Jimmy Buffett was wasting away again in Margaritaville on the jukebox. “Come on, babe,” Bobby said to Dinah. “Let’s dance.” He pulled her into his lap and rolled out into the middle of the floor, where they wove a complicated little spiral of wheels and feet to a calypso beat.
“This could be our first date,” Jim said.
Kate closed her eyes and shook her head.
“A double date,” he said. “We can hang out without you getting all stressed that I’m going to jump your bones.”
Kate drank water.
“I am, of course, but that comes later. Me, too.”
“Jim,” Kate said.
“Kate,” Jim said, and grinned.
She couldn’t stop herself. She laughed.
“That’s better,” he said, and waved over another round. When Bernie had come and gone he said, “I haven’t seen you since Tuesday. I see you’re still living and uncharred, which I find to be a good thing. What have you got on Dreyer?”
“Nothing.”
He looked skeptical. “Nothing?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head and rolled the ice-filled glass back and forth across her forehead. “Jim, I was born and raised in this Park. I’ve howdied, as they say, with just about everyone who has lived or is living in it. I’m related by blood to at least a third of them, by marriage to at least another third, and the last third owes me one way or another. People talk to me because they know me and because they know I’ve been around forever.”
“You got diddly.”
“In the past three days, I’ve talked to anyone who ever said hi to Len Dreyer going into the post office, anyone who ever stood in line behind him at the Niniltna General Store, anyone who ever bumped into him in this bar. He did some kind of work for just about all of them, fixed roofs, laid floors, dug foundations, fixed boats, cars, snow machines, four-wheelers, hair dryers, irons, blenders, Skilsaws, and one 1994 Harley-Davidson two-tone blue and silver Fat Boy with twenty-four thousand miles on it that is apparently driving Archie Spring either into his second childhood or the sunset, depending on whether you talk to him or his wife.”
“An all-purpose, super-duper utility handyman.”
“With a work ethic that wouldn’t quit. His mother must have been frightened by a slacker when she was pregnant. He always showed up when he said he would, he always stayed on the job till it was done, and he always got it right the first time.”
“He could have gotten rich in a town like Anchorage.”
“Why didn’t he, then?” she said, frustrated. “And why didn’t he live higher on the hog in the Park?”
“How did he live?”
“You know his cabin burned down?” He nodded, and she pulled out a photo and shoved it at him. “Got that from the Association files, you know that survey they did of every building in the Park and its history back when the ANCSA money started coming in?”
“Sort of like a Doomsday Book for the Park,” he said, nodding.
“Yeah. Emaa wanted a starting place, an inventory for when she went looking for federal money to build housing.”
They bent their heads over the photo. It showed a tumbledown shack made of weathered boards, with a roof that looked like it was about to slide in one direction and an outhouse in the background that looked like it was going to crumble in another.
“One man’s hovel is another man’s castle,” Jim said, straightening. “What about family?”
“Did haven’t any.”
“Friends?”
“Didn’t have any.”
“Women?”
“Jim, I don’t think this guy’s been laid since he arrived in the Park.”
“And when was that?”
“Near as I can figure, before I was born.” She sat back, glum. “He may have shook hands with somebody between then and now, but that’d appear to be about the limit of Dreyer’s human contact.”
“You’d be wrong about that.”
They looked up to find Dandy standing there with an insufferably smug look on his face.
“Dandy,” Jim said.
“What are you talking about?” Kate said.
He pointedly ignored her. “I’ve been asking around.”
“You’ve been what?” Kate said. She looked at Jim, who appeared less than thrilled.
“Conducting my own investigation, and it looks like I’ve been doing better than you.” Without invitation, Dandy sat in Dinah’s chair and pulled out a small spiral notepad that looked a lot like the one Kate carried when she was on a case. He flipped it open. “Len Dreyer’s had five girlfriends. Susan Brainerd in the Park, Vicky GordaofF down in Cordova, Cheryl Wright in the Park, Betsy Kvasnikof-Dandy allowed himself a reminiscent smile -”and most recently Laurel Meganack.“
“You’re kidding me,” Jim said, startled out of his disapproval into something like respect. “Laurel Meganack? Of the cafe Laurels?”
An arm snaked around Kate, startling her. It was only Bernie, removing her empty glass and replacing it with a full one. “Thanks,” she said, squeezing the wedge of lime.
“Sure.” He lingered until Jim gave him a look. “Oh, all right,” he said, and moved on to Pastor Bill’s table, at which service showed signs of ending. Kate’s eyes followed him.
Jim noticed her thoughtful look. “What?”
“Nothing,” Kate said. “Nothing at all.” She looked at Dandy. “How sure are you about Dreyer’s girlfriends?”
Dandy looked affronted. “They wouldn’t lie to me,” he said righteously.
He might even be right about that, she thought. “How long did they last?”
“According to them he was a hit and run kind a guy,” Dandy said, smirking.
“One-night stands? Two? Be more specific.”
Dandy looked at Jim, who raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t ask,” he said, on the defensive. “None of them sounded like it was very permanent. What does it matter?”
“You have dates?”
He showed her his notes. Jim took the pad and ripped out his notes. “Hey,” Dandy said.
Kate looked at Jim. “Looking for love in all the wrong places?”
“Sounds more like scratching an itch,” he said.
She nodded. “To me, too. Dandy, did he talk to any of these women, mention family, where he was from, anything like that?”
Fingering his depleted notepad, he looked relieved. “No. I did ask that. Vicky said it was one of the reasons she wasn’t interested in it lasting. He didn’t talk much.”
She nodded. “Good work, Dandy.”
Dandy looked gratified. “Even if no one asked you to do it,” Jim said. “You’ve done enough, all right? Leave this to us now.”
Dandy’s face fell. “But I thought-”
“No,” Jim said firmly. “Dandy, you don’t have any training. We’ve got a six-month-old murder here, we can’t afford to have amateurs messing up the evidence. Not to mention which, the murderer is most likely still in the Park. He’s already demonstrated a willingness to kill not to get caught, twice. You heard what happened to Kate’s cabin. Just luck she wasn’t inside when it got torched.”
Dandy’s mouth set in a stubborn line. “I can handle myself.”
“I don’t doubt it. But you’re done. I mean it, Dandy. Thanks for what you’ve accomplished so far, I appreciate it, I really do. But you’re done now.”
Dandy opened his mouth, recognized the implacability of Jim’s expression, and closed it again. “Fine,” he said tightly, and marched off.
Jim handed her the wad of notes and Kate stuffed them into a back pocket. “Why don’t they have an ID on Dreyer yet?”
“His prints aren’t in the system.”