conspiratorial voice, “Might help with the murder investigation.”
“How so?” Peter asked.
Just then, one of the huskies broke away from the group being herded across the restaurant past admiring guests to the doors of the conference room at the far side. It ran up to Pippin, who stood up to greet the dog. They stood nose to nose, both tails wagging, and then moved alongside each other so each could sniff the other’s genitals. They turned in slow circles, sniffing deeply, until Cam came running up.
“Sorry, Doc. Daisy got away! Not so easy herding seven excited huskies. They haven’t seen this many people in a long time!”
“No trouble! So, you’re the dog whisperer?” Peter asked.
“Not exactly, but I’m John’s go-to guy when he needs help with them. Nicole and Molly are good with them too.”
