Chapter 27
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Sitka, AK
He unlocked the office and blew in, not bothering to hold the door for her.
Anya caught the door and was startled by a glimpse of her reflection in the glass. She crossed her arm over her chest and covered her bare shoulder with her hand. She was meeting a man, and she was wearing a dress. She looked…pretty?
He’d be furious.
He was gone.
The fluorescent tubes blinked to life with a lethargic buzz.
The taxidermy moose and salmon continued to stare knowingly across the office at each other.
Chilton dropped his weight into his squeaky seat and wiped the beading sweat from his brow with his sleeve. His blotchy red skin leaned purple under the cool-hued overhead lights.
The radio atop the filing cabinet was still on, whispering Kool & the Gang’s “Celebration” with muted exuberance.
Anya tried to smooth the back of her skirt as she lowered herself into the metal folding chair, crossing her legs, then uncrossing them.
She wasn’t sure what to do with her handbag.
She hadn’t carried one in years. The curved back of the chair didn’t offer a place to hang it, so she put it across her lap, then decided to turn it sideways, gripping it between her bare knees.
The brass clasps were cold and poked into her skin, so she returned the purse to her lap and held it in place with both hands.
Chilton pulled a file from across the desk and opened it with an audible flourish.
“We’ll need a death certificate before we can finalize anything.
I’ve put in for a court order for a presumption of death.
Normally, with no body, a person is declared to be ‘missing’ and seven years need to elapse before a presumption of death can be issued. ”
Anya gasped. She dropped her handbag at her feet.
Chilton held up his hands. “Now just hang on, Mrs. B, uh, Anya. I said ‘normally’—but in cases where a person is exposed to what they call imm-i-nent peril,” he enunciated slowly, the way one might if they’d previously had trouble with that particular word, “the court will issue one much sooner. I’m confident your late husband’s situation will qualify, and our judge is usually lenient on this sort of thing. ”
He rolled his chair back toward the table with the yellowed Mr. Coffee machine.
Anya wondered if it was the same pot of coffee from the previous week.
He held up a styrofoam cup. “Coffee?”
Anya waved him off and shook her head.
Chilton took a swig of the muddy brew. A large drop slid off his chin, leaving a brown mushroom stain on his dingy white shirt. “I’m sure a death certificate will be forthcoming soon enough, but we won’t be able to transfer most of the things into your name until we have that.”
Okay, what was the big rush to meet, then?
“Need a payment?” Anya reached for her handbag.
Chilton leaned back and spread his hands.
“No, Anya, nothing like that at all. Although I suspect the payments may be less of an issue after—well, just let me explain.” He leaned forward, picking up the folder.
“It’s regarding the island with the fishing cabin.
I assumed it had little or no value—small structure with no services on a remote island.
But, looking at these letters, this commercial real-estate company in St. Louis has a lot of interest in it.
That seems odd. I’m trying to get in touch with them to inquire if they’d still be interested in purchasing it. ”
Anya leaned back in the chair.
We talked about all that last time. What’s new?
Chilton turned a page in the folder and continued, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke with increased intensity.
“I have not had a response yet, but in the meantime, I did a little more digging. Most of that company’s holdings are in commercial real estate in St. Louis—strip malls, office buildings, that sort of thing.
But they also own half of an old mining claim here near Sitka.
That’s their only holding outside of St. Louis. ”
He smiled at Anya, yellow teeth peering through stretched lips. “That piqued my interest.”
Chilton held a finger in the air. “It turns out your late husband might have a stake in that mining claim. Did you know anything about that?”
“Never heard of it,” Anya replied.
“Well, I checked the geologic mineral survey records from just a few years ago,” Chilton continued, “and they confirmed that no significant deposits of gold or valuable minerals exist anywhere in the area of that mining claim. Dead end, right?”
Yes. Dead end. Obviously. So?
Anya was getting impatient with all this showboating.
He took another swig of coffee and winced. “…so I went to the bank and asked to see the historical files from the assay office from those years. That’s the place miners went to sell their gold.”
I know what an assay office is.
“Well, they didn’t call me back until the next day,” Chilton continued, “because someone had to get those records out of storage, but…”
Anya couldn’t stand any more. “Is this going anywhere, or are you just charging me for spinning long yarns?”
Chilton cracked a cocky-looking smile. “Yes, I’m getting to that.
I found that, contrary to what the mineral survey suggested, a substantial amount of gold was sold from that mining claim.
In today’s values, a very substantial amount.
We are talking millions. Did your husband also inherit any significant amounts of money that you are aware of? ”
Anya laughed. “Seriously? No.”
Most definitely not a millionaire.
She thought about the meager balance in their checking account.
Had to borrow to buy the fishing boat.
Chilton picked up a red-and-white peppermint from a bowl on his desk, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth.
“Okay, well, I’ve requested bank account records,” he garbled, the mint clicking between his teeth, “although they informed me that those may take a while longer to dig up. It’s been over forty years.
So, that’s one question. Did you ever meet your father-in-law?
” The mint created an obvious bulge as he parked it in his cheek.
Anya’s stomach turned. The moose head on the wall looked at her sympathetically. Chilton’s name was engraved on a brass placard below the moose.
Pretty good resemblance.
Anya realized she hadn’t answered yet. “No. He died years before I met my husband.”
She turned her head to the side and took a breath, like a swimmer.
Chilton leaned back, nodding as if she had somehow cleared something up for him.
His chair squeaked. “Well, if he inherited half the money that was produced by that mining claim back in the day, he’d be sitting on a good deal of wealth.
But, independent of that, I want to know why this outfit is so hell-bent on buying your island with the fishing cabin.
With your permission, I’d like to play it a little cagey with the buyers when we get in touch.
I want to see what they’re willing to offer.
” Chilton put his hands behind his head, elbows out, and rocked smugly back and forth in his chair.
Anya waited to see if anything more convincing would emerge from Chilton’s mouth.
It did not.
She broke the silence. “What would my island and fishing cabin have to do with some abandoned mining claim? And who cares? There must be dozens of them rotting around these parts.”
Chilton frowned and leaned forward again, placing his forearms on the desk, tilting his chin down and eyeing her from an angle, as if over a pair of nonexistent reading glasses.
He spoke in a hushed tone. “Something just doesn’t quite add up here, Anya, and I’d like to see if we can get anything else—information at least, from this company.
I don’t know why an outfit that owns a bunch of strip malls in St. Louis also has one small chunk of land in Alaska.
And I’d like to find out what happened to all the money from that mining claim.
If your husband didn’t inherit it, where did it go?
Did he have any siblings that you know of? ”
He burped loudly. “Pardon me.”
Anya desperately wished there was another lawyer in Sitka. “No, he was an only child.”
Chilton nodded. “Aha! Well, then we should put some effort into locating his share of the proceeds.”