“What of it?”
Laurel was getting a little defensive, Kate was glad to see. Defensive people usually had to justify their actions, which meant they talked more. “Like I said, I’m just looking for information. I’m not accusing you of anything except sleeping with two different guys at the same time, which we could all plead guilty to at some point, right?”
“Or more,” Laurel said, and then looked as if she wished she hadn’t.
“I’m only interested in these two. How did things end with Bernie?”
Laurel shrugged. “Well, I think. It only lasted a couple of months. The wife and kids, his own business, not to mention the coaching job, they kind of cramp his style.”
Kate took a guess. “He wasn’t unhappy you called it off?”
“Well.” Laurel thought it over. “He wasn’t happy, exactly. Things were pretty good there for a while.”
“So he was unhappy.”
“No.”
“Which is it?”
“We agreed together we should call it off,” Laurel said, exasperated. “I wanted more than he could give, and no way was he leaving his family for me. He understood.”
“You wanted marriage?”
“Good god, no!” Laurel said, and surprisingly, laughed. “I just wanted him around more, is all.” She winked. “He’s got some nice moves. Know what I mean?”
Bernie was a friend and this was not a visual Kate wanted. “What about Dreyer?”
Laurel noticed her arms folded tightly across her chest, and gave Kate a wry smile, inviting her to recognize the body language. The burgers were done and she flipped them to the buns, arranged lettuce, tomato, onions, and pickle on the plates, at which time the deep fryer alarm went off and she went for the basket of fries. “Len was a mistake,” she said, shaking the basket.
“How so?”
“And my mistake, too,” Laurel said, letting the fries drain. She looked up at Kate. “I thought he was interested.” She shrugged and gave a self-deprecating smile. “Seemed like pretty much of a given. Let’s face it, the ratio of men to women in the Park is pretty much in our favor.”
That was one way of putting it, Kate thought, looking involuntarily through the pass-through at Jim, thick hair rumpled, laughing at something Bobby had said. He looked up suddenly and caught her staring at him.
Laurel was speaking again and Kate willed the sudden drumming from her ears so she could listen.
“I had him in here to do some fix-up stuff the contractor left behind.”
“When?”
Laurel thought. “We opened the first week of school, the first Tuesday after Labor Day. Everybody’s back from fishing by then, and Billy and I figured we’d get a boost from the teenagers coming in when classes let out.” She shrugged. “They don’t have anywhere else to go, and I make a pretty mean milkshake, if I do say so myself.”
“What did you have Dreyer do?”
“Oh, you know, the linoleum wasn’t completely glued down in one corner, they used flat paint instead of glossy on one wall of the bathroom, the garbage disposal wasn’t hooked up right. Like that. So I asked around and somebody recommended Len.” She sighed theatrically, hand on her heart. “There’s just something about a guy with a pipe wrench that does it for me. He had his head under the sink and he’d stripped down to his T-shirt, and he was kinda buff, you know? I, well, I guess I jumped him.” Her smile was a little shamefaced. “The troopers could probably run me in for assault.”
“So it was a one-time thing?”
“Yeah. He wasn’t that interested in more.” Her brow creased. “Funny, you know? I mean, it’s not like I’m Miss America or anything. But most Park rats wouldn’t turn me down. It’s supply and demand, you know?”
“I know,” Kate said.
12
Well, now,“ Brendan said, grim satisfaction rolling out of Bobby’s receiver in waves, ”amazing what a name change will do for the database.“
“Why didn’t his fingerprints pop up on search?” Kate said, leaning into mike range.
The satisfaction changed to disgust. “We’re in the process of switching from paper fingerprint cards to electronic files, in order to sign on with the National Fingerprint File. I’m guessing your guy fell through the cracks.” A pause, followed by a heavy sigh. “Plus it’s the Feebs. I mean, jeeze, what’re ya gonna do. Listen, Kate?”
“Yeah?”
“You said this guy kept his head down in the Park?”
“So down he didn’t register on hardly anyone’s radar.”
Another pause. “Yeah. Well. His file ain’t pretty. Tell Bobby to check his e-mail.”
“Will do. And thanks, Brendan.”
A rich chuckle. “I’m adding it to the tab, Shugak. You keep getting me up in the middle of the night. I’m telling you, it’s costing you. Horizontally.”
She laughed. “Ooooh, you big bully, I’m scared now,” and knew enough to know that while 2 a.m. guaranteed few listeners there would always be at least one lonely trapper tuned in, and that the stories about Kate Shugak having radio sex with a member of the Anchorage law enforcement community would be circulating around the Park at first light and crossing the bar at the Roadhouse at opening time.
Brandon hung up and Bobby signed off. Fifteen minutes later, the file on one Leon Francis Duffy arrived in Bobby’s in box as an attached file. Kate, too impatient to wait for it to print out, opened it and started scrolling.
Dinah, elbowed to one side, accepted a mug of coffee from Jim and went to sprawl next to her husband on a couch. He grabbed her, heedless of her mug, and whispered in a mock snarl, “When can we get rid of these yo-yos so’s you and me can get horizontal?”
She made a token effort to save the coffee and an even more desultory effort to repel boarders before giving up.
Jim pulled up a chair to read over Kate’s shoulder. He felt rather than saw her stiffen, and smiled to himself. The smile vanished when he realized that her reaction hadn’t been caused by his proximity but by what she was reading.
“Leon Francis Duffy, born in Madison, Wisconsin, graduated Mendota High School in June 1968, joined the army what looks like the week after. Served one tour in Vietnam and received an honorable discharge, which he took in Anchorage, Alaska. Why Anchorage, do you think?”
“Keep reading,” she said, tight-lipped.
He did so. “Oh. A year later he was working in the yard at Spenard Builder’s Supply, pulling down a regular paycheck, to all intents and purposes a model citizen, and then he gets arrested for molesting a twelve-year-old girl on the way home from school. Charges dismissed. Oh, crap. Two more arrests, one ten-year-old, another twelve-year-old.”
The printer spat out the last sheet and she thrust the bundle at him. “Here.”
He shuffled the paper into order. Kate remained where she was, arms folded, glaring at the screen. Jim continued to read out loud. “The third charge stuck, and Leon Francis Duffy was sentenced to eight and a half.” Jim flipped the page. “He was a model prisoner, served the minimum five and a half years for good behavior at Highland Mountain Correctional Facility, and… evidently disappeared from the public record after release.” Jim flipped another page. “His probation officer never heard from him even once. Imagine.”
“Imagine.”
He squinted down at the page. “See the note from the corrections officer he was assigned to?”
“I couldn’t read it on the screen,” Kate said. “Is it any clearer printed out?”
“ ‘I regard Mr. Duffy as one of two of the most dangerous prisoners in this facility to be released this year. Mr. Duffy has refused treatment for his condition, refused to accept counseling of any kind, and has never accepted responsibility for the actions that brought him to be incarcerated. If he is released, I am convinced he will go on to commit the same offense again.”“ Jim looked up. ”And they let him go anyway. Imagine.“
“Imagine. So he came to the Park.”
He looked at the rigid set of her spine and wisely offered no sympathy. “So it seems.”