Chapter 63
-... .-. . .- -.- - .... .-. --- ..- --. ....
City Police Station—Sitka, AK
Sam ran his finger along the smooth edge of the empty whiskey glass that was sitting on his desk.
He rotated it back and forth slowly between his fingers.
It was an unusually warm day in Sitka, and the AC was not working.
A trickle of sweat ran down the back of his neck. “Find anything on this Thomas guy?”
Ted Collins walked back and forth in front of the desk, snapping and unsnapping the restraint on his holstered pistol. “No Thomas—first or last name—on any flight in or out of Sitka the last two days and nothing tomorrow.”
Collins took out a notebook. “I did look up that company the Baron lady mentioned, Gateway Arch. The only Gateway Arch Development I found was out of business. I got a woman at an answering service.” Collins flipped through the notebook.
“They said the company’s assets were recently liquidated—whatever that means—and it had ceased operations.
Owners were a Virgil and Juneau Thomas. I told the lady to call me if she heard from them.
Might be a coincidence, or there might be some truth in her story? ”
Virgil. Definitely him. Juneau. That was the name of the girl in the brothel. It all makes sense now.
Sam felt bad about continuing to hold Anya when he knew she didn’t do it, but he didn’t have any compelling reason to release her. No reason he could admit to, anyway. He needed to get Collins to go a little further, to think it was his idea.
The whiskey glass felt heavy in Sam’s hand. He tap-tap-tapped it against the leather desk blotter. He was close, he could feel it. But there were no roads in or out of Sitka. “How bout floatplanes? Checked in with all them charter outfits? Or any boats?”
Collins paused and looked out the window. “The Baron lady said he came from St. Louis—in one day. He would have had to fly. No time to get to Alaska and charter a boat…What evidence do we have besides her crazy story and a match on a super common name? It’s a little too convenient…”
Sam considered his words. “I figure she’s spillin it straight. I may have encountered this fella before, and if it’s who I reckon, he’s slippery and downright dangerous.”
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.”