“Stay away from her,” Ethan said.
Well now, Jim thought. It seemed that Ethan didn’t know that Jim had recently been where no Ethan had gone before. He wondered why Dandy Mike was holding his fire. Probably hoping that it would get him a job. “That’s her choice,” he said.
“Stay away from her, goddamn it.”
Jim smiled at him again, and it was about as friendly an expression as it had been before. “You’re still married, aren’t you, Ethan?” He watched with interest as Ethan’s fair skin flushed right up to the roots of his hair. “You thinking you can have your cake and eat it, too? If so, you don’t know your women.” He took a ruminative bite of macaroni and cheese casserole, then added in a voice as patronizing and as patriarchal as he could make it, “But then, I never thought you did.”
For a moment, he hoped he might have gone too far, but no. Ethan regrouped and gave him a contemptuous look. “Big talk from the man with the badge.”
Oh. Right. He was in uniform. “Happy to take it off for the duration, Ethan,” he said softly. “Just for you.”
“Fuck you,” Ethan said after a simmering moment, and stalked away.
“He doesn’t appear to like you,” said Pete Heiman, who was sitting next to Jim with Bernie’s new barmaid, whose big blue eyes were even bigger and bluer than usual.
“He sure doesn’t,” she said. Her voice was light and breathy, perhaps consciously so, and her gaze was languishing. Jim looked at her and, as an experiment, tried to exercise the inner muscle that always used to come into play when he was faced with a pretty woman. Nothing. He was appreciative but not covetous. Interesting. But not as alarming as it had been.
He returned to his plate, his appetite good.
Meanwhile, out on the dance floor, Bobby Clark had joined Kate and Johnny. As his wheelchair rolled back and forth to the beat, Dinah danced around all three of them with Katya, who was in a backpack, waving a rattle. Mandy and Chick were down the circle a bit, Mac Devlin was doing his usual lumbering grizzly bear impression, and Bernie and Edith were jitterbugging, which was an interesting, though obviously not impossible, exercise to the beat of Native drums.
The drums beat once, twice, three times, each time harder and louder than the time before, and a cheer went up from the gymnasium floor when the last one struck. Kate handed Johnny over to Auntie Vi, from whom he would learn the smoothest moves, and went to the microphone set up at one side of the stage. “Hello the Park,” she said.
“Hello!” the crowd shouted back.
“We’re here today to honor the memory of one of our own. You know who I mean.”
“Dina!” they answered with one voice.
“That’s right, Dina Willner. She died a week ago yesterday, and we’ll miss her. But we’ll never forget her. And this is why.”
Kate primed the pump by telling the story of Dina teaching her to rappel. She told it well, keeping it light and at her own expense, and everyone laughed.
She was followed to the microphone by Mac Devlin, who glowered out at the crowd from beneath wiry red brows and growled, “God knows, Dina and me hardly ever agreed on nothing. She was a greenie from the word go, and I think the best thing you can do with a tree is cut it down and make something out of it somebody can eat off of or sit down on. But”-he fixed the crowd with a gimlet eye- “she weren’t no stealth greenie. What she was and what she believed was right out front for everybody to see, and she fought clean. I won’t go so far as to say I’ll miss her, but I respected her.” He added gruffly, “And she was a good friend to everyone in the Park, whether you agreed with her or not. My house burned down and she was first to step forward and offer me a place to stay until I got rebuilt. She was a good friend to the Park,” he repeated. “Nobody can say better than that.”
Kate eased from the stage as Auntie Vi followed Mac. “Alaka, that Dina,” Auntie Vi said, and everyone laughed just from the expression on her animated face. “I remember that time of ANCSA and we all go to Washington, D.C., when Dina gets into a fight with the secretary of the interior. Ayapu, she thinks she’s Muhammad Ali, that girl-”
Kate moved over to lean against the wall. “Here,” Jim said, handing her a plate. “Eat.”
Kate’s stomach was still growling and the plate was heaped with all manner of good things, so she took it, but she managed to get her mouth so full that her “Thanks” was barely audible.
“You know that lockbox you beaned me with?” He watched her as he said the words. One of the minor annoyances with being hung up on someone with brown skin was she might be blushing and you’d never know it. “It had some interesting paperwork in it.”
“Oh?” Kate said, her voice uncompromising in the extreme.
“Private paperwork.”
“What kind?”
He looked down at her, mostly because he was almost two feet taller than she was. “Did you know Dina had been married?”
Kate choked on a mouthful of macaroni and cheese. She coughed, then coughed again. She was making so much noise, she was interfering with the current speaker, Bernie, who was telling the tale of Dina teaching him how to make a bean drink. “Dina insisted on celery salt,” he was saying, “and you had to pour a little of the water from the jar of pickled beans into the glass, too. The only trouble was that she was usually half in the bag by the time she developed an ambition to come around to my side of the bar, and she used about a half a fifth of Absolut while she was at it, which meant there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot of room left for the bean juice. So she’d drink off the vodka. And then, of course, she’d have to top off the drink.” He paused, then added, “She was without a doubt the worst bartender I’ve ever not employed.”
Kate took the same side door she’d led Pete through. Once outside, she coughed some more and then sneezed violently twice in succession. Her eyes were tearing when finally, wheezing, she said, “What?”
“I guess you didn’t,” Jim said, handing her a napkin. She mopped her tears and blew her nose. “I found a marriage certificate. You’ll never guess who to.”
She looked at him.
“John Letourneau.”
She gaped at him.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“But I thought-Ruthe and Dina-”
“Yeah,” he repeated. “So thought we all.”
She remembered, and her eyes narrowed in a way that was reminiscent enough to put him on alert. “But you-”
“Yeah.” He refused to apologize. He and Ruthe had been consenting adults. Further, he refused to kiss and tell. “I was new to the Park. I didn’t hear they were a couple until after. She never said. There’s something else.”
Kate couldn’t begin to imagine what else. “What, Dina owned stock in Exxon?” It was about as believable. She remembered the two beds in Ruthe and Dina’s loft. But they were in their seventies. A lot of older couples chose to sleep alone, sometimes even in separate bedrooms.
He laughed. “No, nothing that bad.” He sobered. “Kate, I’m wondering about Higgins.”
“The guy you caught with the murder weapon in his hand?”
“I know,” he said, “I know. I’ve got him locked up in Tok. Would you fly up with me and talk to him, tell me what you think?”
Kate was taken aback. “You’re asking me for a consultation on a closed case?”
“Maybe it isn’t closed.”
“Oh, let me guess. He says he didn’t do it.”
“He says he doesn’t know, but, since I caught him with the knife, he figures he probably did.”
“How original.”
“The Carbondale chief sent me his sheet. There’s no history of violence, none, not ever.”
“What about his war record? His time in Vietnam?”
He shook his head. “None that they caught him at.” “Just talk to him,” Jim said. “I’d like to have your opinion.” He paused. “Please.”