Chapter 64
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Hoonah, AK
The general store in Hoonah had a surprisingly good selection of marine parts.
Marco found a new hundred-amp fuse exactly like the one for the davit and a spare.
He picked up a few dishes to replace the ones that had fallen and broken during his Point Retreat debacle.
The cashier even told him where to find a mechanic in town who would probably have a new spare impeller.
On the way back to the harbor, Marco stopped at the Fisherman’s Daughter and ordered some fish and chips.
They were out of halibut, and he agreed they could substitute salmon bites instead.
He ordered a milkshake to go along with his lunch.
He hadn’t had a milkshake in years. The food was delicious, and it was nice to let someone else do the cooking for a change.
It was a sunny day, and he sat in front of the restaurant at a picnic table.
At the next table over was a younger man, also eating fish and chips.
“Looks like you got the last of the halibut,” Marco said. “They swapped me salmon. It’s delicious, though.”
The man was dressed in a gray polo shirt and khaki pants with an orange stocking cap like a lot of fishermen wore. He seemed familiar somehow. “Oh, uh, yeah.” The man looked up with a startled expression. “Food here’s always great.”
“Hey,” Marco said, “have we met somewhere?”
The man covered his mouth with his hand. “I don’t think—”
“Yeah,” Marco continued. “You were in the research room at the library in Juneau a few days ago.”
“Oh, yeah.” He paused. “I was waiting for my girlfriend to get off work.” The man wrapped the rest of his food in paper and got up to leave. “Well, have a good one.” He walked around the corner and disappeared down the sidewalk.
The good weather, delicious food, and success in finding parts had lifted Marco’s spirits.
He thought he might hang out in Hoonah for a day or two, do a few projects on the boat, and see if he could put the whole missing woman and Radioville drama behind him and get on with his life.
He wanted to go back to his usual exploring, fishing, and meeting new and interesting folks.
But he really wanted his snow globe back.
Marco took out his phone and dialed the number of the officer he and Bill had talked to in Juneau when he first found the gold.
“Deputy Willard, how may I help you?”
“Hello, Deputy, this is Marco Franco, the—”
Willard chuckled. “Oh, yeah, Gold Guy. Of course. You’re famous around here now.”
“Yeah, it would appear so,” Marco said. “Listen, I called about another matter. I wanted to be sure a couple items of mine were on the stolen property list from the break-ins at the Baranof Marine boatyard.”
There was a pause before Willard replied. “Baranof Marine…I don’t remember anything about that. You sure our department handled it?”
Marco was already wishing he hadn’t called. “Yeah, well, they said they were doing a police report. Some boats were broken into in the yard. Who else would they have called?”
“Well, that would have been us.” Willard’s tone had changed. “But I haven’t heard anything about it. Let me check, hold on a minute.”
Willard came back on the line. “You still there? I checked. No reports of anything like that from Baranof Marine. When do you say this break-in was? Last week?”
“Yeah, I—not much was taken from my boat, at least.” Marco’s stomach twisted as the image of Radio Flyer’s empty dashboard flashed in his mind.
“Two old journals I found near Radioville that I was studying and…this sounds silly…a Ketchikan snow globe. It has a sentimental attachment. Actually, that’s the main thing I’d like to recover if you get anything from this.
It’s a regular tourist snow globe, but with my late wife’s name and some info engraved on the bottom. ”
“Well, we’re not likely to…I mean, there’s not even a police report. Would you like to file one? You could come in, or I could take it over the phone.”
Marco just wanted to hang up. “No, I’ve already left town. Just, if it happens to turn up, can you give me a call? I appreciate your help.”
“I’ll keep a sharp eye out.” Willard’s voice had changed to smart-ass. “Got it. Gold—no big deal. Snow globe—all points bulletin. Send in the SWAT team.”
“No, it’s just…Sorry. I know you’re busy. I’ll let you go.” Marco disconnected the call before Willard had a chance to reply.
The sidewalk that led back to the harbor offered a gorgeous view of the Hoonah waterfront and Port Frederick. A couple of charter fishing boats were refueling at the public fuel dock. Two fishermen were lugging an enormous halibut toward the cleaning table. Boat traffic was coming and going.
Flat-black RIB.
Marco spun on his heels. He was certain. Motoring away from the public dock was the same flat-black RIB he had seen near Radioville—and the driver was wearing an orange stocking cap.
Guy from the library!
What was it Fresh Crab Guy had told him? The fisherman who moved his water hose into Radio Flyer’s fuel tank was wearing an orange cap as well? Marco’s fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists.
Probably the same guy. Maybe one of those Pykes?
There was no way to catch him. The RIB was far faster than Marco’s boat, and the guy had a long head start. The big black outboards roared as the driver throttled up, and the sleek black boat leaped onto plane, disappearing out of sight around the bend.